Intimate Strangers

by Susan Lewis

  ‘I accept that,’ Sherry assured her. ‘But I do know he’s the right one. To be honest, I’ve never really been in any doubt of it, I’ve just tried to bury it, mainly because I had to. But now, seeing him again, being with him … It’s just there. We’re just … right.’

  ‘Who are you trying to convince, me or you?’ Anita teased.

  Sherry smiled. ‘Me, probably. I mean it does feel right, but then …’ She shrugged. ‘I have all these doubts.’

  ‘He dropped out of your life once, so it’s quite understandable you’re afraid he’ll do it again. I think it’s unlikely that he will, but it takes time to build security in a relationship. So, once again, don’t rush things, don’t expect too much, and make sure the negative thinking doesn’t get out of hand.’ As she finished she followed Sherry’s eyes to a man sitting alone at a nearby table. ‘Someone you know?’ she asked.

  Sherry shook her head. ‘I was just wondering if he might be one of Eddie Cribbs’s people.’ she said softly. ‘I told you they’re having me watched?’

  Anita’s eyes widened with alarm. ‘No, you didn’t,’ she replied.

  Realizing she’d made a mistake in admitting it, Sherry said, ‘Well they were. They’re probably not now.’

  Anita wasn’t so easily put off, nor was she afraid to be blunt. ‘It doesn’t make you important, Sherry, to have those kind of people following you.’

  Sherry smarted, and flushed with annoyance. ‘That’s a ridiculous thing to say,’ she retorted.

  ‘Is it? I know how much it means to you to make a breakthrough in this field, but those people are dangerous, Sherry …’

  ‘I don’t need a lecture,’ Sherry cut in. ‘Now let’s just forget I mentioned it.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘It’s time we were going, anyway.’

  Anita’s expression softened. ‘I don’t want to part on a bad note,’ she said. ‘So I’m sorry if I offended you.’

  ‘You didn’t,’ Sherry responded, still struggling with her anger.

  Anita looked as though she wanted to say more, but clearly decided to let it go as she rose to her feet and dropped a tip on the table. ‘Let me know what happens with Laurie,’ she said, as they parted. ‘And with Nick, of course.’

  Right at that moment Sherry didn’t feel inclined to talk to her again about anything, but she murmured an appropriate response, and giving her the usual kiss goodbye she started back to the office.

  When she got there she found a message on the machine from Laurie, excusing herself from the meeting with Barry, and hoping Sherry could cope alone. There wasn’t enough time to call and find out how she was now, so she’d do it later, and taking out the notes she’d made for a new strategy on the story, she began to go through them. It was hard to concentrate though, with Anita’s accusation still rankling at the back of her mind, and Laurie’s distress reminding her of when she’d been in the same state herself. It was awful, terrible, the way rejection could tear you to shreds, turn you into someone you hardly even knew. Without any question it was the worst experience she’d ever had – or certainly one of them. Those cruel feelings of despair and denial, the blackness, the helplessness, the not knowing which way to turn. She just hoped to God she never had to go through it again, because Laurie’s nightmare was starting to feel horribly like a sign.

  ‘You’re looking very pensive,’ Barry commented, coming in through the door. ‘Laurie not here yet?’

  ‘Something came up … My God, what happened to you?’ she cried, seeing his bruised and swollen face.

  He shrugged. ‘Got caught up in a bit of a scuffle over at West Ham the night before last,’ he answered. ‘Nothing to do with me, I just managed to cop a boot in the eye and another in the jaw before a couple of me mates dragged me out of it.’

  ‘It looks really sore,’ she said. ‘Have you put something on …?’

  ‘It’ll be all right,’ he said impatiently.

  Surprised by his abruptness, she regarded him closely and felt a tremor of unease. ‘Do you think it had anything to do with Eddie Cribbs?’ she asked.

  ‘If it was, they didn’t say so,’ he replied. ‘But it’ll be OK. Now let’s get down to it, shall we? Any more news on the doctor?’

  ‘Still refusing to take my calls,’ she answered, deciding to go with it, for what else could she do? ‘Stan’s coming over later. He’s talking about breaking into the workshop again, to take a look through Karima Ghosh’s files. I was also thinking it might be an idea to try befriending someone at one of Eddie Cribbs’s clubs, a barman, a bouncer, maybe one of the strippers. They might know something they’re willing to tell.’

