We (and by we, we're not referring to the Royal Plural, but to myself and Cassandra) thought we'd introduce a new fun thread onto the board .... the Tag N/H Story Thread.

Note: This thread is intended as a piece of fun and is not an attempt to emulate or compete with any of the great stories written on this site.

Idea is basically a round robin storytelling where everyone can add a paragraph to the Nikki & Helen story. The idea is therefore not that anyone takes on a particular role and/or setting, but that you just develop the story further by adding on to what the previous person has written. Makes sense? By restricting posting to a paragraph, hopefully the story shouldn't take up too much time and will keep going. We guess only time will tell.

A few simple rules .....

• Open to everyone (writers & non-writers alike)
• Only post one paragraph per person (per turn, of course)
• Five lines of dialogue can be counted as one paragraph
• No double posting
• Only post if no-one else is in the middle of posting
• Under 18s storylines only (please, we didn't put a warning on the lable!)
• Most importantly of all it should be FUN!

Seeing as the prologue will set the mood/feeling for the initial direction of the story, we took a bilateral decision that it can be slightly longer... ;)

So please join in and add a paragraph to the story every now and then.

Disclaimer: Shed Productions made the characters, wrote the original stories, and have full copyright to them. We are using these characters simply for non-profit, entertainment value. The same goes for any other known copyrighted character/storyline where a cross over fiction is written.

No animals, plants, fungi, bacteria, viri, spores, seeds or any other living things were harmed during the making of this disclaimer. Further no environmental damage was caused to any ecosphere, existing or nonexistent. All electrons used in the production were strictly volunteers, and all paper was made by trees that died of natural causes. Of course we steered clear of any and all elephants as well!

We are happy to accept comment in a PM, but am not looking for any criticism (negative or positive) either publicly or privately--only general encouragement .... (The comments-in-a-PM is just to make sure that comments do not get confused with the story itself and for no other particular reason!)

PS If you feel inspiration welling up in the pit of your stomach, but you just can't quite get to the words yet, no problem! Just "book your space" by posting a reply to that effect and then return later with your paragraph. Then you simply edit your post by removing the "booked space" post and replace it with your addition to the story. Simple as that! Of course we would ask people to please respect a "booked space" by not posting until such time that the "booked space" has been replaced.

Questions or confusion? Please PM either myself or Cassandra and we'll be glad to assist you! Please don't book your space via PM, you can do that in the thread itself.

Prologue

The shrill ring of a phone broke the silence. Nikki woke with a jump, heart pounding and sweat trickling down her face. She felt groggy as she struggled to keep her gritty eyes open. The surrounding darkness was disorientating and for a moment she thought she was still asleep. A restless sleep whilst reliving that same dream which had both haunted and tortured her over the past year. The extreme cold brought her back to reality causing her to shiver uncontrollably. As she became more aware of her surroundings, she realised that the hard chair beneath her was digging into the small of her back. She moved slightly to alleviate the pressure then yelped as pain shot along her stiff neck. No, this was most definitely not a dream.

Suddenly she tensed as she could hear the sound of footsteps approaching. Her mouth felt dry as they became louder. She remained motionless even though her mind was screaming for her to move. Yet she was powerless to react, staring transfixed at the door like a rabbit caught in on-coming headlights. The door was flung open causing her to be momentarily blinded. Screwing her eyes up, she could just make out the silhouette of a woman standing in the doorway. Nikki’s heart skipped a beat. “Who are you?” she whispered. Was it her? Had she really found the woman who pervaded her every thought?


Chapter One

Helen stood with the envelope in her hand for what seemed like ages. She just knew that a sensible woman would not open it, that a sensible woman would just throw it away and move on. But, then again, when had she ever been sensible? So she opened it. As she took the card out, a photo fell to the floor.

Helen was never interested in these kinds of things; as far as she was concerned, they were a complete waste of time. Once again, like every year before she was standing with the invitation in her hand. She bent down to pick up the photo that fell out of the envelope. "What is this?" Helen questioned aloud

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Tada !!! :D
Next

Helen turned the photo over. It was a black and white photo of two kids, a boy and a girl. The girl looked slightly familiar, but she had no idea who the boy was or when and where the photo was taken. She also had no idea how old the photo was or why it was sent to her. For a brief moment she thought that maybe the envelope was not addressed to her at all, but there it was, her name and address in a fairly non-descript handwriting. Frowning, she turned her attention to the card.

