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SUE WELFARE
A Few Little Lies
This novel is a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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This paperback edition 2000
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 1998
Copyright © Sue Welfare 1998
Sue Welfare asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
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HarperCollinsPublishers has made every reasonable effort to ensure that any picture content and written content in this ebook has been included or removed in accordance with the contractual and technological constraints in operation at the time of publication.
Source ISBN: 9780006514312
Ebook Edition © JUNE 2016 ISBN: 9780007401154
Version: 2016-08-03
This book is dedicated, with fondest memories, to the late Mr C. A. Woolley and Mr Glyn Howells, dedicated educators, who encouraged my enthusiasm for books and words and who, at different times, both offered the sage advice: ‘Work more and talk less.’
CONTENTS
‘Letitia strode into the room, naked except for her bull whip and boots.
“I’ve come for you, Tony,” she murmured between full pouting carmine lips.
On the leather sofa, bound hand and foot, Tony Vincetti trembled.
“Oh, please don’t hurt me, Letitia,” he whispered, the sweat rising in glistening beads on his top lip.
They both froze as they heard the doorbell ring.’
‘Not in my book, they didn’t,’ Dora Hall whispered, pushing her glasses back up onto her nose. She erased the final sentence from the computer screen, then stretched, waiting for the machine to digest the latest morsel before leaning forward to switch it off.
Beside her, the intercom buzzed more insistently, followed closely by a thin, high-pitched voice through the speaker.
‘Dora, are you up there?’
Dora pushed the swivel chair away from the desk and yawned. It was extremely tempting to say no. Instead she pressed the call button.
‘Come up. Sheila, door’s unlocked.’
She padded into the kitchen, scratching and yawning deliciously with every step. Oscar, the resident ginger tom, mewled the lament of the wildly over-indulged and leapt onto the cooker, while she plugged in the kettle and lit a cigarette. Opening the fridge, Dora prised a carton of milk off the shelf and sniffed it speculatively.
A few seconds later Sheila, her sister, pushed open the kitchen door. She peered around and sniffed, looking rushed. Sheila inevitably looked rushed.
‘Oh, you’re in here, are you? I thought you told me you’d stopped smoking?