The rain was falling hard as Nancy Simmons drove through the streets of Longmeadows in Kent. There was a flash of lightning followed by a clap of thunder.
"Damn!" grumbled the forty-eight year old widow. It was bad enough driving in these streets in the daytime but now with darkness descending and the rain it made things much more difficult.
Nancy, who worked in the bank was normally on her way home at this time but instead had decided to pay her daughter-in-law, Karen, a visit. Karen had been married to her son Mark for just over a year now and he was away in Scotland working on the oil rigs. Nancy had promised Mark that she would occasionally look in on the twenty-five year old. She and her daughter-in-law had always had a good relationship but recently Nancy had begun to suspect there was something wrong. Karen had become increasingly reclusive. Nancy understood well enough. After all, the poor girl had lost her mother just weeks after the wedding and with Mark away it must be lonely for her. At least Karen had her job at another bank in the town it would fill in some of the day for her. Nancy did not appreciate just how lonely until she arrived at the flat.
The rain was still heavy, and the thunder rolled across the sky as Nancy, with umbrella in hand, got out of her car and hurried to the door.
"Oh, Nance, come in," said Karen as the young woman answered the doorbell swiftly.
"How are you, dear?" asked Nancy, putting her umbrella in the stand before taking off her coat and hanging it up.
"Not too bad, Nance, you're just in time. I was about to make tea," answered Karen.
Nancy became concerned when she noticed Karen behaving in a fussy and erratic way as she set the table and filled the kettle. As the young woman spoke, she jumped from one subject to another without finishing what she was saying. More than that though was the fact that Karen was nervous. This was not the Karen that Nancy knew.
"Karen is everything alright?" asked the older woman, knowing full well it wasn't.
For a split second there was a silence in which you could hear a pin drop.
"No!" responded Karen as she exploded into uncontrollable tears.
"Oh, my dear girl," said Nancy as she embraced the young woman tightly. She hated to see Karen so upset. It even brought tears to her own eyes.
"I hate it, Nance. I hate this place. I hate Mark being away. I hate it all. I can't stand it, Nance. I can't stand it anymore. Then there's that dreadful Landlord."
"What about him?" asked Nancy.
"Oh, Nancy, he gives me the creeps. He leers at me and pretends to be familiar with me."
There was another clap of thunder.
"Oh, God!" cried as she held onto Nancy for dear life.
"Oh, my poor girl, I had no idea. Pack a bag now, this instant. You're coming home with me."
Karen shook her head and was heading for the bedroom when the doorbell rang again. "Oh no, it's him again," she declared in a nervous panic.
"You go ahead and pack I'll deal with him," said Nancy and the older woman made her way to the door with determination on her face. Upon opening the door Nancy took an instant dislike to the image before her. He was a small unkempt individual with a weasel like face. The sort that took full advantage of vulnerable young women like Karen and Nancy hated them with venom.
"Hi, sweet chee... Oh, I'm Ben Rooney, Mrs Simmons' Landlord. I was wondering if she was ok. I know she gets nervous..."
Nancy, who was six feet tall and well built, looked down at this ugly excuse for a man and spoke firmly.
