“Well, I don’t like them, any of them,” Julia said.
“Me neither,” Gloria muttered.
“Funnily enough, I’m sure I’ve met that younger one, the blond-haired guy, the good-looking one,” Ester said.
Ester looked at Angela and everyone followed suit.
“I don’t know him!” she wailed. But she was trembling.
Ester sprang forward. “Yes, you do!”
Angela bolted, and Ester took off after her.
The rest of them followed, to see Angela running up the stairs, with Ester giving chase. Ester lunged forward and caught hold of Angela’s foot. Angela fell forward, then started bumping and slithering down the stairs as Ester climbed over her, hauling her by her hair.
“Ester! Don’t! Ester, she’s pregnant!” screamed Julia.
Angela fought off her attacker, pushing and screaming, and managed to escape up the stairs, but a furious Ester pursued her along the landing and caught up with her in a couple of strides.
“You little liar! You’re a bloody liar, Angela!” Ester was terrifying as she punched and slapped like a whirlwind. “Tell me the truth! Tell me the truth or I’ll fucking kill you.”
Angela dived beneath Ester’s arm and ran into her own room, but she didn’t have time to lock the door before Ester kicked it open and slammed it behind her. Dolly was first in after them, then Julia. Dolly dragged Ester off Angela, who was hunched on the bed, trying to protect her face from Ester’s blows. Ester was red-faced with fury.
“Ester! Ester! Calm down!” Dolly slapped her face.
“You just slapped the wrong face, sweetheart. Ask that dirty piece of shit who her boyfriend is. He’s that bloke that was here, isn’t he? Isn’t he?”
Angela clung to the pillow, as if it would shield her from any further onslaught.
“Is this true?” Dolly asked calmly.
Angela nodded through her tears. Crowding at the door, the other women stared at her angrily.
“You don’t understand,” she wailed.
“Oh, I think I do,” Dolly spat, prepared to leave her to the women, just like a cell fight in the nick.
“He’s Shirley Miller’s brother,” Angela shrieked.
Dolly froze, her hands clenched at her sides. “Get out and leave her with me. All of you, get out.”
“What you think she’s doing up there?” Gloria asked. Dolly had been with Angela for about fifteen minutes.
“Suffocating her, I hope,” Ester muttered.
“So it was her all the time,” Connie sighed.
“Yeah, the two-faced little bitch,” Gloria snarled. “She could have had the lot of us sent down. Ester was right. I just wish I’d got a few punches in.”
Gloria looked up. “You don’t think she’d bump her off, do you?”
Angela was still red-eyed from weeping but at least she was calmer now. She had explained how she had first met Mike after Ester was raided, how he had been kind to her as she was under-age. He had been helpful in getting her social workers and it was thanks to him that she was never reported. They had then become more than friendly after Ester was sent for trial, but recently Mike had refused to see her as his wife had found out. When Ester had called, Angela had contacted him and he’d asked her to report anything she found out about Dolly Rawlins.
“What did he tell you about Shirley?”
Angela sniveled. “Only that you were responsible, and his mother . . .”
Dolly smiled inwardly. Audrey had such a big mouth but she’d kept her son’s part in it very quiet.
“What are you going to do with me?” Angela asked.
Dolly opened the door and held up the key. “You can stay here until tomorrow, then you pack up and leave. I never want to see you again. You betrayed me—the only one of them I trusted. Seems I was wrong. I’ll never forgive you, love, so get packed.”
The door closed silently but to Angela the key turning in the lock was like thunder.
Dolly shuffled along a pew and bent to pray. Then, as the service began, she sat back and opened the hymn book. No one paid much attention to her. When the service was over, she shook hands with the vicar and made her way toward the gates. To her right was the big cemetery where only the night before she had buried Lennie. But she hardly gave it a second thought because up ahead she had seen Mrs. Tilly opening her car door. She hurried toward her.
“Mrs. Tilly!” Dolly called, and was taken aback by the cold, aloof stare she got in return. “I got a letter,” Dolly said, a little out of breath.
