by Rachel Ward
Ayesha raised her eyes to the ceiling, then looked up at Ant. ‘I don’t mind. This is nice. You and me. Well, it would be if it was a bit quieter.’
‘I’ll go and shout at him. Oh, talk of the devil.’
Ken was standing in the doorway. He looked strung out. ‘Go on, then, shout at me,’ he said. ‘Who do you think you are, anyway? You’re not my dad. You can’t tell me what to do.’ He flounced off towards the kitchen.
‘Hey!’ Ant called after him. ‘God, he’d better not be going out again.’
But they heard the fridge door slamming and footsteps on the stairs, and then the thudding baseline turned up even higher.
‘Right, that’s it!’
‘No, don’t move,’ said Ayesha, snuggling closer. ‘He’s all right. I don’t mind the noise really. Do you know what he took yesterday?’
‘Ketamine, he said. Wouldn’t say where he got it from, though.’
‘Special K? Silly boy. I’m glad he’s okay.’
‘Yeah, could’ve been a lot worse.’
There was a copy of the Bugle on the coffee table, underneath Ant’s feet. Ant guessed Stevo had brought it home and left it there. Ayesha sat up and reached for it.
‘Move your feet a minute,’ she said. She settled back into Ant’s arms and studied the front page. ‘Have you seen this?’
Ant was wary. She didn’t know he couldn’t read and he wasn’t keen to confess. ‘What about it?’
‘They’ve identified the guy found by the bypass and released a photo. I know him.’
Ant sat up now. ‘You know him?’
‘Well, not know. I’ve seen him. I saw him on New Year’s Eve.’
He unwound his arm from her shoulders. ‘This guy?’ he said, pointing to the picture.
‘Yes. It was when you were walking me home. Do you really not remember anything about it?’
‘No. I wish I did. I’d give anything to remember our first date. Special, innit? Anyway, tell me what you remember.’
‘Well, it wasn’t really a date, was it? Anyway, I already have—’
‘No, about this guy.’
‘Well, they’re making out it was a suicide, like he was on his own, but he wasn’t that night. I saw him in a car, one of those four-by-fours, with two other blokes. He was on the back seat, completely out of it. Like, out. Asleep. Unconscious.’
‘Where was that?’
‘Just past the church, on the road that goes across the bypass to the factory.’
Ant frowned. ‘That’s odd. You should tell the police.’
‘Do you think?’
‘Deffo. It might be important. Did you see the reg plate or anything? Do you know what sort it was?’
‘No, cars are just cars, aren’t they? Oh, one thing, one of its back lights wasn’t working. They braked to go round the corner and only the left one came on.’
‘Ayesha, you really should tell someone.’
‘Yeah, okay. Not tonight, though, not now we’re so cosy.’ She paused. ‘I wish you did remember that night.’
‘Yeah, me too.’
‘Perhaps you need something to remind you, jolt your memory. Here.’ She put her arms round his neck and drew his face towards hers. They kissed tenderly, then drew apart.
‘I think it’s working. I’m not sure,’ said Ant. ‘Better try a bit harder.’
35
Bea fell into a fitful sleep, but woke sharply at six, listening for the dog’s whine. When she remembered why it wasn’t going to come, she groaned and sat up, wide awake. After only a few days, Goldie had turned her into a morning person. She wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep now. She got dressed quickly, went to the bathroom, then tiptoed downstairs, leaving Arthur still asleep on her bed.
The kitchen smelt like a kitchen. There were no puddles. There was no one wagging and smiling to greet her. What would have been normal a week ago now seemed achingly empty and awful.
Bea made a cup of tea, gulped it down, then grabbed her coat and went out.
It was still dark. The snow had melted away, and the air was damp and cold. Bea started to walk, not consciously choosing a route, just going where her feet took her. She crossed the rec, passing the old people’s houses, and walked along the High Street, where the council cleaner was out getting rid of the debris from Friday night in Kingsleigh, emptying bins, scooping up chip wrappers and plastic trays from the kebab shop.
