‘Wait! Wait! Wait!’ Alfie yelled out as he suddenly remembered the change he had in his pocket. Frantically, he jammed his hand into his jeans pulling out a ten-pound note along with some pound coins. He called out again, his voice tinged with slight hope. ‘Five hundred thousand and … and … thirteen pounds.’

He glanced at Rupert, whose smile had dropped, replaced by an expression of fury as he hissed, ‘I’m out. All out.’

And as Rupert stood up and stormed towards the exit, Alfie once again buried his head in his hands listening to Barry count down the bid. ‘Five hundred thousand and thirteen pounds from the gentleman at the back, going once, going twice, going three times … Sold!’

And with that, Alfie Jennings was promptly sick again.

46

Alfie drove with his foot right down on the accelerator as he sped through the villages, heading towards the outskirts of Ongar in Essex, to the disused airfield.

As he took the corners at speed, anxiety mixed with adrenalin rushed through him. He knew he couldn’t be complacent now. Until he had Taylor, he couldn’t relax.

After the auction they’d checked his money, making him give half of it there and the rest he had to give to Barry when he handed over Taylor, in less than twenty minutes.

Hitting ninety miles an hour, Alfie concentrated on the road ahead, knowing that taking the roads this fast with the rain pouring down was dangerous, but there was nothing else he could do. They’d warned him if he were late, then there was a chance Barry might not be there, and not only would he lose his deposit, but more importantly he would lose Taylor.

‘I think we’ll be there in about fifteen minutes,’ Franny said as she looked at the inbuilt GPS. ‘Take the next right, Alf, it’s coming up in half a mile.’

Going too fast, and concentrating too hard to answer, Alfie nodded as he focused on the dark, wet road ahead, part of him knowing that having to work so hard on driving would stop him having to think; think that within the next twenty minutes, he’d be coming face-to-face with Barry.

The disused airfield was down a long country track with dips and potholes and Alfie now drove slowly, steadying his breathing as he dipped his headlights. The rain continued to lash down and the windscreen wipers worked overtime.

Looking at the time, Alfie saw it was just past midnight and at the end of the track, he turned the engine off. In the pitch-black he spoke to Franny. ‘I’ll go, you stay here.’

Anxiously, Franny said, ‘Are you sure? I don’t mind. I mean, perhaps it’s better for me to deliver the money and get Taylor.’

‘No, I have to do this on my own.’