‘Run out of petrol, have you, Miss?’ She couldn’t speak. The boot was open, and he leant inside. ‘You do know that it’s illegal to carry this much petrol around, Miss?’
She shook her head. Damn you, Roy Pickering, she muttered, and gripped the car door fearing she was going to faint.
‘You do know you’ve enough petrol in there to fill a bus?’
She rubbed her temples. ‘No, I-I had no idea.’ Whatever she said would sound crazy, and already she could see disbelief on his face.
‘Can I see your driving licence, Miss?’
She closed her eyes. ‘I- I don’t have one. This isn’t my car.’
‘Are you saying you took the car without consent, Miss?’
‘Yes, no, I’m… I’m… well, yes, I borrowed it to get away… away from someone.’ She wanted him to arrest her and take her somewhere safe where Roy couldn’t find her.
‘Can you step away from the car, please, Miss?’
She stepped back onto the grassy bank.
He scribbled a note and stuck it underneath the window wipers. Passing cars slowed down to stare and Aileen choked back tears of shame and frustration. She couldn’t stop trembling, and wrapped her arms around herself.
‘So whose car is it? Miss, can you hear me?’
Distraught, Aileen slid down onto the damp grass verge. ‘My flight,’ she sobbed, ‘I’ve… I’ve missed my flight.’
Chapter Thirty-Six
Aileen stood in front of the tall counter, feeling sick to her stomach as she stared at a row of keys hanging on the wall. The policeman who had brought her in had disappeared, and the bobby on duty appeared to be in no hurry. He was drinking hot tea from a Santa Claus mug and eating a piece of Christmas cake from his packup.
‘Sit over there, Miss. Someone will see you in a minute.’
Above the counter were strewn a few wilting streamers from which six baubles dangled, in a mean attempt to cheer up Christmas. Aileen sat down, nervously locking and unlocking her fingers and biting back tears of frustration. If only she’d listened. What was she going to tell Mary?
A policeman walked towards her and directed her to a small room with a table and two chairs. ‘Sit down. You look like you’ve seen a ghost. I’ll see if there’s a cup of tea going.’
He returned with the hot tea and left her alone. Aileen appreciated the warm, sweet drink that tasted like it had been stewing for hours, and wrapped her shaking hands around the mug. Roy would have rung the police by now, and he would make sure she was charged for taking his car without his permission. His car meant everything to him.
Dermot and her da would worry when she didn’t turn up at the airport, and there was no way of getting a message to them, or to Mary. She glanced at the clock on the wall. Was it really eight o’clock? Her flight would be landing in Dublin now.
In her desperation to get away, she had only made things worse. And now everyone would think she was a thief who took cars and drove without insurance and a licence. Her good character would be sullied, and it was all her own doing. The thought of being locked up in a cell on Christmas Eve was a frightening possibility. She finished the tea and, with shaking fingers, placed it on the table in front of her. She picked at her freshly-painted fingernails, wishing someone would tell her what was going on.
The door opened, and the policeman returned, accompanied by a more senior officer.
‘Right then,’ the older man said. ‘I’m Sergeant Jones and this is Constable Taylor. We need to ask you some questions, and warn you that anything you say may be taken as evidence. Is there anyone you would like us to contact?’
She felt vulnerable, not sure who she should turn to. Mary was the only one she knew who had a telephone, but she didn’t want to worry her. Anyway, she would be disgusted and probably say, ‘I told you so.’
‘Miss!’
‘I… I don’t know.’
‘I must caution you that, TWOC—taking without the owner’s consent—is a serious offence,’ the officer said. ‘Can you tell us what happened to drive you to such lengths, Miss Maguire?’ The policeman straightened his shoulders and sat forward, his pen poised over a notepad.
The senior officer’s eyes narrowed, and Aileen was aware of his pale eyes watching her. It made her more anxious. She rolled her hands one over the other and linked her fingers, desperately trying to fight the urge to be sick.