She skirted the Costsave car park and then took a long loop back via the network of paths and alleys that she knew so well. As she came back to her estate, the milk float was leaving it. She raised her hand in greeting to the milkman, and he waved back.
When she got back, Queenie was up, pottering around the kitchen. She’d just put a saucer of food down for Arthur, who was eating enthusiastically and messily.
‘I suppose you’re going to take him back today, then,’ she said, miserably.
‘Tomorrow,’ said Bea. ‘His owner said she was going out today.’
‘And then we’ll have an empty house.’
Bea couldn’t think of anything to say.
‘Have you been out looking?’
‘Yeah, but it was pointless.’ Bea took a deep breath. ‘The thing is, I had some messages last night, Mum. Someone’s got her. Taken her.’
Queenie’s eyes grew wide. ‘Taken her? Why didn’t you say? Do they want money?’
‘No. They just want me shut up, stop poking my nose into their business.’
‘What business is that, Bea? What’s going on?’
‘I’ve been looking into the missing cats. Ant and Jay have been helping. We think it’s illegal dog-fighting. They use cats to train dogs on. Let them rip them apart.’
‘Oh my God!’ Queenie gasped. ‘It could’ve been you, Arthur!’ She swooped down and picked up the cat, who reacted by twisting his body and scrabbling furiously at her hands and arms. She put him down again quickly, then sat down at the kitchen table trying to process the news.
‘Bea,’ she said eventually. ‘We should tell Charles. I should tell him. I lost her, after all.’
‘Do you think we could hold off one more day?’
Queenie shook her head. ‘No, love. I feel sick, but it’s got to be done.’ She rang the hospital, but they wouldn’t put her through because she wasn’t his next of kin.
‘Shall we go in? Visit him?’
‘I don’t know, Mum. Give me the phone a minute. I’ll have a go.’
Bea rang the hospital switchboard. The woman who answered told her that he was no longer a patient there and wouldn’t tell her anything until Bea explained about the dog, and she relented. ‘He’s gone to Orchard View, it’s a care home in Kingsleigh.’
‘Oh yeah, I know it,’ said Bea. ‘Thank you.’ She rang the Home, and they put her through to Charles. ‘I don’t know how to say this, but Goldie’s missing.’
‘Missing?’
‘My mum, I mean, we left her outside a shop and she wasn’t there when we got back. I’m so sorry.’
She waited for his reaction.
‘She’ll turn up,’ he said, brightly.
‘It was yesterday, Charles. She’s been out all night.’
‘Bea, my dear. I know she’s all right. I’d feel it if she wasn’t.’
‘Really?’
‘Really. I’ve had her since she was a puppy. We understand each other. Always have. I’d know if she was upset or in pain.’
After she’d rung off, Bea told Queenie what he’d said.
‘Blimey, is he psychic or something?’
‘No,’ Bea sighed. ‘Just very, very fond of his dog. If he thinks that there’s a connection, and if he believes she’s okay, that’ll do for me until we know otherwise.’
‘People are daft about their pets, aren’t they?’
‘Yeah, but you can see why.’
The day passed slowly. It was almost like those terrible grey, flat days after Bea’s dad had died, Bea thought. She wondered if her mum was thinking the same, but did
n’t want to say anything in case it made it worse.
The light faded outside, the clock on the mantelpiece ticked slowly on and on, and Queenie switched on the fire in the lounge. ‘Bob’s coming round in a minute,’ she said. ‘Thought it might cheer us up.’
‘Oh, Mum, really?’
‘I thought you liked him. He’s been ever so kind and helpful with the dog and everything.’
‘I know he has and he’s all right, but I see enough of him at work. I just like a bit of space at home.’
‘You don’t like change, that’s your trouble.’
Bea spluttered on her tea. She was about to say something about pots and kettles when her phone started ringing. She saw that it was Ant and accepted the call.
‘Bea,’ he said, ‘something’s going on.’
‘What?’
‘It’s all kicking off on my estate. Someone’s lit fires all over the place. There’s one round the back of the garages and another in a bin by the kids’ playground. There’s police cars and fire engines and everything all over the bloody shop. I reckon it could be Ken. He nipped out while I was having a kip on the sofa earlier.’
