When Archie Met Rosie

by Lynda Renham

  ‘A bit, thank you. You’re right though, I am up my own arse.’

  He nodded.

  ‘I can’t blame Harry really,’ she said thoughtfully.

  He put his hand on her arm.

  ‘Don’t be too hard on yourself.’

  Her arm tingled under his hand and she waited for him to remove it, but he didn’t.

  ‘You’re alright,’ he smiled.

  ‘Really?’ she asked.

  ‘Yeah, I’d give you a second glance if you weren’t married.’

  Her stomach fluttered.

  ‘But I am married.’

  He shrugged.

  ‘This is true.’

  She realised that her breathing had quickened and blushed. He removed his hand and said briskly,

  ‘Anyway, I’m sure you never came to discuss your husband.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said, remembering, ‘We can’t get hold of Alfred and …’

  ‘Alfred?’ he queried.

  ‘Your mum cleans for him.’

  ‘Archie,’ he said.

  ‘They both seem to have gone missing. Rosie’s friends are worried and I thought I should tell you. Apparently, Matt Fisher the loan shark was after your mum and …’

  ‘They’ve gone missing?’ he repeats.

  ‘It seems so. I’ve been trying Alf all day and your mum’s friends have been trying your mum all day. Apparently, they’re not the first people to owe money to Matt Fisher and go missing.’

  Sam stood up.

  ‘Let’s go,’ he said, pulling her up.

  ‘Where to?’

  ‘Doris’s first and then the police. Maybe I’ll go and see Matt Fisher.’

  ‘Oh no, he sounds very dangerous.’

  ‘I’m not scared of him.’

  Moira rummaged in her bag for a hairbrush.

  ‘I look awful, my hair is a mess.’

  ‘You look okay, Moira. You need to relax more.’

  She wobbled on her feet and he helped steady her.

  ‘Let’s go,’ he said.

  Shakily, she followed him.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Moira and Sam

  They strolled towards the police station. Doris had donned the fur coat she’d bought down Petticoat Lane the day before. She’d been dying to show Rosie. She wiped away tears at the thought that she may now never show her anything again.

  ‘I can’t believe it,’ sniffed Shirl. ‘I mean she’s been through enough with her Frank.’

  ‘Finally got herself a nice house too,’ agreed Doris.

  ‘I reckon they’re at the bottom of the Thames,’ said Crabbers thoughtlessly.

  Shirl slapped him.

  ‘What?’ he asked.

  ‘You’ll upset Sam,’ said Shirl.

  Sam took Moira’s arm and escorted her into the police station. Doris nudged Shirl and nodded towards Sam and Moira.

  ‘What’s going on there?’ she whispered.

  ‘No, never,’ gasped Shirl.

  A weary-looking policeman glanced up.

  ‘Well, what have we got here then?’

  ‘My friend’s gone missing and her bloke too …’ said Doris.

  ‘Alfred’s not her bloke,’ corrected Moira.

  ‘They were in a bit of trouble …’ began Shirl.

  ‘Alfred wasn’t in any trouble,’ said Moira.

  ‘We think they’re … you know,’ said Crabbers.

  Sam sighed and said.

  ‘My mum and her friend Alfred seem to have gone missing. We’ve all tried to contact them today and they’re not answering their phones, and neither of them has come home. It’s unlike both of them. My mum’s sixty and Archie is in his seventies so they’re not out clubbing.’

  ‘Rosie owed Matt Fisher some money,’ added Crabbers.

  ‘No she didn’t,’ argued Doris. ‘Her old man owed the money. I’m not having rumours put about especially if she’s …’ Doris trailed off.

  ‘Who’s Matt Fisher?’ asked the policeman.

  ‘He’s a loan shark,’ said Sam.

  ‘Okay. Let me get a few things clear, who’s related to whom?’

  ‘We’re just friends,’ said Shirl.

  ‘Rosie Foster is my mother and Alfred Bolton is Moira’s father-in-law. My dad owed money to a loan shark named Matt Fisher. My dad died a few weeks ago and Matt Fisher has been chasing my mum for the money.’

  ‘Which she hasn’t got,’ piped up Doris.

  ‘Although she did have a win on the bingo,’ said Crabbers.

  ‘But it wasn’t much,’ said Shirl.

