The Runaway

by Martina Cole

  There was no answer and Cathy knocked again, this time louder. Richard looked through the window at the front and then beckoned her to follow him round the back of the cottage. It was so small, like a doll’s house. Roughcast, it was painted a dull white, and the windows were leaded lights, painted black. It stood on half an acre of land and as they walked round the side of the cottage, they both admired the beautifully tended garden.

  The sun had sneaked out from behind a cloud and now lit the scene before them as if it were a painting. Cathy half expected Peter Rabbit to scamper across the grass towards her.

  ‘Ain’t it gorgeous, Cathy?’

  She followed Richard down the winding back garden to two cement-built outhouses. He surveyed everything around him. There was a small conservatory on the back of the cottage, full of wicker furniture and houseplants.

  ‘Isn’t that a picture, girl? Relaxed and tranquil. Just the place for a young shirtlifter who needs a rest, eh?’

  Cathy stared at him in surprise. What the hell was he on about now?

  Opening the door of the nearer building, he shouted inside: ‘Get your arse out here, son. I saw you poodling down the garden from the front of the house. Maybe your sister should invest in some net curtains, eh?’

  Cathy watched as Peter emerged from the building looking shamefaced. He couldn’t look her in the eyes.

  ‘I’m sorry, I just panicked,’ he said in a high breathy voice.

  ‘Now your sister seems to me to be a woman of taste,’ Richard said genially. ‘So I reckon there must be a nice cold beer in the fridge, and if there is I’d love one. Shall we make our way inside, son?’

  Peter nodded and they followed him down the garden path and through the conservatory to an antique pine kitchen.

  ‘This is a beautiful property, bigger than it looks as well,’ Richard commented.

  ‘This is an extension. Me sister’s husband’s a builder, see. They can’t have kids so they sink everything into this place. I love it here - it’s so restful. It was once a farm labourer’s cottage, a small one-bedroomed affair. It was the thatched roof that cost them really, and now they have a couple of bedrooms up there. Done a wonderful job, they have.’

  All the time he talked Peter was pouring out beer. He led them back into the conservatory and waited until they were seated before he started to cry.

  ‘I’m so sorry for the trouble I’ve caused, Mrs Pasquale, but I was so scared. That Campbell threatened me! I didn’t know what to do, and then when Casper killed himself, well, I just freaked. I really didn’t want to get involved, you know?’

  Cathy nodded sympathetically. ‘I believe that, Peter, but we need to learn what Casper was up to - what he was dealing in. Until we find that out we can’t really do anything to sort it. I’m sure you can see that?’ He nodded and wiped his eyes.

  Richard watched him, exasperated. ‘What was the score, son? Don’t keep us in suspense.’

  Peter rapidly began to talk. ‘Campbell was into the bestial books at first. You know, the Thai ones - women with horses and donkeys, that sort of thing. They were a real seller and he shifted quite a few. He split the proceeds with Casper, sixty-forty. Well, I told Casper to be careful. I mean, we all know you’re not stupid, Mrs Pasquale, don’t we? Not only that but you’d been very good to me. I pointed that out to Casper, but he said to keep me beak out of it and just keep stumm.

  ‘Well, the next thing was we had videos and that, with kids, only Casper said they weren’t really kids but older boys and girls dressed up to look younger. I never swallowed that one! I put a few of them on when he weren’t there, and let me tell you, those were real kids.’

  ‘Where are the videos then? We tore the shops apart and didn’t find anything.’

  ‘Casper took them all and destroyed them the night before he topped himself. You see, Terry Campbell was on to him . . .’

  Richard raised his eyes to the ceiling and bellowed: ‘About what, you stupid little fucker? You’re talking away but you ain’t telling us nothing.’

  Peter’s tear-filled eyes closed for a few seconds before he continued. ‘He was on to him about the films, of course. Casper was making his own copies and selling them on. That’s what riled Campbell so much: Casper was selling them to Michaela’s boyfriend.’

  Cathy was wide-eyed as she said: ‘Who’s Michaela’s boyfriend then?’

  Peter looked at Richard as he answered. ‘It’s Edward Durrant. Mickey’s been seeing him on and off for years.’

