In Shamrock Shadows

By John E. Kinsley

Because of her past, Detective Inspector Helen Ross of the Metropolitan Police is coerced into working for Colonel Nash, who heads up a special group set up in MI5. Her mission is to go undercover and infiltrate a known IRA terrorist cell that is preparing to carry out a bombing blitz on the nation's capital. Can Helen cross the line and gain the trust of the south London IRA commander? What can she learn from him in such a short time scale she has been given? With a little luck and hard work, the mission seems to be coming together, even better than expected, but then, a terrible mistake made back at MI5 leaves Helen as the target—the hunted instead of the hunter. Will the newly recruited spook keep one step ahead of the assassin sent out to hunt her down or will her beloved family suffer because of what she has become?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley
• Release date: Apr 23, 2018

John E. Kinsley

London born in the early 1940's, educated at Princess Road junior school before moving on to Haverstock Hill High then on to Kings College in London. Being sports minded, football was his calling but after several games with Dulwich Hamlet at amateur level his professional ambitions were not to be achieved. British Rail was his next port of call where over years he trained up to the level of senior technician with the signal engineers department. But then he felt a change was needed. The London Ambulance service was his new calling in the early 1970's and over the following few years he worked his way through the grades to become one of the first front line paramedics to serve England's capital. Retiring in the late 90's and now living on the beautiful Isle-of -Wight his new ambition turned to writing. His first release was 'Capital City Paramedic' published by Woodfield publishers. His second, 'The Thirteenth Man' was self published as was his third 'DCI Reed and the Springfield Connection.'

Book preview

Chapter 1

Brian O’Connell stepped from the Cortina and raised a hand to the driver. ‘Won’t be too long,’ he said before he closed the door and stepped to the back of the car where he removed a small holdall from the boot. Brian, a thirty-nine-year-old Dublin-born Irishman looked quite dapper in his slate grey suit, crisp white shirt and green kipper tie, but as always, whenever he turned up here he always felt awkward and out of place he felt as he ran his fingers through his sandy coloured unruly hair style. Looking around after closing the boot lid he sighed heavily as he took in the surroundings; a smelly run down council estate. His eyes took in the four-storey balcony-fronted block in front of him and sighed again as he set off towards the arched entrance leading to the dirt encrusted urine stained concrete stairwell.

Tap, Tap, Tap, Tap, Tap. Brian rapped the knocker on number thirty-eight on the third floor landing then took a step back to wait for the sounds of bolts being withdrawn and the key releasing the dead lock.

‘Brian,’ a pasty looking but big–busted woman said as she peered around the now half-open door. ‘Come on in,’ she added, easing the paint-starved door wider.

‘Megan,’ Brian said stepping past her into the threadbare-carpeted hallway. ‘Gavin in?’ he asked just as a voice shouted from the other end of the hallway.

‘In the kitchen, Brian, you must have heard the kettle boiling,’ Gavin said as he moved across to the worktop when Brian entered the room and placed the holdall on a table before pulling out a chair for himself.

‘Tea or coffee, Brian?’ Megan asked as she shoved Gavin aside. ‘You sort your business out with Brian – I’ll do it,’ she said.

‘Tea please,’ Brian said whilst unzipping the holdall as Gavin joined him at the table. ‘It’s all here Gav – everything you asked for. The geli, the timers and those micro switches you wanted,’ he added holding one up for Gavin to take.

‘Perfect; they’re the ones, smashing,’ he said brushing his long lanky unwashed hair aside before starting to examine the fragile well-made switch. ‘Great,’ he added whilst placing the switch back in the holdall as Brian reached into his jacket’s inside pocket and withdrew a thick brown envelope.

‘This will keep you happy for a while,’ Brian said placing the envelope in front of Gavin who was in the process of rolling a cigarette.

‘Ta,’ he said after lighting the cigarette. ‘How much longer, Brian?’ he asked whilst fingering the envelope. ‘When’s it going to all kick off Bri… don’t you think we’ve been sitting on our arses long enough in this stinking hole?’

‘Three years now Brian, three years we’ve been waiting,’ Megan remarked as she placed two mugs of tea on the tabletop.

