Maud would not have thought she would be able to hear their fingerbones and knucklebones beating against Twygrist’s walls from inside Latchkill, but she could. At first she thought the sounds came from outside, but presently she realized they were directly under the floor of her own room. This was surely impossible, but then Maud remembered again how very cunning they had been, and she counted up all the days and the nights they would have been down there, and she began to understand. They must be digging their way out–making a tunnel from beneath Twygrist all the way across the fields and lanes, until they reached Latchkill and Maud. And one night–it might be very soon–they would burst through the floor of her room.
But Maud was going to be ready for that. Thomasina and Simon might think that the spider light would hide them–they might even believe it would smother the sounds–but Maud was cleverer than those two by far! She began to lie down on the floor, pressing her ear closely against the floor boards so she could hear better, and so she would know exactly where they were, and how near to the surface they were. This was a very good idea indeed, and even though she was shut away in this terrible place, she began to feel safer.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The realization that Antonia Weston would have to be punished had grown gradually in Donna’s mind. But before she could make a plan about this, she needed to know more about the bitch’s life–where she lived, if she had any other besotted young men in tow. Donna took a few days’ holiday from the restaurant. She was sorry to give such short notice of this, she said, but there were some family problems she had to sort out. No one questioned this and she thought it was an excuse that could be stretched to cover a fortnight if necessary.
It was easy to find out the times of Antonia’s various clinics, then to wait for nights when Don was not around, and not using the car. Donna waited in the hospital car park and followed Antonia home. She was very discreet about it careful to keep at least two cars between them.
Weston lived in a bungalow a few miles from the hospital. It was not in the same class as the house where Donna and Don had grown up, but it was quite big and was a whole lot better than the poky flat which was all Donna could afford now. The sheer unfairness of the last few years rose up like bile in her throat.
The following day she went back there. It was four o’clock, a time when most people would be out at work. She drove slowly past, seeing that it looked comfortable and that there was a big garden at the back with a large lawn sloping down to some trees. Donna glimpsed a table and chairs beneath one of the trees. She imagined Antonia having meals there in the summer or inviting colleagues for evening drinks. Her parents used to do that. Her mother always ordered canapés from Harrods and her father always complained about the cost. It was only after their deaths Donna realized her father must have been on perilously thin financial ice for years.
She drove to the end of the tree-lined road, reversed, and came back. This time there was a definite movement in the large bay window; Donna pulled into the kerb, pretending to consult a map. For some reason she had assumed Antonia lived on her own, but she might be married or living with someone, or even have children. She parked in a side road, and walked back. At first she thought she had been mistaken: nothing moved inside the bungalow at all. Could she risk waiting, hoping to get a better look? Yes, she could. She needed to know as much as possible about Antonia Weston’s life. Donna pulled a notebook from her handbag and pretended to consult it as if looking for a particular house number or name.