Mrs. Tilly was in two minds whether even to speak to Dolly but her own anger got the better of her. “You lied to me, Mrs. Rawlins. When I think how much work I did to persuade the board not only to see you but make an on-site visit.”
Dolly interrupted, “I’m sorry. Are you saying you’ve been to the manor?”
“Oh yes, we came, Mrs. Rawlins. Didn’t Ester Freeman tell you?”
Gloria was looking out of the window as a stern-faced Dolly marched up the path. “Well, the church has certainly done wonders for her! She looks ready for nine rounds with Mike Tyson.”
The door banged shut and promptly swung open again because of the damaged lock. The drawing-room door was thrown wide. Dolly hurled her handbag onto the sofa and threw off her coat.
“Something wrong?” Ester asked innocently.
“Oh yes, you can say that again. Now I know why they turned me down. They only came here and found the lot of you bollock-naked in the sauna.”
“Oh, come on, we weren’t all naked, Dolly,” said Julia.
“You, Julia, shut your mouth because you and that bitch over there were, and I quote, ‘in an obvious sexual embrace.’ I presume that was before you turned the hosepipe on the chairman of the board.”
They hadn’t got any excuses, not that she gave them a chance to make any as she paced up and down. “All of you knew you’d blown my chances and not one of you had the guts to tell me what you’d done. Eight years I planned this, eight years I waited and now you’ve ruined it. You’ve destroyed any hope I had of reversing the rejection. Well, the lot of you can pack up and piss off with Angela.”
She slammed the door so hard that the chandelier shook dangerously.
“Oh, bloody hell,” muttered Gloria. “I knew it’d come out. How do we get round this one?”
Ester was up and heading for the door. She turned and winked. “Leave it to me.”
Dolly banged the kettle onto the Aga as Ester walked in with her hands up as if at gunpoint. “Just let me tell you something, okay? Don’t shoot.”
Dolly was not amused. She threw tea-bags into the pot.
“Listen, Dolly. There may, just may, be a way round this.”
“Like what?”
“Just listen. That bloke who came with them, beaky-nosed, bald fella with a few hairs combed over the top of his head.”
“Mr. Crow. He’s chairman of the board.”
“Ah, crow by name, crow by nature. Well, Dolly, I recognized him and maybe one of the reasons why the board turned you down, or he did, was because—”
“You were all frolicking naked in the sauna?”
“No. He used to be a regular. I’m sure he wouldn’t want that known, would he? You could pay him a private visit. Maybe he can do something for you.”
Dolly put her head in her hands. “He was one of your clients?”
“Yeah. Work him over, Dolly. Make him sweat. It’s got to be worth a shot.”
Mike was watching TV when the phone rang. He watched Susan jump up to answer it, making no effort to take it himself. He was sick and tired of being monitored.
Susan called from the hall. “She wants to speak to you.”
He didn’t know if she was referring to Angela or his mother. “Who is it?”
“She said her name was Dolly Rawlins.”
Mike was half out of his seat when he fell back, his face drained of color.
“Mike? She said it’s important.”
Audrey was booked on the first flight to Spain on Monday morning, her third attempt to leave. She opened the door to Mike, all smiles, thinking he had called to say goodbye, but one look at his face made her step back, afraid.
“What’s happened?”
He walked into the living room and threw himself down on the sofa.
“Dolly Rawlins just called my house.”
“Oh God.”
“She just wanted me to know that she knows about my involvement with the diamonds, with everything.”
“What’s she going to do?”
“I don’t know but I’m in deep shit because if she goes to my governor, I’ll be arrested. So will you.”
“She wouldn’t do that. It’d implicate her.”
“I know. That’s what I’m banking on.”
“What do we do?”
Mike sank lower into the sofa cushions. “Well, maybe you should leave anyway.”
She went to him and put her arms around him. “Come with me, love, you and the kids and Susan. We just up and run for it.”
He pushed her away. “I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“I can’t do anything that’ll throw any suspicion on me. Don’t you understand? I’ll just have to wait, see what she wants.”
