Widows

by Lynda La Plante

  Linda drove directly to the underground parking area used by Shirley’s mum and the other market traders to stash their vehicles, cart stalls, tables and produce. The two-mile drive was thrilling: Linda’s eyes darted from the road to the wing mirror to the rearview mirror and back again. She was hyper-alert, taking in every detail; she even noted a couple of beat cops wandering aimlessly around their patch. She smiled; they were totally oblivious.

  When she reached the market, Linda edged her way slowly through the line of trucks and vans delivering fruit and veg to the traders, on the lookout for Shirley. She spotted her, standing outside the car park, waving furiously. Shirley had managed to get two copies made of her mum’s key and had cleared a pile of old fruit and veg boxes out of the way to make a space in the far corner to park the van. Linda reversed into the space and Shirley banged on the rear doors when she needed to stop.

  Linda was feeling pleased with herself as she showed Shirley round the van. “It’s perfect, nice and big too, look at the size of the rear bumper . . . it will stand up to a tank hittin’ it.” Shirley kept schtum as she slid open the driver’s door, allowing Linda to enjoy her moment. “There’s only one seat, so Dolly can move fast from here to the rear doors . . . when she’s learned to get out of the harness, that is!”

  “You’ve nicked a good ’un, I reckon,” Shirley replied, encouraging Linda. Then she noticed the damage to the ignition. “What the hell’s happened there?”

  “Well, the driver was hardly going to hand me the keys, was he?” Linda said. “I bought a replacement barrel before I nicked the van—I knew it was likely to get damaged. It’s a thirty-minute job to replace it.” Replacing the barrel was actually something Linda had never done before, but she had seen Joe do it. It looked easy enough and now the van was safely tucked away, she had time to work it out.

  As the two of them heaved a tarpaulin over the vehicle to hide the logo on the sides, Linda asked Shirley if she’d brought the false plates.

  “Course I ’ave. And some spray paint to go over the logos, just like you asked.” Shirley handed Linda a key. “That’s for the padlock on the gate. Make sure it’s all secure when you leave and leave at least ten minutes after me.”

  “Yes, Dolly.” Linda mocked and they laughed, releasing some of the tension. “Go on, then,” Linda said. She released the bonnet and took a look at the engine. “Sod off and leave me to work.”

  Instead of leaving, Shirley stood close to Linda’s shoulder and peered at the engine. “Does she run OK?” she asked anxiously.

  “So so,” Linda replied, humoring Shirley. “But I won’t know until I done a bit of work on it, will I? So, if you’d let me get on . . .”

  “Sounded like it was on its last legs to me—you sure it’ll be all right?”

  “I know a lot more about engines than you do, Shirl, and when I’ve finished givin’ it the once over, it’ll run like a Maserati.”

  Shirley was fed up with how quickly Linda would go from being nice to being a bitch. “You’re welcome!” Shirley shouted as she stomped off. “For getting the key cut, and for bringing the paint, and for waiting in the freezing bloody cold all morning for—”

  “THANK YOU!” Linda yelled with a huge grin on her face. Shirley shut up mid-sentence, but still left in a huff. Linda returned to the van’s engine and her grin slowly faded. Fuck me. It’s a bit different from a normal van . . .

  Shirley was still tetchy when she arrived at her mother’s flat later that afternoon. She let herself in and shouted to Audrey, who yelled that she was in her bedroom and would be out in a minute. At first Shirley thought she’d walked into the wrong flat. It was so neat and tidy—not one dirty mug or dish in sight. Suddenly Audrey swirled into the kitchen, dressed up to the nines, wearing heavy make-up, hair lacquered stiff as a board. Shirley almost keeled over from the strong smell of Revlon’s “Intimate.”

  “What ya think of me dress? It come off the back of a lorry—only a fiver!” Audrey paraded in front of Shirley in a sequined Crimplene evening dress.

  Shirley tried to hide her horror at the color, the shape and, well, everything really. Audrey was so busy swirling, she missed the way her daughter’s eyes almost popped out of her head and, by the time she’d stopped swirling, Shirley had composed herself again.

  “It’s lovely,” Shirley lied. “Where’s Greg? I need him to fix me car, the knob on the gearstick keeps fallin’ off.”

