Forgetting his nakedness, Oliver announced, 'Don't move. I'm on my way.'

'What do you mean, don't move? I can't move. I'm stuck.' She groaned again.

 

Oliver had more luck getting to his feet. He stepped towards the wheelchair and then turned his back on the woman. She took a minute to untie the clumsy knot behind his back and then slapped him playfully on his bottom.

 

'Hey. None of that, thank you,' Oliver gasped, freeing his hands and flailing his arms to restore circulation. 'Besides, we've only just met.'

 

The woman nodded toward Danielle. Oliver moved quickly around the bed, pulled Danielle upright, and then released her hands. 'If you mother wasn't with us, I'd say something really cheeky right now.' She looked downwards and rubbed her hands together.

 

They both moved towards the chair and helped the woman to her feet.

'Are you OK? Take your time and get yourself steady.' Oliver held her shoulders lightly. 'On second thoughts don't take your time. Can we go now?'

'I'm Ok. Thank you.'

 

'Good. We can catch up socially a little later, but I'm Oliver and this,' he said, glancing at his companion, 'is Danielle. I think it's clear she thought she'd met you but obviously hasn't. I could well be your son, which is fine so long as we both live long enough to confirm it's true. OK, so far?'

 

The woman looked at Oliver. A broad smile broke over her face and her eyes twinkled. 'Yes, thank you, my dear. I'm Hettie Cunningham. And I am your mother. I apologise. I wasn't around to greet you when you arrived, but I've had a little trouble with the family.' She took his hand. 'And I've slept a lot.'

 

'It's not a problem, but I think we should get a move on now. You mentioned we could simply slip away.' Oliver stared at her. 'It seems like a good idea.'

The woman nodded and walked to the window. She eased it open and pushed it as wide as it would go.

'Yes, we can slip away. Are we going to find you something to wear now or after we've slipped away?' She looked around the room as Danielle discovered the wardrobe was empty.

 

Danielle and Oliver peered over the sill. Oliver turned to stare at the older woman. 'It's bloody miles down there and there's nothing to hang on to except a drainpipe and ivy. Is that it? Is that the plan?' Oliver shrugged. 'I must admit, I've never been much of a drainpipe and ivy sort of guy.' He looked over the sill again. 'And with the greatest of respect, I'm not sure a woman of your years could manage that drop easily.'

 

The older woman looked over the sill as well. 'You're right, son, I couldn't, which is why I'm not going to.'

'Actually,' interrupted Danielle, 'you look like a drainpipe and ivy sort of guy right now.' Oliver looked angry. 'OK, sorry,' Danielle quickly added. 'You said you had a plan.' She spoke quietly. 'What was it?'

 

'My plan,' sighed Oliver, 'works perfectly – once we've escaped from this room.'

'So, let me get this straight.' She held up a hand. 'As we understand it' – she motioned towards herself and the older woman who was standing behind Oliver – 'your entire strategy is based on someone else having a plan good enough to get your plan to work?'

 

Oliver sighed again and then nodded. 'Brilliant,' whispered Danielle. 'Absolutely brilliant.' She peered around Oliver at their companion. 'Don't you agree?'

 

The older woman shrugged. 'Whatever. But we must keep quiet.' She turned and stepped towards a large full-length mirror on the wall. She raised her left hand to the top left-hand corner of the decorative architrave that ran around the edge. There was a distinct click, and the mirror swung open to reveal a dark passageway behind the wall.

The older woman smiled. 'They think we went that way,' she nodded at the window, 'but we go this way.' She held her arm towards the opening.

 

Danielle hesitated. 'I'm not keen on the dark and spiders,' she admitted.

'I'm not keen either, but I'm less keen on the alternative,' chipped in Oliver.

'It's not dark,' said Hettie. 'There are lights all the way.' She reached inside and felt for the switch. The lights revealed a staircase. 'Although I have to admit I can't be sure there aren't any spiders.' She gestured for Danielle and Oliver to make a move. 'Shall we go? Before the famous five come looking for us for their entertainment?' They stepped inside and Hettie closed the door behind them, making sure it was secure.

 

Moments after the secret door closed, Aileen, Mary, Ingrid, Andrew, and Duncan climbed the stairs from their meeting place in the lounge, where a sixth member of the gang remained. They had made a unanimous decision regarding the three prisoners.

 

Aileen's argument was simple. They no longer needed Hettie, Danielle, and Oliver. 'They can all just disappear,' was her solution. Duncan argued the police wouldn't simply accept a casual disappearance. Their investigation would be thorough - nothing should trace him back to his patch down south.

'OK,' Aileen retorted. 'Hettie can have an accident in the garden while all alone in the house. Nothing too brutal or bloody – a simple domestic mishap.'

'That's a contradiction,' chipped in Ingrid.

'What is?' Aileen almost shouted back at her.

'An accident in the garden while she's alone in the house. Which is it?'

