Bobby Lucas (The Kidnap of Lilly Beauchamp)

The glass of homemade lemonade was just as she liked it, cool, tart and refreshing, her grandmother’s recipe stretching back to the nineteenth century. Made with fresh lemons and not too much sugar and just a hint of ginger to add a little heat and of course a pile of crushed ice. She loved drinks with crushed ice and had this electric crusher that you filled with the big lumps and out came perfect little lumps that filled the glass with a cold slowly melting mush. Just perfect for a hot day.   When fully extended the cream canvas awning easily covered the oak table and chairs perfectly positioned on the extensive weathered stone terrace. The welcome shade and slight breeze making a very comfortable entertaining area. The wide patio doors were fully open allowing the slight breeze to cool the lavishly furnished garden room with its array of exotic plants and tall glass windows open wide allowing air to circulate. Lilly Beauchamp liked the heat but preferred heat in the shade these ...

It was about a quarter to five when Donny arrived. He parked down the road a bit around the corner in a side street in a bay with faded lines. Nodded a friendly one to the man with the long grey hair and neck scarf, thin wrinkled face and looking like a faded rocker who was cutting his hedge with some real blunt shears and cursing.    The ruffled look with shortish blond hair and dark glasses gave Donny a sort of celebrity look as he kind of swaggered a bit, hamming it up to the pub and Bobby sitting outside on that uncomfortable looking seat talking to a blond girl. The grey short style jacket was slung on the back of the bench as he said, “ T oo hot for that. Been sweating all day in that. Dumped the tie at two but the jacket, it was necessary.”    “Heyyy... Donny,” Bobby said, getting up and giving him one of those casual light slap on the back type of hugs that sort of said great to see you in a kind of affectionate but not so affectionate way. “What’s the probl...

Sid locked the door behind her as Gloria left The Ship about half an hour after closing.  The key turned and the bolts top and bottom rammed home leaving her kind of feeling a bit stranded on the street. There was a chorus of singing with an unusual melody. That sort of beer singing sounding like a very badly tuned Dean Martin with a kind of slurring crescendo. A song about money and wanting it, hanging out the word money in an extended …eee. And then I Love you yeah, yeah, yeah but still singing about money, cash money. Six builders sitting on the kerb waiting for their minibus that was parked on the building site across the road where they were paid in cash for weekend work. One of them tapping out the beat on the side of the waste bin with dry mortar split fingers. Headlights came on lighting up the timber gateway and the minibus crept through the gates of one of those fenced in sites with tall wooden panels and no flyers stencilled in big and bold red capitals on each panel, th...

Saturday and Lilly Beauchamp drove her Mercedes sports to the village through the dappled shade of the narrow tree lined lanes for coffee and lunch with Viv Banner. Eleven and the main street was busy the Saturday shoppers with kids in tow filling the roads and pavements, ambling a bit, just sauntering in the sunshine. Too many cars in the car park entrance and a few chests puffed up with impatience and it took a while to get parked.           May's up-market cafe one of those places that makes brightly coloured plastic tablecloths look good with an eclectic menu and endless coffee options attracting the well to do set and always busy. Meeting early enough for a flat white decaf and late enough to follow with a nicoise salad or avocado something or whatever the latest fad is. Viv one of those long-time friends people have, the sort of friends from school with that long time understanding and a kind of right to intimate knowledge and of course c...

  “Sleep all right?” said Donny. He was sitting in the kitchen at the two-seater table that looked like it came from a junk shop and probably did. The kettle was boiling and there was a smell of burnt toast.”   “I could tell you that I did. All I can really say is I’m real glad I didn’t eat all that Chinese and what I did eat did not go with half a bottle of Bourbon. I’ll have some of that coffee please,” said Bobby as he came in with that sort of look that was tinged with regret with those water rimmed red eyes of a night after look and grumpy. He was feeling uncharacteristically grumpy.             “And toast?”   “And toast. But not the burnt sort. That smell is evil, that burnt toast smell is. Gets up your nose, doesn't it? And it lingers. I don’t mind well done but none of that black stuff if you can manage it please. With Marmite. I need Marmite and all that salty taste.”   “You are a bit on the suffe...

Freddie was in a great mood Monday as he left the house and climbed into the taxi. He’d slept surprisingly well. Finding out about that ledger changed everything. It gave him power. He was feeling so good he sat up front and clipped the belt and said, “To the station,” and unusually added, “Please,” and watched the driver slam it into gear with a crunch as his brown, sloppy fitting espadrille slipped on the clutch pedal. The flashy navy silk suit with the subtle check made him feel like he looked important and with the fresh white shirt and subdued grey silk tie and gold clip he felt refined. That was what confidence was all about, how you felt. If you felt great nothing could stop you and when you had that important, refined look on top nothing could beat you. That was how he felt today and that was why he sat up front. He slipped on his Ricky shades and shut the glare down and grinned out the windscreen and caught the driver squinting into the sun and grinned more.   The drive ...