"Just a quickie," Hugo said. "No one will know."
Miranda drew back her right arm and swung at Hugo's face, hitting him square on the cheek with a mighty slap. Then she lifted her knee sharply, making contact somewhere in the area of his groin. She twisted, threw him off, and jumped to her feet.
Hugo remained lying on the bed. "That hurt!" he protested.
"Good," she said. "Now listen to me. Never do anything like that again."
He zipped his fly and stood up. "Why not? What will you do-tell Ned?"
"I ought to tell him, but I haven't got the courage. I slept with you once, when I was lonely and depressed, and I've regretted it bitterly ever since."
So that was it, Kit thought-Miranda slept with Olga's husband. He was shocked. He was not surprised by Hugo's behavior-shagging the wife's sister on the side was the kind of cozy setup many men would like. But Miranda was prissily moral about such things. Kit would have said that she would not sleep with anyone's husband, let alone her sister's.
Miranda went on: "It was the most shameful thing I've done in my life, and I don't want Ned to find out about it, ever."
"So what are you threatening to do? Tell Olga?"
"She would divorce you and never speak to me again. It would explode this family."
It might not be that bad, Kit thought; but Miranda was always anxious about keeping the family together.
"That leaves you a bit helpless, doesn't it?" Hugo said, looking pleased. "Since we can't be enemies, why don't you just kiss me nicely and be friends?"
Miranda's voice went cold. "Because you disgust me."
"Ah, well." Hugo sounded resigned, but unashamed. "Hate me, then. I still adore you." He gave his most charming smile and left the room, limping slightly.
As the door slammed, Miranda said, "You fucking bastard."
Kit had never heard her swear like that.
She picked up her laundry basket; then, instead of going out as he expected, she turned toward him. She must have fresh towels for the bathroom, he realized. There was no time to move. In three steps she reached the entrance to the dressing room and turned on the lights.
Kit was just able to slip the smart card into his trousers pocket. An instant later she saw him. She gave a squeal of shock. "Kit! What are you doing there? You gave me a fright!" She went white, and added, "You must have heard everything."
"Sorry." He shrugged. "I didn't want to."
Her complexion changed from pale to flushed. "You won't tell, will your
"Of course not."
"I'm serious, Kit. You must never tell. It would be awful. It could ruin two marriages."
"I know, I know."
She saw the wallet in his hand. "What are you up to?"
He hesitated, then he was inspired. "I needed cash." He showed her the banknotes in the wallet.
"Oh, Kit!" She was distressed, not judgmental. "Why do you always want easy money?"
He bit back an indignant retort. She believed his cover story, that was the main thing. He said nothing and tried to look ashamed.
She went on: "Olga always says you'd rather steal a shilling than earn an honest pound."
"All right, don't rub it in."
"You mustn't pilfer from Daddy's wallet-it's awful!"
"I'm a bit desperate."
"I'll give you money!" She put down the laundry basket. There were two pockets in the front of her skirt. She reached into one and pulled out a crumple of notes. She extracted two fifties, smoothed them out, and gave them to Kit. "Just ask me-I'll never turn you down."
"Thanks, Mandy," he said, using her childhood name.
"But you must never steal from Daddy."
"Okay."
"And, for pity's sake, don't ever tell anyone about me and Hugo."
"I promise," he said.
5 PM
TONI had been sleeping heavily for an hour when her alarm clock woke her.
She found that she was lying on the bed fully dressed. She had been too tired even to take off her jacket and shoes. But the nap had refreshed her. She was used to odd hours, from working night shifts in the police force, and she could fall asleep anywhere and wake up instantly.
She lived on one floor of a subdivided Victorian house. She had a bedroom, a living room, a small kitchen, and a bathroom. Inverburn was.1 ferry port, but she could not see the sea. She was not very fond of her home: it was the place to which she had fled when she broke up with Frank, and it had no happy memories. She had been here two years, but she still regarded it as temporary.
She got up. She stripped off the business suit she had been wearing for two days and a night, and dumped it in the dry-cleaning basket. With a robe on over her underwear, she moved rapidly around the flat, packing a case for five nights at a health spa. She had planned to pack last night and leave at midday today, so she had some catching up to do.
She could hardly wait to get to the spa. It was just what she needed. Her woes would be massaged away; she would sweat out toxins in the sauna; she would have her nails painted and her hair cut and her eyelashes curled. Best of all, she would play games and tell stories with a group of old friends, and forget her troubles.
Her mother should be at Bella's place by now. Mother was an intelligent woman who was losing her mind. She had been a high school math teacher, and had always been able to help Toni with her studies, even when Toni was in the final year of her engineering degree. Now she could not check her change in a shop. Toni loved her intensely and was deeply saddened by her decline.
Bella was a bit slapdash. She cleaned the house when the mood took her, cooked when she felt hungry, and sometimes forgot to send her children to school. Her husband, Bernie, was a hairdresser, but worked infrequently because of some vague chest ailment. "The doctor's signed me off for another four weeks," he would usually say in response to the routine inquiry "How are you?"
Toni hoped Mother would be all right at Bella's place. Bella was an amiable slattern, and Mother never seemed to mind her ways. Mother had always been happy to visit the windy Glasgow council estate and eat undercooked fries with her grandchildren. But she was now in the early stages of senility. Would she be as philosophical as ever about Bellas haphazard housekeeping? Would Bella be able to cope with Mothers increasing waywardness?
Once when Toni had let slip an irritated remark about Bella, Mother had said crisply, "She doesn't try as hard as you, that's why she's happier." Mother's conversation had become tactless, but her remarks could be painfully accurate.
After Toni had packed, she washed her hair then took a bath to soak away two days of tension. She fell asleep in the tub. She woke with a start, but only a minute or so had passed-the water was still hot. She got out and dried herself vigorously.
Looking in the full-length mirror, she thought, I've got everything I had twenty years ago-it's all just three inches lower. One of the good things about Frank, at least in the early days, had been the pleasure he took in her body. "You've got great tits," he would say. She thought they were too large for her frame, but he worshipped them. "I've never seen a pussy this color," he once told her as he lay between her legs. "It's like a ginger biscuit." She wondered how long it would be before someone else marveled at the color of her pubic hair.
She dressed in tan jeans and a dark green sweater. As she was closing her suitcase, the phone rang. It was her sister. "Hi, Bella," said Toni. "How's Mother?"