The nice officer sighed and shifted in his chair. ‘If you’re telling the truth, you’ve nothing to fear, Miss. Carry on.’ His words helped her relax slightly, and she told them everything about meeting Roy, his weird behaviour, and the cunning way in which he had lured her to his house.
‘He hasn’t hurt you, or threatened you in any way, has he?’
‘No! Not exactly.’ She leant forward in the chair. ‘But he’s not right in the head.’
‘Well, that’s not our concern,’ the officer said. ‘You taking a car without consent and driving without a licence or insurance is.’
A feeling of desperation swamped her, and she placed her head in her hands. ‘I’m so sorry. I was… scared he was going to stop me from leaving the house.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I’ve… I’ve never done anything like this before.’
‘A Mr Pickering reported his car taken from his driveway earlier.’ The younger policeman rolled his pencil between his fingers. ‘Can you tell me the address you took the car from?’
Glancing up, she shook her head. It seemed silly, but she had been in such a panic to get away that she hadn’t taken no notice of street names. ‘I’m sorry. It was dark, and I’d never been there before.’
The young policeman on the desk knocked and entered. He mumbled something to the senior officer, who scraped back his chair and stood up. ‘Be back in a minute.’
PC Taylor pulled a face and blew out his lips.
‘What will happen to me?’ Aileen asked him.
The policeman sighed. ‘It’s difficult to say. You’ve admitted to taking a vehicle, and driving without a licence.’
Ashamed, Aileen lowered her head. Hearing her offences read out like that sounded dreadful. What on earth would her family say? Her ma would turn in her grave; she certainly wouldn’t think her perfect now. Dear God, she was in such trouble. How would she explain all this to Dermot? She had never even mentioned her association with Roy Pickering.
Sergeant Jones came back into the room and spoke softly to his colleague. Aileen felt her heart race and could hear its beat in her ears. Were they going to charge her? Detain her overnight, or worse?
The sergeant cleared his throat. ‘You ought to be more careful who you choose as friends, Miss.’ Aileen was shaking so much she could hardly keep her head upright. ‘As it’s Christmas and I’m in a good mood, I’m going to caution you and warn you that if you ever drive without a licence or insurance again you won’t get off so lightly. You’re free to go!’
Aileen’s hand rushed to her face and tears welled in her eyes. ‘Thank you.’
‘I’m sorry that you’ve missed your flight, Miss.’ He closed the folder and passed it to PC Taylor, a smile lightening his face. ‘My advice is that you get yourself out of here, and don’t let me catch you doing this sort of thing again.’
Aileen couldn’t believe what she had just heard. ‘You’re not going to charge me?’
‘We have nothing to charge you with.’ He walked to the door then looked back. ‘Merry Christmas.’
The young constable gave Aileen a fleeting smile. ‘You’re lucky Sergeant Jones was on duty, and that the man you’re so terrified of does not want to press charges against you.’
‘Really! But does he mean it? He’s deranged. He could change his mind.’ Nervous, she pulled at the sleeves of her coat.
‘He’s been in and signed your release papers.’
Aileen gasped. ‘He’s been in here. When?’
‘Just now.’ He sighed. ‘You should think yourself lucky to have gotten away with a caution.’ The policeman got to his feet. ‘Well, what are you
waiting for?’
‘I can’t risk it. He’ll be out there.’
PC Taylor shot her a puzzled look. ‘Are you sure you’re not being paranoid?’
She swallowed her anger. ‘You don’t know what he’s like.’
‘I suppose I could drive you home.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘If you don’t mind being escorted back in a police car.’
‘Thank you.’ She picked up her bag and collected her case from the desk, desperately trying to hide the feelings of anger and rage tearing through her. ‘Could I make a call to my landlady? She’ll be going to bed soon…and…’
‘Oh, go on. Make it quick.’
Aileen did her utmost to remain calm when Mary said, ‘That was quick. Them planes are getting faster.’
‘Mary, I’m still in Birmingham. I’m on my way back. I’ll explain everything when I see you.’
Her landlady was sure to put two and two together when Aileen arrived back in a police car.