  “Don’t talk to me about him—not after what I caught him doin’ . . .”

  “Not shaggin’ again, Mum?”

  Audrey opened the kitchen utility cupboard and out fell the ironing board, a pile of dirty washing, shoes and a bin bag full of rubbish. Far from tidying, Audrey had, in fact, just hidden all the junk. Eventually, she found what she was looking for.

  “Your bruvver was sniffin’ glue with this thing on his head,” she said, putting an old gas mask over her face. “I found him stoned out of his head—didn’t know what to do with him!”

  Shirley stared at her mother. Audrey’s voice through the mask sounded low and deep, with a strange muffled echo. She grabbed at the mask and pulled it off Audrey’s head. “That’s awful,” Shirley said, not remotely interested. “Truly awful.” She kept a tight hold of the mask. “I’ll get rid of this for you, Mum. Don’t worry, Greg won’t find it.”

  “Good!” Audrey said. She caught a glimpse of herself in the kitchen window. The gas mask had made a right mess of her hair. “Oh, bleedin’ ’ell! I’ll have to do me hair again! You know that bloke from the market?” she asked Shirley with a huge smile. “Well, his brother-in-law’s mate spotted me the other day and said he fancied a go. He sounds lovely, Shirl. And he’s got money.”

  “He doesn’t sound lovely at all, Mum. And money’s not everything. I look after you, don’t I?”

  “You ain’t gonna stick around forever. I have to fend for meself. He’s taking me to the Golden Nugget.”

  “Do you even know him?”

  “It’s a blind date. Well—it’s a half-blind date. He’s seen me but I ain’t seen him. The man from the market says he’s a looker though. I got to fix me hair, Shirl’. What you up to tonight?”

  Shirley was still examining the gas mask. It would be perfect for Dolly. She couldn’t wait to get it to her. “I’m sorting meself out for that holiday I told you about, Mum.”

  “Oh, I remember. Couple of weeks in Spain’ll do you good. Put a bit of color back in your cheeks. We can all do with color in our cheeks, Shirley, my girl. Grab every opportunity that comes your way.”

  Audrey was referring to hooking up with some rich bloke in Spain; Shirley was thinking about the robbery. That was the only opportunity she’d be grabbing in the next few weeks. She kissed her mum on the cheek. “Good luck with your mystery man, Mum.” And with that, she left.

  Linda had her head buried in the engine of the laundry van when she felt something race by, brushing her leg. She jumped, banging her head on the open bonnet, and there was Wolf, looking up at her with his stupid tail wagging.

  “It ain’t ready yet,” Linda said as Dolly came into view round the side of the van.

  “Looks all right, Linda,” Dolly commented. “Well done.” Even this compliment annoyed Linda. Dolly sounded slightly surprised, as if she assumed Linda would have nicked a dud.

  “I’ll give you a hand,” Dolly said, removing her coat and placing it on a crate of apples in the corner of the car park.

  Before Linda could say anything, Dolly had picked up the spray paint, checked no one was watching and pulled the tarp back to reveal the logos in the side of the van. “We’ll meet the others at the lock-up in two hours,” Dolly continued. “You finish what you’re doing. I’ll spray and change the plates.”

  “I got time to do all that, you know. You can get on with—whatever it is you need to do,” Linda said curtly. The laundry van was her territory.

  “I’m the one who’s gonna be driving this, Linda, so I’m the one who needs to check every
thing’s as it should be,” Dolly snapped. Then she paused. “Listen . . .”

  A market trader entered the car park. Dolly yanked the tarp back over the van’s logo and hid the spray gun. The trader nodded, collected a box of veg and left. Linda waited for Dolly to finish her sentence.

  “I’m not here to check anything, Linda. I want . . . I just want us to finish this final piece of the puzzle together. Everything’s in place now and I want to know that we’re all right. Me and you.”

  Linda stared at Dolly. She didn’t like her and probably never would, but that wasn’t what Dolly was after. She just wanted to know that they were all on the same team; that’s all. Never very good with words, Linda picked up the false number plates. “You spray. I’ll secure these.” It was all Dolly needed.

