He was all over the place, kissing her, groping her breasts, and then he sprinted to his truck. He shouted back that he would be no more than ten minutes.
She was still standing there on the steps of his hut, blouse open, as he clipped the gatepost in his haste to get out. She didn’t even wait for the tail end of the van to disappear before she shot into the hut and began to sift through all his papers until she found some order forms. She called a trade supplier and ordered the bags of lime to be delivered directly to the manor for a cash payment. She gave John’s firm’s reference and as soon as she replaced the receiver she hurried out, picking up her bag with the bottle of wine. Next stop, the signal box.
Mike had just finished his lunch and was about to go back to the station when the call came. He was eager not to let Susan answer it in case it was Angela again. They almost collided in the hall, they were both so desperate to reach the telephone first.
Mike snatched it up. Susan stood with her hands on her hips.
“Hello? Who is it?” Susan said petulantly.
“It’s my governor.” He glared at her so hard that she turned away and stomped into the kitchen.
“What do you want?” he said quietly, afraid Susan would still be listening.
“Need to see you, love, it’s urgent. I’ll be at the Pen and Whistle pub, the one on the corner by your mother’s flat, in the saloon bar, six thirty.”
“I can’t—I can’t see you.”
“I think you can, Mike. Six thirty, just be there.”
The line went dead. He stood there, holding the receiver, and then quickly dialed his station. He was put through to the incident room and he told them he was not feeling too well so he would be in a bit late. Then he looked toward the kitchen. He was sure that Susan was listening. All his anger and frustration welled up as he dropped the phone back down.
Ester, being lazy, called a number of railway museums first but was not getting the information she needed. She then tried another tactic, saying she was making a documentary film for the BBC and asking if she could she speak to anyone working at the museum who could assist her. She was given various numbers to call for permission to interview railway technicians and started working her way through them. Permission was not granted by British Rail, so she was now contacting the private railways, saying the BBC documentary had the full backing of the Transport Ministry, who were co-financing the film.
She looked at the list of essential items listed by Dolly: size and weight of the train compartments, couplings and sidings. Underlined was how long it would take to unhitch one carriage from another. She sighed: this was going to take forever.
Big John had only been gone twelve and a half minutes, more or less flinging the money at his men and racing back to his yard. He quickly ran a comb through his hair, wishing he’d got a spot of cologne, then locked the big double gates before running over to his hut. He threw open the door, his heart pounding.
Connie had left, no note, nothing. She’d even taken the bottle of wine.
Still carrying her suitcase, Angela walked along the road toward Mike’s house. It was growing dark and it had taken her hours to hitch a ride from the manor. She saw Mike’s car parked outside his house and was in two minds whether or not to go and ring the doorbell. She wanted to confront him, tell him about the baby, but the nearer she got the more her confidence dwindled. She definitely didn’t want to see his wife. She sat down on a wall, wondering if he would come out.
Inside the house, Mike and Susan were having one hell of a row. She was demanding to know all about Angela, the phone calls—everything—and he was refusing to answer. “You stay out all night, and don’t speak to me. How do you expect me to feel?”
Mike clenched his fists. “Susan, I’ve told you, there is nothing—nothing between me and this girl.”
“Then why does she keep calling you? Why was that Mrs. Rawlins round here? Is it true that she’s pregnant?”
“Leave it alone, Susan. I mean it. Just shut up about it. You’re driving me nuts.”
“And you’re driving me nuts,” she said in a fury, watching as he grabbed his coat. “Where are you going?”
“Out. I can’t stand it here.”
“One of these days you’re gonna come back here and the locks will have been changed.”
He sighed. “Sue, listen, give me a break. I’ve got a lot on my plate right now and I just can’t tell you about it.”
“Try me, go on, try me!” she shouted.
