Blackmail and lies
London England, August 2014. I was sitting at my desk, daydreaming, looking out across the Thames towards the London Eye from my eighth floor window when the phone rang. “Hi, Uncle John?” a young female voice said awkwardly. “Er yes,” I replied thinking very quickly, as I didn’t actually have any neices. “Its Saffron Uncle John,” she explained, “Can I come to see you?” “See me?” I asked, as I wondered who this ‘Saffron’ actually was, “Why?” “Can I explain when I see you?” she said, “Only it’s a bit awkward, and to do with my gap year.” “Gap year?” I asked stupidly. “Yes, will you come to Bramptons,” she asked, “Or shall I come to your office?” “Bramptons, Lord Marchington’s house?” I queried thinking aloud as Lord Marchington used to be one of my …