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But none of that really mattered to Vince. To him, Glastonbury Tor represented something personal to him and it had nothing to do with King Arthur or aliens from Mars.

It was a steady climb up the stone steps and flags that led to the summit, and after cycling fifteen miles his legs were a little weak. At the very top of the Tor were the remains of a church, a single structure, like a stone finger pointing up to the sky, called St Michael’s Tower. It was a hollow shell, no roof, tiers of blank, arched windows, a couple of open doorways in and out. He paused outside it, taking in the panoramic views of the countryside as the sun drove away the last of the morning mist. The road below had been reduced to a thin, scribbly line, people to little sticks, houses to matchboxes, and trees to tiny pieces of broccoli.

There were few people around as yet but soon the hill would be swarming with them, locals and tourists alike. For the moment he was alone, above everything, at the top of the world. Maybe that’s why he kept coming here; it was the only time he felt he was lifted high, out from the depths of his insignificance and for once looking down on everyone and everything instead of being the one being looked down upon. Up here, at the very top of Glastonbury Tor, he became the person he really was. The real Vince, not the Vince who inhabited that horrible, tiny world below amongst tiny minds and tiny ambitions and its tiny capacity for goodness. He felt he could reach out and squash it all flat. All of it. The entire world. All of them – all the horrible people who infected his world and made it sick.

He was disturbed in his thoughts by voices. Someone else had invaded his kingdom. More would follow soon. With a sigh he went into St Michael’s Tower and sat down on one of the stone seats. It was significantly cooler in there but he could still look out of the open archway to the sunlight outside. More people came, some pausing to look over the curious structure before going to stand and stare at the view, or to spread blankets on the grass. A radio disturbed the quiet. A woman giggled shrilly and a dog barked like mad in the distance.

Vince snapped open his box of sandwiches, poured himself a mug of tea and sat still and invisible. No one ever seemed to notice him, he thought. He might as well have been dead, or a ghost or something. He was in the process of trying to pick out a greenfly that had landed in his tea when he glanced up and was surprised to see him. To see the man that had stolen Laura from him.

He was sitting opposite, breathing heavily; he was obviously unfit, Vince thought, in spite of his good looks. He was busy lighting up a cigarette like they’d just had the two minute warning and this was the last thing he ever wanted to do before the bomb dropped. He didn’t notice Vince straight away, not until he was pocketing his cigarettes and he happened to look in his direction. For a split second he appeared to be grappling with the idea that he’d seen Vince before, somewhere, but he quickly gave up trying to think and went back to smoking his cigarette. Vince had become invisible again.

He wanted to go across to him, tell him what a bastard he was for taking Laura from him, but of course that would never happen, not like the movie he played out in his head where they’d argue, they’d fight, Vince would beat the shit out of him and kick his sorry arse all the way down Glastonbury Tor.

His appetite having collapsed, Vince closed the lid on his box. His day had been ruined, he thought. He didn’t need to be reminded that everything he’d ever wanted seemed to be enjoyed by everyone else but him. He was about to leave when he saw the man rise to his feet, a smile on his face. A young woman came up to him; she held out an ice-cream, which he took.

‘There was a queue at the van,’ she said.

She had to be the prettiest woman Vince had ever seen. She oozed sensuality from her slim, perfectly formed frame. Her dress clung to her like a jealous lover, the neckline low and revealing a good deal of enticing cleavage. Vince was shocked when the man grabbed her arm and kissed her full on the mouth.

‘You taste sweet,’ he said.

‘You’ve smudged my lipstick,’ she complained with a smile. ‘Eat your ice-cream before it melts.’

‘I’d rather be eating something else,’ he said into her ear, low enough to emphasise its suggestiveness but loud enough to overhear.

She glanced awkwardly over at Vince. ‘Keep those filthy thoughts to yourself,’ she said, taking him by the arm and leading him out of the tower.

Vince stood up to look at them as they walked away. They were talking, the man’s arm wrapped tightly around her waist. They kissed again and then stared at the view, silently eating their ice-creams. Vince’s heart rose – the man had obviously finished with Laura, had found someone new! Laura could still be his! He had another chance and this one he wouldn’t cock up. This one he would grasp with both hands.

Vince went outside and looked up to the blue heavens. That’s what God could do for you if you believed in Him, he thought. Thank you, God!

‘So how long, do you reckon?’ she asked, her tongue licking at a dribble of ice-cream running down the cone.

‘I reckon it could be a couple of weeks, tops. Maybe less. Got to give her time to get everything together.’

‘Twenty-fucking-thousand!’ she said. ‘I thought you said it might be ten this time.’

‘When I got to take a look inside
Devereux
Towers
, talked to her, I knew she’d be good for much more. I suggested twenty but I didn’t think she’d bite. She didn’t even flinch. If she’d had the cash she’d have given it me there and then, no questions asked.’

‘She must really have it bad for you,’ she said.

‘Kat, I reckon I could squeeze her for another five thousand if I wanted.’

‘Don’t get too greedy, Felix.’ She crunched on the cone, eased crumbs into her mouth with her fingertip. ‘You didn’t sleep with her?’

‘God, no!’ he said. ‘That gives me the creeps.’

‘But you would have done, if you needed to, like you’ve done with the others?’

He shrugged. ‘Course. You don’t have to look at the mantelpiece whilst poking the fire,’ he said. ‘I reckon it’s precisely because I didn’t push to sleep with her that helped convince her. This has got to be the easiest trick yet. And all thanks to your friend Caldwell. I don’t think even he realises how wealthy the fucking bitch is.’

‘How is he these days?’