It was her annual invitation to the “Lindsay House Trust” Charity Ball, sponsored by the HM Prison Service. In spite of her hatred of formal functions, Helen knew that the charity was a worthwhile cause which provided 'halfway houses' and essential rehabilitation for female offenders. After recent events, she was somewhat surprised that she had been included on the guest list. Her only social saving grace was perhaps her connection to the esteemed judge, Sir Charles Parr. Even though she was expecting it, she struggled to contain her anger as she read 'Guest Speaker: Jim Fenner, Acting Wing Governor, Larkhall Prison.' But it was the enigmatic, hand-written scribble at the very bottom of the invitation which caught her eye. And there it was. Written carelessly and in red ink .... 'Count your days, Jim Fenner!'

To say that Helen was stunned by the scribble was an understatement, ‘Who would write that? Moreover, who would be so careless to do that on an invitation? Was it someone trying to make contact with me? Are they trying to show allegiance? I want to meet you who ever you are. Such a bold statement.’ these were all the thoughts that ran through her head while she fingered the red ink. Unconsciously Helen memorised the handwriting, every lilt, every curve right down to the slightest wavering of the pen. Helen had an ally, but the question remained ‘Who are they?’

Helen poured herself a Scotch. Sitting down, she looked at the little note on the card and frowned for the umpteenth time. Trying to fit the pieces of the puzzle, she returned her attention to the photo. Who is this? she thought. She focused her attention on the little girl in the photo. She did look a bit like Nikki, but Helen just couldn't be sure. And if it was Nikki, who was the little boy then? And how did a childhood photo of Nikki bear any relevance to the note? It just didn't make sense, no matter how she looked at it. Feeling more confused than ever, Helen took a sip of her Scotch and felt the smooth liquid running down her throat and settling in her stomach, causing her to relax somewhat.

’This photo must be important,’ she eventually decided. ’Perhaps the mysterious sender intends to contact me at the Ball and explain its significance. In the meantime I’ll keep it safe but hidden.’ Possibly the sender didn't have enough time to write a clearer message or was simply trying to get her attention. ’Well they definitely succeeded there,’ she thought. Any chance that Fenner might get his comeuppance was of great interest to Helen. ’Enough time?’ she mused. Her ally must have had access to the charity invitations, however briefly. Perhaps she should pay Monica a visit in the morning. And maybe ... just maybe .... this time she'll summon up enough courage to ask about Nikki.

Helen tucked both the photo and the invite safely in to a drawer on her nightstand. Not knowing what to do next, she sat on the bed, staring in to the nothingness. Trying to stop her mind from running around in circles (which it seemed to do quite a lot these days), she flicked on the TV. It was a rerun of Oprah about some upliftment work in Africa. On the best of days Helen couldn't care less about Oprah, but today she was quite drawn to the story of the little children in the Congo who seemed to have no future. She was staring at the screen for what seemed like hours before she realised that she was crying. She knew she wasn't crying about the children in Africa, but she was also unable to stop the stream of tears that racked her body and kept flowing down her cheeks.

Once the floodgates had opened, Helen couldn't stop herself. Along with the tears, came heartache. All the painful memories and emotions that she had been suppressing for so long, bubbled to the surface. For the first time in months she felt something other than numbness as she totally lost control. Powerless to stop it, she remembered the last time she saw Nikki. Through the mist of tears, she could still see the look of utter contempt on Nikki’s face. Nikki’s words still echoed loudly in her mind, ’How could you? You coward! I hate you for this! I hate you!’. Belatedly Helen realised that she was shouting. She closed her eyes as a wave of nausea hit her and collapsed onto the bed totally exhausted. Eventually a deep sleep overtook her and for a little while she was at peace.

She woke up in the middle of the night with a start. Not sure what woke her up at first, Helen stared in to the darkness before eventually turning on the lamp on the nightstand. Soft light flooded the room. Her empty room. Purely out of habit she picked up the phone and dialled a number. Hi, this is Nikki. I'm unable to answer your call right now... Helen quickly put down the phone, only now realising what she was doing. She was so used to phoning Nikki in the middle of the night to find out when she would be coming home, but now she had no reason to do so. Feeling slightly comforted by the thought that at least Nikki didn't answer her phone, Helen turned on her side, staring in to the nothingness. Trying to fall back to sleep, Helen soon realised that sleep would not be returning that night, so she got up to go and make herself a cup of tea.