 

'Does it matter?' yelled Aileen.

'Well, yes, it matters. If it's in the house, it'll need to be while she's doing something you do in the house – not something you do in the garden. And vice versa. If it's garden related, not in the house. I mean, you wouldn't kill yourself with a hedge trimmer mishap if you're cleaning in the sitting room or library.'

 

'Oh, shut up, Ingrid.' Aileen shook her head with exasperation. 'Of course, we'll make sure it's relevant.'

'OK,' conceded Duncan, 'but what about the other two?' He looked around at the other conspirators. 'Don't forget, I'm known to both.'

 

Everyone nodded and looked at each other. The sixth gang member remained silent. It was Andrew who interrupted the silence that followed. 'Why not do a murder suicide type thing? Hettie shoots them both, perhaps because she thinks their interlopers trying to steal her money and then kills herself because of the remorse she feels for killing them. After all, she's brilliant with a gun – or so I've been told.' There was much nodding among the group. 'And if we're well out of the way as quickly as we can be after the deed is done, we'll simply inherit with no more grief.'

 

The other conspirators looked at Andrew. 'You say little,' noted Aileen, 'but when you do – and I'm the first to admit this - it's quite constructive.' She smiled at him. 'Thank you, Andrew.'

 

'Just one thing. Which of us does the deed?' It was now Mary's turn to ask a question.

Everyone looked at each other. Aileen spoke first. 'It'll be my pleasure. I really think it should be my pleasure.' She looked across at Andrew. 'And you can help me plan just how we do it.'

 

Andrew looked taken aback. 'Oh, OK. If that's what you want. That's fine.'

Aileen moved towards the door. 'Come on, let's get on with it.' Andrew didn't need any further instruction and followed her out of the room. The sixth member remained seated and silent.

 

As the door closed, Ingrid looked at Mary and Duncan. 'Can't she go more than a few hours without being over sexed or molesting someone? It must be an illness.' She looked at Mary. 'Has she always been sex mad?' Mary sat upright in her seat and nodded. 'To be fair, Ingrid, she takes after me, but I need an hour's recovery time these days.'

 

'I love your honesty, but come on, she doesn't even try to hide her compulsions anymore. Men, women…contraptions… it's all the same, isn't it? It's just self-gratification gone mad.' She mimicked Aileen. 'And you can help me plan just how to do it, Andrew.' Duncan and Mary looked at her. 'Planning my arse,' she spurted.

'That was probably another option,' Duncan whispered.

 

Meanwhile, the new Hettie, Danielle and Oliver climbed the secret stairs as quietly as they could and found themselves in a small attic room. There was a large cupboard in one corner, a chest of drawers in another, and a small table and chair in the centre. Even dust was scarce. Danielle looked around her and spoke first.

'I thought rooms like this were always full of boxes and chests and old toys. They always are in the films.'

 

Hettie flicked the switch at the top of the stairs, and the lights behind them went out. A small attic window let in enough sunlight to light the room.

 

'We must be quiet if we move about. We're now two floors above the bedroom where they kept us, so there is some sound insulation. But the quieter the better.'

 

She crossed to the cupboard. The nimble way Hettie climbed the long staircase impressed Oliver. He was out of breath and his legs ached. Plus, he decided, walking upstairs naked was not good for the private parts, which bounced from one thigh to another. Halfway up the stairs, Danielle had called Hettie's name.

 

'Yes, dear,' she replied.

'I think there are two people behind me, not just Oliver.'

'Two?'

'Yes, and one keeps slapping the other.'

Hettie chuckled.

'Hilarious' was all the two women heard.

 

Now, as they stood in the room, Danielle was breathing a little heavier than usual. With her back to them both, Hettie reached up to the roof eaves and took down a key. Then she stepped towards the cupboard door and opened it.

When she turned fully and faced them, she was holding a rifle.

 

'Don't say what you usually do,' warned Oliver as he looked at Danielle. 'No more swearing in front of my mother.' He looked back at Hettie. 'Even if she is holding a rifle with a telescopic sight.'

 

Hettie reached back into the cupboard. She pulled a folded sheet from the shelf. 'Wrap this round you. It's better than nothing. I think Danielle and I have had more than an eyeful for one day.'

 

Oliver began unfolding the sheet. 'Why do you have all these things stored up here?' he asked, nodding at the cupboard.'

'I've been stockpiling for months, trying to work out an escape.'

 

Danielle looked shocked. 'How long have you been a prisoner in your own home?'

Hettie looked thoughtfully towards the window. 'Since Easter.'

'But that's three months,' exclaimed Danielle.

Hettie nodded and looked towards Oliver, who stood near the door. 'Try something like a toga,' suggested Hettie. 'Tie it at the shoulder, perhaps.'

