HE WHO RIDES A TIGER

"HE WHO RIDES A TIGER" Chief petty office Peter Thompson the upstanding, charming gent hides a secret, he is an abuser of children. How long can he evade the law. one young girl, his daughter finds the courage to come forward to tell all after years of torment.. based on a true story. "A must read"

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The next morning Brian was the first in and eager to get started. Forest held there morning meeting and explained why he had decided to let Sam Craig go.

“We are here to make money ladies and gentlemen, we are not running a bloody charity here.’

“Will we get another team member asked Robert? Because that puts a lot of pressure on us if there is only five of us.’

“Yes, I understand your concerns Robert, I am dealing with that. I have someone coming in today, she is a twenty- eight- year old woman who is tipped to go far in the world of trade.

“Who is she asked Des Thomas curiously?

“Well, her name is Michelle Adams, she has a law degree and wants to give the stock market a go. Please make her welcome when she arrives.’

Just then the door opened and in walked a tall leggy woman with a blue suit carrying a black briefcase. She was stunningly beautiful and Johnathan Creel could not keep his eyes off the pretty looking woman. In fact, all the men including Brian were mesmerised by her beauty. After a brief introduction Michelle was asked to sit next to Brian. Brian shook her hand and then got down to business. Forest gave her some brief training on how the stock market worked and she soon picked up what was expected of her. She was highly organized and efficient Brian noticed. She was a player alright. There were no rings on her left hand which told Brian she was single. Her nails were well looked after. Her blue eyes focused on the screen as Brian waited for the market to open.

When it did Brian look for SEK Fisheries Subsidiary. He’d been following them for some time now and he picked up the phone straight away.

 

“Hello, Big City here, yes, it’s Brian Thomson. I’m looking at SEK. can I buy 20 thousand shares long and ten thousand John West Short.

A voice on the other end of the line confirmed his deal. Brian casually got up from his seat. He was wearing his new light grey Ralph Loren suit and a pair of brown tanned Rossi all leather shoes. His gold Rolex on his left wrist oozed class. He brushed the hair over his ear as he walked smartly to the franking machine and then slipped the paper inside and it did its job.’

He went into Forests office and told him that he’d invested ten Grand of his own money into SEK Fisheries.

“That confident huh said Forest Witherspoon, but knew better to question Brian especially when he was using his own money.

“They will go up Mr. Witherspoon. I’m sure of it.’

“Let’s hope so.’

Brian came out and sat back down he watched the screen as the market began to move.

“That was brave of you said Michelle.’

“I don’t take risks Miss Adams, I know my market.’

“So, you wouldn’t mind if I cut my teeth using your hunch then?

“Feel free if you trust me. Someone prepared to lose twenty grand is someone who knows his stuff.’

Michelle looked at the screen then picked up the phone and made her first deal which surprised the rest, soon they were all on it. If Brian’s hunch went down they would lose a considerable amount of money.’

They lined up at the franking machine then hurried back to their seats to watch the screens.

 

Lorraine Thompson Jumped on the bus to her mother’s house just off Festing Road in Croydon at ten past nine in the morning. It had been a while since the last time she was home, she even posted her Christmas presents to avoid going. Now she had moved up to London City centre into a luxury apartment. The ennui of visiting her parents had set in. She couldn’t help it that she was becoming a snob. Brian was earning good money and she could afford all the luxurious clothes from the top fashion shops and eat at fancy restaurants. Soon she would have her own car. She was taking lessons from Brian now and was fairly competent that she could take her driving test and pass with flying colours. When the bus pulled in at her stop she got off. It hadn’t cost her anything with her being a clippie, she carried a card that permitted her to use any public transport free gratis. She walked along Croydon high street in her camel haired coat and high heels carrying a Mary Quant handbag. Her nails were neatly done and her hair had been cut and blow dried the day before.

Walking down her old street she saw the curtains open and neighbours looking at her. She loved all the attention she was receiving. They would see how she had gone up in the world. Away from this muck filled street of Croydon.

Lorraine knocked on the door of her mother’s house that was in dire need of a coat of paint like many others in the street.

Joyce Lennox opened the front door.

“Hello darlin’ come in it’s lovely to see ya.’

“Hello mum how are you.’ Hearing her mother talk in her cockney twang repulsed her now that she’d had some elocution lessons to rid herself of the vile accent that she once possessed. She was now left with a softly spoken voice and she now used words in her vocabulary that made her sound intelligent. She spent an hour each night perusing the English dictionary.

Lorraine took off her coat and hung it up then returned to the small living room where she had grown up. She hadn’t realised how small it was in comparison to her own house until now.

“So, how’s you and Brian getting on then asked her mother as she filled the old kettle, one she’d been using over 40 years.

“Why don’t you use the electric kettle I bought you mother?

I’m used to this one dear, it’s served me well all of these years, no need to change now.’

Looking around the room Lorraine felt she was in a 1940’s time warp. All the furniture, pictures that hung on the same wallpaper she’d know since she had been a child were still on the walls.

“Where’s Father?’

“He’s slipped down the shops to get a paper or so he always says, you know him he’ll have gone to Ronnie’s bookie shop. Bloody Gee Gees every day since he got made redundant.’

“Surely there are other jobs he could do mother, there’s lots of driving jobs going. There are lots of jobs for taxi drivers in London.’

“Taxi driving, your father was a ship builder, a skilled man. Would you have him reduced to driving a bloody taxi.’

“Well I still work on the busses and Brian has a good job.’

Joyce Lennox still used the old Earl Grey tea instead of tea bags. It took twice as long to make. Lorraine used tea bags which was easier and cleaner. Rather than warming a pot then adding tea and then boiling water and waiting for it to brew.

Have you eaten lunch, you look like a skinned rabbit Lorraine are you losing weight?

“It’s the fashion mother all the clothes these days are made for thinner women. Brian likes me to look nice when we go out with his boss and his wife.’

 

You don’t look well love, you have a poor look.’

“I feel fine mother she said as she poured out the tea. He mother took out the biscuit barrel from the cupboard with an assortment of family favourites inside.

Here help yourself.’

Even though Lorraine had watched her figure she picked out a bourbon from the barrel.

“One biscuit isn’t going to kill me is it.’

Biting into it evoked so many memories, she became all aquiver as she thought of when she was a child. It took her back to when she played in the back lane with her friends, a large skipping rope was held and several of her friends jumped in and then out again as they sang a well- known rhyme. Her mother would come out with that same biscuit barrel and hand out biscuits and Robinson’s diluted juice to all of her friends. She smiled to herself as she remembered.

“Why don’t you and dad come over and we can go out for a meal somewhere?

“You know your father, he won’t eat foreign muck. He’s a right stickler for tradition.

He likes English grub and won’t eat anything else.’

“He likes steak and onion’s doesn’t he?

“Your dad is a steak pie, peas, and gravy man, he doesn’t like these fancy restaurants that serve up little portions on fancy plates and looking more like a work of art than a meal and then charge you the earth for it. You father likes value for money he does.’

It was true what her mother was saying, her father was a greasy spoon café man where they served boiled beef and carrots or jellied eels.

“More tea mum?

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