Sister Love and Other Crime Stories

1. Sister Love
Marcia met Howard Collins at church. Marcia was thirty-five years old, Howard was forty-one. Howard lived with his mother in a small house on the south side of the town. Marcia lived with her sister and father in an apartment, three streets away.
Marcia did not work. Her father, George Grant, was ill and never left the apartment. He stayed in bed most of the time and always needed somebody with him. So Marcia stayed at home with her father, and only went out when her sister Karin was in the house.
The two sisters were very different. Marcia was short with a small round face and short black hair. Karin was ten years younger. She was tall, had long brown hair, and good legs, and a suntan all through the summer. People often said to Marcia, 'Your sister is very beautiful.' There were always lots of men ready to take Karin out to dinner or to the cinema. But Marcia stayed at home.
Karin worked in a shop in the town. When she was at home, she liked to sit up on the roof garden of their apartment building.
It was one Sunday in May when Marcia came home with Howard the first time. She took him to see her father. George Grant was in bed. He had grey hair and a grey face. Sometimes he read a book, but mostly he just sat in bed and watched television.
'This is Howard, father,' Marcia said. 'He works at the hospital, and we met at church. I told you about him last week. Do you remember?'
'No,' her father said. And he turned his face away, back to his television. He was not interested in new people or his daughters' friends.
Just then, Karin came into the room. She wore a white bikini and white shoes. She smiled at Howard.
'So you're Howard,' she said. 'My big sister has got a boyfriend at last!'
Howard's face went red and he looked down at his feet.
Karin laughed. 'Come on up to the roof garden and have some wine. The sun is wonderful this morning.'
'Oh, I...' Howard began.
Marcia looked angrily at her sister. But then she said, 'Yes, I must get father a drink. See you in a minute, Howard. Go up to the roof and talk to Karin.'
The sun was hot on the roof and Howard took off his coat. He looked around. There were three chairs, a sun umbrella, a sunbed, and a table with three glasses and a bottle of wine on it. There were tiles on the floor, and next to the little wall around the edge of the roof, there were some flowers in boxes. This was the 'garden'.
'Very nice,' said Howard.
Karin smiled at him. 
'We don't see many good-looking men up here,' she said. 'Sit down and have a drink.'
Howard's face went red again. He gave a shy little laugh. 'Oh, er... thank you,' he said. He tried not to look at Karin's long suntanned legs, but it was not easy.
'I come up here all the time when it's sunny,' Karin said. She began to put suntan oil on her arms and legs.
Howard watched.
Then Marcia arrived, and the three of them sat in the sun and drank wine. Marcia looked at Howard with love in her eyes. She did not look at Karin.
Karin watched them. Her eyes went from her sister, to Howard, and back again to her sister. She smiled.
It was not a nice smile.
Every Sunday morning after that, Marcia brought Howard home for a glass of wine after church. Howard stopped his car in the street outside the apartment building, and Marcia said, 'Sound the horn, Howard. Tell Karin we're here, then she can get the wine ready.'
So Howard gave three little toots on his car horn. On sunny days, Karin always came to the wall at the edge of the roof, and looked over to wave at them. Then she went to get the wine.
She always wore her bikini or a very short skirt. Marcia never wore short skirts or a bikini.
'My legs are too fat for bikinis,' she told Howard. 'Your legs are... very nice,' he said shyly.
One day in June Karin asked Howard, 'What time do you finish work, Howard?'
'About six o'clock,' he said.
'Could you bring me home after work?' Karin said. 'My shop's very near the hospital - you drive right past it. And you only live three streets away from us.'
'There's a very good bus,' said Marcia quickly. 'It stops outside our building.'
'But the bus is so slow!' Karin said. 'Please, Howard!'
Howard looked from one sister to the other. 'Oh, well... er, yes, all right then,' he said.
'Thank you!' Karin said, and gave him a quick kiss.
So every evening Howard drove Karin home. On the first Friday, they were an hour late. When they arrived, Marcia was at the door of the apartment building.