Brian let out a long sigh as he reached for the mug positioned in front of him. ‘Well, let me put you both in the picture… It won’t be this side of Christmas that’s for sure.’

‘Fuck, why not?’

‘Because Gavin, the powers to be in Dublin don’t think we will be ready in time.’

‘But we’re ready, you know that, you told us that weeks ago – so why?’

‘I know I told you that Gav,’ Brian replied, taking a sip of the strong tea before continuing. ‘Because Dublin reckons the others in Liverpool, Manchester and Birmingham aren’t ready yet.’

Megan slid a chair out and joined the two men before asking. ‘So when, how much longer before we get this over and done with… before we can go home?’

Brian looked between the two of them. ‘Just like you,’ he said quietly. ‘Other sleeper teams around the country are on tenterhooks, just waiting for the off, waiting for a date.’

‘So when?’ Megan asked. ‘What are we looking at?’

Brian tapped her hand. ‘Patience Meg – but I’ve heard whispers that Dublin are looking at next Easter, by then everyone should be in place and ready to go.’

‘Easter, that’s bloody months away,’ Gavin remarked angrily as he stubbed out his cigarette butt in an already overfilled ashtray.

‘Well that’s the way it is at the moment,’ Brian said looking at his watch before making to stand. ‘So, until I hear anything else we plod on… OK?’

‘Suppose,’ Gavin whispered.

‘Do we have a choice?’ Megan added.

Brian forced a smile. ‘None of us has sweetheart… anyway, must fly,’ he said glancing down at his watch again. ‘Lots to do,’ he said, then on reaching the door he turned to face the still seated Gavin. ‘Now Gav, is there anything else you need before I return in a fortnight?’

Gavin looked up from another cigarette he was rolling. ‘No Brian, got everything I need thanks… and you can pick up all the bang bangs in a couple weeks, should be all done by then.’

‘Right, I’ll get on,’ Brian said turning for the door and the hallway beyond.

‘Oh, Brian,’ Gavin shouted after him.

‘Yeah?’

‘Thanks for the cash.’

‘That’s alright – see you in a couple of weeks,’ Brian shouted back before following Megan to the front door.

‘Thanks Megan and take care, yeah?’ Brian said leaning forward to kiss her on the cheek as she held the door open for him.

‘Will do, just wish all this was over.’

Brian tapped her arm. ‘As I said earlier Meg – patience, it’ll all be worth it in the end you wait and see.’

‘I hope you’re right that’s all… anyway love to Bridie yeah?’

‘Of course, take care,’ he replied after stepping out onto the balcony and heard as he walked away the dead lock and bolts securing the flat once again. Glancing over the balcony wall before he reached the stinking stairway he saw his driver leaning against the Cortina smoking a cigarette. On seeing him she raised a hand in which he returned the action before taking a deep breath before the disgusting decent to where she was waiting.

***

Chapter 2

Three months earlier at the regional serious crime team building based at Tooting in south London.

Helen took her time climbing the staircase towards the second floor office of her superior; the overweight, no, the grossly overweight Detective Chief Superintendent Ron Hollings.

‘Office, ten minutes,’ he had ordered after he had heard she was back in the building following her morning at the courts at the Old Bailey in central London. Pausing by an open window on the landing Helen allowed herself a little more time to finish a cigarette before continuing the climb. Looking out over the yard below her eyes took in the lines of marked and unmarked police vehicles, the business of personnel coming and going, each lost to their own world, each feeding on lines of inquiry fed to them from those holding higher ranks at this busy regional crime squad building (one of three that had been recently set up south of the river of the great Metropolis.)

‘Phew what a morning,’ she said aloud with a grin as she flicked the remains of the cigarette through the open window before turning for the final flight of stairs to the second floor.

Pulling her costume jacket down before brushing the lapels flat with her hand she took a deep breath as she lightly tapped on the dark stained door whilst her eyes went to the gold lettering stencilled at eye level. Detective Chief Inspector R. Hollings.

‘Come,’ she heard loudly after a few seconds delay.

‘Ah Inspector, take a pew,’ the seated officer said waving towards a chair positioned directly in front of his large polished desk, a desk that looked busy with a stack of files alongside an old-fashioned typewriter that held a half written sheet he must have been working on.

