Free Saxon by Stuart Davies Page B

it before, but only once, I have to admit.’
    ‘What, slept on the stairs?’
    ‘No, you idiot. Mislaid my keys and gone down to stay at Claridge’s. It was bloody expensive, I can tell you.’ She smiled at Emma, who put her arms around Kate, as much to stop her falling over as to show affection.
    ‘Thank goodness I was here tonight to save you from such a dreadful fate.’
    ‘Indeed. Don’t know what I’ll do without you when you go back home. Speaking of which, God, it’s so good to be home,’ Kate breathed. ‘My shoes really do need to come off right now this minute.’
    ‘You need at least a pint of water to help dilute all that wonderful wine.’ Emma headed off towards the kitchen.
    ‘I think I could probably give up caffeine for Chateau d’Yquem,’ Kate announced. She plonked herself down on her bed, kicking off her shoes.
    They had been to a new restaurant that evening, one that Kate had been involved in through a lengthy renovation process. Sadly, the food hadn’t been quite as good as the décor, which hadbeen brilliant, as the two of them had frequently remarked during the course of the evening.
    Yes, it was a triumph for the interior design business but not so for the catering. However, that could improve, they allowed, trying to be generous.
    ‘So, will you call him?’ Kate asked. They had discussed Paul Saxon at length while getting ready to go out earlier in the evening. They had considered the possibility of calling him after dinner – or rather of Emma calling him, while Kate disappeared discreetly to her bedroom.
    Emma was happy to be with Kate but she hadn’t altogether given up on her marriage. Hence, the discussions about ‘will I or won’t I phone him?’ The marriage was certainly under a lot of strain and she knew that drastic action was required if she and Paul were to continue their lives together.
    Paul was an intelligent man and she still loved him. At least she thought she did. But he didn’t seem to grasp how much at risk they were. He seemed to just accept the difficulties they were facing as being normal, given his line of work. He wasn’t aware that not all marriages were like theirs.
    Emma shook her head. ‘Too tired,’ she yawned.
    Both were asleep as their heads hit their respective pillows. There would be no pacing around the flat tonight.
    Wednesday, May 15, Anvil Wood House, 2.00AM
    The bedroom that Poppy shared with Babs was on the second floor; it was one of many. Victorians did like big families and this house was a true reflection of the architectural splendour of that era. There were eight bedrooms in total and various day rooms along with a toilet on each of the three floors. Babs and Poppy had not altered the house, preferring to leave it in its original state. Some of the rooms were empty because they didn’t have enough furniture to fill them.
    Heating was not a problem; they had not bothered to installcentral heating. Neither of them particularly felt the cold and, if the weather took a drastic turn for the worse, they would decamp to the kitchen and huddle near the cooking range.
    Even if they had been awake in their king-size bed, they wouldn’t have heard the sound of feet running along the middle of the lane, fifty yards from the house. The man stayed on the hard surface, through the front gate and following the path around the side of the house to the back. He paused for breath, not from exhaustion, but from anticipation. The night was inky black, with no moon, and no streetlights. It was still warm and humid.
    The horses became restless; they sensed something moving behind the house. After five minutes of total silence, all had become calm again in the stable.
    The window in the kitchen opened with little effort. The sound of something landing on the tiled floor was lost in the sheer size of the house.
    But Babs woke anyway; she was thirsty. And as she put on her dressing gown in their bedroom, two floors below in the kitchen, a hand was