'What happened?' she asked. 'Why are you so late?'
'There was an accident,' Karin said. 'Three cars, all across the road - on that hill by the cinema, you know. We couldn't get past, we couldn't go back. There were so many cars! Nobody could move!'
Howard said nothing.
It was a long, hot summer that year. Marcia went to church every Sunday morning, and Karin stayed at home with their father. When it was sunny - and it often was - Karin went up to her sunbed on the roof.
When Marcia went up to the roof garden, she always sat under the umbrella. But Karin put on lots of suntan oil and sat in the sun in her bikini.
'The hot sun's not good for your body,' Marcia said. Karin laughed. 'Howard likes my body.'
'No, he doesn't!' Marcia said angrily.
'Oh, he does!' Karin said. 'He's very shy with women, but he always looks at my body very carefully. He does it all the time. Perhaps he wants me to take off-'
'Stop it, Karin!' Marcia said. 'Don't say those things!' Karin laughed. 'What's the matter, big sister? Are you afraid I'm going to take him from you?'
Marcia did not answer.
The next Sunday, Howard phoned Marcia early in the morning.
'I - I don't feel very well,' he said. 'I'm not going to church today.'
'My love, I'm sorry,' Marcia said. 'Can I phone you when I get home?'
'Yes, of course,' he said.
'I can't phone before one o'clock,' Marcia said. 'I'm going to be late back because there's a meeting after church. Something about Africa, I think.'
'Oh yes, I remember,' Howard said.
But Marcia was wrong. There was no meeting after church that morning. It was the next Sunday. So she left church at the usual time and arrived home at a quarter to twelve.
First, she went in to see her father, but he was asleep. Then she phoned Howard, but there was no answer.
'Perhaps he's sleeping,' she thought. 'And his mother doesn't want to answer the phone.'
She went to her room and put on a long summer skirt. Then she went up to the roof garden.
She put her hand on the door to the roof... and stopped. The door was half open and she could hear voices. There was someone with Karin.
A man. Howard. Howard? Marcia listened. 
'I feel bad about this,' Howard said. 'We must tell Marcia soon, Karin.'
'No!' Karin said quickly. She gave a little laugh. 'It's our secret, Howard. Only for a little longer. All right?'
'I - I don't like...' he began.
'But you do love me, Howard,' Karin said. 'Not Marcia? Say you love me. Please!'
Marcia suddenly felt cold.
'You... you know I do,' Howard answered. 'But-'
Karin kissed him. 'It's our little secret. Oh, is your car outside, my love? We don't want Marcia to see it.'
'I didn't bring my car,' Howard said. 'I walked here.'
'Good,' Karin said. 'But it's getting late. You must go, before she comes home.'
They kissed again.
'See you tomorrow, usual time, usual place,' said Karin. 'Now, go!'
Marcia moved quickly and quietly away from the roof door, and ran to her bedroom. She did not want Howard or Karin to see her.
She heard their voices. Then the front door of the apartment opened and closed. Howard was gone.
Marcia sat on her bed for an hour. 'Why, why, why?' she thought. 'Why does she do it? I stay at home with an old man all the time. I can't go out to work, I can't make new friends, I can't meet new people. I go shopping once a week and I go to church once a week. That's all. And then I met Howard. When he said "I love you", I was so happy. And now...?'
Karin had everything. Good looks, a job, friends. She was young, she was beautiful, she could have any man. So why Howard? Why, why, why?
'It's not because she wants him,' Marcia thought. 'It's because I love him. It's because she doesn't want me to be happy.'
But you do love me, Howard. Not Marcia?
You know I do.
Was it true? Did Howard love Karin and not her? No! He saw only the beautiful, suntanned body. He didn't know her.
'She's not going to have him...' Marcia thought.
Every evening that week, Howard drove Karin home after work. And every evening they got later and later.
The next Sunday, Marcia didn't go to church.