‘Afternoon sir,’ Helen said as her eyes took in quickly her surroundings, the diplomas and photographs dressing the walls, the half a dozen silver cups standing proud on a polished shelf above a double filing cabinet.

‘When I was a wee bit younger and when double cream cakes were a no no,’ he said whilst his hands rubbed the bulge above his belt line when he saw Helen looking towards the trophies.

‘Very commendable, sir.’

‘Football and cricket, nothing like a good day’s cricket on a warm summer day.’

‘I can imagine,’ Helen smiled whilst crossing her trouser covered legs before running her fingers through her straw coloured hair as she made herself comfortable in the hard chair.

‘Well Inspector, Helen, let’s keep it informal, shall we? What can I say but well done, a bloody good result all round,’ the overweight man said followed by a more than wide grin that channelled the puffed cheeks either side of the broad blue veined nose.

Helen smiled. ‘Thank you sir, the team did a very good job and…’

With a wave of his hand he interrupted her. ‘Brilliant, the commander’s been on the blower and sends his congratulations to you and your team.’ Before she could answer he continued, ‘So tell me, what was the final result?’ Helen stroked her hair with her hand again before she cleared her throat and adjusted her position on the hard chair before she answered.

‘Richardson got fifteen, the Johnson brothers twelve a piece and the Greek Augusto he went down for nine.’

‘And the youngster – what’s his name?’

‘Jimmy Morgan, sir.’

‘That’s it, Morgan, what did he end up with?’

Helen cleared her throat again. ‘Got off on a technicality sir – there weren’t enough regards forensics but the CPS did say it would be touch and go long before we went to trial. But the good news, sir is it looks like we might have him in the frame for the Forest Hill job anyway. There’s several lines of inquiry that have just come to light that my sergeant is following up at the moment, so fingers crossed Morgan will be back at the Bailey before too long.’

‘Good good.’ – ‘That’s Sergeant Massey you’re talking about?’ asked Hollings.

‘Yes sir, and two DC’s, they’ve been on it for the past week and we should have some feedback that we can act on by the beginning of next week so I’ve been told.’

‘Great, good man that Massey, knows where he is going that one.’

‘Indeed he is sir, but I wouldn’t want to lose him just yet if you’re thinking of moving him on; there’s plenty of time and his still got age on his side.’ Helen laughed but at the same time was looking for a hint that her superior was keeping something back.

‘Mmm,’ the senior officer grinned. ‘Can’t keep a good man down and all that… anyway Helen as I said before, well done to you and the team – should keep those sewer rats out of circulation for a few years at least.’

Helen smiled briefly. ‘Thank you again sir, touch and go at times though with the witnesses, what with the heavy stuff going on behind the scenes we heard about. Really they’re the ones that need the praise, they’re the ones…’

‘But we got there,’ Hollings interrupted as he allowed his large frame to fall back into the deep leather chair.

‘Yes we got there.’ Helen sighed as her mind quickly gathered the memories of the last month at the major court in the land. The reassurances she and her close team made to the dozen or so witnesses before they had to make that terrifying walk to the oak panelled witness box in the ancient building. Watching each and every one of them as fear took hold whilst they answered the countless questions fired at them from the defence council who were doing their best to discredit their evidence. And all the time feeling overwhelming intimidation from the five grinning villains seated in the dock a few feet away in front of them. Adding to that, the worry of slipping up, the fear of not remembering the vital details of what they witnessed when the accused terrified the security guards they attacked as they left the bullion lorry, the guns they were carrying, the noise of a gun when it discharged followed by the sight of one of the guards as he collapsed on the pavement with blood pouring from a gaping leg wound. Add to all that, the sight of a woman with a young child who were struck by the getaway car as with tyres screeching it mounted the kerb and struck the unlucky pair before making off through the high street in a cloud of dust. ‘Yes.’ Helen’s mind raced. ‘they are the ones who deserve the praise – they were brave enough to put that scum behind bars,’ she thought as Hollings’ voice brought her back to the present. ‘Sorry sir.’

‘I said I suppose the lads and lassies will be letting their hair down a bit.’

