Seven Scarlet Tales

Richard grunted his dismissal of these ideas, pulled on his dressing gown and went to the phone.

‘Where is she?’ he asked Blake, who handed him the receiver.

‘Don’t know. She only wants to talk to you.’

Blake, bad-tempered at being woken, threw himself back on the camp bed.

‘Allyson, what the fuck’s going on? We’re trying to sleep here.’

‘Never mind that. Something’s happened and I need your help.’

‘What? Where are you?’

‘You don’t need to know that. I want you to promise me something. It’s important. I don’t want to blackmail you, but I know and you know …’

‘Allyson, Jesus! What is this?’

‘I want you to promise

you’ll take care of Emma.’

‘Take care of her? Why? Where are you going?’

‘Probably to prison. You’ll see. But I don’t want to talk about that. Promise me.’

‘OK, I promise. Take care of her how?’

‘You know people. I want you to find a place for her.

Somewhere out of the country. Maybe a new passport, identity, that kind of thing. Get her to safety. Can you do that for me?’

‘I don’t know. I can try, I suppose.’

‘You’ve got to. It’s important. If I can’t save Emma, then …’

He heard her gasp for breath. Tough-as-old-boots Allyson, the only woman he’d ever been afraid of, was on the verge of tears.

His stomach lurched. Something bad was happening here.

‘Please, Richard,’ she whispered. ‘It’s all I care about. Please look after her for me.’

‘Of course. I will. Of course.’

‘Thanks. You’re a mate. I owe you one, OK? She’ll be with you soon; she’s driving back to the cottage in my car. Try and get her out of the UK as quickly as you can, right?’

‘OK. I’ll make some calls.’

‘See you in a few years then.’

‘Al!’

But she’d hung up.

Peregrine Sands was enjoying some late-night drama, but he was nowhere near a theatre.

Instead, Callie Reddish was bound, hand and foot, to an interesting cross-shaped apparatus he’d ordered from a fetish furniture catalogue. It made a splendid addition to his apartment, he decided, especially when an attractive naked woman was lashed to it with leather ties, having her shapely bottom flogged by her other boyfriend. Leo never put quite enough finesse into the operation for Peregrine’s tastes. He was enthusiastic, but amateur. Just as he was as an actor.

‘No, Leo, you need to hold it differently.’