by Linda Huber
He shook his head, making a mental note of the names. ‘You don’t live locally, then?’
On she prattled, and he listened, smiling attentively and storing away all the details. She was divorced, living a few miles this side of Manchester with her ten-year-old son, and she worked in a travel agency, which seemed to be a bit of an uncertain job nowadays. Apart from Sheena, her son Tim and her mother, the rest of the family lived in London. She was getting Chicken Tikka with spicy rice for their meal although her own favourite was the veggie and cashew biryani. She didn’t mention a partner, and the way she was squinting up at him and giggling was enough to convince him there was no-one special in her life at the moment.
‘Do you have far to go?’ he asked, when the boy brought out their bags of food.
A look of regret crossed her face and he sniggered inwardly. What fools some women were.
‘No, Mum’s across the road at number forty-three.’
He held the door open for her and she stood on the pavement swinging her bag; he could tell she was reluctant to end the conversation.
‘Have a good evening with your mum.’ He gave her his most charming smile and left, hurrying along the busy pavement with his bag of food clutched in one hand. What an interesting fifteen minutes that had been. And maybe he wouldn’t have to wait long to get more money. If he changed his tactics a little, Tom Bruce’s wife could provide him with the necessary cash for very little effort.
Sarah sat clasping and unclasping her hands. ‘Any minute,’ the midwife had said, but that was a quarter of an hour ago. And the last moan to escape under the door had been a shocker. The arrival of Frankie and Caitlyn interrupted her thoughts.
‘Is it born yet?’ said Frankie.
Sarah patted the chair beside her. ‘No, but Phil’s here and the midwife said any time, now. Thanks, Caitlyn.’
‘No problem. We went by Mrs Brady’s, and she’s made a list of people she chatted to while she was in hospital. I took a photo so we can go through it sometime. She’s remembered dozens.’
Sarah wrenched her attention towards Mrs Brady, but a thin baby wail came from Rita’s room, and Frankie clutched her arm. ‘That’s it! It’s born!’
Relief swept over Sarah and she laughed at the expression on Frankie’s face. Thrilled didn’t come into it, and it was the first one hundred per cent positive emotion they’d had from the child, who was on the edge of her seat. When the midwife looked out a few minutes later the little girl leapt up. ‘What is it, what is it?’
The midwife held the door open. ‘Come and see!’
Sarah followed Frankie into the room, where Rita was cradling a bundle wrapped in a towel. Another midwife covered Rita with a larger towel and pulled the sheet up, but not before Sarah had seen the bloodstains. Yikes. She tiptoed forward to see the baby.
Rita’s face was red and damp with sweat, but pride and love were shining from her eyes. ‘It’s a girl,’ she said, and the expression on Frankie’s face as she gazed down at the baby brought tears to Sarah’s eyes. This more than anything was going to help the child through the weeks ahead.
‘Congratulations,’ said Caitlyn behind her.
Sarah hugged Rita and Phil. ‘Well done, both. She’s gorgeous.’
Caitlyn touched her arm. ‘I’ll leave you to it, shall I?’
‘Thanks so much, Caitlyn,’ said Sarah. She sat beside Mim and watched as Rita cuddled the baby, Frankie hovering at her elbow and Phil up beside her with his arm round her, gazing besottedly at his baby. This was her family, right here, and how lucky she was to have them. Wistful thoughts of her own parents drifted through Sarah’s head. One day, oh please one day, she’d be the one on a bed in a labour room, but it would be Mim who’d be waiting for another ‘grandchild’, not her birth mother. How strange life was. And who would be the father? Jack’s face swam in front of her eyes.
Chapter Fifteen
Wednesday, 19th July
Caitlyn awoke the next morning with a king-sized hangover, and stood under the shower letting piping hot water massage her shoulders. She shouldn’t have had that third glass of wine last night, but seeing Rita with her baby had reminded her how far away her own kids were.
