Widows

by Lynda La Plante

  They started laughing again, but Linda held up her hand as they heard the bark of the Alsatian in the lock-up next door.

  “Here she is,” said Bella. “Here’s our leader.”

  Linda, closest to the door, was frozen to the spot. “No heels. And no Wolf,” she whispered. Bella and Shirley looked round for somewhere to hide, but it was too late. The door squeaked open and a man in a Barbour coat and flat cap stepped in. Shirley let out a squeal and shot up, frightened out of her wits, Bella picked up a crow bar and Linda shouted: “Who the effing hell are you?”

  Dolly pulled off the cap. “Glad I can pass for a bloke,” she said, looking very pleased with herself. “Sorry about not being in contact. I still got a bleedin’ squad car parked in front of me house. They been watching me day and night. Put the kettle on, Linda, I’m parched. I’ve been leaping over back garden fences, which isn’t easy in Harry’s shoes, I can tell you. They’re really heavy.”

  The three women stared at Dolly as she took a rucksack off her back and let Wolf out of it and onto the floor. He ran straight to the newly painted van and pissed up the wheel. “No!” All three women shouted at once, collapsing in fits of laughter.

  Dolly ignored them. They must all be very tired. She took off her jacket, lit a cigarette and started to pull out notebooks from the various pockets. Linda went to brew up some coffee, Bella went to get the chainsaw and Shirley watched her little fire burn down.

  The silence was broken by Bella firing up the chainsaw and holding it aloft. It was a heavy piece of kit.

  “That’s great, Bella,” said Dolly, admiringly. “When you come at them guards waving that around, they’ll definitely get out of your way. No one will know you’re not a fella. Shirley, those suits are coming along nicely and Linda—great job on the van.”

  All three women smiled like children who’d just been praised by mum. None of them were quite sure why they were so proud—but it felt great.

  With the saw making a racket they didn’t hear the banging on the garage door, but little Wolf started to yap, then the Alsatian from next door started to bark again. Bella turned the chainsaw off and Dolly signaled for the girls to keep quiet. Linda moved to the hidey-hole in the floor to get out a shotgun, but Bella held her back.

  “For God sake, Linda, just stay calm,” whispered Dolly. “Who do think you are, Annie Get your friggin’ Gun?”

  “I handle shooters all day and night at that arcade so I know what I’m doing,” Linda whispered back.

  “Yeah, but they fire little pellets, not bloody cartridges filled with buckshot.”

  “Shut up, the pair of you.” Shirley hissed, as the hammering began again.

  Dolly was already on the move, Wolf right by her side ready to protect if needed. She flicked the lights off, then slowly opened the small door in the main gates a few inches and peered round the gap. The girls stood grouped in the inner annex doorway, listening.

  “I’m Bill Grant,” said the man outside. “I’m a friend of Harry Rawlins. I got a lock-up further down. It is Mrs. Rawlins, ain’t it?”

  “What do you want?” said Dolly, without confirming who she was. “I’m very busy.”

  “Can I come in?” Bill asked.

  “No,” said Dolly. “Can’t open the door or my little dog’ll run out.”

  “That’s OK,” Bill continued, “I was just wondering, what with Harry, you know, sorry about him dying by the way, but I was wondering if you’d be selling or renting the place out? Only if you are thinking about it, I wouldn’t mind first refusal.”

  Dolly sniffed. “Thank you for your condolences,” she said stiffly. “Why don’t you slip your number under the door and I’ll call you when I’ve had time to think things over?” Shutting the door after him, she made certain that it was locked tight.

  As Dolly walked slowly back to the three women, she was frowning, dragging on her ever-present cigarette. She blew out the smoke. “Any of you ever heard of a Bill Grant?”

  They looked at each other and shrugged, following Dolly back into their inner sanctum where she picked up her notebook and stubbed the cigarette out. “We may have a problem,” she said. “He said he was a friend of Harry’s and owns the lock-up further down. He saw me coming in and wondered if everything was OK.”

  “Why’s that a problem?” asked Bella.

  “Harry never told anyone this was one of his places, no one. And he rented it under a false name.” There was a silence as the implications sank in.