  ‘Ten thousand,’ said Crabbers.

  ‘Five thousand,’ said Sam. ‘It was only five thousand.’

  The policeman stroked his chin.

  ‘So, they’ve both gone very quiet and you think Matt Fisher has …’

  ‘Done away with them,’ finished Crabbers.

  Shirl bursts into tears.

  ‘Right,’ said the police officer. ‘I think I need to take some statements.’

  ‘Aren’t you going to put out a search for them?’ asked Doris.

  ‘Not quite yet. But we will speak to Matt Fisher. Now, if you’d all like to come this way.’

  *

  Sam paid for the fish and chips and walked back to the car where Moira was waiting. He climbed in beside her and opened the fish and chip wrapping.

  ‘Help yourself,’ he said offering her a plastic fork.

  ‘I ought to get back soon.’

  ‘You’ve messaged Harry?’

  She nodded and stabbed some chips with her fork. She was starving.

  ‘I may have put too much salt on,’ smiled Sam.

  ‘It’s not good for you,’ she said.

  ‘Yeah, Mum is always telling me that.’

  He glanced at the clock on the dashboard.

  ‘We’ll have these and then I’ll drop you back to your car. I need to get back to Michael. He’s got some mates round. They’re having a Chinese. I can’t imagine what the place looks like.’

  ‘They will find them, won’t they?’ said Moira suddenly. ‘Harry is very worried.’

  ‘I’m sure there’s a good explanation.’

  Moira nodded but she couldn’t think of any explanation for why they hadn’t been in touch.

  The policeman had been very kind and said they would visit Matt Fisher. He seemed confident that Rosie and Alfred would make contact soon.

  They ate their fish and chips in silence and then Sam started the car. The exhaust roared loudly.

  ‘I must get that fixed,’ he mumbled.

  Moira sighed. The thought of facing Harry filled her with dread.

  ‘Here we are,’ said Sam.

  Moira looked out of the window. They were at the garage already.

  ‘I’ll be in touch,’ he said. ‘Hopefully we’ll hear something soon.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said softly. ‘Thank you, Sam.’

  She hesitated for a second and then leaned over and kissed him quickly on the cheek.

  He tapped her knee and said, ‘You’ve always got a friend here.’

  She nodded and climbed from the car. She had to go home. It was time to face Harry. He must be distraught about his mum. She should be with him.

  *

  Harry

  ‘That’s Mum’s car,’ said Holly jumping up.

  Harry’s heart banged in his chest and he glanced out of the window to see Moira climbing from the Range Rover. Then he heard her key in the lock and then she was standing in front of him.

  ‘What’s the news Mum?’ asked Holly anxiously.

  Moira pulled off her coat. It was lovely and warm in the house. She could smell the lamb casserole.

  ‘Have you eaten?’ she asked.

  Harry couldn’t meet her eyes.

  ‘Not much,’ said Holly.

  ‘What did the police say?’ asked Harry. ‘I’ve been trying Dad but still no reply.’

  ‘I went to his house before I came home,’ said Moira wearily. ‘He’s stil
l not home. The police are going to see Matt Fisher.’

  Holly began to cry.

  ‘It’s okay,’ said Moira, hugging her.

  ‘The loan shark,’ said Harry. ‘Holly told me. How could that Rosie woman have been so stupid?’

  ‘We’re all stupid at times Harry,’ said Moira, trying to keep her voice even.

  Harry avoided her eyes.

  ‘I hate Matt Fisher,’ sobbed Holly.

  ‘I need a drink,’ said Harry. ‘Do you want one?’

  Moira nodded.

  ‘Why don’t you have a lie down, Holly,’ she suggested. ‘I’ll let you know as soon as we hear anything.’

  Holly sniffed.

  ‘I think I will.’

  Moira waited until Holly’s bedroom door had closed before following Harry into the living room.

  ‘Is gin alright?’ he asked, his back to her.

  ‘How could you Harry?’ she asked softly. ‘I know I can be difficult but …’

  He turned with the drinks in his hand.

  ‘I …’ he struggled. ‘I … I think I felt unappreciated. She made me … I don’t know,’ he broke off.

  Moira took the glass and downed the contents in one go.

  ‘I need to be on my own for a while, Harry. It’s a lot to think through. I’d prefer it if you slept in the spare bedroom. But please be discreet. I don’t want Holly upset.’