He ran his hands through his hair. He didn’t even know where to begin. How could he tell her about his mother, the diamonds, the trouble he was in at work? He knew she wouldn’t be able to deal with it. Right now, Angela was the least of his problems. He was afraid of what Dolly Rawlins wanted, scared he was heading into even deeper trouble, but he couldn’t tell anyone, especially not his wife. Susan broke down in tears as he walked out. She ran up the stairs and was about to open the window, call out to him that they had to talk, when she saw Angela.
Mike yanked open the car door and then suddenly Angela was there. “We got to talk, Mike.”
“No, we haven’t. I got nothing to say to you, Angela, just go away from me. I don’t want to see you. Stay away from me and my house.” He got in and slammed the door shut. She rapped on the window and when she wouldn’t stop he wound it down.
“I lost the baby, Mike.”
“I don’t care, Angela, you hear me? I don’t care.”
She was sobbing, looking like an orphan with her suitcase. “I got no one to help me, Mike,” she wept.
He dug into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He took all the money he had and held it out. “Here, take this, take it, it’s all I got on me.”
“I didn’t come for money,” she wailed.
He pushed the money at her. “Take it, Angela. I can’t see you, so please stay away from me. Just go away, Angela!” He threw the money onto the pavement, and started the car. It was six fifteen, and although he was afraid to meet Dolly Rawlins he was more afraid not to, so he drove off.
Angela picked up the four twenty-pound notes, unaware that Susan was watching from the bedroom window, crying just as hard as she was, and wishing she had enough money to get the locks changed there and then.
Gloria and Julia were both deep in the cesspit, clearing away the filth. Their heads appeared at the lip as Ester carried out two mugs.
“All right for some,” moaned Gloria, accepting the tea.
“Blimey, it’s deep, isn’t it?” Ester remarked.
“I’d say this is for the mailbags,” Julia replied. “What do you think?”
“I dunno—who knows what the old bat’s doing? But as long as it’s not for us, who cares?” Ester set off back toward the house.
Gloria looked at Julia. “What if she’s got us diggin’ our own bleedin’ grave? She shot her old man, remember. I wouldn’t put nothing past her.”
Connie was perched on the counter in the signal box, a chipped glass of red wine in her hand, which she clinked against Jim’s mug. “Cheers.”
He moved closer. “You could get me the sack you know, Connie.”
“Who’s gonna know I’m here?”
“Well, anyone passing can see us.”
She slithered off the counter to sit on the floor. “Now they can’t.” She began to run her hand up his trouser leg.
“Hang on a second—lemme just sort this out. It’s the six o’clock, then we got fifteen minutes.”
Connie watched as he pulled levers and answered the phone. She began to ease down her panties. She held them up, waving them. “Can I have another drink down here?”
Jim began heaving the rail levers faster than he ever had before while Connie crawled across the floor and started undoing his flies. By now she had a good sense of where the phone connection wires ran but she didn’t have any knowledge of the alarms. All she knew was that it was going to be a very long night.
Dolly sipped the lemonade, flicking through her
little black notebook. Mike stood over her as she looked up, smiling.
“Nothing for me, but do get yourself a drink, love, if you need one.”
“I don’t.” He sat down, having a good look around the bar. “What do you want?”
Dolly shut the book, had another sip. “Some information—sort of like a trade.”
“What information?” he asked, his heart pounding. He knew something bad was coming but when it came it left him shattered. “I can’t find that out! That’s classified!”
She leaned forward and tapped his arm. “Yes, you can and you will, otherwise I will have to inform your superiors about those diamonds, about your mother, everything. It’s up to you, Mike. Tell me now if you don’t want to do it. You must have some old friends from your Army days—they might be helpful, but if you don’t want to do it . . .”
“I’ve just said I don’t.”
“Oh, I know you did, but you see, Mike, that’s because I don’t think you really believe that I’d be prepared to go back to prison. But I would, and I wouldn’t be on my own. You’d be sent down as well, and they might even haul your mother back from Spain. So let me ask you again—can you get the information I need?”
He shuffled his feet, took another look around. “How long have I got?”