'I've got a bad head,' she told Karin. 'I just phoned Howard and told him, and he's coming here after church as usual. I'm going back to sleep for an hour or two.' And she went into her bedroom and shut the door.
Later in the morning, when Karin was with their father, Marcia went up to the roof garden. Karin's bottle of suntan oil was on the table, and Marcia smiled.
When Karin came up to the roof, Marcia was in her chair under the umbrella with a book in her hand.
'Oh, is your head better?' Karin asked.
'Yes, thanks,' Marcia said.
Karin wore her bikini, a new yellow one. She opened her bottle of suntan oil.
'Oh, there's not much here,' she said. 'I must get some more.' She began to put some oil on her legs.
Twenty minutes later, Howard stopped his car in the street below. Up on the roof, Karin and Marcia heard the usual three little toots on his car horn.
'He's here,' Karin said excitedly. 'Your man's here, big sister!' And she laughed.
Yes, Marcia thought. My man, not yours, Karin.
Karin jumped up from her sunbed. She ran to the wall at the edge of the roof to look down and wave to Howard. She had no shoes on, and at the wall, her feet suddenly slipped away from under her.
'Aaagh!' she cried.
She fell forward, and put out her hands to grab the wall. But the top of the wall was slippery too. Her hands could not hold it, and slipped away, off the wall, over the edge. And her body went on too, over the edge of the wall, and down...
Down... down... down...
Before she hit the ground, she knew.
Slippery... suntan oil... Marcia...

2. Joey’s Luck
Joey Kerrigan arrived in London in January 1912. He did not have a place to stay.
 ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he thought, smiling. ‘Joey’s luck is going to find me a room.’
Joey thought a lot about luck. ‘One day I’m going to be rich,’ he told everybody. ‘Lucky people get rich, and I’m lucky.’
After a lot of walking, he found a room in a house. It was near Tower Bridge. The room wasn’t very big but it was cheap. The landlord’s name was Mr Webber. He looked Joey up and down.
‘What’s your name?’ he said. ‘Where are you from?’ ‘Joe. Joe ... Smith,’ Joe said. ‘I’m from Ireland.’
‘Well, you can have the room,’ Webber said, ‘but I want two weeks’ money now.’
‘I’ve only got one week’s money,’ Joey said.
‘And tomorrow’s Sunday,’ Webber said. ‘You can’t find work on a Sunday. So when can you give me the second week’s money?’
Joey smiled with his mouth but not his eyes, I can find work,’ he said. ‘I’m lucky. Good things happen to me. It’s called Joey’s luck.’
On Sunday Joey stayed in bed all morning and in the afternoon he went for a walk. After an hour, he took a bag from a woman in Fleet Street.
The woman shouted, ‘Stop! Stop!’
But Joey was now fifty metres away, and there were no other people near.
Joey laughed and ran down a little street, then between two tall buildings down to the river.
He stopped and opened the bag. There was some money in it, but not very much. He took the money out, then put the bag into the river.
Later that day, he walked past a bookshop. There were lots of people there, looking at books, and Joey moved carefully between them. For a second he stood behind a fat man, then moved quietly away. The man did not feel Joey’s hand in his back pocket, but the man’s wallet was now inside Joey’s shirt.
It was a big, fat wallet, and when he got back to the house, he gave the landlord the second week’s money for the room.
‘You found work on a Sunday?’ Webber said. ‘Where? Who with?’
Joey smiled. ‘I told you, I’m lucky. Joey’s luck!’
*  *  *
For the next three months, Joey Kerrigan walked the streets of London most days. He stole handbags from women, or things from shops, and he took wallets from men’s pockets. One morning at the beginning of April, he took a wallet from the pocket of an old man with a red face. Joey was usually a very good pickpocket - people never knew anything about it.
But not that morning. The man with the red face was quick. He turned, saw Joey, and shouted.
‘Hey! You! That’s my wallet! Come back here!’
But Joey was a good runner too. In two seconds he was round the corner into another street, then round another corner, and then he jumped onto a bus.
‘Joey’s luck!’ Joey said, laughing.
