by Anita Waller
At first, the others were a little reticent; they didn’t know what to say to him about his mother, his own injuries, his father. None of them, including Daryl, had liked Carl. He had shown himself to be obnoxious and a bully at the police station, but he seemed different now.
He made them all a drink and opened a couple of packets of biscuits. ‘Enjoy yourselves,’ he said, and smiled at the five of them. ‘Daryl, give me a shout if you need the toilet, or if you want any more food and drink. I’ll be in the lounge.’
‘Okay, thanks, Dad.’ Daryl watched his father disappear, then whispered to Dom. ‘Close the kitchen door.’
Dom did so, then moved back to the circle they had created with garden chairs.
‘We’ve things to talk about,’ Daryl said.
Everyone responded silently, with thumbs up.
‘We have to talk really quietly. I’ve had lots of time to think, and although I don’t know how, I think all this bad stuff that’s happened is because of that powder in the Wendy house.’
‘Ella told us to hand it in,’ Freya said. ‘If we’d done that, she might still be with us.’
‘No, Freya, she wouldn’t. If we hand it in, it goes to the police. It’s not the police who’ve killed Ella and my mum and hurt me. It’s somebody bad.’ Daryl emphasised the point by banging his good hand down on the arm of his chair.
‘Then, why don’t we hand it into the bad people?’ Freya said, using logic instead of clear thinking.
‘We don’t know who they are,’ Daryl explained patiently. ‘And there’s something else I wanted to talk about. We’re not the Gang of Six anymore. I think we should change our name to Ella’s Gang. What do you think?’
There was no hesitation. Five thumbs were raised immediately.
‘That’s good, then.’ Daryl paused, and moved his shoulder a little. He winced and carried on. ‘We’ve now got another problem in that we can’t do anything with the powder, other than hand it into the police. We’re not allowed out without somebody older with us. We can’t bury it where Vinnie buried it, we can’t stick it in the Shire Brook, and I don’t feel safe leaving it where it is. So, what do we do?’
Mark looked at Daryl and sensed a change in leadership. Daryl seemed to have grown up and assumed the role of leader. In that moment, Mark stepped down.
Nobody answered Daryl’s question. They couldn’t.
‘I think our biggest problem,’ Mark eventually said, ‘is that we can’t get out any more. I know your knee and shoulder will get better, Daryl, and you’ll be able to move, but we still can’t meet up. We’ve been threatened by our parents. No skiving off, no going beyond our four walls without one of them going with us… I tell you, it’s rubbish. And it’s all because we dug up that powder.’
Daryl sighed. ‘But we’re not coming up with answers. What if we told one of our parents?’
‘Are you crazy?’ Dom laughed. ‘If we told our parents we’d got a stash of drugs in Freya’s Wendy house, we’d be grounded ’til we were twenty.’
‘I’ve got an idea,’ Sammy said, his voice low. ‘Who’s going to Ella’s funeral?’
They all nodded.
‘Right, so our parents will be taking us. This is going to be down to you two, Mark and Dom, I reckon. You need to bring that package with you in a backpack, like we’ve carried it before.’
He paused, and they all waited. ‘We’ll have a little more freedom at the church, because there’ll be lots of adults around and our parents won’t be quite so worried about us. Surely we can stash it behind a gravestone or something? Or under a bush?’
Sammy shrugged. ‘That’s it, that’s all I can come up with. I don’t care anymore about what happens to it after that. I want it away from us, and not our problem.’
‘What if we’re seen?’ Freya’s forehead creased with worry.
‘We need to disguise it, so it doesn’t stand out as white powder.’ Mark turned his head towards his brother. ‘Dom, if we wrapped it in a Sainsbury’s carrier bag, it wouldn’t be obvious what it was, would it?’
‘It’s still a big package to hide, whether it’s white or orange,’ Dom pondered. ‘I think we need to give this some thought. Getting rid at the funeral is the best idea we’ve had, but we can’t turn up there without a bit more of a plan. Tomorrow’s Sunday, so we need a volunteer to go with Mum to church… Freya.’
