He took it out on Deirdre. At first he was ashamed when he hit her, but he soon found that hitting her relieved the tension building up inside him. It was easy to find reasons to slap her around: the dinner not ready on time, a shirt not ironed perfectly. By the time their second son was born he was back in the building game under a new name, and beginning to make money again. But Deirdre, with her drippy voice, her reproachful eyes, goaded him to new heights in violence.
Ed followed Katy now out of Hammersmith station, keeping well back so she didn’t notice him. He could see from her bouncy walk that she was feeling very happy, but he was preoccupied by how he was going to grab her. Obviously he couldn’t do it now. It was nearly dark, but there were too many people about – and besides, he had no transport to bundle her into.
He would find out where she was staying, then go back and get his car. Girls of her age usually went out on a Saturday night. He’d get her then. He wasn’t too concerned that she’d talk about this to anyone before she’d informed her father’s lawyer. She worked for a solicitor, after all, and was used to keeping information to herself. And the lawyer wouldn’t be in his office until Monday. If she had intended to go to the police, she would have gone straight to the police station in Hendon. Perhaps she’d lost her faith in the police?
She turned off the main road into a side road. Ed stood at the corner, watching from behind a privet hedge. She went up the steps to a house six doors down. There was a lamp post right outside, so he was able to see quite clearly.
He waited for a few moments, just in case she came out again. When she didn’t, he turned and went back to the station.
‘What have you been doing today?’ Joan asked as Katy came in and flopped down on the sofa. ‘You look worn out!’
‘Just exploring,’ Katy said, ‘but I walked further than I meant to. I went to Hampstead. Isn’t it nice?’
‘Yes, one of my and Ken’s favourite places. In the summer we like to walk on the heath and then go for a drink at the Spaniards. When we were younger we used to swim in the pools there. Maybe you and Jilly will do that if we get some hot weather –’
The phone rang then, interrupting them. Joan went to answer it.
‘It’s Jilly. She wants to speak to you, Katy,’ she called back.
Jilly sounded very excited. Barry, the man she liked at the zoo, was having a party that night and had asked if she wanted to go, and to bring Katy.
‘I said we’d love to.’ Jilly’s voice was shrill with excitement. ‘But I can’t come all the way home to change. Would you bring me some clothes?’
She listed what she wanted, and gave her a telephone number. She said if Katy rang her from the phone box right outside the main gate, she’d come out and let her in through the staff gate. ‘Some of the others are also going straight from work and we’ll have some drinks here before we all go on to the party. It’s only just across the road, no distance.’
It was arranged that Katy would be there by eight. And with that, Jilly rang off.
Joan looked a bit cross that her niece wasn’t coming back for a meal. She said she’d made a stew.
‘She’ll eat it tomorrow,’ Katy said to appease her. Joan was a real mother hen, always wanting to feed them. ‘She likes the man who has asked us to the party, so she isn’t thinking about her dinner.’
‘Well, as long as you have some,’ Joan said starchily. ‘I expect there will be drink at this party and you need something to line your tummy.’
As Katy ate her stew, which was really good, she felt a bit irritated for the first time since she’d arrived here that Joan was a mothering fusspot. She’d had enough of that with her own mother. But in a week’s time she and Jilly would be moving out, and she knew she should be ashamed of herself for being so ungrateful.
After the meal, Katy had a bath and put on the green dress she’d bought from Gloria before Christmas. With her hair and make-up done, and her best black patent stilettos, she felt great. She collected up the clothes and shoes Jilly wanted and put them in a bag, then went downstairs to wait till it was time to go.
‘Now you leave this party in good time to get the tube,’ Joan said. ‘And don’t let any young men get fresh with you.’
Katy had to bite her lip not to laugh; her mother used that expression. Katy wasn’t sure what ‘getting fresh’ meant. Trying to kiss a girl? Or putting a hand up her skirt?
Reilly looked at his watch for the umpteenth time. It was quarter past seven and he was losing patience.