There was more luck for Joey that week.
He first learned about Theo Goldman’s money in a pub near his landlord’s house. Webber went to the pub most evenings and sat with his friend, Goldman.
Goldman had a shop not far from the pub. He bought and sold a lot of different things - tables, chairs, beds, clocks, watches, books, pictures ...
When Joey went into the pub that evening, he saw Webber and Goldman at a table near the window. There were a lot of people in the pub. Joey bought a drink, then found a chair near Webber and Goldman. They did not see him. Joey sat with his back to them, and listened.
‘But I need money to buy things when people bring them in,’ Goldman said.
‘Some money, yes,’ Webber answered. ‘But a hundred pounds or more? And in the shop? No, no, Theo!’
‘It’s not in the shop,’ Goldman said. ‘It’s in my room at the back.’
‘Do you have a good place to put it?’ Webber said.
Goldman laughed. ‘A very good place,’ he said.
Joey sat with his drink, thinking. He knew Goldman’s shop because it was in the same street as Webber’s house. Joey often walked past it.
A hundred pounds or more. ‘I’m going to get that hundred pounds!’ he thought. ‘Then I can do anything! Perhaps begin a new life in America!’
He smiled. Joey’s luck again!
So the money was in the room at the back, in a very good place. But where was that place?
The next morning Joey walked slowly past Goldman’s shop. He did not go in, but looked through the window. The old man was in the shop, but he did not see Joey.
Joey saw an open door to the room at the back of the shop. Through the door he could see a table, two chairs, and a big cupboard. Was Goldman’s money in that cupboard?
Suddenly, the old man looked up, and Joey quickly turned and walked away.
*  *  *
He did not go to bed that night. He put all his things into a bag, sat in an armchair and waited. Midnight came, and went. At two o’clock in the morning he went down the stairs and out of the house.
It was a cold night and Joey looked up at the moon in the sky.
‘Are you a lucky moon?’ he said, smiling. ‘Joey’s lucky moon?’
He walked to Goldman’s shop and looked round. Nobody was in the street. He took a small hammer from his coat pocket and broke the glass in the shop door. Then he put his hand through and opened the door.
Joey moved quickly into the shop. He closed the door behind him and put his bag on the floor. Then he walked quietly across the shop to the door into the back room, opened it, and went through. It was dark, but moonlight came through the window, and Joey could see the big cupboard.
The little hammer soon opened the cupboard. There were a lot of hooks and papers inside; some of the papers fell out on to the floor.
‘Who’s there?’
Joey did not move. Only his eyes moved, looking around the room. Then a door at the back of the room opened, and Theo Goldman came in with an oil lamp. He saw Joey.
‘What -!’ he began.
Joey jumped across the room, grabbed the old man’s arm, and pulled it up behind his back. Then he held the hammer in front of Goldman’s face.
‘Where’s the money?’ he said. ‘Tell me!’
‘M-money?’ Goldman said. ‘What - what money? There isn’t any money.’
‘Yes, there is,’ Joey said. ‘You told Webber about it in the pub. A hundred pounds or more. Where is it?’ Goldman said nothing.
‘Tell me,’ Joey said, ‘or I’m going to break your arms! First one arm, and then the other one. Where is it?’ Goldman tried to pull his arm away. He made small angry noises, but no words came out.
Joey held the hammer in front of Goldman’s eyes. ‘Tell me! Or this hammer goes into your face!’
‘All right! All right! It - it’s under the floor,’ Goldman said. ‘Under the cupboard.’
Joey pushed the old man across to the cupboard. ‘Get it,’ he said. ‘Now!’
The old man put the oil lamp on the floor and pulled the cupboard away from the wall. Then he got between the cupboard and the wall and pulled up some of the floor. There was a small box under the floor and Goldman got it out.
Joey grabbed the box from the old man’s hands, and opened it. It was full of money.
Joey smiled.
‘I know you!’ Goldman said suddenly. ‘You live at Albert Webber’s house!’