  Cathy saw Richard’s reaction to that. ‘Will one of you let me in on all this, please?’ she insisted.

  He looked at her and said, ‘Eddie Durrant is an alias - that’s fucking Trevale’s half-brother’s name! He uses Durrant because Campbell is such a fucker of a name in town. He doesn’t want to be associated with Trevale, they hate one another. Eddie’s a bad man, but I’ve never known him involved in anything like this.’

  Peter shook his head. ‘He ain’t involved, he just wanted something on Terry, see. Now he’s threatening him with all sorts, there’s going to be big trouble, and Michaela’s behind it all. If he’d kept out of it this would never have happened. You see, when Terry found out about it, he was going to kill Casper over Eddie’s involvement. Eddie was trying to blackmail Terry using the films. He has a few faces in the Home Office, as you probably know, Mr Gates. This was his way of paying back his brother, see. It’s personal, it’s family, and that’s the worst type of feuding if you ask me.’

  ‘Eddie Durrant,’ Richard said in amazement. ‘I thought he was still out in South America?’

  ‘He was, but he’s back for a big deal,’ the young man said importantly. ‘Don’t ask me what the deal is, I don’t know and I wouldn’t tell you if I did. All I know is, he wants Terry and this is his way of getting to him. Eddie’s mum died recently in East London, and he’s cut up about it. Casper told me Terry sent a wreath and the card said something about: “One down, one to go”. When Casper realised who he was dealing with, he cleared the stuff and topped himself.’

  ‘Surely, though, he couldn’t have known he was dealing with Eddie? I mean, Casper would have known the connection between him and Terry,’ Richard queried.

  Peter nodded. ‘Yes, but he done the deal through Michaela, see. That’s what he told me anyway. He didn’t know the connection between Michaela and Eddie, there’s not many who do. Michaela’s a real transsexual, not so much a drag queen. Eddie’s bisexual. And, let’s face it, Michaela would sink to his knees for anyone. That’s what he’s always been like. The funny thing is, he’s worked for Terry in the past in some of his movies. There’s one called One Woman, One Man and His Dog. It’s a spoof on the television programme. That stars Michaela, a German Shepherd and some old boy done up to look like Seth off Emmerdale Farm. Make you sick if you watched it. Sick as a fucking dog.’

  Cathy was amazed and disgusted. ‘And how did Casper get involved with it all?’

  ‘He owed money - gambling debts. It was his only real vice. He approached a lender, Dizzy McAlpine, the Rastaman from Tulse Hill. He always tips Terry the wink about his big lends, then Terry approaches the person if they can be used in some way and pays off the lion’s share of the debt. The person then works for him. He did that with Casper and the films. But then Casper, seeing the money they were making, got a bit greedy. When Michaela approached him about making copies and selling them on the European market, he jumped at the chance. He really thought Terry would never be none the wiser. The silly old bastard!’ Peter started to cry again.

  ‘So where’s this Eddie now then?’ Richard pressed.

  ‘I don’t know. I never had any dealings with him, see. If anyone knows it will be Michaela. That’s who you want to see.’

  ‘So Michaela’s running between two camps?’

  Peter gave a sickly smile and said, ‘I couldn’t have put it better meself. And let’s face it, it wouldn’t be the first time, would it? That bitch would do anything for money. Anything. ’


  Richard stood up. ‘We’d better get back to the Smoke. We need to talk to Michaela, find out what the score is. All this trouble over a family fucking feud. It’s a joke, really.’

  Cathy was still confused. ‘It’s crazy, really crazy.’

  Peter looked at her sadly. ‘Casper was a fool. I warned him what would happen and he wouldn’t listen. That Michaela is a cow, a real bitch. He knew exactly what he was doing - set Casper up like a fucking lemon.’

  ‘Well, don’t you worry, we’ll have it all sorted before you know it, Peter, and then you can come back to work. I think you ought to get back in touch with Brian, too, he’s worried about you.’

  Peter looked wistful. ‘I miss him, but I’ll wait and see what the score is. I don’t want anything to do with either of them brothers, Eddie or Terry. They’re dangerous. The whole family’s weird.’