He was parked right at the end of the road, just around the corner from the main road. He’d already observed there was a semi-derelict house right there, so he could drag her into the front garden, knock her out, then bundle her into his car boot.
But waiting made him nervous.
9
When it suddenly started to rain heavily Ed swore loudly, as it made it unlikely the girl would venture out. But he turned on the windscreen wipers so he could see clearly down the street as far as her house, and decided to hang on, just in case.
At seven thirty, when the front door opened and out she came, he felt like cheering. The filthy night was perfect for abduction; there was not a soul about, and she was battling against the strong wind with her umbrella.
Putting up the hood of his parka, he got out of his car. Without even glancing at her, he opened the boot, remaining there as if looking for something. He could hear the tip-tap of her high heels getting ever closer.
He rummaged in the boot until she was just walking past him. Picking up the tyre lever, he spun round and hit her hard on the back of her head.
She instantly dropped her umbrella and the bags she was carrying, and fell like a dead weight into his arms. He swiftly scooped her up and dropped her into his boot, chucking the umbrella and bags in after her. There was enough light from the lamp post to see her face. For a brief moment he felt a pang of shame, because it was such a sweet face. But only for a moment; he valued his freedom too much to let sentimentality get in the way.
Jilly was waiting in the staffroom at the zoo with Amy, a colleague. They both had their coats on, ready to leave, and Jilly could see Amy was growing impatient because all the other day staff had left.
‘I don’t understand why she hasn’t come. She said she’d be here by eight with my clothes.’
‘Maybe she got lost?’ Amy said, looking in a mirror and tweaking kiss-curls in front of her ears. ‘Took a wrong turning out of the tube or something.’
‘I want to hang on, but I can see you want to lock up,’ Jilly said. ‘I can’t go to the party in these dirty clothes, anyway, and I certainly don’t fancy hanging around in the rain on the off chance she’ll turn up.’
‘I do have to lock up,’ Amy said. ‘Right now, too. I’m going on to the party. But maybe you just need to go home?’
Jilly sighed. ‘You’re right, Amy. I’ll wait a bit longer outside, just in case she turns up. Sorry I’ve delayed you.’
Jilly did stay for a further twenty minutes outside, by the ticket office. But even though she was under a bit of shelter, the wind was blowing the rain straight at her and she was very cold. So finally she walked back to Camden Town tube.
She was cross with Katy, because she thought she’d probably got a call from that new man of hers and wanted to be with him more than her old friend. It was mean of her; Katy knew perfectly well that the object of this party was for Jilly to get off with Barry, and that she couldn’t possibly go there in her work clothes.
Her aunt and uncle were watching television by the fire when she got in. They were both in pyjamas and dressing gowns. Joan had steel curlers in her hair, and the room was like a hothouse.
‘You’re home early,’ Joan said. ‘And where’s Katy?’
‘She never came to the zoo. I waited and waited,’ Jilly said, slumping down on the sofa and holding out her hands to the fire to warm them.
‘But she left here to meet you at half seven, she had your clothes and shoes in a bag. I s
aid to her, “You must be mad going out in this rain,” but she just laughed and said she wasn’t made of sugar.’
‘Well, where did she get to, then?’ Jilly asked. ‘Could she have got lost on the tube? She doesn’t know her way around London.’
‘She’d have phoned us, surely, if that was the case?’ Ken said. ‘Maybe she met another friend?’
‘What friend? She hasn’t got anyone in London,’ Jilly said. ‘Well, apart from the chap at work who she went out with last night. Did he ring her today?’
‘No, she was out all day; she said she went exploring in Hampstead. No one phoned for her,’ Joan said. ‘Besides, why would she take your clothes if she didn’t intend to meet you?’
They were all silent for a little while.
Ken spoke first. ‘Should we report her missing to the police?’
‘Don’t be daft,’ Joan scoffed. ‘It’s only just gone ten, they’d tell us off for wasting their time.’
‘Well, I’m going to have a bath and go to bed,’ Jilly said. ‘I’m cold and tired. When she comes in, tell her not to wake me, as I’ve got to work early again tomorrow.’