A little fire ignited in the back of Bea’s mind – suspicion catching hold of her and then crackling into certainty. ‘Ant, I reckon it’s a diversion. The cops will be running around like blue-arsed flies in Kingsleigh now, won’t they?’
‘So they won’t be able to watch the farm.’
‘Got it in one.’
‘So, we should go, after all,’ said Ant. ‘Shall I ring Jay?’
‘Okay. Call round here in twenty minutes, then. I’ll get ready.’
‘Bea, mate, that’s not a good idea, is it?’
‘I can look after myself, Ant.’
‘Yeah, I know. I wouldn’t pick a fight with you, but I meant you should stay home for Goldie’s sake.’
‘If I keep out of the way, no one will know, though, will they?’
‘I dunno. I s’pose not. See you in twenty, yeah?’
36
Ant and Jay came to the back door. Bea had seen them coming and opened the door before they had time to knock. They looked like a pair of SAS soldiers dressed in head to toe black. Bea hadn’t got a balaclava but she was pleased with the rest of her gear – camouflage jacket, leggings under some black jeans, Ugg-type boots, black scarf and gloves.
‘What the fuck is that?’ said Ant, looking her up and down.
‘What?’ Bea looked down at herself but couldn’t see anything wrong.
‘That jacket. It’s got sparkles on.’
It was true. There were a few clusters of crystal-like beads attached to the jacket which Bea had thought were rather a nice touch when she’d been shopping online. Rather eye-catching.
‘Only a few down the front,’ she said. ‘The back hasn’t got any.’
‘Bea, we’re meant to be trying to blend in, not blinding them as their torches bounce off the jewels on your frontage. You might as well have sewn bloody headlights onto it.’
She looked at Jay for guidance. He shrugged. ‘It’s maybe not the best.’
‘Take it off, then!’ Ant squawked.
‘No! I’ll freeze.’
‘Turn it inside out,’ said Jay.
‘What?’
‘Turn it inside out.’
‘Seriously?’
‘Yeah.’
Bea sighed but threaded her arms out of the jacket and, holding onto the cuffs, pulled the sleeves through. She put the jacket back on. ‘Happy now, you two?’
‘That’s better.’ Jay handed Bea a balaclava.
She took it and had a look. ‘Not with my hair!’
‘You’ve got to, Bea. If you get spotted, it could be nasty for Goldie. We’re going to try not to get seen at all, but if we do this’ll help.’
‘I don’t think a balaclava’s going to help. Not with my eyeliner and megalashes.’
‘What are you wearing the lashes for?’ said Ant.
‘I was nervous. They make me feel better.’
‘You’d better take them off, Bea. And the make-up,’ said Jay. ‘So you look more like one of the lads.’
Bea’s resolve faltered. This felt like a deal-breaker. She couldn’t let them, especially Jay, see her without make-up, could she? Perhaps she should stay at home, after all. From the next room she heard Bob laughing at something on the telly, and her mum joining in. That’s it. She was going.
‘One minute,’ she said. ‘Come in.’
They stepped into the kitchen. Bea went through the lounge and clattered upstairs.
‘Where are you going, love? Who’s that?’
‘It’s Ant and Jay. I’m just nipping upstairs for a minute.’
‘Come in, lads!’ Bob shouted through to the kitchen.
Bea shuddered inside and left them to their Costsave reunion. She hurtled up the stairs and into the bathroom where she tugged gently at one set of lashes and then the other and put them safely in their little plastic box. She got some wipes out of the cabinet and removed the eyeliner, shadow and mascara, eyebrow pencil, and foundation. It took a couple of goes, and then there she was, in all her natural glory – eyes piggy and small, face round and bland. She looked about twelve.
‘Jesus,’ she said. ‘Okay, I can do this.’ She clattered down the stairs.
Queenie looked up and almost choked on her tea. ‘Bea, where are you actually going?’
‘Just out for a drink.’
‘In The Jubilee? Dressed like that?’
‘Yeah. Maybe. We’ll see how it goes.’
Queenie frowned. ‘I don’t believe you. What are you up to?’