  ‘So who’s going to do that?’

  ‘You?’ she ventured.

  ‘You want me to go and chat up some stripper and ask her if she knows about some brothel full of illegal immigrants who her boss is touting for pervs. Yeah, I’m sure I’m going to do that, and I’m sure she’s going to tell me.’

  ‘She might if she thought you were a potential client.’

  His eyes opened wide. ‘You want me to make out I’m a perv?’

  Her smile was sheepish. ‘I can hardly do it myself.’

  He was shaking his head. ‘Eddie Cribbs knows who I am,’ he reminded her. ‘He’ll see right through it if I go in there now and start chatting up his birds.’

  Deflating as she realized the truth of that, she said, ‘Maybe we should get Stan to do it.’

  ‘Stan’s too well known around these parts too. What we need is someone totally anonymous, who’s never crossed Eddie Cribbs’s line of vision before.’

  Sherry’s thoughts went immediately to Nick, but apart from being otherwise engaged with his daughter for the next few weeks, he just didn’t have the right look to be going into that sort of club pretending to be that sort of guy.

  ‘All right, leave it with me,’ Barry said grudgingly. ‘I might be able to come up with someone. It’s not going to be easy though, and I hope you got plenty of cash in the kitty, because everyone’s going to want paying, including the brass who tips us the wink, if we can even find one.’

  ‘Don’t worry, the money’ll be there,’ Sherry promised rashly. ‘Now, after I’ve called Mrs Ghosh to check on my order, I think I’ll pop over and pay the doctor a visit, see if I can find the cause for his amnesia.’

  ‘I can tell you that right now,’ Barry informed her. ‘The man’s got kids. Very powerful weapons of persuasion, are kids.’

  Sherry’s heart sank. ‘I wondered if it might be something like that,’ she said bleakly. ‘So the question now is, are those women still getting medical help where it’s needed? They surely must be, because they wouldn’t be profitable if they weren’t intact.’ Her eyes closed, as another horrible thought occurred to her. ‘He’ll regard them as disposable assets, won’t he? In other words, damaged goods don’t always have to be repaired or returned, do they? They can simply be discarded, especially if no-one even knows they exist.’ She looked up at Barry. ‘Except we know they exist, which is why we’ve got to find them, before he decides to get rid of them.’

  ‘If he hasn’t already.’

  ‘We have to work on the assumption he hasn’t,’ she responded.

  Avoiding her eyes, he said, ‘If we stopped looking we might actually be doing them a favour. I mean, it’s us putting the pressure on that could make him do just what we’re afraid of.’

  ‘I understand that, but we can’t give up on them.’

  They looked round as Stan came in.

  ‘Any news?’ Sherry asked.

  He shook his head. ‘Nothing,’ he answered. ‘They’ve vanished into thin air.’

  ‘Neela-masi,’ Shaila whispered, ‘mehne pela ben saathe pacchu nathi jevu.’ I don’t want to go with the lady again.

  ‘Naa, naa,’ Neela answered, stroking her hair as she pulled the little girl’s head against her. No. No. ‘Havee apene Ba ne sothewa jaiye?’ Shaila asked. Can we find Mummy now?

  ‘Haa,’ Neela said, her liquid brown eye
s gazing blindly into the darkness. Yes.

  Long minutes ticked by. Neither of them moved. No sound but the gushing roar of a train as it sped past, and the occasional snore or snuffle from the other women in the room.

  ‘I don’t want to go with the lady,’ Shaila said again.

  ‘Naa,’ Neela replied.

  As she lay on her mattress Neela could still feel the terror that had filled her the day Mota Ben had taken Shaila. She would never lose that terror. It would be with her for ever, even though Shaila was back now, unharmed. They had taken her to a place and washed her, she’d said, and brushed her hair. Then she had sat in a room on her own for a long time. Ekta said they might have been taking pictures with a hidden camera. Everyone was sure that was what they had done.

  Since the driver and Mota Ben had brought Shaila back Mota Ben had only returned to bring them food and pick up the garments they had stitched. No-one had been taken to the men, so Neela was becoming desperate now to find a way out, before they came back for Shaila again.

