Хилари Боннер - The Cruellest Game

I studied him carefully for a few seconds. I didn’t know how closely my father had followed Robert’s trial, if at all in view of the distress I knew it had caused him, nor how fully some of the less dramatic evidence, the technical stuff, had been reported in the press. But Dad’s entire concentration appeared focused on the task confronting him. There certainly seemed to be no edge to his remarks.

I relaxed. ‘All right,’ I said. ‘I’ll do my best. Got any spare overalls?’

Dad climbed up out of the pit.

‘I’ll find you some, and I’ll fetch a can,’ he said, beaming at me. ‘Still my right-hand girl, eh?’

He disappeared into the cottage. The bean-can trick, as it’s known, involves vertically slicing open a tin can, cutting out a strip, and fastening it around a blown or broken exhaust pipe. It could only ever be a temporary job, but with a bit of luck, would get young Jim Hickson to Bude and back.

While I waited for Dad to return I rummaged around the garage looking for a couple of jubilee clips with which to secure the makeshift repair.

During what I now regarded as my long sham of a marriage to Robert I’d left the whole of the early part of my life behind me and never talked about my perhaps unlikely knowledge in certain areas. Nor would I have been sure, then, how much I’d retained. In any case, Robert had believed in a pretty clear demarcation in our roles. He’d been the man and the engineer. He’d looked after our vehicles and everything mechanical and technical. He’d not had the vaguest idea that I might also have been capable of doing so.

But my father knew me well. I had indeed forgotten very little from those long ago days working alongside him in his garage.

I’d realized that as soon as I’d started my deadly work on Brenda Anderton’s car.

Grateful thanks are due to:

The indomitable Heather Chasen for reminding me I should also be so, Doctor Rudy Capeldeo; Doctor Paul Bevan; Patricia May LIB, Barrister-at-Law; former Detective Sergeant Frank Waghorn; Devon coroner’s officers Cath Lake, Jean Timms, and Leigh Bass; super-clever mechanic Robert Andrews; Alex Broadbent; my agent Tony Peake for his enduring support; and, of course, my inspirational editor Wayne Brookes and all the team at Pan Macmillan for the faith they have shown in me.