* * *
It was late when Roy Pickering drove his car back home and parked it neatly on the driveway. He sat a while, inhaling the sweet fragrance Aileen had left behind, and picked up a lipstick in a crevice on the passenger seat and put it in his pocket. His head ached, and he was in no hurry to go back inside the house or to listen to any more advice from Mummy Dear.
His attempts to bribe Aileen into marrying him had failed miserably, and he took several deep breaths to release the anger still raging through him. Couldn’t she see how well they got on, and that he had more to offer her than that Irish guy? If only his mother hadn’t interrupted him at that moment. Mother could be frustrating with her constant nagging. She owned the house, but that didn’t give her the right to dictate who he could or couldn’t entertain at home. Didn’t she realise how hard he worked to pay the bills?
Yes, he had done the right thing by not pressing charges. When they had asked him if he was sure, he’d simply told them that he and the woman he loved had had a tiff. Just because she had borrowed his car without asking and subsequently run out of petrol, wasn’t a good enough reason to land her with a criminal record.
‘No,’ he’d told them, ‘you must release her.’ One fresh-faced PC had gone as far as to say he must be mad, or in love. Although it had been said in a jokey way, Roy had taken offence. The cheeky young upstart; what did he know about loving a woman?
He pushed the seat back and stretched his legs. He had no idea how much of the argument Aileen had overheard, but obviously enough to make her drive off the way she did. She could have been killed, or killed someone. He had been relieved to discover she wasn’t hurt; it was at that precise moment he knew he would always be obsessed with her.
He wondered if the stupid tattoo on his wrist with the initial ‘M’ had put her off, but his mother had become less important to him since meeting Aileen. He would have said anything to the police—even lied—to get her off. He smiled at himself in the mirror. Yes, she loved him really. She just didn’t know it yet. Perhaps when she got back, she would see that turning him down had been a huge mistake.
He stepped from the car, locked it, and looked up at the sky. It was dark and brooding, which matched his mood. He ran his hands over the paintwork, glad to have found no apparent damage. He loved his car, but he loved Aileen more. He missed her already. An empty feeling swamped him, but he consoled himself with the fact that she would be in touch to express her thanks. With that thought, he filled his lungs with fresh air and went inside.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Mary opened the door in her navy candlewick dressing gown, a net covering her pink curlers, and she gasped when she saw a police car drive away.
‘Glory be to God! What’s happened?’
Aileen dropped her suitcase in the hall. She felt drained of energy. ‘Can we go inside and I’ll explain.’
As she went through to the living room, a link of Mary’s Christmas decoration detached itself from the rest and fell across Aileen’s shoulders. She shuddered, struggling to keep her emotions in check, and perched on the edge of the sofa. She began to tremble.
Mary opened the sideboard cupboard and took out a bottle of brandy, poured a generous helping into a glass and handed it to her. ‘Drink this.’ She pressed it between Aileen’s hands and watched as she swallowed a good measure of the liquid, spluttered, and coughed.
‘What happened, hen? I guess this has something to do with Pickering?’
Aileen took another gulp of the brandy then placed the glass down. It helped her to stop shaking. Angry to have missed her flight and full of self-loathing that she had been so gullible as to fall into his trap, she wanted to lash out at someone—preferably herself. Unable to stop herself, she picked up a cushion, beating it with her fists until the already dog-eared cushion split, and feathers floated everywhere.
Mary looked on astounded while Aileen stood up and paced the room like a caged animal; her eyes wide, she screamed and tore at her hair, tugging at it until Mary thought it would come out at the roots.
‘Stop it, stop it!’ Mary cried.
When Aileen dropped to her knees and sobbed, the older woman crouched down beside her, soothing her and gently stroking her hair. ‘Tell me.’ Mary sniffed. ‘What has he done to yea?’
An hour later, when a distraught Aileen had finished recounting all that had transpired since leaving for the airport, a stunned Mary sat back and ran her hands over her face.
‘He can’t be allowed to get away with that, Aileen. God only knows what he’s capable of.’ She stood up. ‘I’ll make sure all the doors and windows are locked tonight. If the police won’t arrest him, we can make sure his employers know what kind of a man they have working for them.’
