Survivor

by Roberta Kray

  ‘Go up to your room,’ Brenda said coldly. ‘I don’t want to see you again today. I can’t stand the bleedin’ sight of you.’

  Lolly grabbed the bag and her things and scurried out of the kitchen. The last voice she heard as she ran up the stairs was Freddy’s.

  ‘I’ve had enough, woman. Sort it out, yeah? That girl’s a bloody curse. The sooner she’s out of here the better.’

  26

  By Monday morning, Stanley still hadn’t called Mal Fury. He was waiting until he heard back from his contact at the coroner’s. The autopsy report didn’t tell him what he needed to know – whether there were any visible signs on Angela’s body to show that she had once given birth – and now he had the ominous feeling it was all too late. Unless the pathologist could remember, there wasn’t any way to go back and check. Angela had already been cremated.

  Despite having no definitive proof, Stanley was starting to feel convinced that Lolly wasn’t Angela’s daughter. The junkie, Daz Wakefield, was hardly a reliable witness, but what he’d said tallied with the evidence provided by Ma Fenner. And the latter, so far as he could tell, had nothing to gain by lying to him.

  Stanley boiled the kettle and made another cup of coffee, his third that morning. He flipped open the file and stared at the photo of Lolly. Where had she come from? Who did she really belong to? Brenda’s claim of a connection to the Furys had to be taken with a pinch of salt. It was more likely that the kid had been adopted – although the lack of a paper trail made this impossible to corroborate – or acquired by less legal means. Maybe Angela, desperate for a child, had found a woman willing to give one up.

  He made some more notes in his neat sloping handwriting. The Billy Martin connection still irked him. He didn’t like loose ends and this was a big one. Despite Quinn’s threats, and his own sense of what was smart to do and what wasn’t, he had put out some feelers to his contacts on the force, trying to establish whether the man was a known felon or had any form at all. As yet, he’d heard nothing.

  The phone rang at a quarter past nine. Stanley snatched it up, hoping it was a call from the coroner’s office. It wasn’t. The strident tones of Brenda Cecil came down the line, battering his eardrums. He had barely had the chance to say hello before she launched her attack.

  ‘What’s going on with the girl, Mr Parrish? I need to know. My Tony’s been arrested again and… Well, she can’t stay here now. To be honest, I’ve had enough. I really have. It’s not right. A decision needs to be made. Does Mr Fury want her or not?’

  ‘I’m still looking into it, Mrs Cecil.’

  ‘You’ve had months to look into it. Tell Mr Fury he’s got twenty-four hours to make up his mind. Yes or no. After that I’m ringing the Social.’

  ‘There’s absolutely no proof that Lolly is the missing child. The blood tests were inconclusive and —’

  ‘I don’t care if she is or she ain’t. She’s not staying here no more and that’s final.’

  Stanley gave a sigh. ‘He’s not going to take on a child that isn’t his.’

  ‘Fine,’ she said. ‘She’ll have to go into care. There’s nothing else for it.’

  ‘I don’t understand the rush. Surely you can wait a few more —’

  ‘It ain’t working out, Mr Parrish. That’s the beginning and end of it. You talk to the Furys and let me know.’

  And with that she hung up.

  Stanley put the phone down and immediately picked it up again. He tried the number in Kent but got no reply. Eventually he got hold of Mal at the store in Hatton Garden. He filled him in on the latest developments and explained the situation as regards Brenda Cecil.

  ‘Is she serious?’ Mal asked. ‘Or is she just trying to put the pressure on?’

  ‘Oh, I think she’s serious. I don’t know exactly what’s been going down, but from the sound of it Lolly has certainly outstayed her welcome.’

  ‘So what next?’

  ‘That’s up to you. There’s increasing evidence that Lolly isn’t Angela’s child, but that’s about as far as it goes.’

  There was a long silence at the other end of the line, so long in fact that Stanley wondered if they’d been disconnected.

  ‘Mal? Are you still there?’

  ‘Yes. I was just thinking.’

  ‘I suppose we’ll have to let things take their course. If anything changes in the future, you can always —’

  ‘Would you be able to pick her up this afternoon, after school? Bring her over to the house. I’ll be home by four.’

  Stanley was startled by the suggestion. ‘What?’

  ‘Yes, let’s do that. I can’t see any point in messing about. Maybe you could give that Cecil woman a call and let her know the arrangements.’

  ‘You do realise it’s highly unlikely that Lolly is your daughter?’

  ‘I know she’s not my daughter. But she’s got nowhere to go, has she? Surely living with us is preferable to going into care.’