‘Yes,’ she smiled. ‘Saturday night so I’ve been told. DC Jones has arranged a back room at The Balham Hotel for a few jars and a few nibbles.’

‘Ah! Can’t make Saturday,’ Hollings said as he leant forward again before adding. ‘Got one of those do’s at the golf club – ladies presentation night by all accounts and the good lady has got my evening planned if you get my drift,’ he grinned before a grunt as he withdrew a wallet from his inside pocket. ‘Here,’ he said offering across a couple of folded notes in Helen’s direction. ‘Towards the pot, yeah?’

‘Thank you sir, it’s very nice of you. I’m sure the squad will appreciate your contribution,’ she said leaning forward to remove the notes from his chubby fingers.

‘Yes well, I’d like to have shown my face, a few handshakes and backslapping for a job well done, that sort of thing; you know what I mean,’ he added whilst slipping the wallet back in his jacket pocket.

‘I understand, sir. I’ll convey your feelings and congratulations before the party gets underway if you like?’

‘Yes quite, thanks,’ he replied as he leant back once more in his chair. ‘Anyway,’ he continued, ‘you’re taking some time off now I believe?’

‘Fifteen days, that’s if you signed the chit, sir?’ Helen laughed as her eyes scanned the desk for the leave form she had forwarded the previous day.

‘No problem,’ he answered and then asked, ‘Time to get yourself sorted out I take it?’

‘The divorce you mean!’ she stated before the big man nodded. Helen gathered a few seconds before continuing. ‘Well yes – now it’s final I want to sort out a couple of things. Access to the children on weekends, that sort of thing, plus I’ve just signed the contract for a new flat over in Mitcham, a nice little place and I’m looking forward to moving in without being disturbed with the job now I’ve got some leave.’

‘Good, I’m pleased for you. About time you had some luck in your personal life… been a bit rough over the past few months eh?’

Helen forced a smile. ‘You could say that, but thankfully things are falling into place now, so life is looking up at long last thank God.’

‘Good,’ the DCI said as he started to rise and offer his hand as a signal their short meeting had come to close.

Helen stood and reached for the offered hand. ‘Thank you again, sir.’

‘My pleasure, Inspector,’ he grinned before adding, ‘You take care now and enjoy your break, you’ve earned it.’

‘Thanks.’

‘And Helen,’ she heard just as she reached the door.

Turning back to the room. ‘Sir?’

‘Well done again with the case, good result, and have a good night on Saturday you’ve earned those brownie points. Bye.’

Helen closed the door quietly behind her and headed for the staircase to the ground floor. ‘Bloody brownie points,’ she mumbled aloud, adding as she went. ‘Dib dib dib, dob dob bloody dob,’ she laughed skipping down the stairs as two startled uniformed woman police officers stepped to one side to let her pass. ‘Thanks,’ she said.

‘Ma’am,’ she heard, followed by covered giggles from behind her.

***

Chapter 3

The evening went very well at The Balham Hotel. In the private function room set aside for the officers and support teams of the regional crime squad, the beers and spirits flowed endlessly as the night wore on, even the buffet was continuously added to by the ever-smiling landlord as mentally the pound signs clicked into gear whilst the patrons downed his fast dwindling stock.

After yet another song by a very drunk junior ranked officer, one of Helen’s close team took to the small stage and loudly called the revellers to order, which in itself was no mean feat. At long last and after several attempts the swaying officer restored some form of order as he surveyed the blurry-eyed audience before him.

‘Ladies and gentlemen and fellow officers please can I have your attention just for a few moments? Sssshhh,’ he added.

‘Get on with it,’ someone shouted from near the back of the room close to the bar where bodies were three deep waiting their turn to be served by the overworked bar staff. Catcalls and whistles followed by rounds of laughter filled the room as the officer called yet again for some sort of order.

‘Let him have his say,’ someone else near the stage shouted above the din which led eventually to the noise dropping to an acceptable level.

‘Thank you,’ the man on the stage said as a hush descended over the crowd. ‘Thank you,’ he said again after taking a quick swig from the glass he was holding. ‘Ladies and gentlemen and my fellow officers, I ask you all to raise your glasses to our lady of ladies, Detective Inspector Ross and to her success in having those bastards jailed at the Bailey last Thursday.’ Raising his glass once more he added. ‘I give you our governor – our DI Helen Ross.’

