“Nothing... nothing, my dear,” answered Quentin, smiling away wickedly.“I don’t believe you,” said Glenda smiling back.“Well... I couldn�...t have been fucking her, could I?” he said. “Not with her having that silver chain on.”“I wouldn’t put it post you...”“Oh no... I very much respect Madame Vesta’s rule on that.”“Well, what were you up to?”Quentin managed to look suitably guilty. “I played with her. Frigged her.Till she came...”“Lucky her!” laughed Glenda. She could just imagine what it must. These are the people that have lived here forever - well since the houses on this road were built thirty years ago anyway. They know everybody and everything, yet they do it without being nasty. We felt honoured to be involved right from the start when we moved in. Yet even they didn't know much about the widow. She kept herself to herself, there wasn't even gossip, you know - she's a dyke or whatever. She just kept her own council as they say in these parts.We met socially very occasionally -. More

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