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'That was great, Patrick. Can we do it again?' The woman's voice laughed.
'Not if you're going to wake up the whole of bloody Bournemouth!' the unmistakable Lancashire accent said.
Neither Woolton nor his wife had moved since the tape had begun, but now she stepped slowly across the room and switched it off. A soft, gentle tear fell down one cheek as she turned to look at her husband. He could not return her gaze.
'What can I say? I'm sorry, love,' he whispered. I'll not lie and tell you it's bogus. But I am sorry, truly. I never meant to hurt you.'
She made no reply. The look of reproach and sorrow on her face cut into him far more deeply than any angry words could have done.
'What do you want me to do?' he asked gently.
She turned on him with real anger flaring in her eyes. 'Pat, I've turned many a blind eye over the last twenty-three years, and I'm not so much of a silly little housewife to think this is the only time. You could at least have had the decency to keep it away from me and not rub my face in it. You owed me that.'
He hung his head, and she let her words sink deep into him before she continued. 'But one thing my pride will not tolerate is having a little tart like that trying to break up my marriage and make a fool of me. I'll not stand for it. Find out whatever the blackmailing little whore wants, buy her off or go to the police if necessary, but get rid of her. And get rid of this!' She flung the tape at him. It doesn't belong in my house. And neither will you if I have to listen to that filth again!'
He looked at her with tears in his own eyes now. I'll sort it out first thing in the morning. You'll hear no more about it.'
THURSDAY 25th NOVEMBER
Penny cast an unwelcoming frown in the direction of the steel grey November sky, and stepped carefully onto the pavement from the Earl's Court mansion block in which she lived. The weather men had been talking for days about the possibility of a sudden cold snap, and now it had arrived with a vengeance. As she tried to pick her way over frozen puddles, she regretted her decision to wear high heels instead of boots. She was moving slowly along the edge of the pavement when a car door swung open in front of her, blocking her path.
She bent low to tell the driver to be more bloody careful when she saw Woolton at the wheel. She beamed at him but he did not return her warmth. He was looking straight ahead, not at her as she obeyed his clipped instruction and slipped into the passenger seat.
'What is it you want?' he demanded in a voice which was as frozen as the morning air.
'What are you offering,' she smiled, but there was an edge of uncertainty creeping in as she began to discern the ice in his words. She had never seen him so soulless.
He turned to look at her for the first time. He cursed quietly at his folly when he saw how attractive she still seemed to him.
Did you have to send that tape to me at home? It was a particularly cruel thing to do, because my wife heard it. It was also extremely stupid, because it means she knows about it and so you can't blackmail me. No newspaper or radio station will touch it, the potential libel damages will frighten them off, so there's not much use you can make of it.'
He hoped she would be too stupid to see how much damage the tape could do to him in the wrong hands, and his bluff seemed to have worked as he watched the sparkle drain out of her eyes and the lustre fade from her cheeks.
'Patrick, what on earth are you talking about?'
The tape you sent me# you silly trollop. Don't go bloody coy on me!'
'I sent you no tape. I haven't the slightest idea what you are talking about.'
The unexpected assault on her feelings and the unfathomable questions he was throwing at her had come as a considerable shock, and she began to sob and gasp for breath. He grabbed her arm ferociously and tears of real pain began to flow.
'The tape! The tape! You sent me the tape!'
'What tape, Patrick? Why are you hurting me...?'
The trickle had become a flood and now a torrent and, as the outside world began to disappear behind misted windows, he began to realise he had misunderstood. He began to spit out his words, staccato-like, so there could be no doubt about their seriousness.
'Look at me and tell me you did not send me a tape of us in Bournemouth.'
'No. No. I sent no tape. I don't know...' She suddenly gasped and stopped crying, his words at last piercing through her confusion. 'There's a tape of us in Bournemouth? God, Patrick, that's horrid. But who?'
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