by Martina Cole
‘How very thoughtful of you.’
Elaine came into the room with the tea. Her big-boned body felt clumsy and she placed the tray on the coffee table with a loud clatter.
Willis watched her surreptitiously. She was a bundle of nerves. She began to pour the tea and when she had finally finished and sat down felt as if she had run the London Marathon. She tried to calm herself.
Willis spoke directly to her.
‘Now, madam, on the second of December, 1989, which was a Saturday, I understand that your husband was home with you all evening?’
Elaine nodded.
‘He very rarely goes out in the evenings.’
‘I see. Now on the twenty-third of December, which was a Saturday, he was home with you then, as well?’
‘Yes.’
‘And on New Year’s Eve, you were home together?’
‘Yes. No. Actually, he was in bed with very bad flu. I went to a party at my friend’s alone. George was much too ill to leave the house.’
Elaine was aware that she was babbling.
Willis and Hemmings were both staring at her. Even her red hair seemed to be trembling.
Willis smiled and closed his notebook.
‘That will be all. I am very sorry to bother you, but I’m sure you understand.’
‘Of course.’ George was more his old self now. He could feel a giggle in his throat, just waiting to explode.
They were fools. Utter fools. He swallowed hard. The giggle was nearly at the roof of his mouth.
‘Would you gentlemen like another cup of tea?’
Hemmings was about to say yes when Willis declined. George smiled at the younger man. Hemmings smiled back. Elaine watched them. Was it her imagination or was George laughing at them all? More and more lately she had the feeling that George was different somehow. Now all this. Eliminating him from their inquiries.
‘Have you found the other girl yet? The one who’s missing?’
‘Louise Butler? No, not yet. We’re hoping against hope that she’s gone off with a friend or a boyfriend and will get in touch with her parents. But every day that goes by makes it less likely.’
George tutted. ‘How terrible. This man, whoever he is, must be very clever. I mean, three women murdered and no clues. That’s if the other young lady has been murdered, of course.’
‘He’ll make a mistake, sir. They always do.’
‘Quite.’ George smiled. They always did, did they? Well, not this one, Mr Clever Clogs policeman. Not this one.
‘He must be some kind of animal.’ Elaine’s voice was low and throaty. ‘Those poor girls. No woman’s safe any more.’
Hemmings nodded at Elaine, thinking, Well, you are. Any man who’d try and attack you would have to be mad!
Willis stood up and held out his hand to George who shook it warmly.
‘Thanks for all your help, sir.’
‘You’re welcome. Any time.’
Hemmings nodded and Elaine pulled herself from her chair and saw them to the door.
‘Thanks for the tea, madam.’
‘That’s OK. Goodbye.’
She closed the front door and leant against it, her heart beating fast once more. What was wrong with her? Why did she feel so worried?
George walked out into the hall.
‘All right, dear? You look dreadful.’
‘I’m fine, George. But it was like before. You know . . .’ Her voice trailed off.
He put his arm around her.
‘Now then, Elaine, there’s nothing to worry about. It was all a terrible misunderstanding. Anyway that was a long time ago and I paid my debt to society.’
He led her back into the lounge and steered her to her chair. ‘Now you stop worrying, my love. Just because I have a dark blue saloon car . . . well, does that make me a murderer?’
She shook her head.
‘Of course not, George. I’m sorry.’
‘There now, you’re chasing ghosts again, Elaine. It’s always been there between us, hasn’t it?’
George’s voice was soft.
She couldn’t look at him in the face. After twenty years this was the first time George had ever referred to what had happened. And he was right, it had always been between them. Because it had always been in the back of her mind, from the moment she got up in the morning until she went to bed at night. Even then, sometimes, it strayed into her dreams.
‘I’m sorry, Elaine. Really I am. I wish with all my heart that I could go back and change that time, but I can’t, I just can’t.’
George watched Elaine’s guilty expression and felt the laughter threatening again.
‘I know that, George. It was just seeing them, standing on the doorstep like that.’