She dragged herself down to the kitchen. Coffee first up, then something to keep her busy. There was Mrs Brady’s list to decipher, and she should send it to Harry West. Mug in hand, she printed out the first photo and stared at it. Help, this wasn’t going to be easy. Mrs B’s old-fashioned spidery handwriting didn’t make for quick reading. The sooner this was on a word document the more useful it would be. She sat down to transcribe the list.
At the top were nurses and doctors, but while the first few were mentioned by their full names, others were identified as ‘Nurse Livia’ and ‘Dr W’. Mrs Brady, evidently, wasn’t a names person. And it got worse, too. Soon Caitlyn was reading ‘Young doctor with short red hair’ and ‘plump student nurse, dyed blonde’. The last person on the list was described as the Friday lady, and as well as the nursing and medical staff there were cleaners, various therapists, porters, an electrician, library book ladies, serving ladies in the Red Cross tea bar, a gardener, ‘six or seven medical students’, two secretaries, and a knitting lady, whatever that might be.
Caitlyn slumped in her chair. There could well be people here who weren’t on the official police list – medical students weren’t hospital employees, for instance, and the library ladies could be volunteers. Were they looking for a man or a woman? Murder always seemed more of a male, aggressive thing, but – did they actually know? And how on earth could anyone find half these people without names?
The doorbell rang while she was printing out the first page, and Caitlyn jogged to the door. Sarah stood there, her face cheerful.
‘Mim and I would like to invite you for dinner tonight,’ she said, following Caitlyn through to the dining room where the laptop and printer were. ‘Frankie and I are cooking – we’re doing a Mim-meal with all her favourites, but she doesn’t know that yet.’
Caitlyn beamed. ‘That would be great. What time?’
‘Six. Thanks again for yesterday, by the way – yes, I know you don’t want to be thanked, but no-one likes being taken for granted. Oh, is this the list?’
‘Half of it. I’m redoing it. Here’s the original printout.’
Sarah examined the original, then squinted sideways at Caitlyn and they both burst out laughing. ‘You deserve about ten meals for that.’
‘It took me a while, I must admit. But apart from the medical students and maybe the library, knitting and Friday ladies, I’m sure Harry West’ll have all these names.’
Sarah studied the list more closely. ‘There are a lot more women than men here. You know, it could be two swindlers working together. She gets to know the family details, then he phones and pretends to be the son-in-law. A lot of women talk more readily to another woman than to a man.’
‘Good point. I’ll email this to Harry West when I’ve finished it.’
Sarah was frowning. ‘Caitlyn – what’s to stop our swindler being completely unconnected to the hospitals? Someone who wanders in looking for old ladies who might be gullible enough to part with their money?’
Caitlyn stared, her brain racing. It was a point. ‘Nothing – but I’m sure the police will be on to that, too.’
‘That reminds me. Mim phoned Harry West this morning, and they’ve got Ralph Bailey at the station again for questioning.’
Caitlyn was astonished. ‘Do they think it was him?’
‘I don’t know. He seemed too much of a wimp to me to do anything violent, but he was definitely with Wilma and the money, and he’s nervous about it. And they wouldn’t have pulled him in for no reason.’
Caitlyn bent over the laptop. ‘I’ll get this finished and send you a copy, shall I?’
‘Good. I should go. Physio today.’
‘Aren’t you going to see Rita?’
‘Phil’s folks are going today, and Mim’s always tired out after
her physio. We’ll go tomorrow when she’s back home, in the morning if I have anything to do with it because in the evening I’m having dinner with Jack and I’m not going to cancel at the last minute this time.’
Caitlyn smiled. ‘You’re a lucky lady – a Mim-meal tonight, and your date tomorrow.’
Sarah’s face brightened. ‘Aren’t I? Maybe our luck’s changing.’
Chapter Sixteen
Thursday, 20th July
‘Am I allowed to say again you look very nice?’ said Mim, standing in the kitchen doorway.
Sarah slid her phone into her bag and checked her reflection in the long hall mirror. Her black tunic fell to her ankles, and on top she was wearing a blue blouse, open at the front and knotted round her waist. It was dressy but comfortable, and her black sandals went well with it. She had to admit to being excited about this evening – curious, too. At long last she and Jack would have a chance to get to know each other properly. Would it work out? It would be so good to be one of a pair again.
