‘Yes. You’ve won a special prize and I need to know your address to be able to send it to you.’
The child said, ‘What is it?’
‘It’s a big teddy bear. A giant teddy bear.’
‘What colour?’
Bloody hell. ‘What colour would you like?’
‘Pink?’
‘Okay. Pink it is. Now, just tell me where you live. What town do you live in?’
‘We live in Churchill.’
Where the hell was that? It would be easy enough to find out.
‘What street, sweetheart? You do know your address, don’t you?’
‘Yes, I do. It’s the Old Rectory, Mill Lane, Churchill. Mummy made me remember it.’
‘Good for Mummy.’
He heard a woman call out, ‘Amelia? Who are you talking to? Are you on the phone?’
Sampson ended the call.
Good little Amelia. He was half-tempted to go and find a pink teddy bear to take to her as a reward for being so helpful. He wouldn’t, of course. But he would be visiting her house soon.
Like any good fisherman knows, if you want to catch that big fish, you need the right bait.
‘They’ve got rooms here, upstairs,’ said Paul, returning from the bar and waving a key on a large plastic fob, trying unsuccessfully to keep a smile off his face at the thought of an available double bed so close above their heads to where they were sitting.
‘Oh. Good!’ Kate said brightly. Paul couldn’t tell if she was excited or petrified.
‘Shall we?’ Paul held out his arm for her.
‘Let’s,’ she agreed. ‘But I need to get my bag out of the boot first. Can you give me the car keys?’
Paul felt the blood drain from his face, and Kate frowned. ‘What’s the matter – you haven’t lost them, have you?’
‘Er . . . no, I don’t think so,’ he stuttered, making a big show of patting down his jeans pockets. ‘No . . . here they are. I tell you what, could you get us a couple of drinks to take upstairs? I’ll get your bag for you. Meet you back here in a minute – I’ll have a large brandy, if that’s OK.’
He was gone before Kate had a chance to object; bolting out into the car park. He had to lean against the back wall of the pub for a moment, breathing heavily at the thought of Kate discovering the shotgun, so soon after she’d decided to trust him after all.
He retrieved Kate’s overnight bag, and then did some discreet rearranging of the boot’s contents, so that the shotgun was now hidden underneath a plastic groundsheet he kept in there, pushed right to the back, and covered up by a pair of wellington boots and a tennis racket in its case. It wasn’t ideal to have it so inaccessible, he thought – but he couldn’t take the risk that she might discover it, and panic completely.
‘Thank you,’ Kate said when he got back. She handed him a glass of amber liquid. ‘I’m not sure whether you were being super-chivalrous by getting my bag for me, or super-unchivalrous, by making me buy the drinks!’
He managed a smile. ‘Oh, chivalrous, definitely. You never know who might be hanging around pub car parks at night.’
‘No,’ Kate said, serious again. ‘I guess you don’t.’
They both paused, thinking of the terrifying events of the day. ‘Come on, Paul, let’s go and lock ourselves out of harm’s way for the night, shall we?’
‘I can’t think of anything I’d rather do,’ Paul said fervently.
Their room was cramped and smelled slightly of stale cigarettes, but it seemed clean enough. It was dominated by a large bed with a white candlewick bedspread, crammed around which were a small wardrobe, a wall-mounted television, and two bedside tables. The sound of the jukebox floated up through the floor. Kate switched on the light long enough to put their drinks down and their bags on the carpet, and then switched it straight off again, so the only light came through a gap in the curtains from a streetlight outside.
‘Come here,’ Paul said, more bravely than he felt, taking Kate into his arms as soon as he had locked the door behind them. They kissed, and immediately toppled on to the bed.
‘Ah, that’s better,’ Paul murmured, as they allowed their clothed bodies to fit together from top to toe. He rolled on top of her, breaking away from their kiss to lean across her, take a swig of the brandy on the bedside table, and offer her the glass too. When he kissed her again, he tasted the sweet fire of the alcohol on both their tongues. He thought he had never wanted anybody quite as much.
‘Are you OK?’ he asked, a few moments later, when Kate still hadn’t said anything. She was kissing him back with what he thought was enthusiasm, but it was dark in the room, and he suddenly worried that perhaps he’d moved too fast for her.
To his relief, she laughed. ‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘I’m absolutely fine. Let’s have a shower. All that fear got me quite sweaty.’
‘Great idea.’
She pushed him off her, and rolled herself off the bed and into the bathroom. A moment later he heard the sound of water splattering into the bath tub, and the ripping sound of a shower curtain being pulled along a rail. He wondered if she meant for him to come in with her, or if she wanted them to shower separately. It would be awful if he barged in there unwelcome. He dithered, stalling for time by taking off his shoes, socks, and belt, and then she reappeared. In the dim light he saw that she was stripping off her top, and then her bra. Her breasts were beautiful, and he groaned with lust.
‘Can I come into the shower with you?’ he asked, grabbing her again, unable to stop himself cupping her breasts and rubbing his face in them.
‘Of course,’ she said, giggling. ‘I need someone to wash my back for me, and you’ll have to do.’
‘Oh, you’ve definitely picked the right man for the job,’ he murmured, helping her out of her jeans and underwear until she stood before him naked. ‘Washing backs is my speciality and your body is gorgeous.’
‘Well, thank you. Come on then, get your kit off so I can see yours too.’
Paul liked this assertive, overtly sexy version of Kate. He felt he was getting a glimpse of a side of her that she’d kept hidden from him until now, and it was a huge turn-on. He slipped his hand up the inside of her thigh, and stroked her between her legs. She moaned, and then giggled again.
‘Stop it, otherwise we’ll never make it into the shower.’
Two minutes later they were both jostling for position, under a frankly very feeble stream of water. In order to even get both their bodies wet enough to wash, a great deal of touching was required.
‘Budge up, my back’s getting cold,’ Paul pretended to grumble, pushing himself up against her.
‘I’ll warm you up,’ she said seductively, hauling him to her by clasping his buttocks, and then putting one of her feet up on the side of the bath, so it just seemed completely natural for Paul to slide himself inside of her. They both gasped with pleasure, which soon changed to shock, as the shower suddenly turned icy. Paul leaned forward and turned off the taps, without breaking his stride.
‘Oh god, this is wonderful,’ Kate said, as his thrusts increased in urgency. Paul was alarmed to see tears rolling down her cheeks, although she hadn’t made a sound.
‘Kate, what’s wrong? Am I hurting you?
She sniffed and laughed and slapped