  Richard laughed then, a deep rollicking sound. ‘You can say that again! The mother’s a few paving slabs short of a patio and the sister ain’t much better.’

  As they drove back towards London, they discussed this strange turn of events.

  ‘If it’s a family feud, we really needn’t concern ourselves now Casper’s out of the way,’ Cathy began.

  Richard nodded. ‘I’ll have to keep digging, but as far as I can see, you’re in the clear. If Casper’s moved the stuff and destroyed it, you’re no longer in the frame.’

  Well, that was a relief. But Cathy hoped Shaquila got in touch; she would very much like to help her out. Yes, she would help her and her children in any way she could. What goes around comes around. She had found Desrae and Richard. She would repay the debt by helping the black woman and her kids. It was the least she could do.

  Desrae was waiting in Cathy’s flat when they got back. His make-up was smudged, face rigid with fear. As soon as they walked through the door he burst into great racking sobs.

  Flinging himself into Cathy’s arms, he cried: ‘He was here! That Terry Campbell . . . he was here. They’ve taken Kitty from school, Cathy. They’ve taken her!’

  On closer inspection Cathy and Richard saw he had the beginnings of a black eye, and bruising around his cheekbone.

  ‘Calm down, woman, and tell me what happened,’ Richard ordered.

  Cathy was beginning to feel the first stirrings of panic. ‘What do you mean, they’ve got Kitty? How could they have got her, for Christ’s sake?’

  ‘A woman picked her up from the school, apparently. I rang for our usual Wednesday night chat and I was told Kitty wasn’t there. I asked to speak to the Head and she said a woman showed up with some story that you were bad and Kitty was needed at home. Kitty knew the woman so they assumed it was OK. Kitty was desperate to get back to you, see.’

  Cathy sank on to the sofa and groaned.

  ‘Then he turned up at my place,’ Desrae continued. ‘He hit me, started shouting at me, telling me no one went to his house, no one fucked with his family and you would pay the price. I didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about at first, I thought it was about Casper, see. Then he said I was to tell you he had your kid and you would never see her again until you paid him up. Those were his exact words. Paid him up.’

  ‘You mean, he’s ransoming her?’ Cathy said in a frightened voice.

  Richard shook his head. ‘It means, love, he’s going to teach her a lesson and then you’ll get her back. He don’t want money, he wants face. Respect. He’s going to teach you a lesson.’

  Cathy stared at him in utter confusion. Then the meaning of his words dawned on her and she shook her head. Her face contorted into a white, hatred-filled grimace, she bellowed, ‘He’d better not touch my baby! I’ll kill him if he touches my baby . . .’

  Then she lost it.

  The other two tried to hold her down in the chair as she fought them to get out of the flat and go looking for her child, single-handed.

  Kitty was everything to her. The only good, untouched part of her life was her love for her daughter. She had always prided herself on what a fine job she had done, how well Kitty was protected. The whole idea of boarding school had been to keep the girl out of harm’s way. Now someone had walked in and calmly taken her, and that person was a sicko, a psychopath. A man who had given his own sister two children against her will. A man whose name instilled fear into the whole of London because he was unpredictable, amoral and a byword for viciousness.

  This was the man who had taken Cathy’s child, her baby.

  As a red mist gathered before her eyes she heard a loud wailing. It took an age for her to realise the sound was coming from her.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Cathy was calmer. Desrae had given her three Valium and now she sat in the lounge, staring at the wall.

  Richard was terrified. He had never seen a woman so changed. It was as if someone had taken away the real Cathy and replaced her with a shadow of the person she once was. Her face was a sickly, green-tinged white, and her eyes were wide and staring. They seemed to have taken over her face. Even her hair looked defeated, hanging limply over her shoulders.

  ‘I’ll kill him. Before God, I’ll kill him if he touches my baby.’ Her voice was a dead, flat monotone.

  Richard held her tightly to him for a moment. ‘We’ll find her, don’t worry. Now, I have to go - see what I can dig up, OK? I’ll find Durrant, ask him for help. Stop worrying. Campbell won’t really do anything to Kitty, that’s just posturing. His way of scaring you. He would never dare touch her. Believe me, Cathy, I know what I’m talking about.’

