*

  Sir Clive was mightily inconvenienced by Joan's death,

  “Dash it all, now I shall have to find a new one...” He stood at her bedside, Eve beside him, “...What the devil happened to her anyway?”

  “We think she must have surprised a burglar.”

  “Ah, I see.” He swallowed the explanation and Eve planted a seed,

  “Not the sort of thing you want to see in the newspaper is it?”

  “Good lord no! That wouldn't do at all, dashed paparazzi all over the place!” Eve smiled,

  “Poking their noses in and asking questions.”

  “Bloody intolerable!”

  Sir Clive used his connections to have Joan's death certified as Natural Causes and arranged a quiet funeral in the local authority cemetery.

  The twins would get to wear black dresses, and the whole inconvenient affair would vanish without a trace.

  London, Windsor

  Susan and Walther sat quietly in her living room. Since they had returned from the house in Hammersmith Susan had been quietly going crazy. Walther watched her helplessly as she wandered from room to room, she tidied things and put laundry in the machine, she made coffee and sandwiches, but she refused to speak about the shooting or her husband. Finally, she broke down. Walther heard a small crash from the kitchen followed by some muffled whimpering, he quickly ran to the kitchen and found her kneeling on the floor with her head in her hands, the remains of a coffee cup were scattered on the floor in front of her, with a face contorted with grief she spat out the words,

  “Richard’s mug.” She sobbed for several minutes before either of them spoke, eventually the spasm was over,

  “What are we going to do?” she asked in a strengthening waver. Walther eased her onto a stool,

  “My guess is that Eve has another safe house somewhere, we have to find it. Richard may be held captive there.” He was reluctant to say what he really thought, that Richard was already dead. Susan seemed to think on his comment for a few moments then uttered,

  “Is it true what they say about killing? That the second one is always easier?” Walther frowned and suggested she lie down for a while, he led her to the bottom of the stairs. She climbed them without another word.

  The house in the Countryside

  Richard had been exploring his cell, the iron bed was heavy but he could drag it backwards and forwards which meant that he could reach all four corners of the room. He tugged the plain wooden wardrobe away from the wall slightly and saw the outline of a tiny white painted door,

  “How fucking creepy is that.” He muttered to himself, then shook his head at the craziness of his situation. After carefully pushing the wardrobe back to its original position he dragged himself across the room and examined the bedroom door. It was locked and very solidly made. He turned away with a grunt, and was staring out of the window again when the twins returned chattering nonsense as usual,

  “We're sorry we can't stay for very long, we had to go to London to-”

  “-And now we’ve got to catch up with our chores.” Richard noticed that they were wearing a lot of make-up and that their short dresses were not the kind of style you’d expect for doing ‘chores’.

  “I have to go to the toilet again!” He announced firmly. The infantile women looked at the buckets and then at him,

  “Go ahead…” They announced, “…we’re not shy.” They giggled.

  “Well I bloody well am!…” He roared, “…I'm not shitting in front of an audience! I'm not a bloody animal. And I want a shave and a shower!” He was testing them to see how far he could go. At first they looked a little defiant, then crestfallen, then after their customary pause said,

  “Shy? We hadn’t thought of that.” Without another word to each other, Emm stepped forward and handcuffed his right wrist to the top of the bed while Pip unlocked the ankle cuff from the bed and attached it to her own ankle, then they spoke,

  “We will let you use the bathroom if you promise not to try to run away.”

  “You have to give us your word!” They waited until Richard duly promised,

  “I swear on my cats' life.” And Emm freed his wrist, whispering, “He has a cat.”

  “That's nice.” Pip then skipped lightly towards the door forgetting that she was shackled to Richard and fell over. There followed a strange little ritual where Emm helped Pip to get up asking her if she was all right and making a terrible fuss about nothing. Pip looked as if she was about to cry before Richard realised that he was also supposed to offer some kind of comfort to her,

  “Would you like me to kiss it better?” He offered sarcastically. The effect was immediate; she lifted her leg and showed him a little red mark on her knee,

  “Yes please…” She murmured in a forlorn voice, “…It hurts.” Richard noticed that her legs had recently been shaven and the scent of perfume. He solemnly kissed her knee. When he looked up he saw Pip grinning at Emm with a triumphant look on her face, Emm did not look pleased at all.

  “Is it all better now?” Richard asked, oozing false concern. Emm was the one who answered,

  “Yes I think you are quite all right now, aren’t you Philippa?” They exchanged glances with each other and led Richard out of the room.

  “Shyness is nice.” Pip declared with a broad smile.

  A roadside camp, southern England

  Tsuba stood in the trees out of sight of the lay-by. After a bow to the tree, he climbed it. Settled high in the boughs he looked beyond the trees to the town, from a pocket he removed a small notebook, after ruffling through for a moment he nodded and climbed back down the tree.

  “I'll follow you and make a heaven out of hell, and I'll die by your hand which I love so well.”

  His face betrayed little emotion as he returned to the lay-by, collecting firewood on his way.

  The house in the Countryside

  The twins were peering around the bathroom door, their eyes more saucer-like than ever. Richard had stripped down to his boxers and finished using the toilet, but didn't have time to protest as they tiptoed in and locked the door. Emm carried a small safety razor and some shaving cream; Pip had a small bundle of clothes that she placed on a small cupboard behind the door. There was a small stool in a corner, Emm placed it in front of the basin, draped a towel over it and sat Richard down,

  “Shave first? Or hair wash?” She asked, her face flushed with excitement.

  “I don't need any help shaving, I'm a big boy now and have been doing it myself-” The girls silenced him by each placing a finger on his lips, explaining,

  “You're not allowed to have anything sharp. The Mistress would kill us, or worse...” They shuddered, “...She says you might turn it into a weapon to kill us and escape...” They nodded to each other, “...And so we've decided to wash your hair first, then shave you...” Emm licked her lips, “...And finish you off with a good scrubbing.” They giggled, adding a little apologetically,

  “You have become a little smelly.” Despite feeling very silly at first Richard went along with the surreal operation; it felt weird-good to be pampered even if it was by a pair of lunatics.

  “Quite handsome, don’t you think Pip?” Emm had finished shaving Richard's beard off and they both paused to study his bruised and swollen face.

  “Now stand up, let’s get you washed.” Emm’s voice had taken on a husky tone as he stood up between the girls, he was at least six inches taller than they, Richard was also starting to feel a little uncomfortable, somehow the top buttons of the girls cotton dresses had somehow come undone, and they had spilled water down their fronts, he could see the outlines of their breasts and feel them as they pressed close to him, they seemed to be taking a long time washing him down, and then it was too late, Emm yanked his boxers down,

  “Oh Pip look!” Emm spoke softly, their hands stopped moving,

  “Oooh.” They nodded, wide-eyed. Richard looked down at their faces glowing with anticipation. I
t finally dawned on him what he was supposed to do. Being trapped in a bathroom with two psychotic sex-nutters was not Richard's ideal foreplay, he thought of Susan but that made things worse,

  “I'm sorry, I can't do this.” He tried to break away but they pressed closer against him, stroking and kissing, dropping to their knees,

  “No! I can't do this!” The evidence was before their eyes, he definitely wasn't up for it. The twins rose as one and left the bathroom,

  “Call us when you've finished.” Their voices cold.

 
Timothy Pearsall's Novels