He brought the vase down with all his might on to her forehead. He was amazed that the force of the blow did not break the vase. It had not even broken the skin on her forehead, though a lump the size of an egg was slowly appearing.

She was out cold.

George sat on the sofa and watched her for a few minutes. She lay sprawled across the chair. The skirt and jumper she was wearing were both bunched up and looked uncomfortable.

George got up from his seat and placed the vase back where he had found it, arranging it precisely. Then he tidied Leonora up, pulling her skirt and jumper down so she looked more natural. Then, taking the breadknife from the belt of his trousers, he placed it by her chair. He took off his overcoat and folded it up neatly on the settee.

Satisfied with his work, he once more retrieved his knife and began the process of cutting her jumper from the neck to the navel. As usual, he laid it open tidily and began on her bra.

Leonora’s arms were hanging over the sides of the chair and her head was lying on her shoulder, slightly bent. By the time George began to hack at her skirt, she had begun to stir. He tutted and, walking out to the hall, picked up a tartan scarf from the coat rack. Going back to Leonora he pulled her head forward roughly by the hair, causing her to groan. He placed the scarf around her neck and pushed her head back.

Then he began his task. Crossing the scarf over her naked breasts, he picked up each end, wrapping the woolly material around his hands to get a good grip. He began to pull his arms outwards. He watched the tartan material stretch and stretch until eventually it cut into her neck.

George was whistling a little tune through his front teeth. All the tension was gone now. He felt himself relax.

George was back on top.

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

Elaine heard George’s key in the door and glanced at the clock. It was twenty past twelve. She listened to him humming as he took off his coat and hung it up. Her nerves were jangling and she swallowed deeply as he walked into the lounge. His face was animated. The dead grey eyes seemed to be twinkling as he looked at her.

‘Hello, dear, can I make you a drink? I’m having one, I’m parched.’

‘Where have you been, George?’ Elaine’s voice was flat.

She could sense George’s surprise even though his face was calm.

‘Why, I’ve been out walking, dear, where on earth would I go?’

‘So you’ve been walking for over three hours, have you?’

Elaine could feel his confusion. She realised that he was unaware how long he had been out of the house.