‘I know, my love, I understand. I know that you’ve never forgiven me for what happened, and I don’t blame you, darling. I appreciate the way you stood by me. Really I do.’ He took her plump hand in his and repressed a shudder. ‘I love you, Elaine, I always have.’
She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, knowing in her heart that it was an excuse to curtail the physical contact with him.
‘I’m just an old silly, George. I’ll make another cuppa.’
George moved so she could get out of the chair. He watched the material of her shell suit strain to the limit as she bent over the coffee table and picked up the tray of cups and saucers. She must have gone off her diet over Christmas.
When she left the room he sat back in his seat and grinned. They were all bloody fools! Every last one of them. And he was cleverer than a bag of monkeys, as his mother used to say, and would outwit them all. Starting with that fat bitch out in the kitchen.
Elaine was making the tea. She felt an urge to smash the teapot against the wall. The night of Mandy Kelly’s murder George had been out on one of his walks. She pushed the thought from her mind. The other night she’d been in with him. On New Year’s Eve he had been ill. Very ill. She was just paranoid, that’s what was wrong with her. She wished the time would go faster until her holiday in Spain so she could go away, leave George and just enjoy herself. She poured the water over the tea bags and felt the tears again.
For all George’s faults he was not a murderer. He was not a killer.
She had to believe that.
She had to.
Roll on Friday. She was seeing Hector Henderson, and more and more as the days went on found that she needed him, his simplicity and his jolliness. Most of all his kindness.
Willis and Hemmings discussed George and Elaine on their way to the next address.
‘He seemed OK, but that woman! She was a bundle of nerves.’
Willis shrugged.
‘We affect some people like that. Make them nervous. People like her never have the Old Bill round, see. When they do, it throws them like. He was a nice bloke though. Very polite and well spoken.’
Hemmings nodded.
‘I wish a few more people were like them. Afford us a bit of respect now and again. I went round a house the other week - the kid had been caught shoplifting and the father wanted to fight me. Like it was all my fault.’
Willis grinned.
‘I know what you mean. Everyone’s on our case these days.’
‘Don’t I blinking know it!’
Evelyn and Dan sat at the breakfast bar. Evelyn lit herself a cigarette.
‘I think you should find yourself somewhere, Dan. After all you’ve been here over a fortnight. Kate’s a kind woman but I think there’s a chance you just might wear out that welcome of yours.’ She sipped her coffee and watched him over the rim of the cup.
‘Has she said anything? I mean, about me going?’
Evelyn took a deep breath. ‘Let’s just say I think she’s had enough.’
Dan picked up her pack of cigarettes and lit himself one. Evelyn snatched the packet from his hand and put it in the pocket of her apron.
‘Surely things aren’t that bad? You’ve got the money for your own cigarettes, haven’
t you?’
Dan raised his eyebrows and tried to decide whether or not to confide in her. Anthea had always paid the bills. They had lived a life of pleasure. Dan had not had a proper job for over ten years. Oh, he talked about deals and the market, but it was all for effect.
Dan realised with growing dismay that at forty-six he was qualified for nothing. It was a frightening prospect.
‘Listen to me, Dan, I’m only trying to help you. Kate can’t abide wasters, you know that as well as I do. You were an insurance salesman once, why can’t you go back to that? They must be crying out for men like you. Good-looking eejits who could charm the birds off the trees.’
Dan, for once, had the grace to look away. How could he explain to the old woman sitting opposite him that he wore a five thousand pound watch? His suits were the best that money, Anthea’s money, could buy. That he had not had to think about paying a bill or buying food for God knows how long. How could he explain that Kate was his last chance? Because Kate, for all her faults real and imagined, was the only person ever to take him at face value.
He glanced at his Rolex and closed his eyes. Then, taking a deep breath, he began to talk, the words tumbling out of him as he finally admitted the truth.
‘Look, Eve, I’m the wrong side of forty. I don’t know if I could even get a job as a junior salesman. What would I be looking at? Ten grand a year? Fifteen top whack. That wouldn’t even pay for my clothes . . .’