“Two days, no more.” She drained her glass, placing it carefully back on the beer mat. “I’ll call you, don’t you call me. Two days.”
He sat, head in his hands, as she walked out. The cement was drying, up to his chest now. He didn’t know whether to throw the table through the pub window or do as she had asked: find out how much money the mail train was carrying, and if they were going to continue using the same route. He looked at the slip of paper she had passed him with the name of the security firm on the side of the vans she’d seen outside her local station. It was a reputable firm and he didn’t know if he’d be able to get any information from them. He needed a drink, a large one. No way would he be able to go in to work. He really did feel ill.
Dolly drove back to the manor and as she turned into the drive the headlamps picked out the large rubbish tip still burning. She got out, leaving the lights on, and walked past it to the cesspit. She nodded to herself, satisfied it was big enough and, most certainly, deep enough.
When she got in she found the kitchen in a mess: dirty soup plates, mince in a pan, dried-out baked beans in another, stacks of used cups and mugs. Every surface was food-stained and filthy. She pursed her lips and dumped her handbag, throwing aside her coat. She found Ester lying stretched out on the sofa with a glass of wine, reading the TV Times. Julia was asleep in an easy chair, the television on in the background. Neither heard Dolly. She walked up the big staircase and looked into Connie’s room, but it was empty. Then she went up to the second landing to the children’s room.
The last person Dolly expected to see was Gloria, wrapped in an old dressing gown, sitting with Sheena on her knee. The other two were fast asleep in the big old-fashioned double bed. “Oh, said the little pig. What will the big bad wolf do?” Gloria rocked the child, stroking her hair. “Well, he’ll huff and he’ll puff and he’ll blow the house down.”
Sheena lifted her tiny hand to Gloria’s cheek. “You’re not our mummy, are you?”
Gloria shook her head. The little girl’s question touched her heart—so many different homes, so many different foster carers, the little girl was completely confused.
Gloria kissed her. “No, I’m not your mummy.”
“Doesn’t she love us anymore?”
“Yes, of course she does. But you know, Sheena, a long, long time ago I had a little girl, just like you, and I had to go away, just like your mummy has had to go away. My little girl never had a nice house to live in and I couldn’t ever see her again but you will. Your mummy being away doesn’t mean she doesn’t love you. She does. And she’s arranged for us all to look after you until she comes back. Do you understand?”
“No.” Sheena yawned.
“My little girl never understood but then it was too late, you see, I couldn’t see her. But you’ll be able to see your mummy. One of us will always take you to see her so you won’t forget who she is, and in the meantime we’ll all be like extra mothers. How’s that?”
Sheena was asleep, and Dolly stayed where she was, looking at a Gloria she hadn’t known existed, a sad, lonely Gloria who was being so gentle and caring, so unlike the hard, uncouth harridan she showed to them all. They all had secrets, all had hidden pain. Somehow she had not expected Gloria to have so much.
Chapter 14
Connie was doing up her blouse and Jim had just finished zipping his trousers as he hurriedly closed the gates for the nine thirty express to pass through. John stood at the level crossing, annoyed that he’d just missed the orange light. As it turned to red, he looked at the signal box, as if to blame it for his being held up, and saw her, laughing, her arms wrapped around the attendant. He was stunned. That wasn’t his Connie up there, was it?
Connie skipped down the steps, looked back and blew a kiss, then hurried toward the taxi rank. She was in the cab heading for the manor when the gates opened and she didn’t see John charge up the steps to the signal box.
“Connie here, is she?” John blurted out, when Jim opened the door.
Jim acted dumb. He didn’t know who the big broad-shouldered bloke was, but he was pretty sure that if Connie had been caught in there with him he’d have been in serious trouble.
“No, nobody here but me, why?”
John looked past him into the signal box. “No reason. Sorry, mate. Sorry to bother you.”
