‘I’m going to pull over,’ said Emma as the sign for a motorway service station loomed ahead. ‘Go to the services.’
‘You need a wee?’
‘No. I might have something to tell you, though.’
Allyson gave her the sharpest of looks.
‘You know what this is about?’
‘I don’t know. But there’s something I’ve kept quiet. I was protecting someone. Perhaps I shouldn’t have.’
Emma drove up to the car park and found the most obscure corner space available.
‘Emma,’ Allyson said, taking her cigarettes out of the glove compartment. ‘You’re going to break my heart, aren’t you?’
‘Your heart?’ Emma looked amused at the idea of such a thing existing.
‘I do have one, you know. And it ain’t made of stone. So, what’s this dark and deadly secret, then?’
Emma drew a deep breath.
‘You should have fired Poppy. After that thing with the French cop.’
Allyson lit her cigarette and took a deep drag.
‘You told me you’d sorted it.’
‘I think she may have stayed in touch with him.’
‘Informant?’
‘There was more to it than I told you. There was kind of a romance type of thing between them. I didn’t think he’d let her go just like that, but I gave her the benefit of the doubt and assumed she’d steer clear. I think I might have been wrong about that.’
She tried to gauge Allyson’s reaction, but none was forthcoming for quite some time.
‘You might be right,’ she said eventually. ‘You think this French bloke has been feeding information to our local plods, ever since?’
‘Yes. And Poppy has been around a lot, hasn’t she? Sort of always nearby when private conversations are going on?’
‘Little bitch.’
‘I suppose he turned her head.’
‘I’ll turn more than her head for her.’
‘Al.’ Emma watched her grind out her cigarette and put her own hand on Allyson’s forearm. ‘What are we going to do?’
‘Get us coffees from the caff. We need to think. And I need to clear my head. Too much vino earlier.’
‘Just as well I didn’t have any.’
‘Is it?’
Allyson took another cigarette from the pack, watching as Emma headed up to the dimly lit service area where only the coffee shop was still open at this hour.
She had a way of moving, Emma did, that she’d never seen on another girl. A sort of confidence, almost bravura, and an absolute glorying in her big, swaying bottom. It still made Allyson’s mouth water, even now, even with all that was going on. She always wore tight skirts that clung to her curves, or skinnier-than-skinny jeans. The bouncing balls inside the thin fabric demanded attention.
And she’d never met a girl more avid for spankings. ‘Miss Hungrybum’ had been her nickname for Emma at one time. She never seemed to use it any more though. Why was that? These days it was all ‘love’ and ‘sweetheart’. Or just Emma.