‘It should be worrying you, too, because he knows enough about you and me and Tommy to get us all up before the beak. Hockley threatened Rupert only a week ago because of Peter. He’s not a man to cross, Briony, yet Rupert refuses even to countenance not seeing the boy. Peter seems to find it all exciting. I think he’s enjoying the stir he’s creating.’

‘I’ll keep an eye out, all right? But if I was you I’d take up that other offer, Jonathan. The way things are going, you might be glad you did.’

After he had left she pondered the situation. If Lord Hockley caused a ruckus then it would be a big one. He was a leading industrialist, owned a newspaper, was a member of parliament. All in all, a man to fear. If only Rupert could see that. Hockley’s son’s sexual preferences would be hidden, no matter what it cost. Hockley had the money and the influence to ensure that.

Chapter Twenty-seven

Chapter Twenty-seven

As Denice O‘Toole opened the front door of her semi-detached house in East Ham to Briony and Kerry, her face was beaming smiles. ‘Come in, my dears, I’ve just made a pot of tea.’

Briony and a white-faced Kerry were ushered through to a small overstuffed parlour that was far too warm and far too full of knick-knacks.

Kerry sat down on the edge of a chair, and Briony settled herself at a small table.

Denice bustled about pouring the tea, pouring milk and enquiring who took sugar and who didn’t. Kerry felt as if she was stuck in some kind of bad dream. This was the last thing she’d had expected. In her mind’s eye she had pictured a dim dirty room, with an old wizened hag holding a crocheting hook. Somehow that picture seemed more fitting for what she knew was going to happen.

Denice smiled at her in a friendly fashion.

‘Don’t you worry, my dear, everything will be all right, I promise you.’

Briony sipped her tea. The atmosphere in the room was one of gentle conviviality. Her girls had never seemed to mind coming here. Briony always asked them if they would like to keep their child, and was always amazed at the number who said no. A clear and categoric no. For them the child inside them was just a nuisance, a problem to be solved by Denice and her ministrations. It was their body and their life. Now she sat here with her sister who did not class her pregnancy as an occupational hazard, something to be sorted out like the laundry or a little domestic problem.

Denice stood up. Her attempts at conversation were falling on deaf ears.

‘If you would care to follow me, we’ll get down to business.’

Kerry looked at Briony wild-eyed. Taking her sister’s hand, she pulled her gently from the chair.