  The evil Bhanu Ganesh was sick. Her skin was wet with fever and her teeth chattered like stones. Ekta said she must see a doctor, but Mota Ben would not allow it. Neela had thought of pretending to be sick, but now she knew it would do no good.

  ‘Neela-masi?’ Shaila whispered.

  ‘Haa?’

  Shaila didn’t answer.

  Neela held her closer, seeming to draw some comfort from the fragile limbs. They helped her stay strong, even though her heart was in despair.

  Chapter Thirteen

  ‘WHAT THE HELL’S this?’

  Cheryl looked round from her locker and cast a glance down at the roster. Suzy, the club’s so-called star dancer, was looking like she wanted to shove it in Cheryl’s face.

  ‘It’s your hours for next week,’ Cheryl told her.

  ‘Since when did you give me my hours?’

  ‘Since I was put in charge.’

  Suzy’s ice-blue eyes seemed about to ignite. Her short, upturned nose flared wide and her puffy lips started to quiver. Not much of a looker when she was in that state, Cheryl thought to herself, and turned back to carry on unloading her locker.

  ‘I’m going to talk to Trevor about this,’ Suzy snarled. ‘I do the rosters around here, and I’m sure as hell not taking any orders from some half-brained tart who’s been getting right up my fucking nose since the day she started.’

  ‘You’ll need to take it up with Eddie,’ Cheryl informed her, as Suzy started to storm out. ‘He was the one who put me in charge. He didn’t think it was right, one of the dancers telling the others what to do, so he said I …’

  ‘You’re a dancer!’ Suzy seethed. ‘Or you like to think you are.’

  ‘Eddie doesn’t want me doing it any more. He says I’m too good for it.’

  Suzy’s face blanched at the insult. ‘Too good for it!’ she spat. ‘I’ll tell you what you’re too fucking good for, you lame-brained, cock-sucking bitch …’

  ‘What the hell’s going on in here?’ Trevor, the club’s manager, strode into the locker room, hands on hips, face on grim.

  ‘If she’s going to be doing the rosters, then you can find yourself another star dancer,’ Suzy fumed. ‘I’m not having some jumped-up little whore …’

  ‘All right, don’t let’s get excited,’ Trevor cut in. ‘I approved those rosters, so if you don’t like them you better take it up with me.’

  ‘But she’s not on there, is she? So who the fuck does she think she is now? That’s what I want to know.’

  ‘She’s Eddie’s girl, it gives her certain rights,’ Trevor said simply. To Cheryl he added, ‘Eddie’s driver’s waiting outside.’

  ‘Oh, that’ll be to take me to the flat Eddie’s just rented for me,’ Cheryl responded, tossing Suzy a superior little smile. ‘Cinnabar Wharf. The big glass buildings, right on the river. I expect you’ve seen them. Really classy.’

  Suzy slammed her eyes shut in anger and tugged open her locker.

  ‘You’ll have to come over, once I’m settled in,’ Cheryl continued. ‘I’ll pay you to be the entertainment at the flat-warming party.’

  Suzy spun round. ‘Tell me, does Eddie’s wife know about you?’ she hissed.

  Cheryl’s smile froze.

  ‘No, I didn’t think so,’ Suzy snarled. ‘One word in her ear and you’ll be in the fucking river, not on it, so if I were you I’d watch my step around Cinnabar Wharf, Cheryl Burrows.’

  ‘I hope you heard that, Trevor,’ Cheryl retorted, hefting her holdall onto her shoulder. ‘It was an outright threat. I’ll have to tell Eddie, and she’ll be lucky now if she hangs on to her job at all, never mind the star position.’

  As she stalked out the heady buzz of power lengthened her stride and straightened her back. Like Trevor had said, she was Eddie’s girl, and no-one messed with Eddie’s girl, as Suzy Big-Mouth Dawson had just found out.

  ‘Do you remember the way?’ she said to the driver as he took her holdall.

  ‘Course I do, we was only there this morning,’ he replied, dumping the bag in the boot. ‘I just had a call from Eddie. He said not to turn up until after seven. He’s having a meeting, and he don’t want you banging about, moving your stuff in.’

  She shrugged. ‘That’s all right. Gives us plenty of time to go and get my stuff from my mum’s.’

  It was just before eight when she finally turned up at the luxurious apartment block of Cinnabar Wharf, where the driver helped carry her belongings up to the third floor. ‘Meeting’s still going on,’ he told her, an ear pressed to the front door.