  He was lying in his teeth but couldn’t see what else to do. Even as they spoke Kitty could be the victim of a gang rape or worse.

  He was relieved when Susan P walked into the room accompanied by her minder, Tulson. The latter was big, black and quiet - the perfect man as far as Susan P was concerned. He watched over her, kept his own counsel and took his wages with no more than a word or two.

  Cathy rushed into her friend’s arms and cried once more. Fear for her child was sending her off her head. ‘We must find her, Susan! Before he defiles her, before he does something bad to her. She’s only a kid, only fourteen. If anything happens to her, I’ll go fucking mad.’

  Susan patted her, whispering words of endearment, telling her everything would be OK. When Richard finally left, she sat Cathy down, looked her in the eye and said firmly: ‘Pull yourself together, Cathy. This ain’t helping matters. You need to be strong now. We need you to be stronger than you’ve ever been before. Kitty needs you. We’re going to find her, OK?’

  Cathy nodded, the sense of this making inroads into her brain. Susan P’s calm voice was having an effect.

  ‘If you lose it, we’re one down on our posse. Do you understand me?’ Opening her bag, Susan P took out a small vial of powder and quickly cut a few lines on the coffee table. ‘Snort that, it’s Charlie. I know you don’t normally touch it but it’ll give you an edge, and you need that tonight.’

  Cathy did as she was told, taking the small straw from her friend and snorting up the cocaine quickly.

  ‘Now I have been in touch with every contact I have, and I can guarantee you we will have a lead before the night’s over. What we need is a small clue as to where he would take her. Once we have that, we’re on our way.’

  Susan was talking for effect and she knew it. Unless someone told them where she was they had no chance of finding the girl, no chance whatsoever.

  Given the fact that Campbell had been using and abusing for years without suffering so much as a fine for living off immoral earnings, it seemed foolish to hope he would make a mistake this time. But where there was life there was hope, as the saying went, and Susan P knew she had to keep up Cathy’s spirits.

  Michaela was sitting in Campbell’s car. Terry was giving him a fixed-rate reward: in criminal parlance that meant the sum paid over had already been negotiated and earned.

  Michaela didn’t count it, he knew it would all be there. Slipping the two thousand into his handbag, he said, ‘You
won’t hurt her, will you, Terry? She’s a good kid, you know, and I only did this as a favour to you.’

  Terry laughed coarsely. ‘What I do with her is my business, OK? I kept my end of the bargain, and you kept yours. The girl’s my property now, nothing to do with you at all. Keep your nose and your mouth out of my business and we’ll be fine. Interfere and I’ll take your fucking head off your shoulders, wig and all. Dig?’

  But Michaela wasn’t satisfied. ‘I delivered her on the proviso you did not hurt her. Listen to me, Terry. That little girl is a sweetie, she’s a good kid, and her mother will move heaven and earth to find her, as will Richard Gates and Susan P. Now you promised me you was just going to use her as a bit of leverage, no more and no less.’

  Terry Campbell smiled, displaying even white teeth, and then he said roughly: ‘I lied.’

  Michaela paled underneath his Mary Quant panstick. ‘You bastard! You know I’d never have done anything if I’d thought you’d hurt her. What’s brought about this change then?’

  ‘Her mother actually went into my home - my fucking home! - where my children live. She also went to my mother’s house and threatened her. Threatened my mother.’ Campbell took a deep breath. ‘No one fucks with my family and gets away with it. This is personal. That fucking bitch needs a lesson and I’m going to see that she gets one.’

  Then Terry opened the car door and pushed him out roughly. ‘Fuck off, bitch! I’ve got what I wanted and you supplied it to me. Now leave me alone and keep your mouth shut.’

  Michaela knew when to retreat and did so. As he watched the car pull away he thought that two grand wasn’t enough for what he’d just done. He should have asked for five. Flagging down a black cab, he made his way to Eddie Durrant’s flat in Bayswater.

  He had really burned his boats now. He couldn’t go back to his house, the club - anywhere. Cathy would know who had taken her daughter from school, would know Michaela had tucked her up. If anything happened to Kitty, he was a dead man.