Letting out the Worms: Guilty or not? If not then the alternative is terrifying (Kitty Thomas Book 1 by Sue Nicholls (primary phonics .txt) 📕

back to his childhood with Fee and Nanny Gloria, wondering how they had managed, financially. Fee stopped working when Mum and Millie passed away. The story went that she resigned to help Nanny Gloria at home. That meant that her income would have been lost, but Sam did not remember any drop in their living standards. Did Gloria sell her house and come to some financial arrangement with Fee? No, she did not. Sam recalled travelling by train to meet Gloria’s new tenants. And there was no mention of shared ownership in Fee’s will. So how, then? Did their dads pay maintenance? Probably, but it could not have been much. Throughout his childhood at Crispin Road, he did not remember a shortage of money. They had had a new kitchen fitted after Millie’s death. Fee and Gloria chose a proper cooker, with safety features.

Then he remembered Nanny Gloria’s evidence in Paul’s trial. Fee had life insurance! Perhaps the other mothers had their own cover too. Millie’s insurance would have paid out to Twitch and Fee. Twitch’s money, including her share of Millie’s, would have been passed to Fee. Once married to Fee, Max would have inherited all that and be the beneficiary of her life cover and the property in Crispin Road. A powerful motive for a man with a gambling habit.

Sam dropped his crust into the bin, ran his plate under the tap and took an apple from the fridge, thinking again of Nanny Gloria’s adage, ‘An apple a day keeps the doctor away.’ She was such a force, and despite his sadness at losing his mother, he was grateful for Nanny Gloria. Her warmth and firmness had given him security when everything in his life was chaotic. Her death, aged ninety-six, had been harder to take than Twitch’s. Her little sayings still influenced his behaviour today: Never go to sleep on an argument (chance would be a fine thing). If you can’t find a bin, put your litter in your pocket and take it home. Never take the car if you can walk. So many pieces of good, unasked for advice. Sam wished Nanny Gloria were here now. He would be glad of a sidekick. He chuckled at the concept of Nanny Gloria as his sidekick. She would wag her finger at him if he went out in the cold without his coat, or, heaven forbid, let slip the F. word.

He disposed of his apple core. It was not late, but he wanted his bed, so he arranged Kitty’s mail into a pile - a separate pile from his own ‘filing system’. His and hers, he thought on his way to bed.

He was in a deep slumber when a shrill ring jerked him into consciousness. Damn. Now, he would struggle to get back to sleep. He groped on the dusty floor and opened one eye to peer at the screen. Josh. Did he never go to bed? Then he remembered it was not yet ten at night, so he switched the phone to speaker in the darkness and croaked, ‘Hi little brother. What time do you call this?’

‘Have you seen Dad?’ Josh’s thin voice vibrated from the device.

‘Not today, no. Is something wrong?’ Sam switched on his lamp and squinted in the brightness.

‘I doubt it, but it is odd. I dropped in to see him after work and the house was empty. It’s not like him to go out in the evening. I tried his mobile, and he didn’t pick up.’

Sam remembered the dating app and said, ‘I don’t imagine there’s anything to worry about. Have you checked with Mick?’

‘He’s vanished too.’

Sam laughed. ‘I bet they’ve gone for a pint. I shouldn’t worry. Dad was fine last time I saw him. Tell you what,’ he reached for water in a glass by his bed, ‘Why don’t you check with Anwen. She was at Dad’s, cleaning, this afternoon. Have you got her number?’

He forwarded Anwen’s contact details to Josh.

61 MAX 1994

Millie, Millie, Milleeee. I’m going to have such fun with you.

Max sat at his table-for-one and watched the vivacious, petite woman through fake, gold-rimmed glasses. Around him, the restaurant, Feast, was alive with chatter and the chink of cutlery on china. He forked a piece of sea bass into his mouth. The food was good. Millie, it seemed, took her career seriously, and her little restaurant ran with calm efficiency. Service was smooth and helpful without being obsequious. Paul had told Max that Millie was once married to a black guy called Mick. But she had walked out on him because Mick and his mother tried to prevent her opening this place. The girl had the selfish spirit and talent to ensure she achieved her dreams, but what of the damage she left behind? She was sexy and intelligent, and Max decided she would give him a good romp. After that, he would take great pleasure in punishing her for her misdemeanours.

The scheme had occurred to him when passing Dukesbury Mansion in Lymchester, about thirty miles from Chelterton and Millie’s restaurant. The old house was undergoing a stylish renovation. The architect had retained its Georgian style but achieved a sleek modern look with doors and pipework in brushed steel. Max was curious to see what had been made of the interior.

A sign on the verge, advertised the selling agents as a London company associated with high end properties. More interesting was the existence of a show flat ‘Ideal as an out-of-town escape but with a stylish city look.’

Max pulled up at the curb to study the board. It seemed to be aimed at the London market, at cash rich parents seeking better schools and more space. At the bottom was the number of a local estate agent, the key-holder. He took a snapshot of the sign and drove back to work, where later, between clients, he called the agent to make