  ‘He said after seven,’ Cheryl reminded him, ‘so it should be all right to go in now.’

  The driver shrugged. ‘It’s your neck,’ he responded, and leaving her to it he started back down the stairs to where he’d left his car on double yellows.

  Using her key to get in, Cheryl gingerly pushed open the door, which led straight into the sitting room. The air was thick with smoke and stank of whisky. It took a moment to pick Eddie out from amongst all the men, but she soon spotted him, sitting on one of the clumpy armchairs that had come with the flat, a big cigar in one hand, a bunch of papers in the other. He seemed to be listening to what someone was saying, but it was hard to tell when he had his back to her.

  Not quite sure what to do she waited for someone to notice her and looked around at the pastels on the walls, the shiny hardwood floor, stainless-steel open-plan kitchen set back in one corner, and the floor-to-ceiling picture windows that curved in a half-moon all the way round two sides of the living room. From the balcony outside you could see everything from the three big towers of Canary Wharf all the way up the river to Tower Bridge and that weirdy egg-shaped building just past it. She was going to get some plants and wicker furniture to go out there, and probably some wind chimes too.

  Eventually some bloke with not much hair and thick rimmed glasses clocked her, and leaned over to tap Eddie on the arm.

  Eddie’s weight made the manoeuvre of turning an awkward one. ‘How long you been there?’ he demanded gruffly.

  ‘Only a few minutes,’ she answered timidly. ‘I can go and come back again, if you like.’

  He was about to tell her to do that, when he seemed to have a change of heart. ‘Just get yourself into the bedroom,’ he said. ‘I’ll be in when we’ve finished here.’

  Meekly picking up her holdall she began skirting the backs of the sofas and had just got to the kitchen bit, when Eddie suddenly said, ‘Bring us some more whisky. It’s in the cupboard over the sink.’

  Obediently she went to get the new bottle. ‘Shall I pour?’ she asked, noticing the three empties on the coffee table and all the overflowing ashtrays.

  ‘No, we can do it. You just come and sit here.’

  As he pulled her on to his lap her knees poked out of the rips in her jeans, and his hand circled the bare skin between the top of her hipsters and the bottom of her skimpy white shirt. Though she kept her eyes down, inside she was thrilled by th
e way he was showing her off, letting everyone know that he trusted her enough to allow her to be there while they talked business.

  ‘So the bottom line,’ he was saying, ‘is that they want fifty grand for shopping, and another fifty once the goods are bought and loaded.’

  ‘That’s about it.’

  To Cheryl’s surprise, a woman’s voice said, ‘We must make arrangements to receive the goods. The last batch has been moved to the back-up address. We can’t take the risk of reusing the first.’

  From beneath her lashes Cheryl sneaked a look in the direction of the voice, knowing from the accent that she had to be some kind of foreigner. She turned out to be an Indian, or something like that, with a big red dot on her forehead and a fancy dark blue sari wrapped all around her.

  ‘We’ve already got someone on the lookout for new premises,’ Eddie was informing her. He turned to someone else. ‘Since the Bedford fiasco we should switch to other routes and change our import venues. Get back to me by the end of the week with a list of alternatives.’ Then to someone else, ‘I want the figures for last month’s services.’

  ‘Not a good indicator,’ he was told. ‘We had to suspend business, remember?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s right,’ he grunted, and Cheryl felt his hand slip under her shirt on to her breast. ‘Fucking press,’ he snarled. ‘What’s the latest on that?’

  ‘I had a call the day before we made the delivery,’ the Indian woman answered. ‘She was checking it was on time.’

  ‘Was the delivery made?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And nothing since?’

  ‘No, but there is something that concerns me. I’ve had word from my cousin in Seurat telling me that some British journalists are asking questions about the markets there.’

  Eddie didn’t look a bit pleased with that information – in fact the hand on Cheryl’s left boob closed on it like a vice. She winced, knowing he wasn’t actually thinking about her, but wishing he was, because it really bloody hurt.

  ‘Fucking vermin,’ someone growled. ‘They get everywhere.’

  Ignoring the remark Eddie said, ‘Is there a connection to this Sherry person?’ And before anyone could answer, ‘Of course there is, there has to be. It’s too much of a coincidence.’