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aps。 Sarah too。 A mature woman at seventeen； and she had to get mixed up with a married man when she had the pick of the best young men in town。 But this was how it was today。 The new society； the Plutonium Society of this town。 Perhaps there was something in the atmosphere； not so much radiation as a kind of tension that made everybody behave in illogical fashion。
Himself； too。 His thoughts turned to Anne。 At twenty she was capable of running his business entirely on her own whenever he was away from the office。 Perhaps that was why it had all started between them： his honest admiration for her at first； and her looks and youth did the rest。 Every man's ego is boosted by the attentions of a younger woman。
Better if it could have been confined to an office affair； a screw on the carpet after hours。 But it had gone much deeper than that。 Worse； his daughter Sarah knew about it。 That created a kind of stalemate blackmail situation in the household。 Jane guessed something was wrong； but he prayed she would never discover the two adulterous affairs within her family。 God； why didn't some guy e on the scene and lay her？ It might ease his conscience to know that his wife had been unfaithful； too。 Damn it； it wouldn't though。 He got out of the car and slammed the door violently。 He'd thrash the bastard； beat him till his features were unrecognisable。
Coyle sighed。 He knew there was still a streak of Victoriana in him。 A man could indulge in extra…marital sex； but God help a woman indiscreet enough to have a bit on the side。
He looked round at his premises。 A rectangle of dilapidated sheds； converted crofter's barns； with patch…up jobs on the roofs； junk lying everywhere。 Only the small office on the end was new…red brick； flat roof； and large windows。
Anne swivelled her stool round to face him； with that same smile； never any different。 Her freckles never ceased to fascinate him； but he wished she wouldn't always tie up her hair in a pony…tail。 For some reason he did not care for that style。 Maybe it made her look too schoolgirlish…although not even the most mature sixth…former would have breasts like Anne's。 She was tall； but everything about her was so perfectly proportioned。 Tomorrow night he would undo that pony…tail and let her long blonde hair fall about her body； tantalisingly covering her unblemished flesh until he brushed the strands aside with one of his own fingers。 Then it would all begin。
'Well？' her voice； so soft and husky； stimulated his loins。 He often wondered if she knew exactly what she did to him。
'I resigned。 Warned 'em of the fiery hell that waited for 'em； and told 'em they could go to it。'
'Good。'
'I thought maybe you'd say that。 How are the petition forms going？'
'All printed and ready。 I sent Ronnie into town with a van…load。 I gave him a list of the guys who will go out and collect the signatures： Robson； Jackman； Doyle； Enderby； and； oh yes； Peterson。 A hundred forms to each； and if we get them all filled with signatures； I guess even the Secretary of State for Energy will have second thoughts about giving the go…ahead for further contracts。'
'What would I do without you？' he leaned over； and their lips met。 His intention was a peck of gratitude； instead they clung fiercely to each other； tongues probing each other's mouth； and her slender fingers located the hardness inside his trousers。 Had not the door…bell sounded in the outer…reception area； they would probably have made it there and then。 Anne extricated herself from him with a mild curse； and Coyle admired the way her buttocks wiggled as she walked away from him。
He went through into his private office； a room no larger than the larder in his own house。 Files overflowed； and the desk was strewn with correspondence。 Perhaps next week he would get Anne in here to clear it all up； introduce some kind of system so he would know where everything was。 He smiled as he realised there wouldn't be any work done at all if he let her in here。 The cramped conditions would encourage the inevitable。
It was crazy。 Life would just go on and on until something happened up at Oxide Reprocessing。 Then it would all e to a stop。 That would be it。 Finis。 The culmination of an age…old curse which nobody really believed in。
He reached into a cupboard beside his desk； and drew out a half…full bottle of whisky and a tumbler that could have done with a wash。 He splashed some of the amber liquid into it and drank half at one gulp。 He coughed and spluttered。 He wasn't a drinking man； but it eased his feelings。 Already it was beginning to relax him a little。 Soon his thoughts came round to Anne again。 It was always Anne nowadays。 He remembered how it had begun between them…a gradual process； so gradual that at first neither of them realised they were being emotionally involved。 If she had lived in a flat of her own； it would all have been too easy。 It would have bee their secret sex den； and possibly the whole affair would have remained purely physical。
Coyle's erection started again as he sat there in his office； sipping the whisky and staring at the peeling brown wallpaper。 Even this paratively new extension to the old premises was already in need of redecorating。
Anne lived with her parents； a very staid； typically Scottish couple who would likely suffer a stroke if realisation suddenly dawned that their daughter had actually lost her virginity。
It hadn't even begun as a result of working late in the office after the rest of the printing staff had gone home。 It had simply e about through boredom。 Coyle had been taking Anne home at night。 It wasn't much out of his way； and he enjoyed the prospect of young female pany for a quarter of an hour after a routine day。
Then one summer evening they had driven up on to the moorland above the valley； to view the building of the nuclear waste reprocessing plant from above…built directly over that place where for some inexplicable reason no grass grew。 'Sterile ground；' the surveyor had shrugged。 'Barren rock from which the elements have washed away the topsoil。' People seemed ready enough to accept that unlikely explanation。 Coyle had taken a camera with him to get a picture for the following week's Herald。 He could have sent Ross； the official photographer； but instead had suggested to Anne that they go and view for themselves the new ugliness creeping into the valley。
Coyle had taken his photographs； and then； on impulse； he persuaded Anne to let him snap her； too。 Coyly； she had agreed。 She had been wearing a thin nylon blouse； and a short skirt which had obligingly lifted in the breeze as he pressed the button。 Nothing else had happened between them； he had not even kissed her。 During the drive back his hand had brushed hers； but she had not responded。
Coyle developed and printed those pictures himself。 Those intended for publication he handed over to Ross； whose wry expression soundlessly criticised his boss's talents。 But the one of Anne he hid in his wallet； and studied later that evening when Jane was out at the local branch of the Scottish Women's Rural Institute。 Somehow； so much more had e out in the photograph。 He could detect the firmness of her nipples through the scanty blouse and bra； and the almost transparent underwear beneath the lifted skirt showed an exciting dark V。
When Jane Coyle returned home； shortly after eleven o'clock； she was mildly surprised at the eager man who shared her bed。 Her weekly S。W。R。I； meeting had not offered its usual pleasantries； and a petty quarrel with Mrs MacGregor had not improved the migraine which had been hovering in the background throughout the day。 She had gently pushed her husband's hands from her bosom； and removed them more roughly from her lower regions。 Her obvious revulsion had been a turning…point in their already waning sexual relationship。
The following day Coyle had asked Anne if she would care to go out for an evening meal with him。 She had accepted readily and innocently； even telephoning her parents； who were flattered to think that the proprietor of the Herald had seen fit to reward their daughter thus for her efficiency。 Coyle had also telephoned his wife； and told her he would be home late due to an article he was preparing。 Jane had not even expressed regret。
After the meal they had driven up to that very same place from which Coyle had taken the photographs less than a week ago。 The moorland was deserted； silent except for the lonely call of a nesting curlew。 A three…quarter moon showed Coyle everything he wanted to see； a radiantly lovely young girl in silhouette at his side。 The legend of Balzur was pushed from his mind。
He had asked if he could undo her pony…tail and see her with her hair down。 She had agreed； giggling。 Usually her parents let her drink only at Hogmanay； and then but sparingly。 Tonight she had enjoyed a sherry before the meal； wine with it； then a couple of brandies； and she even thought it was a great joke when he undid her dress and loosened her bra。 Those nipples were as large and firm as Coyle