She closed her bedroom door (or was it Richard’s old bedroom door?) and reached the veranda just as a silver Italian sports car turned into the yard, provoking the security light into announcing the arrival of an intruder. Becky watched while Richard did a similar spinning-wheel manoeuvre to Francesca, turning the car so it was ready to depart promptly. He got out into the security spotlight and shouted a cheerful ‘hello’ and Becky was surprised to hear Matthew answer with a terse ‘Richard’. She stepped forward and saw Matthew sitting on a chair, staring at Richard in a manner that could not be described as friendly. All that was missing was a shotgun across his knee. Beyond the light that illuminated the two men, the night throbbed with darkness as the frogs whistled warnings. ‘So,’ called Richard lazily. ‘Got your bid in yet?’ ‘Not yet. You?’ ‘No, I’m not in a rush.’ Richard turned to look at Becky and even from where she was standing she could see he was running his eyes over her appreciatively.