‘Ross’ was echoed around the room whilst each toasted the inspector as she carefully climbed the four narrow steps onto the small stage. The room fell strangely quiet even before she had uttered a word. Raising one arm slightly for a moment as a gesture of thanks she quickly glanced around at the faces before her.

‘Thank you – I will keep it brief.’

‘Thank God for that,’ someone close to the stage said which triggered another round of laughter in which Helen joined in. Eventually a semblance of silence returned and Helen cleared her throat before announcing loudly.

‘We’ve done it team… we done it, we got a result. I’d like to thank you all, the long hours and dedication you’ve put in… I’d like to thank the SOCO and lab teams from Lambeth, the civilian workers who manned the phones, the statement teams and support staff and those who daily updated the database as the information came in as the inquiry gained momentum.’ Helen turned her head to search out the man she was looking for. ‘And John,’ she said when she spotted him. ‘For organising and running the incident room as only he can; also my thanks to Jerry Mason of the press office for keeping the media happy and up to date, and last, but not least my close team for their help and support without which we wouldn’t have been here celebrating tonight.’ Helen raised the glass she was holding. ‘Thank you all, well done.’

Again cheers filled the room as Helen carefully backtracked down the narrow steps to join her close team colleagues who were waiting for another round of handshakes and backslapping.

Helen stood leaning against a lamppost outside the venue when she saw her number two Brian Massey walk unsteadily towards her.

‘Gov.’

‘Brian, you alright?’ Helen giggled when eventually Brian managed to come to a stand beside her.

‘Fine,’ he laughed between hic-cups. ‘Want a fag?’ he asked offering a packet in her direction.

‘Ta,’ she said after taking a cigarette then the offered light from a wavering flame from the lighter Brian was holding. The couple stood smoking in silence whilst watching the late night traffic trundle by on the nearby busy Balham High Road; it was Helen who broke the silence.

‘By the way Brian,’ she said turning slightly to face him. ‘You’ll be acting up whilst I’m on leave, the super rang just before I left home and told me he’d be ringing you first thing in the morning to put you in the picture… that’s if you want to that is?’ she added with a smile.

A wide grin spread across Brian’s face. ‘Me, acting DI? I can’t believe it, wow, thanks Guv.’

‘Don’t thank me Brian thank old thunder guts, he put your name forward, anyway, you deserve it, you’ve done pretty well over the past few months and I’ve got every confidence you’ll do OK with our team behind you.’

‘I bet you had something to do with it all the same…Thanks,’ he said with a grin followed by a loud burp. ‘Whoops, sorry.’

Helen smiled to herself as she stubbed her cigarette out on the nearside kerbstone. ‘If you do need a little guidance,’ she said looking up at her sergeant, ‘anything at all, doesn’t matter how trivial you think a problem is you can always ask for a little help from a good friend of mine.’

‘Friend?’

‘Yes, a good friend. DI Cullis at Richmond nick is a very good friend of mine and we go way back to when we worked together on the Vice squad back at Charring Cross. Anyway Bri, it might be a good idea to make yourself known to him, a good man to have on your side.’

‘I get what you’re saying Guv, I’ll bear that in mind, and thanks.’

‘You’ll be OK.’ Helen smiled, before adding, ‘just think before you leap yeah?’

‘Yup I’ll do that, have you got a lift by the way?’ Brian asked looking down at his watch. Helen copied his action before answering.

‘No, no I’m fine Brian, mini cab booked for midnight, the witching hour, should be here shortly,’ she said whilst rummaging in her handbag for her house keys which she promptly transferred to her coat pocket.

‘Can’t get over it… DI Massey, bloody hell.’

‘Acting DI, just until I get back,’ Helen laughed.

‘Who else knows Guv?’ Brian asked.

‘Just Hollings, myself, and the yard, nobody else and as I said he will be ringing you at home in the morning so be prepared for the do’s and don’t do’s, yeah?’

‘Will do. There’s your cab I think,’ said Brian as a car turned off the High Road and slowly came to a gentle rest beside the pair.