As she made her way in the dark to the kitchen, she was startled by the sound of a muffled cough from outside. 'A fox?' she guessed. In recent weeks there had been a spate of overturned dustbins and mutilated lawns courtesy of the local urban foxes. Helen paused and peered through a crack in the curtains. To her surprise there was a shadowy figure standing motionless in the back garden, staring up at the house. Her first thoughts flew to Nikki before she realised that this person was of a much heavier build. ’Shit!' she exclaimed angrily. 'Another gawking reader of trashy tabloids!' The press recently had had a field day with her story, publishing her address along with numerous photographs. Helen tilted her chin indignantly and narrowed her eyes. Well, she would tell this trespasser exactly what she thought.

In her haste to get to the door in the dark, she bumped herself against the kitchen table. Pain shot from her hip down to her foot and right back up again as if it was running on its own little electrical current. She stifled a shout, not wanting to alarm the stranger in the garden of her presence. She felt around in the dark for a kitchen chair and sat down, tears running down her cheeks. She closed her eyes and bit on her lip, waiting for the pain to subside. Her leg felt numb, but at least that numbed the pain as well. Helen wiped her eyes and looked out the window again. From her sitting position she could just make out the stranger's head. He was still standing in the same spot, looking up at her bedroom window. For a brief moment his head disappeared, but then it was back again. She watched him turn around. The next moment he was gone for good.

It was then Helen remembered her dream, the one she was having when she woke up so suddenly. Unit this moment she forgot she was even dreaming. She saw herself outside a long tall building. She walked along the lenght searching for the door to take her inside. Each corner she came around revealed nothing but wall. She couldn't find the door. Then she realized someone was walking behind her. That's when she had woken up. Something about the figure down below had jogged her memory.
"Damn," Hellen chuckled to herself. She might have left her job at Larkhall, but she obviously had some unfinished business which was pulling her back. Her thoughts came back again to the not so cryptic message written in her invitation. Why didn't whoever wrote it just contact her. She'd have to make a call into Lindsay House and she if she could find out how the invitations were sent out. That would have to wait til morning. Right now she could only stare at the pink moon.

Chapter Two

“Nikki?" Trisha peered anxiously into the dark office. “Nikki? Christ! Why didn’t you answer the phone? I’ve been so worried …” Her voice trailed off as she took in Nikki’s dishevelled appearance. In spite of the tousled hair, crumpled clothes, bleary eyes and being surrounded by empty beer bottles, Nikki still looked absolutely gorgeous. Trisha sighed and bit back her sharp rebuke. She didn’t have the heart to tear a strip off Nikki in this state, nor could she spare the time and the energy. Sorting Nikki Wade out would just have to wait for now. “It’s already lunchtime and we have a major crisis on our hands,” snapped Trisha. “Be downstairs in ten minutes. We need to talk.” On that note, Trisha practically flounced down the stairs.

Nikki just stared in to the empty space where Trish had just stood. She willed her mind to move, but her body just wouldn't follow suit. She opened her inbox, just to do something, anything. The little icon in the bottom right corner let her knew that she had new messages. Downloading 1 of 17 messages it said. The first message was a general notice from Monica Lindsey, saying something about a do for the Halfway House she was running. Nikki couldn't be bothered. "Niiiikkkkkkkkiiii!!!” Trish yelled from below. The edge to Trish's voice finally willed Nikki to move.

Nikki sighed, standing up gingerly. It wasn’t often that Trisha got into these moods but when she did, she meant business. With great difficulty, Nikki stumbled down the narrow staircase. Her head thumped as the bright sunlight from the skylight above brought tears to her eyes. All she wanted to do was to curl up into a ball and shut the world out. She had often done that at Larkhall when things got too much for her. Her ‘Hedgehog Pose’ as Helen had nicknamed it, gently teasing her until the bad dreams had subsided. ‘Helen,’ Nikki shut her eyes, willing herself to forget. But no matter how hard she tried, the memories always refused to go away. Nikki sighed again as she pushed open the inner door of the nightclub.

After pacing outside for 10 minutes, thinking of exactly what she was going to say, Helen mustered up her courage, screwed on a smile and walked through the doors to Lindsey House.

“Hiya Monica” she greeted Monica with a light-hearted tone that belied the turmoil in her head.