  ‘You haven’t even met her.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure we’ll get along.’

  ‘But what about the Social?’ Stanley asked. ‘I can’t just truck up and whisk the girl away. There are formalities to go through: meetings, interviews, paperwork. You haven’t even got a connection to Lolly. You just said you’re sure she’s not yours so —’

  Mal interrupted him with a snort. ‘Don’t worry about all that. I’ll make a few calls, clear the way. I don’t see how anyone could object to us giving the kid a decent home.’

  ‘What about Esther?’

  ‘What about her?

  ‘Don’t you want to discuss it with her first? It’s a big decision, one that’s going to affect her too.’

  ‘It won’t affect her that much,’ Mal said. ‘She’s in Cornwall until the weekend. They’ve just started filming. Did I tell you she was working again?’

  ‘No, I didn’t realise. But —’

  ‘So she won’t even be here. Anyway, she’ll see it the same way I do once I’ve explained the situation.’

  Stanley wasn’t quite so sure of that. From what he knew about Esther, she wouldn’t take kindly to Mal making a unilateral decision over something so important. And he doubted there would be much enthusiasm from her either at the prospect of sharing her home with an unrelated – and slightly odd – kid from the East End. ‘Maybe you want to think about it for a while.’

  ‘What’s there to think about? Nothing’s going to change in a day or a week. The girl’s still going to need a home, isn’t she?’

  Stanley could tell he’d made up his mind and nothing was going to change it. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘If that’s what you’ve decided.’

  ‘It is.’ Mal paused and then added, ‘I suppose the Cecil woman’s going to want some money.’

  ‘You can’t pay her the reward. Lolly isn’t yours.’

  ‘No, but we don’t want her getting difficult. It’s better to keep her on side. Let’s suggest a contribution towards the girl’s bed and board for the time she’s spent there, something modest but tempting. I’ll leave it up to you to decide. Use your judgement.’

  ‘Look, are you absolutely sure about this? About taking on Lolly, I mean.’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure. You can’t live in the past for ever. I want to move on, do something positive. If you think that’s a problem then —’

  ‘No, of course not,’ Stanley said quickly. ‘I understand. I’ll head over there right now and have a word.’

  ‘Any trouble, just give me a ring.’

  ‘I will.’ Stanley said goodbye and hung up the phone. He was not entirely comfortable with Mal’s decision and still worried about how Esther would react. It didn’t feel right putting Lolly into a potential war zone, but then it didn’t feel right letting her go into care either. Once she was in the system, she’d probably be stuck there until she was eighteen.

  Stanley closed the Fury file and slipped it into a drawer. He wondered if the truth about Kay would ever come out. As the thought entered his min
d, he had one of those eerie sensations as if someone had just walked over his grave. He took a quick intake of breath, the cold washing over him. Then he rose to his feet, put on his overcoat and headed for Kellston.

  27

  When Lolly got home from school it was to find Stanley Parrish sitting in the kitchen with Brenda. She had spent the whole day debating whether to come back at all – the atmosphere in the house was grim – but in the end she’d felt too exhausted (and too afraid of Brenda’s wrath) to cope with the consequences of running away. Also, with Tony banged up, she didn’t have to worry about any murderous midnight visits.

  ‘Hello, Lolly,’ he said. ‘How are you? It’s nice to see you again.’

  ‘Hi.’

  ‘I have some news.’

  Lolly, recalling their last conversation, felt her spirits rise. Maybe something good had finally happened. ‘Have you found my family, then?’

  ‘Not exactly.’

  Her face dropped. ‘Oh.’

  ‘The next best thing, though,’ Brenda said with a forced kind of cheeriness. ‘Mr Parrish has found a nice new home for you in Kent. You’ll like it there. Lots of fresh air and green fields; you can run around to your heart’s content.’

  Lolly’s eyes widened. She felt like an unwanted dog being shipped off to the countryside, but didn’t raise any objections. In fact, she’d have been perfectly happy to move into a kennel if it meant living under a different roof to the Cecils.

  ‘Okay,’ she said.

  Stanley appeared surprised by the easy acceptance of her fate. ‘They’re called Mal and Esther Fury. I’ve mentioned Mal before. Perhaps you remember? I’m sure you must have lots of questions. If there’s anything you’d like to ask, just go ahead.’

  Lolly was still thinking about this when Brenda, who was clearly eager to get rid of her as soon as possible, glanced at the clock and said, ‘Yes, well, there’ll be plenty of time for that on the way there. I’ve packed a bag so everything’s ready. There’s no point in dragging it out, is there? Best to get it over and done with.’

  ‘I need the loo,’ Lolly said.