  It took three coats of paint to hide the black logo. And although Linda had managed to get her black Puffa jacket covered in white paint while bending to fix the number plates at the back of the van, everything was looking good.

  Dolly climbed into the driver’s seat, which already had the harness bolted into place.

  “It needs a lot of choke to start and then let it in easy,” Linda said from the doorway.

  The van started first time. “Where you gonna sit?” Dolly asked. Linda climbed into the back of the van and plonked herself down into a basket of fresh, clean white sheets—probably from one of the poshest hotels in London. Dolly laughed and they headed out for a test drive to the lock-up.

  The van did stall twice on the way, which worried Dolly, but it was nothing to do with the engine, which Linda had fine-tuned beautifully. It was a loose wire contact where she had fitted the new ignition barrel, but, with a bit more electrical tape round it, the wiring was soon secure and the van didn’t stall again.

  When Dolly and Linda arrived at the lock-up, there was nervous tension in the air. Bella was busy preparing and checking over the tools and shotguns they needed for the robbery. Shirley had gone over their overalls and balaclavas so many times she knew every inch of them and she was now double checking everyone’s passports and flight tickets before putting them into the suitcases that they, apart from Dolly, had each prepared for their flight out of the country. Bella had given her notice in at the strip club, Linda had got herself fired from the arcade quite easily and Shirley had told her mother she was going on a holiday.

  No one spoke much. They didn’t need to at this stage. Each knew exactly what their roles were during the robbery. Carrying out these final preparations was exciting: they were ready.

  Bella had already put the chainsaw in the back of the van Linda would be driving. She now placed a sawed-off shotgun and the sledgehammer in a hockey bag, which she zipped up and put in the back of the laundry van. Tomorrow, Dolly would put the sledgehammer by the rear doors and keep the shotgun up front with her.

  Dolly sat in the driver’s seat of the laundry van, all harnessed in, while Linda tightened the straps to fit her exact padded-out body shape. “That OK, Dolly?” Linda asked.

  “Feels perfect.”

  “Right, now see if you can unclip yourself.” Without looking, Dolly found the buckle on the harness, pressed the release and had got to her feet before Linda could finish her sentence. Linda handed Dolly a spare key for the market stall car park.

  “I’ll take the van back for you and park it where it was earlier. I’ll put the ignition key under the wheel arch.”

  “Is it safe in that underground car park?” Dolly asked.

  “It will be with me kipping in the back of it.” Linda smiled. “And remember—lots of choke to start, then let her out easy.”

  Shirley put Dolly’s overalls, balaclava, plimsolls and rubber gloves in a bag and handed them to her, and then put the rest of the gear in neat piles on top of the work table with three little notes saying whose was whose. Finally, she put the three suitcases in the boot of her Mini Estate.

  Shirley showed Dolly the gas mask. “This’ll be perfect to disguise your voice, Dolly.” As Dolly put the gas mask on, Shirley added, “It might smell a bit of glue.”

  “Glue?” Linda joked. “What you been up to?”

  “Nothing!” Shirley was defensive. “I had to fix the mouthpiece cos it was a bit wobbly.”

  Dolly picked up a crow bar, held it like a shotgun, stood in the middle of the lock-up and yelled: “DON’T MOVE!”

  “Bleedin’ ’ell!” Bella said. “You don’t sound like Bambi no more!”

  Dolly pulled the mask up and rested it on top of her head. “Can you tell that I’m a woman?”

  “Definitely not,” Linda confirmed.

  Dolly placed the mask in the laundry van next to her other kit. As she caught a glimpse of her own left hand, she noticed her wedding ring for the first time in weeks. She twisted it round and slipped it off, not noticing Bella step up beside her.

  “We’re ready.” Bella said gently.

  Dolly’s eyes flickered as she gripped Bella’s arm. “You think we can pull it off?”

  Bella, taken aback at how nervous Dolly was, put her hand on top of Dolly’s and grinned. “With you leading us, we can’t fail.”

  Dolly smiled. “You’ll have to keep your eye on Linda. Don’t let her go crazy. I don’t want her shooting that gun off.”

  Bella shrugged. “I’ve changed Linda’s shotgun cartridges to some blanks I got hold of from a mate of Oil Head,” she whispered to Dolly with a sly grin. “If she does pull the trigger there’d be a big bang, but no one’ll get hurt.”