Jilly woke at seven the next morning. Even though it was still dark, the lamp post outside shone through the curtains and she saw immediately that her friend’s bed hadn’t been slept in.
Now she was really alarmed. She knew that even if Katy had met Elvis Presley, who she adored, and he’d invited her back for dinner at his hotel, she would’ve telephoned. But then Jilly knew Katy was still a virgin, and a bit old-fashioned too, so she would never actually stay away for the night with any man.
‘What shall we do?’ Jilly asked Joan as they sat at the table having a cup of tea. ‘Should we phone her mother first? Wait a bit longer, or ring the police now?’
‘Her mother hasn’t telephoned once since she got here,’ Joan said thoughtfully. ‘So it’s unlikely Katy went to her. We can’t phone her office because it’s Sunday, but it is a bit soon to phone the police.’
‘I’ve got a funny feeling about it, though,’ Jilly said. ‘What if she was run down by a car and is in hospital?’
‘Then they will ring us,’ Joan said firmly. ‘I know she stuck our phone number on her key ring. She did it in front of me, because she said she can’t remember numbers. She doesn’t go anywhere without the key.’
‘That’s true,’ Jilly said, pouring a second cup of tea. ‘Maybe she’ll come charging through the door later with some amazing story of where she’s been?’
‘If she does, I’ll be tempted to give her a clip round the ear for frightening us,’ Joan said sharply.
Jilly realized her aunt thought Katy was just a bit wild and off having a good time somewhere. But Jilly knew better; it wasn’t in her friend’s nature to be thoughtless about others. In all the years they’d been friends, she’d always been the conscientious one.
‘I’ve got to leave for work now.’ Jilly got up reluctantly from the table. ‘I’ll try to ring you later to see if you’ve heard anything. If you haven’t, when I get home we’ll go to the police.’
As Jilly was walking to the tube station, Katy was lying on a bed in a dimly lit room that had no windows.
She had come to, with no idea what had happened to her. She’d realized she was in a car boot, because she couldn’t stretch out – and anyway, she could hear the engine and the swishing of car tyres on a wet road. The back of her head hurt and when she touched it she found a lump, which felt sticky as if it was bleeding. It was only then it dawned on her that she’d been knocked out by someone and shoved into his car.
The last thing she remembered was walking down the steps of Joan and Ken’s house, the wind nearly blowing her umbrella inside out, and thinking that it might have been smarter to put her stilettos in the bag and wear a stout pair of flat shoes.
She had no shoes on now, and her coat was draped over her, like a blanket. She didn’t remember anyone taking her coat off, so she guessed the driver of the car had stopped somewhere to see if she was alright. She didn’t feel as if anyone had violated her body in any way, which either meant he wasn’t a monster, or he was waiting to get to their destination.
Katy was shaken violently as the car went over some rough ground, then stopped. She must have been imprisoned for some time as her legs felt as if they’d been scrunched up for hours.
The boot was opened. But it was too dark, and still raining, for her to see what her captor looked like. The man hauled her to her feet by her arms. She screamed and tried to fight him, but he slapped her hard around the face.
‘No point in screaming, there’s no one to hear you,’ he snarled at her. Then he proceeded to drag her by the arm from his car to a bungalow, which was in darkness. Without shoes she had to walk through an icy puddle, and the stones hurt her feet.
‘Why have you brought me here?’ she shouted at him. ‘What is this about? Who are you?’
‘You know exactly what it’s about and who I am,’ he said as he opened the door and pushed her in ahead of him into a narrow hall. It smelled of damp and mould; the smell of a place that was usually unoccupied. ‘So you can work out why I’ve brought you here.’
‘Edward Reilly?’ she said, her insides churning alarmingly.
‘The very same,’ he said as he switched a light on.
He didn’t look like a madman or a heavy-set thug with shoulders like a barn door, as she’d imagined. He was undeniably handsome, looking much younger than she had imagined, perhaps early forties. Dark-haired, with dark eyes, clear glowing skin and prominent cheekbones; he was tall, slim and athletic-looking. He had a look of an Italian actor, with his smooth, olive-toned skin and a Roman nose. His black overcoat with a velvet collar was a very expensive one.