  “What if the Fishers sent him?” Shirley shrieked. “We could be in way more trouble than we bargained for!”

  Linda tried to reason with her. “Tony Fisher would never send someone else to put the frighteners on us. He likes getting stuck in.”

  “But what if he thought he was going to bump into Harry? Did you think of that? Harry would scare Tony off; wouldn’t he, Dolly?”

  “Hang on a second.” Bella interrupted, playing catch-up. “Why would Tony Fisher think Harry—we are talking about your Harry, right, Dolly?—why would Tony Fisher think he was alive?”

  Linda and Shirley both looked at Dolly.

  “Because I told Boxer that Harry survived the robbery, knowing that he’d tell the Fishers. I wanted them off our backs,” said Dolly evenly.

  “Well, that ain’t worked out too well if that bloke was sent by Tony,” Bella replied in her deep, authoritative voice. She didn’t take her eyes off Dolly; she could almost hear her brain mulling over all the options. “Who do you think sent him?”

  Dolly lit another cigarette. “I don’t know. I’m thinking he could be the fourth man, but I’m almost certain he’s not mentioned in the ledgers. I’ll go to the bank again tomorrow and double check. And I’ll get you all some more cash as well.”

  As Dolly studied the notebooks in front of her, the others looked at each other. Linda nodded at Bella as if to say: Go on then, ask her if we’re really gonna do this, but Bella didn’t. With more cash on the way, she didn’t want to rock the boat; it was the easiest money she’d made in a long time.

  Dolly flicked a page on her notebook. “Shirl—you need to get some large wads of cotton wool dressing, something like hospital issue rolls, to pad out the overalls.”

  She was so tired, she couldn’t help sounding a bit whiney. “Why do I always have to do the shopping?” Shirley asked.

  “Because you’re so good at it, darlin’,” Dolly replied quickly. “And we need to fill the rucksacks with something heavy. Linda, you do that.”

  Bella picked up one of the bricks left piled around the lock-up. “Why don’t we all work on our fitness?” she suggested.

  Linda seized her opportunity. “We could go back to that Sanctuary place and lift proper weights there.” She fancied a treat after all the hard work she’d been doing and the idea of that sauna thing really took her fancy now. She’d felt a whole lot braver since she started having regular sex again.

  Dolly frowned. “I’m not talking about pissing around with little hand bars, Linda, we’ll be wearing heavy duty gear, and we got to be able to lift those rucksacks onto our back and run fast to the getaway car.”

  Shirley was staring at the men’s clothing Dolly was wearing. “Are we all wearing boots now instead of the plimsolls I bought?” she asked doubtfully.

  “No, the plimsolls will be fine, Shirl’,” said Dolly.

  “I don’t mind.” Shirley cleared her throat before she dared to continue. “Only, if we did wear boots instead, can I keep the plimsolls? Cos they go lovely with the new jumpsuit I bought. You know, the ones we ain’t wearing for the robbery now.”

  “Oh, they do!” Linda eagerly agreed.

  Dolly could hardly believe what she was hearing. “Can we get back to the bricks?” she snapped.

  “Sorry, Dolly,” Linda said with a sycophantic smile. She was still hoping that they could go back to the health spa at some stage. “How many bricks do you think we need in each rucksack?”

  “For Chrissakes, put as many as yo
u think a million cash split into three is gonna weigh!” Dolly was exasperated. “Now, can you all shut up and concentrate? We only got one crack at this robbery, and everything has to be practiced until it becomes second nature.”

  She got out a map of a quarry on the outskirts of London and laid it on the work bench. “Harry made notes about how he used this old quarry to rehearse jobs. It’s out in the sticks and not used anymore, so it was perfect for them.” Shirley’s eyes filled with tears, she put her hand to her mouth and started to cry. Linda put an arm round her.

  “I’m sorry. It’s nothing. Carry on, Dolly,” said Shirley, sniffing.

  “No, come on, Shirl, if something’s wrong, tell us.” Dolly insisted. “We all need to be at our strongest as the job gets closer. What’s upsetting you?”

  “I just remembered something, is all. The week before the . . . the week before, Terry came home with his trousers and shoes covered in white dust. Do you think this is where he’d been? Practicing with Joe and Harry?”