Jim knew he’d have to ask Connie about the angry bloke but only when the time was right. They’d not even been out on a proper date yet. Half of him still couldn’t believe what had taken place—he’d never experienced anything like it. Blown in his own signal box! As if to assure himself that it had really happened, he pulled Connie’s lacy panties from his pocket.
“Shit, I forgot me knickers,” Connie said as she walked into the house, slamming the front door. She hurried into the kitchen and began to draw on the back of an envelope everything she could remember. She was just finishing when she heard the doorbell ring.
Ester came in, looking perplexed. “I didn’t hear a car, did you, Connie?”
“No. Who do you think it is?”
Dolly appeared on the landing. “Just answer it, Ester.”
Ester pushed Connie forward. “You answer, just in case.”
Dolly thumped down the stairs as the bell rang again. She went for the door and swung it open. Angela stood on the doorstep. “I’m sorry, I got no other place to go—I thumbed a lift back.”
“Well, love, you can thumb one right out again,” Dolly replied.
Connie felt sorry for Angela. “Ah, let her stay for just one night.”
Ester scowled. “You joking? No way! Chuck her out, Dolly.”
“Oh, please don’t! I’ll cook and clean, I promise,” Angela begged.
Dolly opened the door wider. “Right, one night. Go up onto the top floor. Your old room’s gone so use another, then come down and clean up the kitchen and make us some dinner.”
Angela almost kissed her hand but Dolly stepped away, letting the door bang shut.
“You must be mad,” Ester said, going back into the drawing room.
Connie smiled at Angela but got pushed into the room by Dolly. “Give us a call when it’s ready, will you, love?” Dolly said as she went into the drawing room.
Gloria clattered in a few minutes later. “I don’t fucking believe that girl’s cheek. I just seen her making up her bed.”
“Just for tonight,” Dolly said.
“What? Are you crazy?”
Julia yawned. “Well, the kitchen’s a mess, the kids’ room’s a mess, we need somebody to cook, do all the ironing and washing, plus she’s going to cook dinner so that should keep her occupied for one night, anyway.”
Dolly sat down, took out her notebook, and f
licked through it.
“Bit bleedin’ risky, isn’t it?” Gloria said, warming herself by the fire. “That boyfriend of hers—what if he’s sent her?”
Dolly shook her head. “He’s not made any calls to his station about us. I think we got the bloke by the balls.”
Dolly took out a tape and slipped it into the small cassette player.
“You got him taped?” Ester said.
“Didn’t I tell you? Have a listen.”
“What about at the station?” Ester asked and Dolly frowned, knowing she really needed to do that, too.
They sat round listening to Susan and Mike arguing, with his kids yelling in the background. They all laughed, apart from Ester, as if it was all a big joke. Dolly left them to it, and went to the kitchen to have a private confab with Angela.
Angela was working herself into a sweat, washing dishes, scrubbing the floor, cleaning all the surfaces, as if to prove she was worth her keep.
“You want to stay on, do you?” Dolly asked, as she drew out a chair to sit at the kitchen table.
“I’ll do anything to make up for what I done, anything. I know you won’t ever forgive me but . . .” Angela sat down opposite Dolly and started trying to explain about the baby and Mike, but Dolly took her hand.
“Shut up. Now, are you still seeing him?”
Angela shook her head.
“I see. Well, you might have to prove yourself, Angela—not just to me but to the others. Does he know you were driving the car that killed Jimmy Donaldson?”
“No! I hate him, Dolly, really, I wouldn’t help him. I swear on my life I wouldn’t.”
Dolly propped an elbow on the table. “Well, you remember this, Angela, because if you betray me again, if I find out that you’re grassin’ back to him, then you’ll go down for murder and I’ll make sure of it. You understand, don’t you?”
Angela nodded. In truth, she didn’t have anywhere else to go—even her mum had refused to let her stay. “I’ll make it up to you,” she said, clinging to Dolly’s hand. “I swear I will. I’ll do whatever you want.”
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