‘Nothing. We’re just going out.’
‘Is something going on?’ said Bob.
‘No, no. Just a drink.’
Bea quickly ushered Ant and Jay into the kitchen and out of the back door. ‘See you later, Mum!’ she shouted, closing the door behind her.
They set off along the street towards the allotments. It was dark already and the sky was quite clear, the temperature dropping fast. They could hear the wail of sirens in the distance.
‘All hell’s breaking loose in town,’ said Ant. ‘I’d bet you fifty quid Ken’s doing it.’
‘Starting fires?’
‘It’s his sort of thing,’ admitted Ant.
When they got to the path, away from the last houses, they stopped and put on their balaclavas. SAS or burglars, thought Bea, stopping herself from saying it just in time.
‘Is this all right, then?’ she asked Jay. ‘Do I look like one of the boys?’
Jay adjusted her balaclava a little so that the pillar box slit wasn’t at an angle. It felt quite an intimate thing to do, and for a moment their eyes met. Bea was glad most of her face was behind a layer of wool as she felt herself blushing under his gaze.
‘You’ll do,’ he said and patted the top of her woolly head, as you would pat a child or a dog. Disconcerted, Bea pretended to be pulling her gloves on more firmly.
‘We look really scary now,’ said Ant. ‘If we meet a dog walker along here, they’ll shit themselves.’
They walked in single file along the path by the allotments. Jay had a head torch on and he led the way to the stile. Once there, he switched the torch off. ‘Better to manage without, if we can,’ he said. ‘There’ll be more light in the open field. I reckon we’ll be all right. Stick together. We’ll find somewhere to stake it out.’
Bea felt a frisson of excitement now. Her eyes had adjusted to the dark, and Jay was right, there was enough light from the moon for them to pick their way across the field. An owl hooted in the distance and another answered closer by. Bea stopped walking and looked round, keen to see it. Her eyes couldn’t pick it out and she realised she could only just see the dark shapes of Ant and Jay ahead of her. She was getting left behind.
She started to run, but the ground was uneven. After nearly turning her ankle, she slowed to a fast walk. She was a bit out of breath and pleased to find they’d stopped to w
ait for her at the next stile.
‘Okay?’ Jay said.
‘Yeah.’
They pressed on. When they got to the brow of the hill, they could see the farm. There was a soft glow of light from the yard and a couple of sets of headlights showing the bumpy progress of cars in the lane leading up to it.
‘Shit, it’s already under way. We’ll have to be careful,’ Jay whispered. ‘We’ll go down to the gate, maybe work along the hedge.’
They filed down the hill and leaned on the gate. The lower building, where they’d found Arthur, was obscuring their view of the yard and the other buildings, but there was a steady stream of vehicles approaching the farm.
‘If we move further along, we might see them get out of their cars. Come on,’ said Jay.
They crouched down and walked along the side of the field towards the top of the lane. The hedge was a fairly thin layer of stems and twigs, providing plenty of little viewpoints through. They stayed close to the ground at a point where they could see people parking up. The yard was full now and people were leaving their cars on the far side of the lane. Light was shining out from the large barn and there was a steady buzz of shouted greetings and blokeish banter.
‘Bloody hell,’ said Ant. ‘I’ve never seen so many toffs and Range Rovers in one place before.’
‘Not all toffs,’ said Bea. ‘There’s all sorts.’
‘That reminds me, Ayesha told me last night that she saw that lad that ended up on the bypass in a four-by-four on New Year’s Eve.’
‘Really?’ said Bea. ‘What, driving?’
‘No, slumped in the back. Out of it. With two blokes in the front.’
‘Blimey! Has she told the cops?’
‘Dunno,’ said Ant. ‘She hadn’t done when she left mine in the early hours.’
‘Keep it down!’ Jay whispered fiercely. ‘Do you want to get caught and lynched by this lot?’
People walked towards the farm in twos and threes. Some were in the country uniform of waxed jackets and wellies, others in padded coats and beanie hats. Bea spotted one familiar figure scuttling up from his car.
‘Oh God, not him,’ she whispered.
