Free In for the Kill by Pauline Rowson

Waterloo train was just pulling in as I stepped onto the platform.
    Without hesitation I climbed on board and twenty-eight minutes later I was alighting at Petersfield. A brisk walk through the small, but rapidly developing Hampshire market town and I was crossing the park, skirting the lake.
    Opposite me now was a large detached modern house set back from the road. I stood for some time gazing up at it trying to stifle the resentment inside me. I didn’t succeed. I squared my shoulders and sallied forth.

CHAPTER 6
    ‘ What do you want, Alex?’ Vanessa’s shock at seeing me on her doorstep swiftly gave way to wariness.
    She had hardly changed in three years. If anything she looked more attractive, more self-assured than I remembered. I could still see her face during those long days and weeks of my trial as her concern had begun to turn to suspicion.
    Her expression would haunt and hurt me forever. Then at my mother’s funeral she had looked pale and tired. Now her dark curtain of hair was sleek and shining, framing an elfin face as yet unsullied by lines even though she was approaching forty-three. She was slender and I’d forgotten quite how small she was. Always a tidy dresser I could tell her stylish trousers and blouse were expensive. Her appearance and this house confirmed my view that Gus Newberry, her new husband, was doing all right for himself, though at what, I had no idea.
    ‘I want to talk,’ I said I hoped evenly, though my stomach was churning. I didn’t think I still loved her, but there was something tugging at my heart.
    ‘I’m not sure we’ve got anything to say to each other.’
    ‘On the contrary we’ve got a great deal to say.
    How are my sons?’ I hadn’t intended demanding to see them, but as the train had sped through the countryside, my heart had beat faster at the thought that I might do so. Vanessa’s rather frosty reception was only serving to make me more bloody-minded.
    ‘You can’t see them. You know what the court said.’
    My stomach clenched. Damn Andover to hell and back.
    ‘Besides they’re not here,’ she quickly added, after seeing my angry expression. ‘David is at his fencing class and Philip’s at football practice. I’ll need to pick them up soon.’ She dashed a glance at her watch.
    I tried to hide my disappointment. ‘Aren’t you going to ask me in or is only the doorstep good enough for a man you once said you loved.’
    I saw a flash of anger in her hazel eyes. Then she shrugged and turned away leaving me to close the door and follow her down the hall into a spacious kitchen enlarged by a beautifully designed glass extension. I felt envy and bitterness.
    There were schoolbooks on the table including Shakespeare’s Othello . I recalled my English studies at university – what had the great man said about losing one’s reputation? Something about it making a man bestial. Maybe he was right because I wanted to smash this fucking perfect room to pieces except for the studio photograph of David and Philip on the wall beside a huge framed genealogy chart, bearing Gus Newberry’s name. I felt so sad and sick with regret that I could hardly breathe. My heart was heavy and my arms ached to hold my sons. I would get the bastard who had stitched me up and nail his balls to the wall. I’d find a way to make him suffer as I had suffered, and if I died doing it then so be it. Yes, Shakespeare was right, losing your reputation did make you bestial.
    ‘Have you told them I’m out of prison?’
    ‘Alex. I…’ She pushed her hand through her hair, her expression reflecting her anguish. ‘You do understand. I need to prepare them.’
    ‘For what? The demon father, the ex-convict. I suppose you and Gus have made me out to be a cross between the Kray brothers and Ronnie Biggs.’
    ‘There’s no need to be so bitter.’
    ‘Isn’t there? How would you like to have almost four years of your life taken from you?
    To lose everything you valued, including the