CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
At 1:15 a.m. the six bedroom house in Virginia Water amongst the gated privileged residents of an exclusive cul-de-sac was quiet. Commander Gregory Potting this early Saturday morning, after three large twelve year old malts, was snoring away much to the annoyance of his wife. The duvet had been pulled backwards and forwards between them. Finally with one fierce tug his wife had major ownership at the moment. It was then the telephone rang.
Mrs Potting from years of experience had let it ring until her other half, fumbled and searched until the feel of a receiver silenced the annoying telephone shrill.
Commander Potting cursed, snorted and coughed and then clearly annoyed said, ‘Yes, who’s this?’
Julia Potting said shakily, ‘Sorry to call you at this time but I tho
