Survivor

by Roberta Kray

  ‘I often think of her.’

  He shook her hand, feeling the thin, papery texture of her skin. ‘I’ll let you know if anything comes to light.’

  ‘You do that. Ta. I’d be grateful.’

  Outside, the sky was low and grey and threatening. Stanley walked halfway along the path leading to the main gate before he turned around and gazed up towards the top of Carlton House. For a second he thought he saw someone standing there, a woman with long dark hair. He blinked twice and the image was gone – just a trick of the light, perhaps, or a figment of his imagination. He took a long, deep breath. What he’d learned today was intriguing but he wasn’t going to get ahead of himself. Lolly might not be Angela’s daughter but that didn’t mean she was Mal Fury’s – although, of course, it didn’t mean she wasn’t, either.

  22

  It was late on Saturday night when Lolly woke up, wanting a pee. She would have preferred to stay in bed – she could feel the chill in the room – but was too afraid of having an accident to ignore the demands of her bladder. Reluctantly, she slipped out from under the covers and went along the landing to the bathroom. The sound of the TV, a chat show, travelled up from the living room. She heard Brenda say something but couldn’t catch the words.

  Lolly put on the light, closed the door and slid the bolt across. It was freezing in the bathroom. Someone had opened the top window and she wasn’t tall enough to close it again. She lowered the loo seat – it always seemed to be up – and sat down, shivering. While she peed, she thought back over the day.

  It was one she was glad to see the back of. First she’d had to endure a grilling from the law, and then Tony had gone for her on the stairs. The attack had left bruises on her arms, dark stains that had turned a yellowy brown. She rolled up her sleeves and studied the damage. He’d been in a better mood in the afternoon after getting back from Cowan Road – his new alibi must have done the trick – but had still stared daggers at her across the kitchen table while they were having tea. She wasn’t safe. She knew she wasn’t. But what could she do about it other than keep her head down and hope the storm would eventually pass?

  While Lolly was sitting on the loo she heard footsteps and voices coming along the alley. A group of people, five or six, stumbled into the back yard. Their voices were drunkenly loud and aggressive, and she could make out Tony’s in the middle of it all.

  ‘You should have seen their fuckin’ faces,’ he said. ‘They thought they had me bang to rights and then I pulled this one out of the bag.’

  There was some laughter and shuffling of feet, and then a clink like the sound of a bottle being put on the ground.

  ‘Good one, Tone.’

  ‘Yeah, good one, mate.’

  And then a girl’s voice. ‘You ain’t going to be properly off the hook until they find out who done it.’

  ‘I know who bloody done it! That Jude Rule. If it weren’t for the stupid bitch giving him an alibi —’

  ‘Maybe it wasn’t him.’

  ‘You’ve changed your bloody tune. Since when did you start defending the murdering bastard?’

  ‘I’ve just had time to think, that’s all. I mean, I don’t know he went after Amy. And even if he did, it don’t mean he found her. Anyone could have killed her.’

  ‘That’s not what you were saying last week.’

  ‘Yeah, well, it were a shock, weren’t it? You know how crazy it was. I couldn’t think straight back then.’

  Tony gave a snort. ‘And now you can?’

  ‘I’m just saying. I heard Old Bill pulled that Joseph in too, you know the one who hangs out in the tunnel.’

  ‘What? The coon?’

  ‘Yeah, I heard they had him down the nick for hours.’

  ‘She’s right, Tone,’ another bloke chipped in. ‘I heard that too.’

  Lolly sat very still, not wanting to alert them to her presence. If they looked up, they might see the light, but she had the feeling they were all too pissed to take any notice. It was news to her about Joseph. She was sure he couldn’t have murdered Amy – she’d been talking to him in the tunnel around the time it must have happened – and hoped he was okay. But the law was well known for stitching up people, especially the blacks.

  ‘How come I’m only just hearing about this?’

  ‘We should head over to the Mansfield and have a word with him, see what he’s got to say for himself.’

  ‘Who’s up for it?’ Tony asked.

  A chorus of voices, cruel and eager, rose up through the air. ‘Yeah, man’; ‘Too right’; ‘Let’s do it.’

  ‘Best get tooled up then.’

  Lolly’s hands clenched as she listened to the gang moving about the yard. She could hear the clanging of metal as they sifted through the junk searching for weapons. A shudder ran through her. She didn’t understand how suspicion had suddenly shifted from Jude to Joseph. She wanted to jump up and yell that Joseph was innocent. He couldn’t have done it. But if she did that, she’d be blowing her alibi for Jude. It wasn’t possible for her to have been in two places at the same time.