‘You don’t think it’s too formal?’
Mim walked carefully towards her. ‘You’re allowed to be dressy once in a while. It’s lovely – that blue really suits you.’
‘Aw, thanks, Mim. Call me if you need me, okay?’
Mim gave her a little push. ‘We’ll be fine. Enjoy your meal. If it’s half as good as the one you made me last night, you’ll be in heaven.’
Jack’s car pulled up outside, and Sarah blew kisses to Mim and Frankie, who was sitting with the iPad swiping through the photos they’d taken of baby Ailsa that morning. Rita had allowed Frankie to hold the baby, and the little girl had been one big grin all the way home.
Jack smiled across at Sarah as they drew away from the house. She settled into the passenger seat, happiness warm in her gut. This was it, me-time at last. Mim was recovering, Frankie was looking a bit happier, and Rita’s baby was safely here. She was starting the next chapter of her life. Who knew where tonight would lead?
A burst water main at the end of the High Street was causing congestion all through town, and they made slow progress for a while. Jack was serious, concentrating on his driving, and Sarah sat thinking about last night’s Mim-meal. Frankie decorated the dining room table, and they served smoked salmon and cream cheese for the starter, then lamb chops with potato gratin and sugar snap peas, and sticky toffee pudding to finish off with. It was a very successful evening, and Sarah had been well satisfied at the expression on Mim’s face.
Jack parked in the restaurant car park and turned to grin at her. ‘Made it. Now I can give you my undivided attention. You’re much nicer to look at than heavy traffic and diversion signs.’
Sarah laughed, noticing for the first time that he was wearing the same suit and the same shirt and tie as last time. He’d worn them to the funeral too. A couple of times she’d had the impression he wasn’t well off – Ceres Road wasn’t in an affluent area, and maybe he was paying for his parents’ care home? Or maybe he just wasn’t a ‘clothes person’. There was so much about him to find out. She took his arm as they walked towards the restaurant.
The waiter showed them to their table, in a little alcove.
Jack sat down opposite her. ‘Here we are at last. I was afraid you’d rush off again and we’d have to hope for fourth time lucky.’
He wasn’t smiling and Sarah glanced at him uncertainly. Was that a joke? She gave him the benefit of the doubt, and complimented him on his choice of restaurant. The opulent maroon and gold décor gave the place a real Oriental feel, while huge windows overlooking the canal kept it bright and airy.
The waiter brought menus, and this time Jack ordered very confidently, checking to make sure she liked prawns before choosing one of the meals for two, which was fine with her.
‘Tell me the news from your world,’ he said, leaning towards her when the menus had been removed.
Sarah launched into a humorous account of the dash to Manchester and the birth of Rita’s baby. He listened attentively, his eyes shining at her, laughing in all the right places, and Sarah relaxed. She’d been right to give him another chance.
The waiter arrived with their starters, and Jack began to talk about the plans for his garden. Sarah had always helped Pop with the garden, and they chatted away about vegetable beds and soft fruit all the way through the baby spring rolls.
When she’d finished hers Sarah sat back. ‘I should try to get Frankie interested in the garden. It’d be a good hobby if she’s keen.’
‘Ah. The first flush of enthusiasm – you want to harness that,’ said Jack.
He talked on about formal gardens while they ate sweet and sour prawns and chicken foo yung, and Sarah was glad to see no sign of nerves tonight. He knew a lot about the parks she’d visited as a child. Hearing about the 1995 exhibition in Victoria Park brought childhood memories flooding back, and she told him about a similar event she’d visited in Switzerland.
‘Dessert?’ he asked, when the plates had been cleared away.
Sarah was full, but she could tell he wanted his pud. ‘Lovely.’
He signalled to the waiter, who took the order and returned very promptly with their banana fritters.
‘How’s Frankie getting on? Are the police any further forward?’ asked Jack, starting out on the sticky balls on his plate. ‘Hey, these are fantastic. Try one.’