‘What?’ The little girl looked indignant. ‘Why me?’
‘Because you’re young enough to end up in Sunday School, and they’re bound to take all the little kids outside. They usually do in the summer. Mark and I are too old for Sunday School,’ Dom explained, and Freya glared at him.
Mark joined in. ‘We need you to have a good scout round the churchyard. Mum said this morning the service is at the church before going on to the crem. I don’t think we’ll be allowed to go to that part, so our only hope is the churchyard.’
‘What’s the crem?’ Freya turned her eyes towards her brothers.
They looked at each other, and Daryl spoke. ‘It’s where they will take Ella after the church service. It’s the last little bit of the funeral.’
He hoped she wouldn’t ask for any further details. He didn’t want her having nightmares. ‘So, you’ll go with Mum?’
‘I suppose so,’ Freya sighed, feeling well and truly stitched up. ‘We go through part of the churchyard when we come out of church to walk round to the church hall. Even if they don’t bring us out after that, I’ll see what I can find at the beginning.’
‘Good girl,’ Mark said, and winked at Dom.
They could discuss nothing further until Freya reported her findings, so they moved on to Daryl’s adventures over the past few days.
By lunchtime, it was clear that Daryl was falling asleep, so Carl walked the Brownlows and Sammy back home, leaving Aileen to help Daryl upstairs for a nap after taking his medication.
Sitting on the sofa in the quiet house, Carl took hold of Aileen’s hand. ‘Thank you for all you’ve done over the past couple of days. You’ve been a star.’
‘No problem. Daryl’s a lovely lad. Shame he had you for a dad, really.’
‘Thanks. I am trying, you know. I’ve not been allowed to have much to do with him. He was always Megan’s lad. I’m having to learn how to be a dad.’
‘Have you contacted this Kenny, then?’ she asked abruptly, changing the subject.
‘Yes, I texted him, and we’re going to his home about six for a meal. He says if Grausohn does call him in for anything, it’s generally after nine anyway.’
‘Doesn’t Grausohn ever go out?’
‘Very rarely, according to Kenny. I’ve never seen him anywhere outside of his office.’
‘It could work, this ridiculous plan,’ Aileen grudgingly admitted. ‘But what you really need is something to make it look as though he committed suicide, rather than being pushed over the side. Is he a big man, by the way?’
Carl gave a short bark of laughter. ‘I would say twenty stone, or thereabouts. It’s a good job Kenny’s got muscles like Goliath. It’ll certainly take both of us to get him over.’
She nodded. ‘I’ve got several questions, but I’ll make a list and ask them when we get to this meal. Have you met his partner?’
‘Not yet. Didn’t even know of his existence ’til yesterday. I had no idea he preferred men. He always comes across as quite macho. Each to their own.’
‘You were right,’ he continued as he fondled her breast.
She smiled and relaxed.
‘Will you stay tonight?’ He’d been quite disappointed when she had insisted on going home the previous night.
She sat up straighter. ‘Nope, I’m going home. I’ll walk up in the morning, make us all a full English, if you like.’
‘I’d prefer if you stayed.’
‘Probably, but I’m still going home. I like my own company, Carl. And Daryl’s lost his mum. He’s devastated. He’ll not want another woman on the horizon before she’s even been buried.�
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‘And are you? On the horizon?’
Aileen laughed. ‘Not bloody likely. I’ve my own house, my books, my telly when I’m waiting for my next book – what would I want a man for? No, don’t look in this direction, matey, it ain’t going to happen. I don’t mind the odd bit of sex, but only when I want to, not when you want to. Understood?’
‘You’re a hard woman, Aileen Walmsley…’
‘Understood?’ she repeated.
‘Understood.’
They sat in silence, then Aileen stood. ‘I’m going to get off before it goes dark. I’ll be back about nine in the morning, and I’ll do breakfast. Ring me if you need me, but only if you fall down the stairs, or the house is on fire. Emergencies only, Carl.’
She kissed him long and hard on the lips, pressed her breasts against his chest, then turned and walked out of the door.
She was still chuckling as she walked down the street and up her own path.
