I really can’t remember how we travelled from Marylebone to Bexleyheath …it would have been the late 1950’s and who had a car then? …but, arri...e we would, at a gorgeous little Art Deco bungalow nestled into the top of a hill. Quaintly Edwardian, it sported stucco rendering and toothed red-brick surrounds with brick arches to the doors and windows. Baby peg clay tiles on the bonnet-hipped roof, with tiny dormers squatted halfway up its slope. Stunning coloured glass panels were set above the. My wife hugged Tommy longingly, as if her life had been second best. Then she got up and left the room, I thought for the bathroom, but I was wrong. Margo’s father had been a policeman, and had taught her a few self-defence moves, some of which I knew; the next one caught me completely off my guard.She calmly walked up behind me, in an instant, she had pulled my arms behind my back and handcuffed them together. Then, a blindfold completed my betrayal.I sat stunned, not knowing what would happen. More

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