‘Albert who?’ said Joey. ‘Don’t know him.’
He began to take the money out of the box and push it into the pockets of his coat.
‘Yes, you do! You live in his house,’ Goldman said. ‘Albert told me about you. You’re -’
‘Be quiet!’ Joey said. ‘All right, so you know me. But nobody’s going to find me.’ He laughed, I can get a long way away with this money.’
  All the money from Goldman’s box was now in Joey’s pockets. He gave Goldman a little push. ‘Now, get back in your bedroom and stay there.’ He pushed him again. ‘Go on! Get moving!’
The old man began to walk across the room with the oil lamp. Suddenly, he turned and hit Joey on the head with the lamp.
‘Aaagh!’ cried Joey.
The lamp broke and fell on the floor, next to the papers from the cupboard. The oil from the lamp ran across the floor, carrying the flames to the papers.
Goldman tried to run into the shop but Joey jumped on him and the two of them fell to the floor. The old man’s head hit the wall. After that, he did not move.
Joey heard the noise of the flames before he saw them. He looked behind him. The flames were big, and were already halfway up the legs of a table.
Joey jumped to his feet and ran through the shop. He found his bag by the front door, went out into the street and began to run again. At the end of the street, he stopped and looked back.
There were now flames in the shop window, and black smoke came from the shop door. He thought about the old man on the floor in the back room - but only for a second.
Then he turned and ran again.
Two days later, on Wednesday 10th April, 1912, Joey was in Southampton, with thousands of other people. They came to see the new ship there - the biggest and fastest ship in the world. It was the day of its first voyage across the Atlantic to New York, carrying more than two thousand people.
Some of the people in Southampton that day were the ship’s passengers. Some of them just came to look at the wonderful new ship.
And there it was! Joey was a happy young man. He was a passenger, with a ticket in his pocket - a ticket to New York! Life was good, he thought.
‘Joey’s luck got me the money for my ticket!’ he said, laughing. ‘And Joey’s luck is taking me to America. This is the end of my old life!’
And he walked onto the Titanic.
STER AT SEA
The Daily Mirror
THE TITANIC SINKS
Late in the night of 14th April the Titanic hit an iceberg in the North Atlantic. It sank quickly, and by the next day the ship was under the sea. Hundreds of people are dead or missing...

3. Hush Money
Behind The Green Bird pub there was a big car park. It was a busy pub, and every night there were lots of cars there. Tonight, there was a woman in the car park too. She stood in the dark behind a tree, watching and waiting.
Her name was Rosa, and she was twenty years old. She worked in a hotel six days a week but not on Mondays. On Mondays, Rosa did something different.
And today was Monday.
It was cold. Rosa pushed her hands into the pockets of her coat. It was a night for trousers, but Rosa wore a short skirt and nothing on her legs. That was important.
After a time a woman came out of the pub and walked across the car park to a blue Ford car. The woman was about fifty years old and she walked slowly. She sang quietly, with a little smile on her face.
‘She’s drunk,’ Rosa thought. ‘But she’s going to drive.’
The woman got to her car and put a hand on it. She wore a long green coat and grey trousers, and she had blonde hair. Very, very blonde hair.
‘Oh dear, my head!’ she said, then laughed.
‘That hair colour came out of a bottle,’ Rosa thought. She took a small bottle from her pocket. There was some red liquid in it and she put some of the liquid on her leg. Then she ran quickly round the car park to the blue Ford.
The woman opened the car door and half-fell into the driving seat. She laughed. ‘Oh, Dorothy Burns,’ she sang. ‘You’re drunk again!’
Rosa was now behind her car, crouching on the ground. When the car began to move back, she jumped to her feet and hit the car with her hand - bang!
The car stopped suddenly and Rosa fell down on the ground behind the car. She put her hand on the red liquid on her leg, and quickly put some of it on the back of the car.
Dorothy Burns got out of her car, and walked round to the back. When she saw Rosa on the ground, her face went white.
‘Oh!’ she cried. ‘What - what happened?’
