Retribution - A Dish served Cold

Chapter Twenty-Nine

When John finished his outward run to the beach, water oozed from his tracksuit. Cold and wet, he jogged home, showered and dressed in dark blue overalls and steel-capped brown boots. While sipping his second cup of coffee, the local news on the radio discussed the current bad weather. Someone had telephoned the radio station asking if the local reservoir was safe.

The newscaster questioned the dam's engineering manager if there was any danger during this spell of heavy rain.

He declared the dam's slipway was constructed to maintain a safe water level.

"Stupid arse. That's why the engineers built it that way," John said aloud. "The level is maintained automatically." Shrugging, he switched the radio off when the front door opened.

Gillian bounced into the kitchen. "Morning, Mr Daniels. Made up your mind yet?"

He gazed at her. "Made up my mind?"

"The carpets, silly."

"Perhaps we could sit in my front room as I need a cigarette."

She tailed behind him and sat on the arm of his settee. "Do you know your house would smell better if you smoked outside in your garden?"

"I'm sure you're right, but this is my house, so I can do what I like."

She stood, walked over to a picture hanging on the wall and removed it from its hook. "What do you see?"

"Wallpaper I put up years ago."

"Very funny. Your walls, carpets, and paintwork are stained with nicotine. I've tried cleaning them, but it doesn't make much difference. Did your wife allow you to smoke in the house?"

"She hated me smoking. I satisfied my need in my workshop, the pub, or the station. Changing the subject, dark blue downstairs and light blue in every room upstairs. How's the cleaning business?"

"Bloody marvellous. I've had to employ three of my friends to help. Haven't made my first million, but I will." There was confidence in her voice as she spoke. "I make sure my standards are met. Can't afford to lose good customers."

"Your carpet fitting boyfriend. Can he decorate?"

She chuckled. "If he knows what's good for him, he'll do whatever I say. He is a painter by trade, but at the moment, he's not busy. Why do you ask?"

"You know I build trains, don't you?"

She nodded.

"Well, I deliver them to the customer personally. My next delivery is to the United States, so I'll be away for a couple of weeks. If you can arrange it with your friend at a reasonable price, I'd like you to repaint the ground floor and my bedroom. When you've finished, can you lay the carpets? What do you think?"

Gillian tilted her head and grinned. "Let me know your dates, and I guarantee you'll be pleased when you get back."

John gazed at her. Since becoming his cleaner, she had changed and emerged from her chrysalis into a good-looking young woman. The baby features of a teenager were disappearing. Even her eyes were beautiful, certainly larger. "Are you sure? He might be busy."

"Mr Daniels, I have what he wants. He'll do it."

"Just be careful, young lady."

Gillian sighed and focused her eyes on his. "It's nineteen seventy-two. It's not the same as in your day. The pill has given us girls options. We can go on the pull the same as men. I prefer to sample the goods before committing and be disappointed."

John smiled. "You think it's a game not to be taken seriously. Wild oats are potent. What happens if you forget to take this pill?"

Gillian stood and pushed her hands deep into her coat pockets. "Fifty quid solves the problem. Don't forget to give me those dates."