‘Ross?’ the driver asked through the half open window.

‘That’s me,’ Helen said bending slightly to look at the driver before turning back to Brian. ‘Have you got a lift, Bri?’

‘Yeah Guv, my missus Maureen will be here shortly,’ he answered whilst holding the car door open for Helen to slide into the rear seat.

‘Ta, now I’ll see you in a few weeks so behave yourself and take care, yeah?’

‘I will, have a good break,’ she just heard as the door closed before the car gently moved away.

Helen snuggled down in the warm cab and allowed her neck to come to rest on the head restraint behind her, closing her eyes her thoughts turned to Richard. ‘Oh Richard, where are you when I need you!’ Richard was her latest man friend who she had met at a friend’s party just over three months ago; they had been together three glorious months. Getting to know one another had been fun but the decision to move in together had been ruined when the company he worked for, British Petroleum had offered him a position for twelve months in South Africa. A move he couldn’t really refuse; the massive salary offered was too much of a temptation to allow the chance to pass him by, so with bags packed the happiness they shared suddenly slipped away. It was four weeks ago now when they last kissed, that last kiss and the hugs before she waved him farewell from the concourse at Heathrow Airport and then tearfully watched him disappear through the boarding gates. But her regret now was not that Richard had turned down the move but had only once telephoned her since that blustery day at the airport. ‘Richard, oh Richard please ring me, please get in touch.’

‘Here we are ma’am,’ the driver spoke which startled Helen from her daydream.

‘Oh thanks,’ she said leaning forward. ‘That’s just right,’ she added glancing around at the street they had just arrived in.

Helen handed across a five-pound note. ‘Keep the change and thanks again,’ she said before slipping from seat. ‘Goodnight.’

‘Night,’ Helen heard as she closed the door then with a quick wave she turned to head up the pathway as the noise of the car was lost in the distance.

***

Chapter 4

The first week of Helen’s holiday break had gone better than expected; the move to her new apartment had gone to plan with no hiccups; curtains hung, telephone installed along with her old number, a little bit of do-it-yourself with fresh coats of paint in the kitchen and two of the bedrooms. In fact she was more than pleased with the outcome as she slowly walked with cup in hand around the apartment.

Now showered and suitably attired in her best outfit she set off towards the car in its private parking bay beneath the small block of well-presented flats, even the weather was grand she thought as she looked forward to what lay ahead in the next couple of hours in deepest Kent.

Helen’s eyes dropped to the clock on the dashboard, twelve-twenty the hands registered. With a deep sigh her foot eased on the brake pedal yet again bringing the car to almost a standstill. The traffic was horrendous because of emergency road works at a roundabout up ahead, she was told by a pedestrian who was giving the good news to the motorists as he passed them by. A journey that normally took three quarters of an hour had almost doubled she thought whilst drumming her fingers on the steering wheel whilst waiting to move another couple of yards. It was a trip she had made several times over the last eight months, a journey to see her children who now lived permanently with her ex-husband Philip. Philip was a man she still had deep feelings for, unlike Richard, who, the more she thought about him used her just for the sole purpose of sex; he was good, very good in fact, a sex machine. She smiled to herself as she eased her foot off the brake and moved forward another couple yards. But Philip, he was different, he showed his feelings, shared his thoughts with her, shared everything if truth be known. But in the end he was a man who couldn’t accept her new way of life within the police force, the further up the chain of command she worked for the worse Philip’s attitude became. The long hours, the coming and going at all times around the clock and the unavoidable neglect of the children’s needs. Philip had become more of a househusband as the latter months rolled by, and then the final nail was punched into the coffin when she was promoted to detective inspector to lead a team in one of the new London’s regional crime squads. It was a position that entailed even more unsocial hours with countless surveillance operations along with early morning raids to arrest sleepy eyed villains. This was her life now and she was to pay for it dearly by the arrival of a widowed thirty-four year old five foot five attractive blond woman by the name of Pamela; a woman who arrived on the scene to fill her shoes and in the end, her bed.