“Hi Helen. Nice to see you. To what do we owe this honour.”

“Well I got the invite to the Ball and was in the neighbourhood, so I thought I’d come in person with my RSVP. Also, I was wondering who prepared the invites for mailing, as I think they put a photograph in with it by mistake.”

“A photograph. Do you have it with you? May I see it?”

Helen reluctantly pulled the photograph out of her handbag and handed it to Monica, watching closely to see the older woman’s reaction.

“Oh my, someone has been looking for this photo for ages!”

"May I ask who?" Helen enquired, trying her best to sound apathetic. She obviously failed, as Monica had a huge question mark all over her face. Seconds passed (which, to Helen, felt like hours) before Monica shrugged and said "Nikki. Remember her? Nikki Wade?"

'How could I possibly forget Nikki?', Helen thought to herself.

"Yes", Monica continued, "she comes here every now and then to help out. Not that everyone here needs helping out, but she quite enjoys to chat with some of the women, encourage them, talk things through. She was here just the other day, helped me out with the invites, but I have no idea how the photo ended up in your invite. Sorry about that."

"No apology needed, Monica" Helen replied. "Do you want me to return the photo?" Monica asked. 'This is my chance', Helen thought. A window of opportunity opened up unexpectedly, what with Monica 'volunteering' info about Nikki. But how should she approach the situation, without sounding desperate?

Helen took a deep breath, “Has Nikki … em …” She faltered over the words. Panic rose as she felt her cheeks begin to burn. Monica clearly had no idea about her history with Nikki but she was an intelligent woman. It wouldn’t take much for her to put two and two together. “How … How is Nikki?” Helen stammered.

“To be perfectly honest, I am not sure.” Monica looked troubled. “According to her friend Trisha, she was blissfully happy for months after her release from Larkhall yet extremely evasive; disappearing for hours on end, refusing to contact any of her old friends. She certainly never returned my calls until recently.” Helen felt a twinge of guilt. She was the one who had insisted on complete secrecy until things had quietened down. Nikki had protested adamantly at first but had eventually given in.

"... so I just thought it a bid odd... Helen, are you listening to me?" Helen realised that she hadn't heard a word of what Monica had just said.

"Uhm, sorry Monica? What were you just saying?" Monica smiled. It was one of those smiles that revealed that she knew more than she was letting on. A sense of panic returned to Helen's gut. Or was she just being paranoid?

"I said," Monica repeated herself, "that I thought it was a bit odd when Nikki phoned me about a fortnight ago to hear if I needed any help with this year's fundraiser. Of course I invited her over, but there was something... hmmm, different about her. It was as if that underlying sense of mischievous had disappeared from her eyes. Of course I can't be sure, but there was definitely something amiss."

'Yes. Me.' Helen thought and then immediately scolded herself for being so egocentric.

Helen brought her mind back to the reason she was here in the first place. She was pretty sure she would have recognized Nikki’s handwriting if it was Nikki who had scribbled the note at the bottom of the invite. She had to find out who else helped with the invites, but to ask without arousing suspicion…

“Monica, I’m sorry I wasn’t able to help you with the invites. I know how busy you are, especially at this time. Hopefully, you had more than just Nikki to help you.”

She hoped Monica would take this opportunity to mention anyone else who had been there, and she did, but when Helen heard who the other “assistant” was, she had to use all her intestinal fortitude not to gasp.

"Shell?! Shell Dockley? Are you sure, Monica? No, of course you're sure, what I mean is... why?"

Monica started to laugh. "Who knows, Helen? To be honest, I was also taken aback... not sure why she decided to pitch in. But what I do know is that she wasn't the same spiteful bitch, if you'll excuse my language, that we knew back in Larkhall."

Helen was puzzled beyond measure. She just could not fathom why Shell would [a] change and [b] change so much that she would help with the fundraiser of a halfway house that she had no interest in to start off with. And why why why would she have turned against Fenner to such an extent that she now thought of Helen as an ally? That is of course if Helen could presume that Shell wrote the note. But the piece of the puzzle that refused to fit was why Shell would send her a childhood photograph of Nikki, or even more disturbing, where she could have got hold of it in the first place.