  Within a few minutes the gang had departed. Even Tracy had gone with them. They were all hyped up and looking for trouble. She had to find a way to stop them before something terrible happened. Lolly stood up, flushed the loo and went out on to the landing. She stood there, the panic rising inside her. What could she do? Go and tell Brenda and Freddy what she’d heard? But it was probably too late to catch up with Tony and his mates by now. The Cecils could only call the law and they wouldn’t grass up their own son. It crossed her mind to slip downstairs and dial 999 herself – if she spoke quietly she might not be heard over the sound of the TV – but was too scared of Tony to go through with the plan, too terrified of what he might do if he found out.

  Lolly went back to her bedroom, pushed aside the curtain and looked through the window. There was no sign of the gang. She felt small and helpless and cowardly. Joseph had been kind to her and God knows what was about to happen. It was cruel and crazy. Her only hope was that they wouldn’t find him – or that if they did he’d be able to outrun them.

  Eventually, with the cold seeping into her bones, she crawled back into bed. She curled up into a ball and wrapped her arms around her knees. Closing her eyes, she prayed hard for Joseph’s safety. ‘Please God,’ she whispered, ‘take care of Joseph. Don’t let them get him. Don’t let them hurt him. Please.’

  23

  Lolly woke on Sunday morning to the distant sound of church bells. A grey light slid through the gap in the curtains, and rain was lashing against the window. For a moment she didn’t remember, but then it all came back to her in a rush. She lay trembling under the covers. Had Joseph escaped? Had Tony come back? She hadn’t heard him if he had, but she could have been asleep.

  For a long while she remained staring up at the ceiling. Her heart was heavy, the kind of weight that comes from doing something bad – or, in this case, not doing anything at all. But maybe she was worrying over nothing. Joseph might not even have been there. The best course of action, she decided, was to get up, get dressed and go over to the Mansfield. She had to warn him if it wasn’t already too late. She had to tell him that Tony was after his blood.

  Lolly leapt out of bed, pulled on her clothes and hurried downstairs. Brenda was in the kitchen, cooking bacon and eggs for Freddy and FJ. Usually the smell of food made her mouth water, but this morning it only made her feel ill.

  ‘If you want something cooked, you’ll have to wait,’ Brenda said.

  ‘It’s okay,’ Lolly said. ‘I’ll just have cereal.’

  FJ stared at her. ‘What’s wrong with you?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘She must be sick,’ FJ said with a snigger. ‘Are you sick, Lolly?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So why aren’t you stuffing your face like you normally do?’

  Lolly ignored him, concentrating instead on Brenda and Freddy. They didn’t seem unduly concerned about anything, their major wor
ries swept away now that Tony had acquired a watertight alibi for the time Amy Wiltshire was killed. But where was he this morning? She wanted to ask but didn’t want to draw attention to herself. Instead she poured out a small bowl of cornflakes, threw some milk over them and started to eat.

  FJ continued to bait her. ‘Maybe you’re sick with worry,’ he said. ‘I would be too if I was lying through my teeth. Tony could have been banged up because of you.’

  ‘No one’s getting banged up,’ Brenda said.

  ‘That Jude Rule is,’ FJ said. ‘And so will Lolly when they find out what she’s done.’

  Freddy turned over the pages of the News of the World, lifted his mug to his lips and took a noisy slurp of tea while he waited for his breakfast. ‘How long does it take to fry a few rashers? I’m bloody starving here, woman.’

  ‘Make it yourself if you want it any quicker,’ Brenda retorted. ‘You should be grateful I’m feeding you at all after what your Jim did.’

  ‘And what’s that got to do with me? It’s not my fault he’s being getting his end away with some little slapper.’

  ‘Nothing’s ever your fault.’

  ‘Jesus,’ Freddy said, rolling his eyes.

  ‘You can Jesus away as much as you like. If he hadn’t cleared off and left Tony on his own, I wouldn’t have had to go cap in hand to —’ She stopped suddenly, remembering they weren’t alone in the room. ‘I don’t like being beholden to no one. You know that.’

  ‘Who are you talking about?’ FJ asked.

  ‘None of your business,’ Brenda said.

  ‘It is my business if it’s to do with Tony.’

  ‘And how do you figure that one out?’

  ‘He’s my brother, ain’t he? I’ve a right to know what’s going on.’

  Brenda pushed the frying pan around the ring, making the fat pop and splutter. ‘The only rights you have in this house are the ones I say you have.’

  FJ looked at his father.

  ‘Don’t drag me into this,’ Freddy grumbled. ‘I’m in enough trouble already, thank you very much.’

  Brenda served up the breakfast and sat down. As the three of them tucked in, Lolly took her chance to make a bid for freedom.

  ‘Is it all right if I go over to Sandra’s?’ she asked. ‘We’re doing a project. It has to be in for tomorrow.’