‘My leg!’ Rosa said. ‘Oh, my leg!’ She began to cry.
‘But - but what happened?’ said Dorothy Burns. Then she saw the red liquid on Rosa’s leg. ‘Oh, there’s blood on your leg!’
‘Yes, because your car hit me, that’s why!’ Rosa said. She stopped crying, and began to look angry.
‘I - I didn’t see you behind me,’ Dorothy Burns said.
‘You didn’t see me because you didn’t look,’ Rosa said angrily. She stared at the woman. ‘You’re drunk!’
Dorothy Burns was suddenly very afraid. ‘I - I ...
‘Yes, you smell of whisky! I can smell it from here,’ Rosa said. ‘I’m going to call the police. Now!’
‘Oh no, please!’ Dorothy Burns said, i’m very, very sorry, but not the police, please! Listen, I can help you. I can drive you home and-’
I’m not getting in that car with you!’ Rosa said. ‘You’re drunk!’
‘No!’ Dorothy Burns said. ‘Just one small whisky, that’s all.’
‘Oh yes? Tell that to the police.’ Rosa stood up, holding her leg. ‘What’s the number of your car?’
‘No! Please!’ Dorothy Burns said. ‘Not the police. Listen, I want to help you. Take a taxi to the hospital - I can give you the money for it. Go to the accident -’
‘How much money?’ said Rosa.
‘Urn ... er, twenty pounds?’ Dorothy Burns said.
‘Fifty,’ Rosa said.
‘Well, how about thirty?’ said Dorothy Burns.
‘Fifty.’
‘But I haven’t got a lot of money with me.’
‘Fifty. I’m calling the police now.’ Rosa took a mobile phone out of her coat pocket.
‘OK, OK,’ said Dorothy Burns. She got her handbag from the car, took out fifty pounds, and gave the money to Rosa. ‘Here you are,’ she said.
Rosa took the money, and walked away. She went down the street to her car, a small, white Fiat, ten years old. She sat in the car and waited for the woman to drive away. Then Rosa drove home.
*  *  *
On the next three Monday evenings, Rosa went to three different pubs. She waited for a drunk or nearly drunk driver to come out. Sometimes she waited two hours or more. Then she took out her little bottle of red liquid -and minutes later there was an ‘accident’.
The drivers never wanted Rosa to call the police. They were always ready to give her money. Sometimes it was fifty pounds, sometimes a hundred. Once, a big fat man with gold teeth gave her two hundred pounds. That was a very good Monday.
The next Monday, Rosa found a pub in a street not far from The Green Bird. It was a very cold night, so she waited in her car. After an hour a man came out of the pub with a bottle of wine in one hand. He stood looking up and down the car park. Rosa watched him.
‘He can’t find his car,’ she thought. ‘He’s drunk.’
After a minute or two, the man began to walk across the car park to a big red Honda. Twice his foot slipped and he nearly fell. But at last he got to the Honda and began to open the door.
Rosa put some red liquid on her leg and got out of her car. She walked quickly to the Honda and crouched down at the back of it, ready for the ‘accident’.
‘Hey, you!’
Rosa quickly looked round. A woman ran across the car park - a woman in a green coat and grey trousers, a woman with very blonde hair. She had a camera in her hand.
‘Hey, you!’
Rosa stood up and began to walk away, but Dorothy Burns was quicker than she was.
‘Oh no, you don’t!’ Dorothy shouted. She grabbed Rosa’s arm. ‘You were at The Green Bird four weeks ago.’ ‘What? Who are you? What are you talking about?’ said Rosa. ‘I’m just going home. Let go of my arm!’
The man with the wine bottle in his hand came round to the back of his Honda. ‘Hey! What are we doing, what’s happening?’ he said. His face was very red and his eyes were half-closed.
‘This woman took fifty pounds from me four weeks ago,’ Dorothy Burns told him. ‘She’s a fake. She gets down behind your car - and then says your car hit her! But it doesn’t! She does it to get money out of you. She says, “Oh, you’re drunk, and I’m going to call the police.” And because you are drunk and you’re afraid, you give her money to stop her. I did.’