  ‘Well go on then, but be smart about it.’

  Lolly hurried off, wanting to make sure that Brenda hadn’t forgotten anything. As she passed the pawnbroker’s, she could see Freddy serving a customer. He glanced over his shoulder, gave her a hard look and turned his back on her again. Upstairs, she took her money from the mattress – she’d hidden it again after yesterday’s nightmare – and quickly checked the drawers, including the bedside table where she usually kept the book of fairy stories. All empty. She didn’t need to worry about the mother-of-pearl button; she always kept that in her pocket.

  In the bathroom, she slipped the five notes down the side of her sock. Everything was happening so fast, she wasn’t sure what to feel or think. She’d heard of Kent – that was where they grew the hops – but wasn’t sure how far it was from London. She was nervous at leaving the East End, but glad of it too. The only place she wanted to be at the moment was as far away from Tony Cecil as possible.

  Lolly had a pee before she went downstairs again. By now Stanley and Brenda were both on their feet and hovering by the back door. Stanley was holding a battered, brown suitcase she had never seen before. This, apparently, contained all her worldly possessions.

  ‘Ready then?’ Brenda asked curtly.

  Lolly gave a nod.

  There were, unsurprisingly, no tender farewells or goodbye kisses, not even a friendly pat on the arm. Brenda bundled them out of the kitchen as if she couldn’t wait to see the back of them both. Her parting words were addressed only to Stanley.

  ‘You’d better make sure the law knows about the change of address, case they want to talk to her about that Amy business again.’

  ‘I will,’ he said.

  ‘And you’ll be in touch about that other matter we discussed?’

  ‘There’ll be a cheque in the post.’

  As they were walking along the alley, it occurred to Lolly that Stanley Parrish might not be a private detective at all. What if he was one of those men teachers were always warning them about? The sort you were not supposed to take sweets from. But then he hadn’t offered her any sweets so she supposed he must be okay.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘This must all feel a bit sudden. Try not to worry too much. Mal and Esther will take good care of you.’

  The car was parked on the high street, a few yards away from the pawnbroker’s. While Lolly got in, Stanley put the suitcase in the boot. As she sat and waited, her gaze travelled over the seats and the dashboard. The interior, although not plush, had a reassuring tidiness about it. The last occasion she’d been in a car was for her mother’s funeral. It felt like a long time ago although she knew it wasn’t.

  Stanley sat down beside her. ‘Ready?’

  ‘What if they don’t like me?’

  ‘Why wouldn’t they?’

  But Lolly knew her track record was none too great on that score. She gave a shrug. ‘Will I have to come back?’

  Stanley shook his head. ‘No one’s going to make you do anything you don’t want to do.’

  Lolly hoped he was right, but she didn’t have much trust in adults and what they said. She leaned forward a little as the car drew away from the kerb, catching some last-minute impressions of the place she’d called home. It was almost dark now and the street lamps were on. She turned around to catch a final glimpse of the three tall towers. Her only regret was that she hadn’t had the chance to say goodbye to Jude.

  ‘How far is it?’ she asked.

  ‘About an hour, depending on the traffic. Just over, probably. The house is in a village called West Henby. You’ll like it.’ He cleared his throat, glanced at her and smiled. ‘It might seem a bit quiet after the city, but it’s a nice enough place.’

  Lolly fidgeted in her seat. She had a lot of questions running through her head and wasn’t sure which one to ask next. Eventually she settled on what seemed to be the most obvious. ‘Why do they want me to live with them? I mean, I’m not family or anything.’

  ‘Well, they haven’t got any kids of their own, so…’ He hesitated as if not quite sure what to say next. ‘They heard you’d been having some problems here and thought you might be happier with them.’

  Lolly sensed there was more to it, something he wasn’t telling her. ‘But they don’t even know me.’

  ‘They know about you,’ he said.

  Lolly didn’t like the sound of that. What had they been told? Brenda could have said all sorts, painting a picture of her that was a thousand miles from the truth. The Furys might have judged her before they’d even met, before she’d had the chance to put her side of things. ‘It isn’t true about Tony,’ she blurted out.

  ‘What isn’t?’

  ‘The Cecils think I grassed him up, but I didn’t. I had no idea the cops were going to be in the alley. They’re all blaming me for something I didn’t do.’

  ‘Brenda mentioned he’d been arrested. Is it to do with the Amy Wiltshire case? He was her boyfriend, wasn’t he?’

  Lolly could have told a story about that – a tale of false alibis and deceit – but, as yet, she didn’t trust him well enough for those sorts of confidences. ‘Kind of.’