Divorce was the only path and the obvious route for all concerned, and without any bitterness, trips were made to and from the solicitors to plan a future for the two children left in the void. Philip was granted custody of their son Andrew aged fourteen and Jane their twelve-year-old daughter with Helen granted reasonable access by prior arrangement. Wednesday August the 26th 1981 was the date Helen became single again, a mother yes, albeit from a distance, but they were her flesh and blood and she loved and missed them terribly. The marital home was eventually sold and the proceeds split sixty – forty in Philip’s favour and now his new partner Pamela had a readymade family under her own roof to care for.

The hands on the dashboard clock now showed twelve – fifty-seven as Helen manoeuvred the car into Lessons Way just outside the main town of Orpington and parked on the wide driveway outside the beautiful four bedroomed detached mock Tudor house that backed onto the open expanse of Hollingwell Woods. ‘You certainly fell on your feet here, husband,’ she said aloud to herself before turning towards the house after locking the car.

The front door opened allowing Andrew and Jane to jump the few steps then run together to greet their mother. Excitedly, Jane was the first to speak. ‘Mum it’s smashing to see you,’ she laughed before flinging her arms around Helen’s waist.

‘You’re late mum – we didn’t think you were coming,’ Andrew added as he made a grab for her hand.

‘Sorry but the traffic was bad… but look at you both,’ said Helen laughing as she held each child at arm’s length in turn. ‘You’ve grown at least two inches. I can’t believe it.’

‘What in four weeks?’ Jane laughed out loud as the trio turned for the house.

‘That long is it, wow how time flies,’ Helen said joining her daughter’s laughter as Andrew tugged her hand to lead her up the steps, then through the open oak panelled door to where Pamela stood waiting in the wide expanse of the hallway with a genuine smile for her visitor.

‘Helen.’

‘Pamela nice to see you, you look well,’ Helen said taking the offered hand before leaning forward to plant a kiss on both cheeks. ‘So where’s the lord and master?’ she added whilst slipping off her costume coat and handing it across to her daughter’s outstretched hand. ‘Ta, love.’

‘Walked down to the off-licence for another bottle of wine to replace the one he dropped in the kitchen earlier.’ Pamela grinned as she led the way into the lounge through a pair of double panelled glass doors.

‘Walked! God he’s never walked anywhere in his life if he could help it.’ Helen giggled as she was led towards a large settee knowing the kids would settle either side of her in the plush soft tan coloured leather.

The lunch of a typical Sunday roast was beautiful, more so with a desert of homemade apple pie with lashings of fresh cream followed by a perfect cup of rich percolated coffee. Pamela had certainly shown flair with her culinary skills. If this was the way to a man’s heart, then this took the biscuit, (bitch), Helen thought to herself whilst she mucked in with the family in returning the kitchen to its normal spotless state following the meal.

In a relaxed atmosphere the five settled down around a table in the conservatory, (which was larger than Helen’s lounge back home) playing Scrabble.

‘You don’t spell karate like that, Mum – it ends with an e, not with an i,’ Jane said quite sternly whilst reshuffling the tiles on the game board much to everyone’s amusement.

‘Whoops sorry partner,’ Helen laughed before taking a small sip of white wine from the glass in front of her. Following a few more turns around the board the near silence was broken when the little blond girl excitedly announced as she placed her last tile in place, ‘I’m out, that means we won,’ she said turning to her mother with a wide devilish grin. ‘We won Mum, we won,’ she repeated before turning back to re-check the row of tiles.

‘Well done you two,’ Phillip said as he and Andrew started to clear the game board. ‘Will you two kids go and make a nice pot of tea whilst we clear up in here,’ he added as he held the bag aloft for both Helen and Pamela to drop the small tiles inside.

‘Oh do we have to?’ Andrew whined as he slid off the seat between two of the adults.

‘Please, there’s something we want to talk about with your mother so if you don’t mind just go and make a nice cuppa, yeah?’

‘Yeah OK, come on Andy,’ Jane said leading her brother out of the conservatory towards the kitchen.

‘Be careful you two,’ Pamela called after them.

Helen waited until the children were out of earshot then, crossing her legs, she looked across at the couple who had moved closer to one another. ‘This sounds serious… is it what I think it is?’

Phillip cleared his throat but before he