‘Keeps trying to avoid me. He wants out. Said he’s finished doing that kind of thing. Got a wife now – seen her, a bit tasty, she is. He’s settled down, he says. Guess he thought he could shrug you off once and for all, eh? Still, he came up trumps by pointing out Laura Leach.’ He tossed the half-eaten cone down to the grass.

‘He was good in his day,’ she said.

‘You still got the hots for him?’

‘I never had the hots for him, Felix. It was strictly business. He’d do the birds, I’d do the blokes. Anyhow, after what he did to me I like the fact he’s squirming.’ She snuggled up close to Felix. ‘But with you it’s different. We’ve got something special.’

‘Sure do, Kat. You and me we’re special.’ He chewed over his thoughts for a while. ‘Laura’s got this one room she keeps locked up, doesn’t allow anyone in.’

‘So?’

‘So maybe she’s got something special in there. In fact, I know she has.’

‘Like what?’

‘I dunno. She gets all worked up if you get anywhere close to it. She’s a weird fucking bitch, Kat, I tell you. Not sure what’s going on in that screwed-up head of hers. You think I should check out what’s in the room?’

‘I don’t want you pushing this too far, that’s what I want. Take her money and run, like we’ve done with the rest. Don’t treat this trick any differently. Don’t make any mistakes now, not when we’re so close to twenty-thousand pounds. That’s going to change things for us.’

‘Yeah. How about
France
?’ he said.

‘
France
sounds good.’

‘A villa.’

‘A fucking big villa, with a swimming pool.’ She fell thoughtful too. ‘Maybe this could be the last one for us. Maybe we could settle down too.’

He lit up another cigarette. ‘Maybe,’ he said, his eyes on some faraway place. ‘Could be paintings, antiques, something like that. Maybe even a safe. Places like that have safes.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘In the room.’

‘Stop going on about that bloody room!’

He said OK, but he couldn’t get it out of his head. Then he suddenly remembered where he’d seen that runt of a kid, the one in the tower. It had been in the back yard of the Empire cinema, trying to make out
Caldwell
wasn’t at home. The thought bothered him for a minute or two and then he dismissed Vince altogether and settled back to thinking about the locked room.

What the hell did she keep in there, he thought?

*  *  *  *

Martin Caldwell was all in a dither. It was almost as if he’d sensed Vince was walking down the corridor past his office. He flung his door open wide and called out.

‘Vince, come here!’

Vince thought the worst. ‘What is it, Mr Caldwell?’

‘Have you seen Monica this morning?’

He shook his head. Not seeing Monica was classed as lucky, in his book. ‘No, sorry.’

‘Damn her hide!’ he said. ‘She’s not turned up and she knows there’s a ton to do this week, what with the refurbishment stuff. I’ve got paperwork coming out of my ears.’ He rubbed his tired eyes. Tired and it was only
ten o’clock
in the morning. ‘Well, when you see the woman you tell her to get her lazy arse in here at once.’

‘Maybe she’s sick,’ Vince offered.

‘Sick?’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Yeah, I should say she’s sick.’ The phone on his office desk was ringing insistently and they weren’t about to hang up. ‘Get out of here, Vince, and do something you’re paid to do.’ Vince turned to leave and
Caldwell
called to him again. ‘Been meaning to ask you - where’s my fucking Oscar? Have you seen it?’

‘Monica threw it in the waste bin. It’s probably been taken out to the bins.’

‘Go dig it out for me.’

‘The bin men have already been and collected the trash. Sorry.’

‘The bitch!’ he said, going into his office and slamming the door shut. He lifted the phone. ‘What?’ he said, rather brusquely.

‘Hi, Martin. You’re sounding on edge this morning. Caught you at a bad time?’

‘What the fuck are you doing bothering me, Felix? I told you I don’t want anything more to do with you or your schemes.’

‘Kat sends her love,’ he said. ‘We were only talking about you the other day. You know, we can’t thank you enough for pointing us in Laura Leach’s direction.’

‘Like I had a choice,’
Caldwell
said. ‘Don’t expect anything else. You’ve had all you’re going to get from me. I’ve told you, I’ve finished with that game. I’ve moved on.’

‘Good for you. Some of us haven’t. I just need to ask you a few things, that’s all. No need to be uncivil.’

‘Like what?’

‘That cleaner woman, the one that worked at
Devereux
Towers
, gave you the heads up on Laura…’

‘Monica? What about her?’

‘She ever tell you about a locked room at
Devereux
Towers
, one that Laura’s particularly precious about? A blue door?’

‘Not once, why?’

‘You’re not keeping anything from me, are you, Martin? I wouldn’t take too kindly to that.’

‘Go fuck yourself, Felix. I wouldn’t tell you even if I knew, which I don’t.’

The man gave a chuckle. ‘Bit touchy today, aren’t we, Martin? Something preying on your mind?’

‘Always, and you’re not making it any easier. Now when I put this phone down I don’t ever want to pick it up and hear your voice at the other end. I also don’t want to see you hanging around the Empire, even at a distance, you hear?’

‘That a threat, Martin? Well listen up, wanker, I’ve not finished with you yet. If you think you can ditch me that easily you’re dumber than I thought.’

‘What is it you want? I don’t know any more rich birds for you and Kat to screw over. There are precious few of those in Langbridge. Take yourself elsewhere, like fucking
America
. It’s full of them; you’ll have a field day,’ he said, making no attempt to hide the derision.

‘I reckon the Empire turns over a few bob these days, since you took over.’

Martin Caldwell began to sweat, wiped his forehead on his sleeve. ‘What’re you getting at?’

‘Seems to me you might be able to cream a little off the profits, send it my way in return.’

‘In return for what?’

‘In return for me keeping quiet about aspects of your past you’d very much like to keep quiet. Kat has been so – what’s the word? – informative.’

‘That’s blackmail,’ he said.

‘You know, you’re probably right, Martin.’