Free Sins of the Father by Kitty Neale Page B

putting his plan into action.
    He passed St Barnabas’ Church, his thoughts still on Emma. It would work, he was sure of it. As before, he was determined that things would be different this time, and in Emma he had found the perfect choice. She was young, meek, innocent, and could be easily moulded.
    Horace was on time for his appointment, and after going over the finer points of the deal with his solicitor, he signed the documents, passing over the cheque. Another three houses were nowin his hands, and they were in good condition. He’d divide them into flats as usual, and as they were in a better part of Battersea, they’d command more rent.
    The next stop was the bank, and after that he’d go round to see Joyce. It had been nearly a week since he’d last seen her, and his loins stirred. Yet he knew when he made love to his mistress, in his imagination, the woman beneath him would be Emma Chambers.

7
     
    Horace walked down the dimly lit road on a Saturday night, determination in his stride. He knew that Tom Chambers had been trying to avoid him, and when he reached the man’s local, he flung open the door. The dark and gloomy public bar was crowded, men in caps standing at the counter, others sitting at rickety tables, ashtrays overflowing in front of them.
    Smoke tainted the air, and as heads turned conversation ceased when Horace walked towards the bar. He knew that in his dark suit, collar and tie, he stood out like a sore thumb, but many of these men were his tenants and he ignored them.
    ‘Hello, Tom,’ he said as the buzz of conversation started up again.
    Tom swung round, immediately defensive. ‘If you’re looking for your rent, I’ll pay you next Friday.’
    ‘Yes, you said that last week, and the weekbefore. In fact you’re now a further six weeks in arrears.’
    Tom hunched over the bar, his voice a hiss: ‘I got laid off again, but I’ve got a job on another site, starting on Monday.’
    ‘That’s not good enough.’
    ‘Look, you’ve got Emma working for you and can keep more of her wages.’
    ‘The rent isn’t Emma’s responsibility, it’s yours, and I’m not prepared to let the arrears mount any further. Either you pay up, or you’ll be evicted.’
    ‘Don’t say that, Mr Bell. Surely you can give me a bit more time?’
    ‘No, your time is up.’
    ‘You can’t put us on the streets. What about the kids?’
    He looked at Tom’s pint of ale, unable to hide his disgust. ‘You seem to have money for drink.’
    ‘I’m only having one. Surely you don’t begrudge me that?’
    ‘When you owe me a substantial amount of money, I do.’
    Tom glanced along the bar, obviously embarrassed that other customers could hear their conversation. He pointed to an empty table in the corner. ‘Can we sit down?’
    ‘I suppose so.’
    ‘What can I get you, sir?’ the landlord asked Horace.
    ‘Just give me a glass of port.’
    ‘What about you, Tom?’ the publican asked.
    Horace ignored Tom’s glance in his direction. If the man wanted another, he could pay for it himself.
    ‘Not for me,’ Tom said, picking up his half-empty glass. They walked to the table, taking opposite seats.
    With a furtive look around, Tom’s voice was little more than a whisper: ‘Please, give me a bit more time. I’ll give you a few bob now and surely we can come to some arrangement about the rest?’
    ‘We already had an arrangement, one you have failed to keep.’ Horace’s tone hardened. ‘You and I both know that you won’t pay the outstanding rent, and I’m not prepared to give you any further leeway.’
    ‘Mr Bell, have a heart. I know that things have gone to pot since my wife died, but I’m finding my feet again now. Can’t we work something out?’
    This was the opening Horace needed, and, now softening his voice, he said sadly, ‘As you know, I too lost my wife. It’s been nearly three years now.’
    ‘Then you know what it’s like,’ Tom said eagerly.
    ‘I still managed to keep my