Sarah stabbed up a small forkful. ‘They’ve questioned the bank clerk a few times, but I don’t think he had anything to do with it. Caitlyn Mackie – my neighbour, you met her at the memorial – she’s a journalist, and she’s very interested in the stolen money part. You’ll have heard about that?’
He nodded at her seriously, and she went on. ‘Anyway, we’ve been talking to another old lady who had money taken while she was in hospital in Manchester. There might be a connection.’
He was staring at her in complete fascination, and Sarah couldn’t help feeling flattered. Maybe they really were going places, her and Jack. It was a heady thought.
He leaned across the table. ‘Gosh, that sounds hopeful. But Wilma can’t help anymore, can she? Do the police know about this other woman?’
‘Yes, her son-in-law reported it, but unfortunately they didn’t realise what had happened until weeks after the actual theft. The police seem to be tapping about in the dark.’
‘Oh dear.’ He tutted. ‘You know sometimes I think the police aren’t all they’re cracked up to be. They still haven’t found out who killed Petra, have they? Or who took Wilma’s money. Of course it might not be the same person who targeted Glynis.’
Sarah was chewing slowly. The banana fritters hadn’t been a good idea. They were delicious for about two seconds, and then you realised how oily and heavy they were. Her stomach was protesting like mad. She forced her mouthful down and took a sip of water before answering Jack.
‘She has no idea who took it.’ Sarah pushed her plate away. If she ate another bite she would be sick, and what kind of ending would that be to their lovely date? She took a couple of careful breaths. ‘Jack, these are beyond me, I’m afraid. Would you like them?’
‘I’m full too, thanks,’ he said, gazing intently into her eyes. ‘Tell you what, though – come back to my place and I’ll make you a Tia Maria coffee.’
Sarah thought swiftly. Did he want anything more than coffee? Did she? Her gut knew the answer straightaway – after that meal, not tonight. But it was their first proper date; he wouldn’t be expecting more than coffee and a chat.
‘Sounds good,’ she said. ‘I love Tia Maria coffee.’
She didn’t miss the look of utter relief that came over his face, though it was gone again almost immediately. Was he so afraid of rejection that her acceptance of his invitation was such a big deal? That was rather sweet. But she should still set some boundaries. She reached over the table and tapped his hand.
‘Jack – I’m coming for Tia Maria coffee only. First proper date and all that.’
‘Well, if you insist, but I do have so
me nice little biscuity things as well. It’s up to you, though.’ He signalled to the waiter.
Sarah giggled, relieved. She went on talking about coffee liqueurs as they walked arm in arm to the car. It was great to be out with an attractive man, going for a meal, feeling good about the blossoming relationship.
She settled into the car, cradling her handbag as Jack pushed the key into the ignition and drove off, silent as he always was in the car. Sarah watched as he steered round the Leeway roundabout. He had strong, workman’s hands. He glanced across at her, and all at once she shivered, a chilly little shiver that surprised her. In spite of all the almost-dates she didn’t know much about him yet – he always spoke of things, not feelings. But what guy didn’t?
It’s a cup of coffee, she told herself. And this is Jack, for heaven’s sake. You’ve known him since primary school, Mim has met him, and Netta Chisholm thought he was the bee’s knees, God rest her soul.
The sun had long since set, and Jack was concentrating on the road, looking calm and confident. Sarah relaxed again. He was a bit of an enigma – sometimes so insecure, and sometimes confident. I guess that’s what makes him interesting, she thought, smiling at her own nervousness.
The burst water main seemed to have affected the electricity across part of the town. The area they were driving through was dim, the streetlights standing tall and dark. Gathering clouds were promising rain and making the scene even more gloomy. Sarah swallowed, memories of uncomfortable teenage decisions coming to mind. But she wasn’t a teenager any longer; she was in charge of her life and she was fine. This was first-date nerves, that was all.
The car came to a halt beside some low buildings and Sarah peered out. It looked like some kind of factory on her side. ‘Are we there?’
‘This is my lock-up. The house is round the back, but we’ll leave the car here – I think after liqueur coffees we’d better send you home in a taxi. I’ll just get the lock-up key.’