She tried to plead with him to let her go – or if not, to at least get her coat from the car, because she was so cold – but he ignored her and pulled her towards the end of the hall and pushed her ahead of him down some steep stairs.
The first impression of the room he pushed her into was that it had been designed as a kind of prison. It was windowless, stark, with brown lino on the floor, the walls painted pale blue, and one dim naked bulb overhead. It was clean, but there was no furniture other than a bed, and a lavatory and a washbasin behind a half-screen.
Without saying anything further, he pushed her towards the bed, backed away and went out of the door, locking it behind him. She heard his feet on the stone steps up to the hall, followed by the clank of a heavier door being slammed shut and locked.
She screamed and banged on the door for some time. But after several minutes or so, it dawned on her that he had gone, driven away. Wherever it was that he’d brought her to, no one was going to hear her screams or her frenzied thumping on the door. She realized she had to calm down, and try to work out a plan. Getting in a state wouldn’t help her escape.
But it was hard not to panic and cry. She was cold, and there were no sheets on the bed, just scratchy rough blankets that smelled of mould, and a black-and-white ticking pillow that smelled even worse. Never in her life had she been expected to sleep on such a bed; she didn’t even want to touch it. Yet she knew the coldness of her prison meant she had to get into it.
There was no way out other than the locked door. She spent a few moments listening hard at it, but she couldn’t hear so much as a car or a dog barking. She tried to remember what she’d seen outside, but nothing came to her other than the long, sleek car he’d hauled her out of, which was likely to have been a Jaguar. She didn’t think there was any street lighting, either, because she would’ve noticed that in the dark.
Setting aside her burning face, the result of the slap he’d given her, and the fact that she was scared because she was locked up heaven knew where, she was also angry with herself for not thinking everything through before she played detective.
It was blindingly obvious that the arsonist and murderer was clever. He’d left no clues to his own identity behind in Collington Avenue, but had framed an inno
cent man. He must have watched Gloria’s house to plan the fire, and then watched Edna too before trying to drive her off the road. So it was also possible, as Charles had suggested, that he’d seen Katy before as well.
Why hadn’t she taken note of what Charles said? Only a real fool – or someone far too big for their boots – would ignore the advice of a barrister!
Yet she had gone looking at Reilly’s house and asking questions of a neighbour, as if she was invisible. Clearly he must have followed her back to Hammersmith to find out where she was living. Then returned later that evening with his car, guessing she’d go out on a Saturday night. No doubt, if she’d stayed in, he would’ve bided his time until he caught her alone. She hadn’t just been unlucky, she’d been utterly stupid.
If only, when she got off the tube at Hammersmith, she’d gone straight to the police and told them what she’d discovered. Or if not, why hadn’t she phoned Michael Bonham and told him? Worse still, she’d left Edna’s notebook in her handbag, which was now in Reilly’s car along with her coat and shoes. If she had just left it in the room at Joan and Ken’s, there was a chance Jilly would work out what she had been up to.
Could there be anything more terrifying than being locked in a cellar, never knowing when you would be killed? He surely did intend to kill her, too. What else could he do with someone who knew enough to get him hanged?
Jilly would be worried when she didn’t turn up to meet her at the zoo. But how long would it be before she, Joan and Ken decided to report her disappearance to the police? And how would the police find her? She had never told anyone about the notebook, and she’d hidden it under her mattress because she didn’t want Jilly finding it and reading it. The only person who knew there was a notebook was Charles – and he had no idea what addresses were in it.
She took a deep breath and reminded herself that Charles was smart. When she didn’t turn up to work on Monday morning, he’d wonder why. Once he found out she hadn’t come home on Saturday night, he’d guess she’d been pursuing a lead to help her father. She could almost hear him asking Jilly about the notebook he’d seen. But it wasn’t there. He couldn’t go through it, however much he wanted to. The only lead anyone had to her abductor was a dark red Jaguar.
The House Across the Street Page 12