Audrey broke down and sobbed. “It’s not fair, is it? Some people get away with murder. You know she killed that poor Jimmy Donaldson, just as she as good as killed our Shirley.”
Mike swung round and grabbed his mother’s arm. “I don’t want to hear her name again. If it wasn’t for Shirley I’d never have got into this mess. I mean it, Mum! And I don’t want to see or hear from you either. You got me involved in this, Mum, and I got to get myself out of it, so leave, go away, get the hell out of my sight.”
He was almost at the car when he stopped and leaned against a brick wall. He started to cry—he couldn’t stop the tears. He hadn’t meant to say all that about Shirley. He sniffed, wiped his face with the back of his hand, then forced himself to get angry.
She was to blame, whatever way he looked at it, whatever guilt he felt. She’d married that cheap villain Terry Miller, she . . . Shirley was dead and buried, he had to get his life sorted, he had to straighten things out. He was losing it, he was blowing everything that was important to him and if he didn’t get hold of himself there was no one else to prop him up.
By the time he got into his car he was calmer and in control. He didn’t look back to the lit-up window of his mother’s flat. He really never wanted to see her again.
Audrey was all packed. She’d earmarked a few items for shipping out but now she was taking down the little personal items, the photographs from the gilt mirror above the mantel. She read her younger son Gregg’s last postcard, looked at the stupid kittens, and sighed. Well, he’d just have to ask around to find out where she was. They would tell him down the market. She tossed the card into the bin. She didn’t have the energy to worry about Gregg, or anyone but herself. Now she could even blame Dolly Rawlins for her son walking out on her. Everything was Dolly Rawlins’s fault and Audrey felt the anger boiling up in her. But then she straightened herself out: she’d be in Spain this time tomorrow, with a villa and a few quid in the bank. At least she’d beaten that bitch over the money. At least she had something to show for poor Shirley. She turned toward the sideboard as if to confirm everything was all right but she’d already packed Shirley’s photograph: there was nothing there, no sweet, smiling, beautiful Shirley. Audrey felt the tears, not of anger or fury or revenge: tears of guilt because she knew she had thought about and cared more for Shirley after she was dead than when she was alive.
Chapter 12
Dolly was directed to sit on a row of chairs in the drafty town hall corridor. Mr. Crow’s secretary walked out of his office without even glancing in Dolly’s direction. Dolly stood up, watched the squat-legged woman disappear, carrying a thick file, then quickly tapped on the door of Mr. Crow’s office and walked in. She was through with waiting.
Mr. Crow looked up, frowning when he saw her close the door behind her. “Mrs. Rawlins, did my secretary tell you—”
“Yes, she said I could have a few moments. It won’t take any longer.”
He pursed his lips and put his hands together, as if he was praying. “I am a very busy man.”
“I’m busy too but, like I said, this won’t take a moment. I’ve come about the letter.”
“Mrs. Rawlins, the decision was unanimous. Obviously you can take private action if you wish, that is entirely up to you, but as far as I am concerned I do not at this stage feel you would be advised to proceed.”
“All I want is to make a home for kids without one.”
“I am aware of that, but it is my job to make sure any child placed into care will have not only the right supervision but also a suitable environment.”
“Is it my criminal record that went against me?”
“Obviously that was taken into consideration, and we are also aware that you have been questioned by a DCI Craigh regarding—” Again he was interrupted.
“You referring to the warrants? The house was searched, the police found nothing incriminating and—”
Mr. Crow sucked in his breath. “Mrs. Rawlins, under the circumstances, and with reference to an on-site visit to your property, it was decided that—”
“You didn’t really need one, though, did you?”
“I’m sorry?”
She leaned forward. “A visit. You already know the Manor House well, don’t you? According to Miss Freeman you were a regular visitor when it was a brothel. Isn’t that right?”
Pink dots appeared on his cheeks. “Just what are you inferring, Mrs. Rawlins?”