 

Danielle stepped forward. 'Here, Nero,' Danielle offered, 'let me help.' Together, they fiddled and folded the sheet until the sheet virtually covered him. Hettie filled her pockets with rifle bullets. She looked up. 'Not bad, Danielle. Not bad at all. He could pass as a senator on his way to the forum.'

 

Danielle and Oliver stepped over to the small attic window and peered down at the scene below. 'Wow,' whispered Danielle, 'the view from here is amazing.'

'Yes,' said Oliver. 'It's breathtaking.'

 

'And also,' added Hettie from behind them, 'is it's the view of the front driveway and beyond? We can see everyone coming and going.'

'Ah yes, of course,' agreed Oliver. 'Very strategic.'

'Just one thing, Oliver,' asked Danielle. 'Does your plan still work? I mean, starting from this room rather than downstairs?'

 

Oliver continued to look out of the window. 'I wondered when you would ask that important question.' He took on a rather pompous demeanour, the look of a serious Roman senator, or so he thought. 'Having given the situation consideration, I have concluded that, because my mother has been planning for several months and created this rooftop command-and-control centre, my plan might better serve if amalgamated into a wider strategic goal. So, I defer to Hettie's greater local knowledge of the environs, terrain, and enemy. This is the decision only a born leader can take under these circumstances; one who recognises leadership in others and believes such leadership should outrank vanity.'

 

Danielle turned to Hettie. 'You called him a senator, didn't you, Hettie? That was a politician's reply. The short version is "no".'

Hettie nodded. 'I also think it was the most round the houses compliment I have ever received.'

'But he is loveable, isn't he?'

'Absolutely dear, absolutely.' 

 

Oliver turned to Danielle and smiled. 'I'm glad we're all agreed about something.'

Danielle laid her head against his arm. 'You've changed so much since you became a Roman.' Oliver looked at her and then kissed her lightly on the forehead. 'And I'm sorry I've teased you about your clothes,' she added.

 

'OK, you can discuss clothing his naked body later, but for now I think we should discuss how we deal with the gang downstairs.' Danielle and Oliver turned to face Hettie. 'I doubt they'll find the secret passage we came up, but you never know.'

'Is it the only way in and out of here?' asked Danielle.

'I'm afraid so,' replied Hettie, gesturing at the window, 'other than climbing out of the window and moving along a ledge to the main roof, where there's an access door and stairs down. We can get that way. It's locked, but I have a key.'

'Or we could just wait here and pick them off with your rifle, one by one, as they come and go,' suggested Oliver.

 

Hettie and Danielle both looked aghast at him. It was Hettie who spoke. 'No, we'll not do that, Oliver. We're not murderers. We'll not stoop to their level. I suggest something else.'

'What?' asked Danielle.

 

'Well, what we could do is wait till they're in one room and then confront them. If we have the rifle, we have a way of keeping them together until we can get help.'

 

Oliver held up a hand. 'That's fine as far as it goes, but they also have a weapon, remember? Aileen's toting a gun as though she's used to using one. I'm not prepared to risk your lives against theirs. There is another way.' Oliver paused and rubbed his face. 'We need some sort of diversion to escape. Yes, that's it,' he said slowly. 'I'll create the diversion. You two escape. How far is the nearest village?'

 

'About a mile,' answered Hettie. 'Perhaps less if we go through the woods.'

'Slight problem with your plan,' interrupted Danielle.

'Huh, what's that? Your mother is nearly 80, and I have got no knickers on. You're dressed in a sheet and neither of us has shoes.' Danielle shrugged. 'I may be wrong, but I think that slightly handicaps us regarding speed and agility.' Danielle raised her eyebrows. 'And we'll look odd turning up at someone's house in the village, looking like this and with a rather far-fetched tale to tell.'

 

'But surely, that simply illustrates how in need of help you are? How desperate you are for the police. Don't be daft, you're just being girlie about the situation.' Oliver stepped back slightly as he spoke.

 

Danielle's expression changed instantly. Anger filled her face. Oliver took another step back. 'Girlie! How dare you? I'm a professional private investigator, not some surreal Barbie-like bimbo! I've a good mind to take a swing at you.' She folded her arms and glared. 'Give a man a toga and suddenly he knows everything. Well, you don't and, frankly, Caesar, watch your back!'

 

Oliver held his hands up to protect himself. 'It was a joke! Honest!'

Hettie stepped forward. 'Now, please, calm down. It's been a fraught time for us all. We need to keep calm and keep together – and if you don't mind me saying so, we need to keep quiet. They might hear us.'

 

Danielle and Oliver exchanged glances and then Oliver spoke. 'Is that your polite way of saying shut up, children?'

'And that mother knows best?' suggested Danielle.

'So, let's go downstairs,' said Hettie, ignoring their remarks, 'and see what we can salvage regarding clothes, phones, car keys and so on.' She moved to the door. 'We must be quick, because I doubt it'll take Aileen long to figure out that she's on a false trail.'