  ‘Moira …,’ he pleaded walking towards her.

  She turned and walked from the room. In the kitchen she turned off the slow cooker and looked out of the window where heavy snowflakes were now falling. What if Dad was out in the cold, stuck somewhere strange? Tears rolled unbidden down her cheeks. Sam Foster was quite right, of course. She was up her own arse most of the time. It was easier for her to be that way. It wasn’t sensible to make yourself vulnerable. But he was right. She did think she was better than everyone else. Thought she knew what was best for everyone. Maybe Rosie Foster was the best thing for Dad. Moira had been wrong to interfere.

  ‘Oh Dad, I’m so sorry,’ she whispered.

  She always worried what other people thought. That had been her problem. She wanted people to think good of her. That was the only reason she’d wanted to move into Dad’s house. People would think how well they were doing. She laughed quietly to herself. How well they were doing? That was a laugh. They couldn’t be doing any worse if they tried. Karma had well and truly bitten her in the bum. Her daughter was pregnant at seventeen and her husband was screwing a 25-year-old. What would people think of that? She let out a heavy sigh and closed her eyes. Sam had broken down her barriers and brought her down a peg or two. She wiped her tears away only to have more fall.

  ‘I’m such an idiot,’ she muttered. ‘I put things before people. Oh, Dad, please be alright.’

  It was her fault Harry had strayed. She knew that. If she’d given him more time and attention he wouldn’t have been so flattered by another woman’s attention. She laid her head against the French doors and felt the coolness against her forehead. The snow was falling heavily now and had started to settle on the ground. She then remembered that she was going to put the tree up this evening. She wiped the tears away again and made her way slowly upstairs. The living room light was off now. Harry had already gone up. She didn’t think she’d get much sleep tonight, but it would be good to rest her aching head. She’d pray for Dad. Surely God would answer her.

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Sam

  Sam decided he wasn’t going to wait for the police to visit Matt Fisher. This was his mum after all. Michael still had his mates round. The place was a mess, but the state of the house was the last thing on Sam’s mind.

  ‘I’ve got to pop out,’ he told Michael.

  ‘You’ve only just come in,’ said Michael.

  ‘And you can stop being so cheeky, young man. I want this mess cleared up when I get back.’

  Michael had pulled a face, but Sam had just ignored him. It was best not to mention about his nan yet. Hopefully there will be nothing to tell him.

  The noise from the exhaust annoyed him. He really should fix it but there never seemed to be time. He was always working. If he didn’t have to pay Maureen every month he might have enough to save. His mind travelled back to Moira. What a strange thing that was. He wouldn’t have considered her his type. It just goes to show. Anyway, nothing would come of it. He didn’t mess with married women. She’d sort it out with her husband. If she didn’t … well that was a whole other ball game. The weather was terrible. The snow was heavy now. He had to admit that it wasn’t like his mum to be out in weather like this, especially not now that she had that nice new house of hers. He ought to swing by there, just to make sure. Who knows, she could be sitting all nice and cosy in her new living room. But the house was in darkness and he knew it was pointless knocking.

  He parked the car outside the pool club where he’d heard Matt Fisher hung out and strode confidently through the doors. It was warm inside. Some men were playing pool while others were drinking at the bar. He ordered himself a beer and when the barman handed it to him, he asked,

  ‘Is Matt Fisher around?’

  ‘Matt, yeah, over there,’ said the barman pointing to a pool table.

  Sam nodded and glanced over at the three men playing. He guessed the burly one with the heavy gold necklace around his neck to be Matt Fisher. He took his beer and walked over.

  ‘Fisher?’ he asked.

  The men looked up.

  ‘Who’s asking?’ said a puny-looking bloke.

  ‘Sam Foster.’

  The burly man grinned.

  ‘Rosie’s son?’ he questioned.

  ‘That’s me,’ said Sam.

  ‘You look like her,’ said Matt laying down his cue.

  Sam sipped his beer and said bluntly,

  ‘Have the police been to see you yet?’

  ‘What’s your problem, mush,’ snarled the puny bloke pushing his face close to Sam’s. Garlic wafts up Sam’s nose and he grimaces.

  ‘At this present moment, you’re my problem,’ said Sam, pushing the puny bloke to one side.