“That perhaps you had an ulterior motive for rejecting my application, that had nothing to do with me or my criminal background.”
“Be careful what you are insinuating, Mrs. Rawlins. You are, I am sure, fully aware you remain on license for the rest of your life and—”
“I’m just stating a fact,” she said quietly.
“Then please, Mrs. Rawlins, be careful. I have told you this was a unanimous decision by all members of the board. We do not feel that you would be the right person to be given access to young children. We do not feel that the Manor House would be suitable accommodation. It is my only intention to make sure any foster carer recommended by the social services department is both mentally and physically—”
She stood up, this time leaning right over his desk. “You know, my husband said he could never go straight because people like you, like the police, would never allow him to. Well, now I know about you.”
Mr. Crow stood up, the pink blobs spreading, no longer with embarrassment but with anger. “I’d like you to leave my office now.”
“Oh I’m going, and I won’t come back. I waited a long time to make a home for kids a reality but it was stupid, wasn’t it? I never stood a chance. Don’t worry, I won’t let on that you’re a two-faced bastard.”
She left, closing the door quietly behind her, and he could hear her footsteps on the marble corridor outside. He was shaking with anger but he was now confident that he had made the right decision. He would add to her report that she had lied to the board. Contrary to Mrs. Rawlins’s denial, Ester Freeman was still resident at Grange Manor House.
Dolly drove back to the manor. She had to wait at the level crossing for ten minutes. This time she couldn’t be bothered to talk to Raymond Dewey who sat, as usual, on his little trainspotter’s stool, jotting down his times and numbers. He waved at her but she turned toward the lake and the small narrow bridge the railway crossed. She got out of the car and walked a few paces, still focusing on the bridge. Then she turned round, toward the station and the signal box. She sauntered over to Raymond and gave him a forced smile.
“Hello, Raymond, how are you today?”
“I’m very well. This is the twelve fifteen from Marylebone.”
“Is it? You know every train, do you? A
ll the right times and the delays?”
“That’s my job.”
“I bet there’s one train you don’t know the times of.”
“No, there isn’t one. I know every train that passes through this station, how long they take to go over the bridge and—”
“So you write them all down, then?”
“Yes,” he said, proudly proffering his thick wedge of school exercise books. “Each train has its own book.”
Dolly took one of the books with his thick scrawled writing across the front. “Mail train.” She flipped over the pages. He had listed every delivery, time of arrival at and departure from the station, plus delays at the crossing.
“You’re very thorough, Raymond,” Dolly said, as her eyes took in his dates and times. She then shut the book and passed it back to him as the lights changed and the train went by. As the gates opened, she returned to the Mini.
“Thank you very much, Raymond.” She smiled and waved as she drove past him. She felt strangely calm, almost as if it was fate. Had she been subconsciously thinking about it? It seemed so natural. It certainly wouldn’t be easy but, then, she had always liked a challenge. This would be one—a terrifyingly dangerous one.
A few minutes later, Dolly parked the car and walked up into the woods. From there she had a direct view of the station, the bridge, the lake and the level crossing. She spent over half an hour carefully checking the lay of the land. She could tell with one look why the police had chosen this specific station to unload the money from the road onto the train. There were only two access roads, both very narrow, and room for only one vehicle at a time. Anyone attempting to hold up the security wagon as it delivered the money to the train would be cut off. The station could easily be manned by four or five police officers and no one could hide out there. If they did, if they hit the train standing in the platform, they wouldn’t have a hope in hell of transporting the money by road as there was no access for the getaway vehicles. The tracks were lined with hedgerows and wide-open fields, not a road in sight.
Dolly studied the bridge. Fifty-five feet high, the lake beneath, no access either side of the tracks, just a narrow walkway. Surely it would be impossible. How could you hold up the train on the bridge and get away with heavy mailbags on foot? It couldn’t be done. She looked down at the lake, then back to the bridge. If you got a boat, you’d still have to reach the shore, and no vehicles could get down there. Again, there were no roads, just fields, hedges and streams.
She's Out Page 22