‘I’m an idiot and brought all this on myself. I…I thought he was genuine. I really believed I could trust him this time. He was very convincing. How stupid I am.’
‘Don’t waste your breath on the spineless creep. Dry your eyes and give that young feller of yours a ring. Tell him there’s been a change of plan and that you’ll try for a flight home tomorrow.’
‘But…that’s Christmas Eve.’
‘It surely is.’ Mary smiled and pulled Aileen to her feet. ‘That blighter’s not spoiling your Christmas or mine. Now, go and freshen up, then make that call and we’ll get to bed. First thing in the morning you can see if you can get another flight to Dublin.’
* * *
The following morning, Aileen woke early with a thumping headache. She’d hardly slept a wink. The events of the previous evening had compounded in her head and she’d had to bury her face in her pillow to prevent Mary from hearing her loud sobs. She had sensed the disappointment in Dermot's voice when she told him that her flight had been delayed and she would try again tomorrow. She hated the lie, but what choice did she have?
Downstairs, Mary was cooking breakfast. A small portable wireless muttered at low volume in the corner. It was Christmas Eve, and Aileen couldn’t as much as raise a smile. A small Christmas cake and pudding Mary had cooked weeks ago were out ready on the worktop. Aileen guessed she was taking them to her sister’s.
Miss Brady had already left to be with her family in Coventry. Aileen wanted to be with her family, but she wasn’t sure that it was a likely prospect now. She would be alone in the house unless Mary invited her along to her sister’s, and she didn’t want to impose on their time together. She felt so wound up, and the smell of bacon did nothing to revive her appetite. ‘Mary, don’t cook anything for me. I can’t eat. I’ll do myself a piece of toast in a minute.’
‘Drink your tea then.’ Her landlady turned the flame down under the pan and sat down. ‘Listen, Aileen.’ She placed her elbow on the table. ‘You’re not going to let that nutter spoil your Christmas.’ She took a piece of paper from the pocket of her Santa apron. ‘Ring the airport direct. ‘Ere, I’ve looked out the number for yea. Tell them it’s an emergency, and they just might let you pay when yea get there.’
Aileen bit her lip. ‘But… I
…’
‘Well, goo on then. What yea waiting for?’
‘I haven’t got enough money for another ticket.’
‘Sure, I’ll give it yea. Pay me back when yea can.’
‘I can’t let you do that. When could I pay you back?’
‘Ring up and we’ll worry about that another time.’ She smiled and patted the back of Aileen’s hand. ‘I can’t see yea disappointed.’
* * *
Aileen could hardly believe her luck when, by midday, she found herself sitting in a window seat on an Aer Lingus flight to Dublin. Her previous worries about the aircraft crashing and the fact that this was her first flight were lost to her now. She focused her thoughts on seeing Dermot and her da again. After what she had been through, flying wasn’t going to worry her. She still cursed her foolishness in trusting the sales rep, but it had taught her one of life’s harshest lessons.
The people around her smiled and appeared to be full of the Christmas spirit, some carrying pretty packages wrapped in Christmas paper. She thought about her own small gifts unwrapped in her case and closed her eyes. Before she knew it, the plane was touching down at Dublin Airport. A ripple of excitement went through her at the thought of seeing Dermot, and she hoped he would be there to pick her up.
She descended the steps of the aircraft to a grey overcast day. People waved excitedly towards the plane from the viewing tower but she couldn’t see if Dermot was among them. Then she spotted him and stood a moment to wave, her pulse racing. She knew she would have to be truthful and tell him the whole story of how she’d come to miss her flight, but for now all she wanted was for him to hold her and to tell him how much she loved and missed him.
He was standing in the arrivals lounge, his shoulder against a pillar, his arms folded. He looked tired, as if he hadn’t slept. She dropped her case at her feet, called out to him and waved, and then she rushed into his arms. Laughing, he swung her round, oblivious to holiday passengers hurrying past, carrying parcels and wearing colourful Christmas scarves and hats.
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