Dolly began to row. She had one oar, Angela the other, and they began to propel the boat slowly to the centre of the small lake, the three girls sitting on the seat at the bow.
‘Look, look, it’s a bridge,’ Sheena said, pointing.
Dolly nodded. ‘Yes, love, it’s a bridge. Maybe we’ll see a train crossing it today.’
The boat made its way, rocking — neither Angela nor Dolly was adept at rowing. It took them a while to get to the centre of the lake and then they sat and rested as Dolly caught her breath. She leaned on the oar and carefully monitored the bridge: there was at least a good twenty-foot drop down to the lake beneath at the lowest point of the bridge. She then glanced at the boathouse on the other side.
‘Is this your boat, Dolly?’ Kate asked.
‘No, love, it belongs to an old man, lives not far from the manor, in one of those cottages. He lent it to me.’
‘Can we come out again?’ Sheena piped up.
‘Yes, we can borrow his boat any time we want.’
They shouted with excitement and Dolly spotted the floating dock. ‘Let’s go over to that boat-house, Angela, maybe we can go ashore for a little walk.’
The innocent-looking boating party headed towards a small wooden jetty. Two speedboats were tied up, well covered with green tarpaulins. Dolly made each girl remain in their seat until she herself had stepped ashore to guide each one out with Angela’s help.
‘Can we go in a speed-boat?’ Sheena asked.
‘Not today, darlin’, another time maybe.’
Angela was told to take the girls for a ramble, while Dolly remained sitting at the side of the jetty. She began to make notes in her little black book, her eyes flicking from the jetty to the bridge, from the lake to the undergrowth, and then she focused on the bridge for a long, long time.
The women lined up to practise with the shotguns. It was not as much of a fiasco as Gloria thought it was going to be. She showed them over and over how to load and unload the cartridges before she would allow them to fire. She told them sternly that they must pay close attention. She’d not listened when her dad was first showing her — it had been at the fairground — but she’d been over-confident. She held up her left hand. ‘See that? Did it when I was twelve. It wasn’t a shotgun, it was an automatic but it snapped back and bang, me thumb hung off at a very dodgy angle, so listen to what I tell you. We can’t afford no accidents. Take the weight into your shoulder, left hand to steady and support the barrel, right index finger on the trigger, but no need to give it much strength, they’re oiled and you need just a light squeeze, don’t jerk it. They got a big kick these shotguns, so be prepared for it. If you don’t hold it right, like what I’m showing you, you’ll get a bruise on yer collarbone an’ it could whack into yer cheekbone, bring tears to your eyes, I’m tellin’ you.’
Dolly stopped rowing as they heard the shotgun blasts. She turned towards the woods and then waved to Angela to stop rowing as she took out her notebook and quickly jotted something down. Bang! the shotgun went again.
‘Somebody’s firing a gun,’ Angela said.
‘Yeah, be up in the woods. Duck-shooting around here.’
Angela said, ‘I haven’t seen any ducks.’
‘Well, you wouldn’t, would you? Soon as they hear a blast they take off.’ Dolly suddenly roared with laughter. Another bang. This time Dolly frowned. It was very loud and the last thing they needed was some nosy parker wondering what they were doing. Bang. Bang. She started to row as further gun blasts went off. She couldn’t blame them, she’d told them to do it, but she hadn’t reckoned it would be quite so loud. Bang. Bang. Bang.
Julia lowered the shotgun. The tree they were aiming at was splintered. ‘Maybe we’ve done enough for today. The last thing we want is some bastards coming up here to find out what’s going on.’
They all agreed, and under Gloria’s beady eye unloaded and collected all the spent cartridges before they started back to the manor. Midway they stopped. The shotguns were now wrapped in their waterproof covers, and the women stashed them in the trunk of a dead tree.
Ester had already left for London and Connie for the builder’s yard. Julia was sitting at the kitchen table, cutting old sacks with a knife. ‘I can use these with a drawstring, pad it out with some sawdust, that should be enough.’
‘Fine. Do it in the stables, not in the kitchen. And when Gloria comes back get her to help you.’
Julia snatched up the sacks. ‘Right, and we got a ride booked for five o’clock. I found out the stables’ key is always left under a plant pot and...’ But Dolly was ushering the girls ahead for an afternoon kids’ programme on TV, so Julia went out to the stables, closing the gate behind her. Opening one of the packets of cocaine, she took out a pocket mirror, and laid a small amount of the powder on the mirror. She chopped it deftly and fast. Then she took an already tightly rolled five-pound note and snorted, sniffing hard, licking the residue off the mirror. She felt better, carefully replaced the mirror and the fiver in her pocket, and then started hacking at the sacks. Stacking the squares in a neat pile at her feet, she had cut up about eight when Gloria burst in.
‘Bleedin’ walked to the local shop. What a load of halfwits! I dunno, they look at me like I got two fuckin’ heads.’
Julia studied Gloria. She was wearing a pair of jeans that were too tight, a strange purple silk shirt, knotted at the waist with her tits half hanging out from some wire contraption brassière that went out in the fifties. Her blonde hair was in need of bleach, the black roots over an inch long. She was also wearing a baggy man’s riding jacket. ‘It’s the wellington boots, Gloria, they’re very sexy.’
She laughed, a loud barking sound. ‘Piss off. I need them, having to wade through that bloody mud lane. Them potholes get you every time.’ She squatted down, picking up one of the cut squares. ‘What’re these for, then?’
‘The horses’ hooves.’
‘Oh, of course! Any fool would have known that. ‘What you talkin’ about?’
‘Dolly’s orders, Gloria, so don’t ask, just start sewing.’
Connie leaned against the hut door and peeked in. ‘Hi, how you doing?’
John looked across and went back to opening his bills. She strolled in and leaned closer. ‘You were very rude to me last night — you know that, don’t you?’
He sighed. ‘Yeah, but I’m not sorry, and don’t sit on the desk, it’s got a wonky leg. What do you want?’
‘Well, you’re supposed to be fixing our roof and, like, nobody is there so Mrs Rawlins sent me to ask when you’re going to do it.’
He scratched his head. ‘Tomorrow. I got a few things lined up for today and the men are all out.’
Connie slipped on to his knee. ‘Well, that’s convenient, then, isn’t it?’
He wouldn’t put his arm around her but leaned back in the old swivel chair. ‘What do you want?’
‘What you didn’t give me the other afternoon.’
She circled his face with her hands and kissed him, prising open his mouth with her tongue. He didn’t resist for long and his arms were soon wrapped around her. She could feel his erection and wriggled on his knee. ‘Oh, you’re very easy to please, aren’t you?’ she whispered, licking his ear. He started to unbutton her shirt and she kept on licking and kissing, hoping someone would come in and he’d have to leave. When they remained uninterrupted she knew he would screw her. Well, she’d been screwed in some worse places — but never for a machine that sucked up bloody leaves.
Ester leaned forward to the taxi driver. ‘Okay, love, I’m going in this house here. I want you to wait. If I’m not out within five minutes, will you ring on the doorbell? And keep this for me.’ She passed over the envelope with the tape. He looked at it, then at Ester. ‘Five minutes.’