by Denise Emery
'You wouldn't dare!' she breathed, her heart racing. 'That -that's blackmail!'
Peter shrugged, unconcerned. 'All's fair,' he said mildly as he took her arm. His grip was gentle, but very firm. 'Now do remember to smile as we walk through, darling. It wouldn't do at all to upset Linda's day…'
They didn't. Ralph may have thought it rather odd to see Peter Benhurst in the act of frog-marching Margaret out of Linda's flat. But if he did, he never said so; Ralph was for ever after slightly bewildered about the finer points of the matter, come to that. But that is quite another story.
Linda saw them too. She caught Margaret's eye just as she and Peter reached the door. Linda winked; she could have sworn Margaret winked back, though she was never absolutely sure of that, and Margaret denied it staunchly, later on.
The most important thing was that Peter got Margaret out of the flat, and down the stairs, and into his car. Neither of them spoke as he drove to the most scenic spot he could think of, at the very top of Richmond Hill. The gentle slopes of the valley below were dotted with patches of bright flowers, and the gaily-budding trees of spring, beneath a serene and perfect canopy of blue.
'This view is rather special,' he explained happily as he parked the car. 'Guaranteed to put ladies into an appropriate frame of mind.'
'F-for what, exactly?' Margaret enquired, trying hard to keep her tone even.
'Why, for reconciliations! And look,' he added, taking her hand in his, 'there's a pub across the road. Shall we have a drink before we reconcile, or afterwards?'