  Linda and Dolly looked at each other. The quarry was exactly where Terry would have gotten dusty. Harry never traipsed quarry dust back to the house, of course, but he was so much more careful than Terry. Linda wiped Shirley’s tears with her hanky. “My Joe never brought white dust home with him; but you can bet your life that his blonde bitch’s bed was full of it.” Linda wasn’t angry as she spoke; she was phlegmatic. She had always known Joe never came straight home to her bed and she knew it was about time she said it out loud. It felt good.

  “I’ll find another place we can use . . .” Dolly said gently.

  “No, it’s fine really. I’m just being silly.”

  “Shirley, we’ll use somewhere else.” Dolly had made her decision. “This is our job, not theirs. We’ll use our own rehearsal place.” And with that, Dolly started to pack everything away. “Take tomorrow off and rest up. We meet at 9 a.m. the next day to go through the robbery, step by step, till we get it right. I’ll call you from the safe number at the convent.” The women watched as Dolly finished packing away, with little Wolf sniffing round her boots, clearly confused by the mixture of smells from Harry and Dolly.

  Dolly looked at her girls watching her and she felt a lump in her throat. She was so pleased to be with these women; these women who stood together and looked after each other so well. Yes, they bickered, but that came from caring, not from hating each other. She opened her mouth to say as much, but swallowed the words down.

  “Don’t forget the bricks and the rucksacks, Linda! I’ll bring everything else.” And Dolly left.

  Shirley sniffled and went to check that the fire in the bin was properly out. When she looked down, all she could see were ashes, no distinguishable labels. Pleased to have done something right, she said. “It was nice of Dolly to change the venue, wasn’t it?”

  “It was nice, Shirl, yes.” Bella agreed. “Course it’d be nicer if she stuck around to tidy up for once as well.” Bella collected the rucksacks, put them in a pile so that Linda wouldn’t forget them and set about washing up the coffee mugs.

  Linda remained standing in the middle of the lock-up, staring at the door that had closed behind Dolly. “I’d love to see what’s in them ledgers.”

  “I wouldn’t,” said Shirley. “I don’t want to know anything I don’t need to know.”

  “And how do you know what you need to know, eh? What if there’s not a single word written in them ledgers and Dolly’s totally off her rocker? You’d need to know that, wouldn’t you?”

  “Not this again.” Shirley sighed as she picked up her handbag. “I’ve got to go. Dallas is on in twenty minutes.”

  Linda and Bella watched Shirley leave. Both of them had to go on to work later that night, so there was no point in them going home first.

  As Linda made another cup of tea in the freshly washed mugs, she couldn’t help moaning some more. Bella let her because she knew it was good for Linda to get her feelings out in the open, although it made her a pain in the arse to spend much time with. “She treats us like right skivvies,” complained Linda. “The name of Rawlins don’t give her the right to tell us what to do all the time. If we’re a team, we’re a team. I mean, it doesn’t feel very ‘teamy’ when we’re the ones who do all the running round.” Linda handed Bella a piping hot cup of tea, “What do you think?”

  Bella nursed her mug to warm her hands. “We ain’t no team, Linda. She’s the boss and that’s all there is to it. I can’t pay Shirley’s mortgage, or buy you a car or put enough money in my pocket to let me keep my clothes on for a month or two. Can you do that?” Linda said nothing. Bella continued, “And I don’t want to see what’s in those ledgers, cos if this is for real and it all goes tits-up, I’m denying everything. The less I know, the better.”

  Linda smiled; she loved Bella’s honesty and clear-sightedness. She took her tea and started to pile bricks up next to the rucksacks.

  Bella stayed propped against the kitchen table. There was something niggling her about Dolly, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. She hoped Dolly was being straight with them because she really wanted to pull this job. She decided that she’d go along with everything as planned, but from now on she would be keeping a close eye on Dolly Rawlins.

  Linda felt pretty knackered when she arrived at the arcade, but just as she was about to go in, she saw Carlos walking past.

  “Where you off to looking that gorgeous?” she called out to him.

  Carlos stopped and grinned as she ran over and kissed him.

