Page 55 - double revenge 3.
P. 55

‘Bryant, we will sleep together, we will make love together and in the morning I will cook you
            breakfast including hash browns and black pudding. Ugh!’ she laughed, ‘and then, once more, I shall

            be gone. Always au revoir but never adieu.’

            ‘OK. I concur.’ I replied.

            ‘So that was my day, how was yours?’ she asked.


            I couldn’t tell her Arnold was dead, or that he was a crook not a millionaire, not that I thought she
            might care very much, so I made a bland reply about being tied to a desk all day.

            ‘My poor Bryant, you must get away from your desk now and then, no wonder you look peaky. So
            what are you doing tomorrow, more desk tying?’

            ‘Well I am going to see someone about Anne’s car fire. I need to lay a few things to rest and ease

            my concerns.’

            ‘And then you will be ready to attend to the bedroom?’

            ‘Yes, yes I think so.’


            We enjoyed the take away and the bottle of plonk and Gabriela was right, we did make love and it
            was as though sex acted as a large dose of Prozac. My depression of yesterday had gone, replaced
            with a new zeal.

            The morning breakfast was certainly the Full English Breakfast. It included everything including
            black sausage and hash browns.


            She sat opposite supping her coffee. ‘So, not being desk tied today, can we have lunch?’

            I burst out in laughter, ‘Lunch after this breakfast? I am sorry, I would really love to but I have to get
            to Fulham to see someone and then get back to the office. Does this mean you are coming back
            tonight?’


            ‘No. I must get to Spain. I will get a late afternoon flight. And now I must leave to buy some more
            clothes.’

            She kissed me, ‘Ugh! Black Sausage.’ She laughed and once more, she was gone.


                                                          *****

            Townhead Road in Fulham is a row of terraced houses on one side and small factories and industrial
            units on the other. The air is heavy with the sickly sweet smell of baked bread.

            Frank Furlong worked from a unit right next door to the bakery. There was no signage, nothing to
            indicate what went on behind the tall wooden gates and barbed wire protected high walls.
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