  ‘Project liar,’ FJ muttered under his breath.

  ‘It’s pouring down,’ Brenda said. ‘What do you want to go out in this for?’

  Lolly stood up and took her empty bowl over to the sink. ‘I have to.’ Before any further objections could be raised, she scooted through to the hall, grabbed her coat and returned to the kitchen. ‘I won’t be long.’

  ‘Stay as long as you like,’ FJ said. ‘We’re not going to miss you.’

  Brenda gave an exasperated shake of her head. ‘Don’t blame me if you catch your death of cold.’

  Lolly opened the back door, went out into the yard and pulled up her hood against the rain. As she closed the door behind her, she caught one last comment from Brenda.

  ‘There’s something wrong with that girl.’

  As Lolly made her way along the alley, she wondered if there was something wrong with her. She knew she was different, that she didn’t fit in. But what could she do about it? A while back it hadn’t mattered – she’d still had her mum – but now the world felt like a lonely place. She had no one to ask for advice, no one to turn to.

  On the high street, she sloshed carelessly through the puddles, not bothered that the water was seeping through her shoes and soaking her socks. As she drew closer to the estate, her breath quickened. If she could just find Joseph, discover he was okay, she wouldn’t feel so bad. Maybe then the sick feeling in her guts would go away.

  Lolly reached the main gate of the Mansfield and began to jog towards the east tunnel. She would try there first as it was the nearest of the two tunnels where Joseph could usually be found. But she hadn’t covered more than twenty yards when she saw that the entrance to the passageway had been sealed off by long lengths of police tape. Her heart skipped a beat. All her worst fears came bubbling to the surface. She was too late. She hadn’t acted when she’d had the chance and now…

  She stopped dead and stared, her eyes widening with alarm. There was no sign of the law – they must have been and gone – which meant that whatever had happened had taken place a while ago. Like last night, for example. She cursed herself for doing nothing. What if Joseph was dead? What if Tony and his gang had killed him? Her teeth began to chatter.

  Eventually, she got up the courage to approach Carlton House and the opening to the tunnel. Her legs felt unsteady as if they might suddenly buckle. She took slow, careful steps, the rain squelching in her shoes. When she reached the entrance she stopped again and peered into the gloom. So far as she could make out there was nothing to see apart from the usual litter, some broken glass and more police tape down the other end.

  Lolly kept on staring. There might be little to see, but the tape told its own story. Something seriously bad had happened here. She swallowed hard, her mouth turning dry. Eventually, she retreated back on to the path, hoping that someone would come by and she could try and get some answers. But as the minutes passed she quickly realised there was little chance of that. The estate was deserted, the heavy rain keeping everyone inside.

  She glanced towards Haslow House and then back at Carlton. That was when she noticed old Ma Fenner looking out of a window on the ground floor. The net curtain was pulled aside, gripped by an old gnarled hand, and the witch was staring directly at her. Lolly thought of her as a witch because that was what her mum had told her.

  ‘You stay away from that woman, do you hear? She eats little girls like you for breakfast.’

  That had been years ago but Lolly hadn’t forgotten. Whenever she saw Ma Fenner, she still thought of Hansel and Gretel, and the house in the woods made of gingerbread and cake. Suddenly the old woman waved at her. She quickly averted her face, pretending she hadn’t seen, and strode off along the path. As she walked she could feel Ma’s eyes on her, a hungry gaze boring into her back.

  Lolly had no clear idea of where she was going or of what to do next. All she knew was that she couldn’t go home until she’d found out about Joseph. Having seen the tape, she was imagining the worst. What else could it mean? Her nerves were on fire, her stomach queasy with fear. She had no idea where he lived on the estate – the only time she ever saw him was when he was lounging against the wall of the tunnel waiting for his next customer.

  As she drew adjacent to Haslow House, the front door opened and Jude’s father walked out. She watched as he crossed to the parking area and got into a battered blue Vauxhall. It was then she thought of going up to see Jude. Surely he’d know what had happened. But could she take the risk? While the investigation was going on, she wasn’t supposed to talk to him – in fact, she wasn’t supposed to talk to him, full stop – but desperate times called for desperate measures.

  Lolly waited until Jude’s dad had left before strolling casually towards the door. Would she know if she was being tailed? She wasn’t sure. Glancing over her shoulder, the coast appeared to be clear. Anyway, she didn’t think the law would bother; they had better things to do than follow a kid around.

  Inside the lobby, she went into one of the lifts and studied the buttons. Rather than pressing number twelve, she pressed number nine instead. That way, if someone was on her tail, they wouldn’t know for certain where she was going. The lift lumbered up making an ominous scraping noise. It stank of pee and fags and dope, but at least it was empty. She got out on the ninth floor and took the stairs for the remaining three.