The self-pitying tone of his voice was not lost on Evelyn and she snapped at him.
‘If you could hear yourself! Like a big ninny sitting there bemoaning your fate. If you’d let your heart rule your head instead of your winkle, you wouldn’t be in this state!’
Dan stared at her in shock.
‘Oh, I’ve seen plenty like you in me life, Danny Burrows, only the majority of them were women. What you’ve got to do now is get yourself together. Get a life, as Lizzy is always saying. Take your jewellery and pawn it, get yourself a place to live, and then get yourself a job. It’s what everyone has to do at some time - it’s called taking responsibility for yourself.
‘Do you know, all those years I watched my Kate yearn for you, it used to amaze me. How could such an intelligent and articulate woman want a bloody waster like you? You’re no good to man or beast. By Christ, Dan, how you’ve lasted as long as you have amazes me on its own!’
The atmosphere in the tiny kitchen was charged. Dan felt an urge to take back his fist and slam it into the old woman’s teeth. But he knew he wouldn’t, because he was too much of a coward. Anthea knew it, which was why she did what she did to him. She told him what to wear and eat, when to sleep or make love to her. In short, she had called the shots and Dan had let her. In all the years he had not had one really happy day because Anthea was always the boss. What she said went. They travelled extensively, but he had to pander to her every whim. If she decided that they had had enough of sightseeing or whatever, then they had had enough. The woman sitting in front of him was right, he had to take responsibility for himself. Because there was no Anthea to do it for him now.
‘I know what you’re saying is right, Eve, but I’m not sure I’m man enough to do what you suggest.’
She slipped the cigarettes from her pocket and gave him one. ‘Listen, Dan, Kate’s sick of seeing you on that settee. Get yourself somewhere to live and gain her respect again. Get a job, sort out your life. If you really want her back, that’s the only way to get her.’
‘What about the man she’s been seeing?’
‘What man?’ Evelyn sounded puzzled.
‘Oh, come on, Eve. There’s a man in the pipeline or my name’s not Danny Burrows.’
‘Well, if there is it’s the first one I ever knew of.’
God forgive me for lying, she thought. She knew as sure as eggs was eggs that Kate, bless her, had finally caught herself a man. A mysterious man, she admitted, because she couldn’t get anything out of her daughter about him, but a man all the same.
‘You get yourself fixed with somewhere to live and then start your campaign to get Kate. Life has a funny way of sorting itself out. I’ve learnt that much over the years.’
He smiled at her. A genuine smile. Danny had never liked Kate’s mother because he had always known she didn’t like him. That she could see through him as if he was glass.
‘Thanks, Eve. It’s meant a lot to me to have us talk like this.’
Evelyn grasped his hand and smiled.
‘I’m only trying to help you, son.’
She had the grace to look down at her wedding ring, a worn gold band. She couldn’t look him in the face any more. All she really wanted was to see him out of the house.
For all their chatting about him and Kate and Mystery Man, he had not mentioned his daughter once.
That was typical of bloody Danny Burrows.
Lizzy pushed her fingers through her long hair and yawned. Joey lay beside her smiling. Both were naked. Lizzy looked around the room and blinked.
‘This place is a right dump.’
Joey laughed out loud. ‘Of course it is, it’s a squat.’
The walls were daubed with splashes of paint, and here and there large eyes were drawn, with daggers sticking out of them.
‘Who did the decorating, Joey?’
‘Oh, some bloke called Nipper. He fancies himself as a gutter poet and artist.’
‘Well, my advice to him would be, don’t give up the day job.’
The sour smell of the sheets was wafting up to her nose and she grimaced. ‘Why don’t you skin up?’
‘All right then.’
Joey sat cross-legged on the bed and proceeded to build a joint. Lizzy watched him languidly. She liked Joey a lot. He was exciting. He knew all the places to go and all the people to know. She had bunked off work all this week, Joanie had rung in and said she had flu, and every day had been spent like this. Lazing around in someone’s flat or car, just getting right out of it. Her mother was becoming suspicious at the amount of time she spent in her room, but Lizzie had told her everyone liked to be on their own at times.
