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" I bit harder and harder until I thought I would bite it right off, and he screamed and screamed.
After that this punishing became a regular feature of our nightly activities. I didn't mind, so long as he didn't want to punish me.
We had seven years of married life before Alfred died. His death happened like this; one night I was giving him his punishment with the cane. He had been yelling as usual when suddenly he gave a sort of groaning gasp. He went white and I asked him if he was all right. I could see he was trying to answer, but words would not come. His lips turned purple and his gasps grew more laboured. I untied him and ran to get him some brandy. When I tried to get him to drink it mostly ran down over his chin.
Frightened I rang our doctor who listened to what I told him then said in a stern voice to ring for an ambulance straightaway.
The ambulance took nearly twenty minutes to arrive and Alfred's breathing got worse and worse. They took him to the hospital, but, as they told me afterwards, he was dead on arrival.
Two days later two police detectives came to see me, one a constable the other a sergeant. They began quite nicely but got quite unpleasant as our talk went on.
They said that the doctor in the hospital had noticed severe marks and bruising on the body and could I account for this? I tried to avoid the question but they kept on and on until I had to tell them about giving Alfred his "punishment".
They really were rather rude when I told them, because I could see they were trying to stifle their laughter. Then they wanted to know about Alfred's will, and I told them Alfred had not discussed it with me, and they would have to ask his solicitor.
They left me then saying they might have to question me again, "Just to tie up any loose ends." They sniggered when they said that and I felt rather sick after they had gone.
On the day of the funeral, as I have said, there were so many nice things said about Alfred, and this was surprising as most people, including his own children, seemed frightened of him. It was as if I was the only one who was not scared of him.
Driving away from the funeral I sat in the back of the vehicle with Kinley and Rick. Rick held my hand while Kinley glowered at me from the corner where she was half slumped. That girl really disliked, even hated, me.
I had tried to play the stepmother to them, but with Kinley it was total rejection. Rick on the other hand, responded to me very positively. At times I felt he was a bit too positive. His goodnight kisses were not what you might call filial. Still, he was a loving boy and his kisses were rather nice, so I didn't complain.
It was two days after the funeral that the solicitor turned up to read the will. There were lots of bits and pieces to it, but the upshot as far as I and the two children were concerned was this; Kinley and Rick were to receive very large sums of money, but the money was tied up mainly in safe investments, so they would only have the interest. Kinley was to have one of the cars and Rick the Land Rover. They were also to continue to have residence in the house, but the house itself went to me together with a monetary figure that I could barely comprehend.
The solicitor was concerned about the future of Alfred's business, and wondered if I would like to sell it. I said I would think about it, but asked if in the meantime he could find someone to manage it. He said he would attend to the matter, and no doubt rubbed his mental hands at the fee he would charge for this service.
Soon after the day on which the will had been read, Kinley announced that she was leaving. "I've had the offer of a job up north," she said, almost truculently, "don't expect to see me again, Glenda." Another couple of days and she was gone.
Rick on the other hand was content to stay. He was eighteen and about to begin law studies at the university. He was a sweet boy and was clearly very fond of me, so I was happy to have him around the place.
With Kinley gone and just Rick and I left, I began to wonder ab