The man looked at Rosa. ‘Wh-a-a-a-t?’ he said.
Rosa pulled her arm away, but before she could run, Dorothy Burns grabbed her other arm.
‘Look at her leg,’ she said to the man. ‘That’s blood on it. But why? How did it get there? She put it there - all ready for the accident. Your accident. Because in a minute you’re going to hit her with your car. And then she’s going to cry out, “Oh, my leg! My leg”. But nothing happened! She’s a fake!’
At last the man understood. He stared at Rosa and his face got redder. ‘You little ...!’ he said angrily. He pushed Rosa, and she fell to the ground. But before he could hit her again, Dorothy Burns pulled him away.
‘No, wait,’ she said.
The bottle of wine fell from the man’s hand. It hit the ground next to Rosa and broke. Wine went over her face and her coat.
‘My wine!’ the man cried. He looked angrily at the two women, then began to walk back to the pub. ‘Got to get some more wine,’ he said. ‘For my wife.’
Rosa stood up slowly and then began to walk away. ‘Wait!’ said Dorothy Burns.
Rosa laughed. ‘Why? I don’t want to talk to you.’
‘Oh, I think you do,’ Dorothy Burns said. ‘You see, I took some photos of you - when you were behind that man’s car, waiting. Interesting photos, they are.’
Rosa stopped, then walked back to Dorothy. ‘How did you find me?’ she said.
‘I went to a different pub every night. And waited in the car parks and watched. And here you are - doing your dirty little blackmail again.’
‘It’s not blackmail,’ said Rosa quickly. ‘He was drunk. And you were drunk too, that other night.’
‘But my car didn’t hit you!’ said Dorothy.
‘How do you know?’ said Rosa. ‘You were drunk!’ ‘No, not drunk. Just happy, that’s all,’ said Dorothy. ‘When I got home, I began to think. You wanted that fifty pounds — you wanted it very much. And I know all about blackmail. You see, I was a fake once, too.’
Rosa stared at her. ‘What did you do?’ she asked. ‘When I was a child,’ said Dorothy Burns, ‘my mother and father often went out in the evenings - to dinner, to their friends, to the cinema ... They always got a babysitter in to stay with me because I was only ten years old. The babysitters were always girls, usually students, about eighteen or nineteen years old. They needed the money badly. Students always do. But I liked money too.’
Dorothy Burns smiled. ‘It was easy. At first I was nice to them. Then I said, “I want half your babysitting money, or I’m going to tell mummy about you. I’m going to say things like this. You hit me. You put very hot water on my hands. You pull my hair. You put me in the dark ... These things weren’t true, of course. But the girls were afraid of my mother. She was famous, you see. She wrote books about children, and was always on television. And when she was angry, she wasn’t a very nice person. And so the babysitters said nothing, and gave me half their money.’
‘What a nice child you were!’ Rosa said.
‘No, I wasn’t nice,’ said Dorothy. ‘But some people get nicer when they get older. I don’t do blackmail now, but
I know a blackmailer when I see one.’
She smiled at Rosa, and Rosa stared back at her.
‘What do you want?’ she said.
  Dorothy Burns put out her hand. ‘I want my fifty pounds back, of course.’
*  *  *
Three minutes later, Rosa drove her little Fiat out of the pub car park. She was very angry.
Because she was angry, she drove very fast.
Two kilometres from the pub, Rosa’s car went off the road and hit a wall. She didn’t die, but she broke one arm, one leg, and hit her head badly on the car. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t get out of the car, she couldn’t get her mobile phone ...
Two policemen found her in her car an hour later, and called an ambulance. Rosa’s face was white and she couldn’t speak. The policemen were not friendly,
‘I can smell wine on her,’ the first policeman said. ‘Another drunk driver!’ the second policeman said. ‘Why do people drink and drive?’

- THE END -
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