a little case of history repeating

“You ought to speak to Judy, Charles.” said Kath over the marmalade. “I hadn’t realised you had up and left without telling her your plans. She’ll be worried surely?”

Charles finished his mouthful of kipper before answering.

“She can worry all she bloody well likes. You know as well as I do, I only married her to give me an heir. I’m pretty sure she only married me for my money too, so she’s probably hoping I’m dead in some Soho back alley.”

“God that is an awful thing to say Charles, even for you.”

At this moment the waitress appeared.

“There’s a telephone call for you Mr Yates. At the bar.”

Charles stood and walked with the waitress to the phone. It was a modern bakelite model in green. Charles put the receiver to his ear.

“Hello, Lord Yates speaking.” Charles said this loud enough for the waitress to hear the Lord part.

He stood and listened for a minute, then put the receiver down and walked back to his sister.

“Who was it?” she asked “Are you OK Charles? You’ve gone the colour of that glass of milk.”

“The police, Judy has been found dead in our house.”

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