The subject of the photograph paused in the doorway, surveying the club. It looked a totally different place in daytime especially with light streaming in from the unshuttered skylights. The décor and bar area had been newly renovated and updated, keeping it as one of the trendiest women’s nightclubs in London. Nikki couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride in what they had achieved despite the fact that at night-time she loathed it. Still, there were some perks to the job; unlimited booze and her pick of attractive woman to go home with. Indeed she was surprised that she had ended up spending the night in her office after all the offers she had received last night. Her eyes settled appreciatively on the two attractive, blond women sitting in one of the luxurious booths. Trisha was leaning forward; totally engrossed in the stack of books she was studying. The other, Nikki guessed, was the infamous cousin who must have arrived a few days early. No wonder Trisha was in such a bad mood.

Nikki walked over to where the women were sitting. Both women were so engrossed in the books in front of them, that neither of them noticed Nikki standing next to the booth. Wanting to draw their attention, Nikki cleared her throat. Trish looked up first and said "Hi stranger. Finally decided to leave your cave?" Trish's cousin didn't look up, busying herself with paging through the book in her hands. Nikki looked questiongly at the cousin and then back at Trish. "Oh yes. My cousin. You haven't been introduced. Nikki this is..."

"DOCKLEY?!" Nikki was aghast.

"Pardon me?" the blonde replied.

Upon closer examination, Nikki realized this woman was not the person who had been the bane of her existence when she was at Larkhall and who had made a real pest of herself when she and Nikki had been helping out with the invites at Lindsey House.

"Sorry, for a moment I thought you were someone else. Hi, I'm Nikki, Nikki Wade," she promptly shook hands with Trish's cousin, taking the opportunity to look more carefully at the woman. How could I have mistaken her for that slag Dockley. She's gorgeous.

"Hi Nikki, Nikki Wade. I'm Cassie. Cassie Tyler." Nikki had to smile as she shook Cassie's hand. It's been a while since she smiled and the sensation it brought about felt quite good. "So... Trish tells me you also served time?" Cassie enquired. For a moment Nikki felt anger sweep over her, but then realised Cassie said "also" - did this mean Cassie was also in prison at some time? "Yeah, basically for the cow spreading these rumours about me!" Nikki smiled. "Very noble," Cassie commented, "I laundered some money. Well 'some' would be an understatement!" and with that Cassie burst out laughing. Her laughter seemed to fill the whole room and Nikki found herself laughing along, in spite of herself.

The laughter was infectious causing Trisha to join in too. Eventually Trisha leant back and gasped “Thanks! That was just what I needed.” She sighed, “The reason I asked you both here is that the club is in serious trouble. I wasn’t entirely honest when you were first arrested, Nik. There was a little bit of a cash flow problem and … well … I borrowed some money from a loan shark. Things have gone well so the payments haven’t been a problem. Now, out of the blue, he is demanding full payment of the remainder and won’t take no for an answer. We need to come up with the money by next week.”

“Or trick the guy into giving us the IOU back,” exclaimed Nikki with a glint in her eye.

Trish started laughing again. "Oh no, I'm not getting involved in this! You two cons can work it out. I've got an appointment with the bank manager at 11. I'll try the legal route and you two can come up with devious schemes in my absence. Just don't tell me about it!" Trish looked over at Cassie, smiling. "Especially not you, cous. I don't want to know." And with that Trish gathered her books and left. As she left, Nikki moved in to the booth to where Trish was just sitting. She looked intently at Cassie and then just smiled. "You know what, Cas? I've got a phone call to make."

Nikki took a sip from the bottle of mineral water that she had picked up on her way back up to the office. Her hangover had subsided a little but her head still felt like mush. Already she was beginning to regret her rash words to Trisha. How on earth was she going to get the IOU back? Or at the very least reinstate the monthly payments. She didn't care about her own share in the club but Trisha had always been there for her and she was determined to help. Legally there was NO need to repay the money at all but that was just asking for trouble, with a capital T. 'How do you force someone to give you something?' she mused. 'Physical coercion? Old-fashioned blackmail? Some sort of con like cold decking them at poker or a money laundering scam? Or trade something that they desperately wanted for it?' Perhaps a quick visit incognito would shed some light on the problem. As she reached for the phone, she realised belatedly that she had forgotten to ask Trisha for his name and address.

