Power on Her Own by Judith Cutler Page A

ones.’
    â€˜I wouldn’t have recognised them, then. You don’t feel tempted – he straightened, and stood slowly – ‘to help yourself to a couple – just to pay for the decorating and some decent furniture?’
    He was joking. Of course he was joking. She’d better respond in kind. ‘Save me having to go in for the Lottery, wouldn’t it? I could do with a new car, too.’ The purse was small enough to fit into the front pocket of her jeans. She shoved it down as far as it would go.
    It was only when Paul let them into the Manse and called out, that she realised they’d never phoned Maz or Giles to find out how they’d feel about a stranger camping with them. She’d insisted on bringing her sleeping bag: she wouldn’t cause them any extra washing and it meant they shouldn’t feel guilty about offering her a sofa if there were no spare bed. Damn it, even a clean floor would be welcome, provided they could share their hot running water.
    Maz appeared from the back of the house, a pencil stuck behind her ear. Giles came downstairs, in his dressing gown. Paul explained briefly – no doubt he’d tell them about Kate’s boozing another time.
    â€˜Why on earth didn’t you say? I could have bundled you up there and then!’
    Kate shook her head like a child caught out in something stupid.
    â€˜Well, thank goodness Paul had more sense than I did. Come on.’ She hugged her, not wincing despite the smell of whiskey which must have knocked her over.
    They went into what appeared a well-rehearsed routine, Giles to make cocoa and put the kettle on for a hot-water bottle, Maz to find bedclothes – the sleeping bag was vetoed. Well, they wouldn’t want plaster dust on their mattresses for one thing, Kate supposed: there was a little sprinkling on the hall carpet where she’d parked it. Smiling, and kissing her on the cheek, Paul made his farewells.
    She was halfway down the mug of cocoa before she remembered the purse. Giles was sitting at the kitchen table with her, Maz just dashing out of the door.
    â€˜Maz!’ she called.
    She stopped, halfway out. ‘Is it important, love? Only it’s Giles’s night on duty on the domestic front, and I’m on the computer. Got to get this done for tomorrow.’
    â€˜Two minutes. But I want you both to see this. Paul and I found it under the floorboards. Have you got a sheet of paper? Yes, kitchen towel will do.’ There was hardly any space: homework books jostled a pile of books.
Henry the Green Engine, Gordon the Blue Engine.
And there were some adult ones, all about locomotives.
    â€˜Tim’s,’ said Giles, as if there were any need for explanation. ‘Just mad about railways. And he’s too old for these and too young for these. Sorry.’
    She undid the purse and tipped.
    They both gasped. And sat at the table.
    â€˜Glory be! How much is that lot worth?’ Giles asked. ‘At least a new set of toilets, I should think.’
    Maz snorted. ‘Gold-plated loo seats! Any idea how many you’ve got, Kate?’
    â€˜Trust an accountant to want to know that sort of thing,’ Giles said. ‘OK, let’s count.’
    Out loud, like children, they chanted. ‘Twenty-one. Twenty-two! Twenty-three! Twenty-four!
Twenty-five
!’
    Kate pushed them around, watching the light play on them. ‘Thank God Cassie’s got all her marbles.’ Realising what she’d said, she added, ‘If not all her diamonds. She’ll have far more idea of what to do with them than I’ve got. Hey, have you got a safe here, Giles? For collection money?’
    â€˜What sort of ministry do you think we have here? OK, we have a small one. I’ll go and pop it in, shall I? Come on, I’d rather you watched me – the thought of gold-plated loos really does tempt me.’
    â€˜If,’ Maz said, following too, ‘you really did