  “I’m meeting a bloke who owns a car hire business. He might want me to service his fleet. It’ll be great money if I can get him to say yes.”

  Carlos looked behind Linda at the arcade she’d just run out of. She was embarrassed at first; she looked like crap after a day in the garage with the girls. He was off to clinch some big business deal and she was off to stop dirty old men touching up the kids playing her arcade machines. Sod it, she thought. I am who I am. She snogged him right there in front of the whole street.

  Looking Carlos up and down, Linda smiled from ear to ear. She couldn’t quite believe that Carlos was all hers. Joe had been a very handsome guy, but he was a bit rough. Linda liked rough, but Carlos was something else; he had everything—he was stylish, macho, beautiful and rugged.

  “You’re late!” Charlie shouted from behind Linda. “I ain’t had my break yet.”

  Linda’s smile disappeared in an instant. “All you do on your break is stand in the street looking at women’s arses as they walk by. They’ll all still be here in ten minutes, Charlie, so sod off.”

  Charlie scowled at Carlos. This must be the reason she’s been so chirpy, he thought. This must be the geezer Linda’s been getting her oats off with. He watched as she arranged to meet Carlos the following day and kissed him goodbye, lingering and pawing all over him. Charlie had been after Linda for years and never got a look in. And Carlos looked like a right ponce, with his pale suit and his huge curly hair. Charlie pushed his way past Linda and out into the street, so she had no option but to go inside and take over the change booth.

  Across the busy street, Boxer Davis was eating a bag of fish and chips. This area of Soho was alive after dark with late-night food stalls, clubs, pubs and arcades. The Fishers’ club was the headline act, but there were plenty of lower-ranking venues, too; something to suit everyone. The streets were an eclectic mix of the flamboyantly stylish like Carlos, scruffy no-hopers like Charlie and general dogsbodies like Boxer. Businessmen met working girls, criminals did deals, stags and hens got pissed, people aged eighteen to eighty mixed and mingled. No one was out of place.

  Boxer had seen Carlos snogging Linda and was still gawping, chip hanging out of his mouth, when Charlie passed him on his way for food. “All right, Charlie?” Boxer said. “Was that Joe Pirelli’s missus you was talking to? Just cos I knew her old man.”

  Charlie nodded and moved off. He hadn’t seen Boxer in ages and didn’t like him, or want to chat with him. As far
as Charlie was concerned, Boxer was a drunk always looking for handouts. He glanced back at him, noting the well-cut suit he was wearing. He looked decent for a change, might be doing all right for himself—Charlie decided he might be worth acknowledging. “See you around, Boxer . . . if you need anything, I’m working in the arcade.”

  Boxer beamed and gave Charlie a wave. “Right you are, Charlie. Right you are.”

  Charlie felt a stab of jealousy and then got angry. The day you’re jealous of Boxer Davis, he thought, is the day you should shoot yourself. In the chippy queue, Charlie dug about in his pocket and quickly established he could only afford a small portion of chips and a fish cake. God, he wished he could get out of this shithole! His leg was really playing him up in the colder weather and it made him limp something rotten. Even as a kid Charlie had been weak and when the polio had chosen him out of his whole school he’d been left with a gammy leg. With his coins clenched tight in his clammy fist, he put his other hand back in his pocket and took a gentle grip on his balls. He grinned, comforted, and watched the arses walk by.

  Chapter 14

  Resnick stormed through the station corridor spoiling for a fight, but no one was obliging. He wanted to smooth things over with Saunders before going to meet Green Teeth, but the station was pretty much deserted apart from the painters and decorators who had taken over the corridors, apparently with the specific aim of getting in Resnick’s way. It was bedlam. Without being consulted, Resnick had been moved into a much smaller office while the main one was being painted. He’d seen the plans and knew he’d end up with a clear glass annex. The very idea of people being able to look in at him while he prowled and thought and smoked and worked infuriated him. He was a private man who trusted very few people—the idea of sitting in a goldfish bowl for all to see made his blood boil.

  “Alice!” Resnick bellowed. “Ali—”

  Alice popped her head out of a doorway. She was holding all of the files from Resnick’s desk, neatly stacked in a box. On top of the box was a sandwich from the vending machine.