So Nikki dialled Trish's mobile phone instead, but it was on voicemail. She was probably already at the bank. Nikki still sat with the phone in her hand, wondering what to do next, when there was a soft knock on the door. Expecting it to be Cassie from downstairs, she yelled "Yeah, come in gorgeous!" in a jokingly manner. The door opened slowly and as she looked up, Nikki felt every ounce of blood drain from her face, her heart pounding. She tried to regain control of herself, but only a faint whisper escaped her lips, "Helen..."

microsofty

OOOOOOOh, what a nice surprise

They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. Both faces expressionless; neither revealing the chaos behind the façade. Helen broke the silence first. “You look like shit, Nikki! Or is that the way your floozie prefers you? That was who you were expecting, wasn’t it?” she sneered.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Helen?” Nikki practically spat the words out. “I thought I made it perfectly clear that I didn’t want to see or hear from you ever again.”

“Oh, you were clear all right.” stated Helen bitterly. “I found that out when you didn’t come forward as an alibi after my arrest two months ago. Granted if they didn’t believe an ex-Governor then they would have hardly believed an ex-con. But you could have tried.” Nikki gaped at her. “And DON’T bloody well say you don’t know what I’m talking about, it’s been all over the papers for the last two months.”

"I wasn't in the country two months ago, so I bloody well didn't know you were arrested", Nikki spat back at Helen. "The bigger question Helen is what the hell did you get arrested for? Could it be you had a bevy load of vodka and snogged every woman in the bar wishing it was me?"

To Nikki's harsh statement Helen replied......

"Uhm... yeah, somthing like that..." Helen's words trailed off and a deadly silence enveloped the room. Nikki started giggling, she just couldn't help herself. "You're hardly a con now, Helen" she giggled. "Oh shut up, will ya? Just shut up." Helen tried to surpress a smile, and it worked, because she soon felt the tears sting her eyes. I will not cry in front of you, Nikki Wade. Not ever again. Nikki stopped giggling and turned all serious. "But, I don't understand, Helen. Why would you need an alibi for some DUI charge?"

"If only it were that simple," Helen whimpered. "Drinking was a big part of it, but I know better than to drive when I'm going out for a few, you know that. The night it all blew up between us, after I left your place I went home, but couldn't get to sleep, so I walked to my local for a few bevvies. It must have been about 1:00 in the morning when I left the pub, but I was pretty far gone. I had the feeling someone was following me. The next thing I remember is being wakened up early the next morning with a banging at the door. It was the police. They said I was under arrest for assault. But they said the assault occurred at 9:00 the previous evening when I was with you."

"Who the hell did they accuse you of assaulting?" Nikki was incredulous.

"Bloody Jim Fenner!" Helen responded.

Helen thought for a moment, weighing up her options. She decided to let it go for now, “Nikki, that’s not why I am here” Helen continued, shocking herself with her calm tone. “I have received this in my invitation to Monica’s ball and after speaking to her I found out this belongs to you” Helen pauses for a breath, when she looks at Nikki for a split second it was almost as it the last couple months had not happened. Shaken Helen continues, “I thought it only right that I return it to you.” as Helen was speaking the words she had closed the distance between them and lifted her hand with the photo clenched in her hand, holding it out towards Nikki

Nikki took the photo from Helen's hand, but did not look at it. Instead she held Helen's gaze for what seemed like an eternity. Helen looked away first, saying "Please don't do that, Nik." And there it was. The first time in forever that Helen used a term of endearment other than the not-so-endearing bitch, selfish cow, imbecile (etc. etc. etc.) when referring to Nikki. Smiling, Nikki looked down at the photo, but in an instant her smile made way for a deep frown. "You say this was included in your invitation?" Helen just nodded. "It makes no sense at all," Nikki continued, "this photo is always - and I mean always - in my purse. I never take it out, too scared that something might happen to it." Feeling a bit unsteady (probably still the hangover), Nikki sat down. Helen followed suit. "But Darl..., erm... Nikki, wasn't Shell Dockley also at Monica's place?" Helen asked, hoping to jog some kind of memory in Nikki.

“Shell the psychopath?” asked Nikki. “Just when I thought she couldn’t get any weirder. There she was; all sweetness and light. I suppose she might have been able to pocket the photo without me seeing but I really don’t see why it would interest her. There’s no way she could know its significance. I don’t get her game this time but she’s obviously managed to pull the wool over someone’s eyes to get parole this early.”

“You don’t think she is genuine then?” queried Helen.

Nikki snorted, “I’m sure we’ve seen flashes of the real Shell over the years but unlike the slogan, you can never be sure of Shell.”