She closed the front door behind her and leaned against it. It felt empty without Vinnie, quiet and empty. She’d tidied and cleaned, and it had remained tidy and clean. She wanted empty cans on the kitchen table, dishes everywhere, empty pizza boxes. She wanted Vinnie home again.
Sunday morning started a little grey, but by nine, the sun had come out, and the world, as Aileen knew it, was waking up.
Daryl and Carl were in the kitchen, Daryl at the table reading his book and Carl making his second cup of tea of the morning.
‘Morning, you two.’ She smiled. ‘Daryl, any better?’
‘I can walk round the table without having to hold on.’
‘And your shoulder?’
If it hadn’t been so painful, he would have shrugged. ‘It’s okay. Still hurts,’ was all he said.
‘Full English?’
‘Do you mind if I have a bacon sandwich? It’s easier to eat than having to use a knife and fork.’
‘No problem.’ She leant over and kissed his forehead. ‘Carl? Full English?’
‘Please. I’ll make drinks.’
They worked quietly, and Daryl became immersed in his book. It was as Aileen handed him the bacon sandwich that he heard the church bells. Church. Freya would be there now, sourcing somewhere for them to dump the bag of drugs.
He wondered if this was the right thing to do; he knew it was much too late to hand them into Roberts. They’d be in so much trouble if they did that, and not only from the police – they all had parents. It was so hard being a kid.
‘Can all the children who are attending Sunday School please go with Doreen and Jennifer? They’re waiting at the back of the church for you.’ There was a shuffling of feet, clattering as books were knocked to the floor, and around six or seven children, including a reluctant Freya, made their way to the two women who would be telling them about the Good Samaritan within five minutes.
Freya held back and watched as the two women led the children across the front of the church and around the side, before heading into the hall. She looked around her; she could see really old gravestones, some at odd angles, most of them dirty with years of Yorkshire air ingrained into them, and she could see five or six large old ones, reared up at the side of the wall that surrounded the churchyard. She thought it quite strange that people would be buried under a wall.
She took a quick look around, saw there was no one to watch her and headed for the gravestones. Because the stones were leaning, there was a gap at the back of them; she knew she had found their dumping ground. She ran into the church hall, and Doreen regarded her with something approaching shock.
‘Did we forget you?’ she asked.
Freya laughed. ‘No, I had to stop to take off my shoe. It had a stone in it. It’s fine now.’
‘You should have said. One of us would have helped you. Anyway, never mind. Sit at the table with the others. We’re going to talk about the Good Samaritan today.’
Freya sat at the table and immediately switched off, choosing to stare out of the window instead. She listened to Jennifer’s voice, flat, emotionless.
‘Freya!’
Freya jumped and knew she looked guilty.
‘What are you staring at through that window?’
‘It’s that gravestone, Jennifer. It’s leaning. It looks as if it’s going to fall over.’ Freya inwardly congratulated herself on coming up with a feasible answer.
Jennifer moved to the window. ‘Freya, I don’t think it’s going to fall today. It’s probably one of the stones down for removal.’
‘Removal?’ Suddenly Freya felt uneasy.
Jennifer laughed. ‘Don’t worry, I didn’t mean removal altogether. When stones lean dangerously, they must be taken to the side and reared up against the wall, for safety. Like those over there.’ She pointed to the gravestones Freya had already visited, and the little girl breathed a sigh of relief. So, people weren’t buried under the wall. It was a way of keeping the headstones in the churchyard, without the headstones falling and killing people.
Freya turned to Jennifer with a smile, said ‘sorry’ and listened for the rest of the lesson.
Sunday afternoon was spent in the garden for the Brownlow twins and their sister. She had with her a drawing pad and a pencil. She sketched the plan of the churchyard as closely as she could remember it and showed it to Mark and Dom.
‘That’s where the old headstones are, leaning against that wall. They’ve all got a gap behind them, but three of them are kind of on top of one another, so that might be the safest spot.’
‘And they’re close to the church hall?’ Dom was staring at the drawing.
‘Not too close. I think we’ll be okay.’