  ‘Don’t mind Rick,’ said Matt Fisher. ‘’e’s got no manners. Now, I ain’t seen no police but …’

  Before he could finish Sam had grabbed him by the shirt and bent him over the pool table.

  ‘My mum’s gone missing and I think you know something about it,’ he hissed into Matt’s ear.

  Rick grabbed a cue and was about to attack Sam with it when Matt yelled, ‘Don’t be a dick, Rick.’

  Sam almost laughed at the poetry of it. If he hadn’t have had the worry of his mum, he probably would have done.

  ‘Get off ‘im,’ yelled Rick. But Sam wasn’t letting go of Matt Fisher until he found out where his mum was.

  ‘Hey, come on,’ yelled the barman. ‘That’s enough.’

  ‘Your mum’s in Paris,’ croaked Matt, struggling under Sam’s hold.

  ‘You what?’ exclaimed Sam.

  ‘Let me up will yer? Your mum’s alright.’

  Sam released his grip and yanked Matt Fisher upright.

  ‘Blimey,’ groaned Matt. ‘You ain’t a bit like your dad are yer? Alf and your mum are in Paris. I sold them the air tickets.’

  ‘You sold them the air tickets?’ Sam repeated.

  ‘Yeah, dirt cheap. I offered as a joke really. Never thought they’d take me up on them. I was joking about them having a dirty weekend away, you know …’

  ‘No, I don’t know,’ said Sam frowning.

  Sam felt anger rise in him. Why hadn’t his mum phoned him? She could at least have sent a text. What was she thinking of, putting him through all this worry?

  Rick’s hand was clutching the cue, his eyes fastened on Sam.

  ‘Anyway, I said I got air tickets for Paris going cheap if they wanted a dirty … a break. Alf took them.’

  ‘You’ve been after my mum though, for money, haven’t you?’

  Matt straightened his clothes and n
odded to Rick.

  ‘Put that down, you plonker, before you trip over it and do yourself an injury.’

  He turned to Sam.

  ‘Alf sorted that out, okay. Put me in me place, so to speak. Now, can I get on with me game?’

  Sam cursed under his breath. What was his mother up to? He drained his glass and placed it on the pool table.

  ‘Carry on,’ he said. ‘Don’t let me stop you.’

  With that he strolled from the pool club.

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Rosie (Two days earlier)

  My heart is almost bursting from my chest. I haven’t been this close to Matt Fisher since that evening he came to my flat. This is it isn’t it? Face the music time. I grasp Archie’s arm. Surely Matt Fisher wouldn’t hurt a seventy-year-old, would he? Archie’s done nothing wrong. Then again, from what I’ve heard of Matt Fisher, being ninety wouldn’t stop him. He looks a granny basher. It wouldn’t surprise me if he’d been chasing Frank when he ran into the Domino’s Pizza van. So what’s another body notched up on his bedpost? No, that’s wrong isn’t it? It’s not dead people you notch up on your bed post is it? I’m a nervous wreck, that’s what it is. I always talk out of my backside when I’m nervous. Not that I’m talking much to Matt Fisher. I haven’t opened my mouth yet. I’ll have to give him my five thousand. I can’t possibly have Becky cleaning up after Archie and me. Although, I suppose, if he throws us in the Thames there won’t be any clearing up to do, will there? He’s grinning at us. I can smell his aftershave and I sneeze. Matt hands me a fragranced hanky which just makes me sneeze even more. My teeth chatter with the cold, or is it fear? I can’t tell the difference. It’s most likely fear.

  ‘This is Matt Fisher,’ I whisper to Archie through my chattering teeth.

  ‘Just our bad luck to bump into you, isn’t it?’ says Archie to Matt Fisher.

  Matt laughs loudly, his white teeth dazzling in the dark.

  ‘Bee-ayve, Alf … whoops, I mean Alfred,’ says Matt loudly.

  I turn to Archie.

  ‘Do you know him?’

  ‘Matt and I go back a fair bit don’t we lad?’ says Archie. ‘I know his mum. She still owes me money, isn’t that right Matt?’

  ‘We sorted that,’ says Matt, buttoning his overcoat. ‘Do you like it?’ he says nodding at the coat. ‘Looking nice costs money. This coat cost me five hundred nicker. Worth it though.’