Her mother was a pain in the ass. Always wanting to know where she was and what she was doing. Who she was with and what they had done. Her gran wasn’t much better. Lizzy’s butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-her-mouth image had kept her in good stead the last few years, but soon she wanted to break away. Go her own way and enjoy life. If her father got himself a place she’d go and live with him.
She was like him in a lot of ways. He liked the good life, lived to enjoy himself. Her mother lived life in a vacuum. Waiting for things to happen instead of making them happen. That was the secret.
Joey lit the joint and drew on it deeply, passing it to Lizzy. She took the smoke down deep into her lungs and held it there for a while before letting it out slowly.
‘That’s the way to do it.’ She sounded like Mr Punch and Joey grinned at her.
He had never met anyone like her before. Lizzy Burrows was game for anything and everything. He watched her sit up and flick the ash on to the floor. She was not in the least self-conscious of her body. He grabbed a breast and squeezed it. His rough hand had dirt under the nails. Lizzy pushed it away. All she wanted now was to get really stoned and lie back on the mattress thinking good thoughts. She did this all the time at home, listening to Sinead O’Connor or Pink Floyd.
She passed the joint back to Joey and lay back. He took a toke on it and, putting his mouth over hers, breathed the smoke down into her lungs. She laughed and kissed him back. From one of the other rooms came the harsh sounds of Guns N’ Roses, the heavy guitar making the walls vibrate.
‘Oh, shit! Stud’s back already. Come on, let’s get dressed and shoot off.’
Lizzy pulled the dirty sheet over her breasts and laughed.
‘Why?’
‘Because Stud’s like an accident waiting to happen, that’s why.’
‘Oh, fuck off, Joey! I’m just nicely stoned. I don’t want to move yet.’
&nbs
p; Joey sighed and scratched his greasy head.
‘Look, how about we go and score a bit of Wiz or something?’
‘All right, but only if we can come back here. Deal?’
‘You’ve got a deal. Now get dressed before all the bikers come in here.’ Joey was genuinely worried. The bikers were a good crowd but could get a bit out of hand. He didn’t fancy Lizzy’s chances much if they decided they all wanted a bit of the action. It wouldn’t be the first time.
Lizzy pulled on her underwear and jeans. As she was pulling her T-shirt over her head the door opened.
A large man with a long ginger beard and straggly blond hair stood there. He had a beer belly that hung over the top of his filthy jeans. His sweat shirt had a death’s head printed on it.
‘Hello, Joey, who’s this?’ The voice was deep and had a drawl to it that Lizzy didn’t like.
‘This is Lizzy . . . Lizzy Burrows. Lizzy, JoJo Downey. He runs the squat.’
Lizzy picked up Joey’s fear from his voice.
‘Hello.’ Her voice was small.
JoJo frowned at them both through little squinting eyes, then his face broke out into a toothless smile and he grinned at them. This was more frightening than his frown.
‘Come and have a drink with us, you two.’ The music was once more blaring out and Lizzy slipped on her boots and followed Joey and JoJo from the room. In the lounge she saw about fifteen people, mostly men. Two girls sat with them. Both had dyed black hair and wore the female biker battledress, the uniform black leather miniskirt, black lycra top and short bumfreezer denim jacket. They had on the heavy black mascara and purple lipstick of female bikers. Both smiled at Lizzy and she smiled back. It was easier now that she was dressed.
‘Sit down, love, and have a drink.’ JoJo motioned to the girls on the broken-down couch to move over, and they hastily made way for Lizzy. She sat between them. Joey sat on the floor with the others. His joint was taken from his hand by a man in his forties with a studded leather jacket flung across his lap.
It was when Lizzy was sipping her cider that she realised what the man with the leather jacket was doing. He was burning something in a small crucible, watching it bubble. Then, placing it gently on the jacket, he took a syringe from off the floor and began to draw the liquid up into it. He caught Lizzy’s eye as she watched and winked at her.