‘Okay. We need to get our fingerprints off the plastic Tuesday afternoon and get it wrapped in a carrier bag. We could do with a darker colour than the bright orange, though. You’ve done well, Freya.’ Dom handed the drawing to his brother. ‘We might get away with this.’
‘Okay,’ Freya said. ‘You two bullied me into doing this, into going to church with Mum. Payback.’
She handed them two drawings of the Good Samaritan. ‘Jennifer at church wants these coloured in for next Sunday morning. I told her I’d take your copies in, at the same time as mine.’
They stared at the pictures with something like horror written across their faces. ‘You didn’t…’
‘Oh, I did. Don’t tangle with a Brownlow girl, ever. Especially not this Brownlow girl. Mum’s taking them into Jennifer, so get colouring.’
She walked away from them, trying to hold in the laughter. One up to us, Ella, she thought. One up to us.
Chapter 18
The meal, cooked entirely by Billy, was delicious. They had started with a simple pâté salad and small crispbreads, and that had led on to steak, with new potatoes and vegetables. The pièce de résistance was the most delicious apple pie and cream Aileen had ever tasted.
She raised her glass of wine in appreciation of the meal and said a simple thank you.
‘You’re very welcome, Aileen,’ Billy said. ‘I’ll put on some coffee, and we can take it out onto the patio and have a chat. Kenny, take our guests through and don’t forget your phone in case he rings.’
Kenny took them through to the patio, and the three of them sat quietly, enjoying the perfume from the nearby rose garden, while waiting for Billy to join them.
Carl tried to start the conversation, but Billy waved his hand at him. ‘Enjoy some coffee first, Carl, before we talk of death.’
It almost seemed civilised. They sipped from their bone china coffee cups, and then, eventually, Kenny spoke. ‘Okay, now we have to talk. I am assuming you have both thought things through.’
Aileen and Carl looked at each other.
‘We have,’ Carl said, ‘and we’re in.’
Kenny looked closely at Aileen. ‘You’ll alibi Carl?’
She nodded. ‘Fully. If I could, I would kill him myself. You must realise that. Vinnie was my only child, my world. Because of this evil… thing… I’ve lost
him.’
‘Then, I suggest we change the evening to Friday, instead of Thursday. Gerda, his housekeeper, always goes to bingo on a Friday, because there is a massive jackpot on that night. She stays later than normal. Carl, you will need to come up with a list of the kids’ names for him, and some addresses from round here, so that he believes they are genuine. Names you can invent, but make sure the addresses will stand up to scrutiny.’
Carl nodded.
‘I’ll ring him around eight on Friday night – that would be quite normal for me. I’ll tell him you’ve finally managed to get the names, and can we pop up with them, so we can get organised for snatching one of the kids. I’ll build you up to him – say it’s taken so long because nobody was saying anything about the kids. That way, you might get the payment he promised for the information. It’s no good thinking we can help ourselves after we’ve chucked him over, because whatever is in there, is in his safe, and we have to leave immediately, almost before he’s hit the deck outside.’
Again, Carl nodded. He knew how much thought had gone into this plan, and whatever Kenny said was fine with him. He wasn’t looking forward to the actual deed of hoisting the huge man over that balcony; he was no killer, merely a small-time crook. And he was also a little concerned that even between them they would struggle to lift him, especially as he would be fighting back.
They enjoyed refills of the coffee, Kenny answered a couple of minor points that had occurred to Aileen, and at nine o’clock, they headed home.
Liam had stayed in with Daryl, who was now in very little pain. His knee was fine; the bruising was spectacular, but the pain had all but disappeared. Only a careless movement caused it to remind him it was still in recovery. His arm was in a sling, supporting the damaged shoulder, and he was sleeping on his good side, but in general, he was pain free, simply irritated by only having one arm in full working order.
Liam said goodnight, adding that Daryl had been in bed quarter of an hour and telling Aileen that if she needed anything before Monday, the day of Vinnie’s funeral, to ring him. She smiled briefly, kissed him on the cheek with a whispered thank you and watched as he walked down the road, heading for home.