  Dolly was still twisting the ring. “Shirley will be scared, but she’s up for it and she’ll come through. You back her up, Bella, keep her strong. Know what I mean?”

  Bella nodded, but she was worried about Dolly. Was she beginning to crack under all the stress? She was, after all, driving the laundry van, on which the entire robbery depended. If she lost her nerve, then the whole job would be screwed.

  “I know it’s easier for us, Dolly. I mean, we’ll be together supporting each other in the rear van. It’ll be tough for you on your own up front. But you’ll do fine. Out of all of us, you can do that best.”

  Dolly’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t you worry about me. I won’t let you down.” She turned to see Shirley and Linda looking at her, apparently waiting for . . . something. Dolly cleared her throat. “This is it,” she said to all of them. “Everything’s ready—you’re ready. I know it’ll be hard, but try and rest up before the big day.” She kept back her parting words until she was almost out of the door, in case she might begin to cry. “I’m proud of you,” she said.

  Then, without looking back, Dolly called for Wolf and left.

  As they watched Dolly leave, the three women knew it would be the last time they saw her until the robbery. Once alone, they had a group hug. No one said a word.

  They just held on.

  Chapter 29

  On the morning of the robbery, Linda arrived at the lock-up to find Shirley heaving and retching into a small bin.

  “You OK?” Linda asked.

  “No! Me stomach’s churning with nerves,” Shirley replied, appearing at the office door. She was as white as a sheet and her eyes seemed three times their normal size. She hugged the sloshing bin to her chest.

  “Bloody hell, Shirl! You eat something funny?”

  “I think it’s more to do with the armed robbery we’re about to commit!” Shirley barked back. She knew Linda must be sick with nerves too.

  There was a bit of sick down the front of Shirley’s overalls. She’d bandaged her ample chest flat, which gave her a muscular look to the top half of her body, her arms were padded out into bulging biceps, and her thighs looked pretty impressive too. In fact, from the neck down, Shirley looked like a fit bloke . . .

  Linda sniffed the air. “You been smoking?” she asked.

  “I had a couple to settle me nerves.”

  “You don’t smoke! You’re always wafting Dolly’s smoke away cos the smell sets your stomach churning. No wonder you’re being sick, you dozy
cow!” Linda pushed past Shirley, grabbed a towel, wet the corner in the office sink and then returned to scrub the sick from Shirley’s overalls. She could see how incredibly nervous Shirley was. “Once your head’s in that balaclava,” she said with a wink, “I might fancy you summat rotten.”

  Shirley snatched the cloth off Linda and they both giggled. “Your turn,” she said.

  Linda stripped off, pulled her overall on up to her waist line and tied the sleeves together while Shirley wrapped a bandage round her chest and the upper half of her arms.

  “Is this the weirdest thing you’ve ever done?” Linda asked, and, once again, the women giggled. Neither knew exactly what they were laughing at, but it felt good.

  Just then, Bella strode in. She sniffed. It had to be Shirley. “Morning.” Bella grinned. “You’re both eager beavers, ain’t you? Can’t wait to get out there, eh?” Shirley was sick into the bin again.

  “You OK, Shirl?” Bella asked. Shirley managed a feeble moan.

  Linda wanted to distract Shirley. She picked up two pairs of gloves and handed one pair each to Bella and Shirley, then she put her own gloves on. “OK, from this moment on—gloves. Nobody touches anything without gloves. I wiped everything down so there’s no trace of us in the place once we leave.”

  “What time is it?” Shirley asked, lifting her head out of the bin.

  “Nearly seven,” Bella replied. “You lost your watch?”

  “It’s being temperamental. Shouldn’t we synchronize them or something?”

  Bella smiled a gentle smile. “We’re all in the same van, darlin’. Don’t worry about the time. You just stick with me.”

  At 7 a.m., Dolly made her way down the side street to the market traders’ car park. The overalls with their heavy padding made her waddle as she walked. Her hair was greased back and flattened to her head and she wore a ski-mask on top of her head. Rolled up, it looked just like a woolly hat, but it was ready to be pulled over her face in an instant.