‘And shouldn’t,’ Kayla added soberly.
‘Yes,’ Jo conceded. ‘But that’s part of being human, honey. We all say things we don’t mean. And none of us can see into the future. All we can do is try to live …’ Jo hesitated for a split second ‘ … and learn. Don’t tear yourself apart anymore, Kayla. Put it behind you. Okay?’
Kayla nodded, and sniffled. ‘I … I thought you didn’t like me anymore.’
‘Because you didn’t like yourself?’ Jo probed gently.
Kayla glanced away. ‘I thought that Charlie … That he did.’
‘Oh, God, Kayla …’ Jo hugged her, hard. ‘I got lost for a while, that’s all it was. I didn’t mean to shut you out, baby.’
She lifted Kayla’s face to hers, and stroked the hair from her eyes. ‘He’s sick, Kayla. That’s why he’d doing this. You’ll meet someone nice one day. Someone who will love you as much as you deserve to be loved,’ Jo paused, making sure to hold Kayla’s gaze. ‘And that’s an awful lot.’
Kayla looked down.
‘It would have to be,’ Jo said softly, ‘to love you as much as I do.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Kayla hugged her mum back. ‘I didn’t mean to –’
‘Don’t be.’ Jo squeezed her reassuringly. ‘We’re going to get through this, young lady. And then we’re going to start communicating. Understand? And we can start by dumping the guilt. Yes?’
Kayla shoulders slumped with relief.
‘Did he …’ Jo faltered. ‘Did he do anything to you, Kayla?’
‘I don’t know.’ Kayla stiffened. ‘I wish it was him who was dead.’
****
‘You finished?’ Steve asked Charlie, stepping off the boat.
Charlie ground another spliff end out on the gravelled towpath and glanced up at him. ‘Finished what?’
Steve gave him a despairing glance back. ‘Shoving him around is what.’ He nodded towards Daniel, who was struggling to replace the decking boards over the engine.
‘Can I help it if he needs a little incentive?’ Charlie shrugged and handed Steve the gun, then reached for a fishing rod, still in its holder, from the back of the boat.
‘So what’s the plan?’ Steve asked, looking puzzled as Charlie unzipped the holder and ditched the fishing rod into the water.
‘We’re going to get the money, aren’t we,’ Charlie informed him, as if it needed no further explanation. Which obviously it did, Charlie sighed— judging by the deep-set furrow in Steve’s thick skull.
‘What?’ Steve’s frown deepened. ‘On a boat?’
Charlie sighed. Blimey, if the bloke had half a brain he’d be lethal. ‘Yes, Steve, on a boat.’ He smiled flatly.
‘Right.’ Steve appeared to ponder, struggling to come up with a single sensible thought, no doubt. Charlie rolled his eyes and reached for the gun.
‘So we’re going to sail into the middle of town in a narrowboat?’ Steve eventually deduced.
‘Well done, Mastermind. Don’t think too hard, mate. You might strain somethin’.’
Steve looked unimpressed. ‘Waving at the passers-by, I suppose?’
‘Sounds about right,’ Charlie said, propping the gun under his arm whilst he ferreted in his pocket for a pill.
‘Sounds like cobblers,’ Steve muttered, as Charlie popped an amphetamine. ‘I’m walking, mate.’
Steve shook his head, and turned to do just that.
‘You ain’t walking anywhere, mate.’ Charlie cocked the gun behind him. ‘Not with a bullet in each leg.’
‘Aw, for …’ Steve turned around, running a hand over his tattoo. ‘Leave it out, Charlie. You’re gonna shoot me in broad daylight? Then what you gonna do? Mix some cement and make me a pair of lead boots? You’re losing the plot, mate. Doin’ too many drugs.’
Charlie narrowed his eyes. Crap, Steve was right. He couldn’t do anything to draw attention. Still, didn’t give Steve the right to start questioning his authority though, did it. ‘You takin’ the piss?’ He cocked the gun higher.
‘No, Charlie.’ Steve sighed and plunged his hands in his pockets. ‘Wouldn’t dare, would I?’
Course he wouldn’t. The taut wire tugging relentlessly between Charlie’s temples slackened a little. He noted Steve’s body language, the hands in the pockets indicating he wasn’t taking him on.
Nah, he wouldn’t even think about it. He knew what side his bread was buttered on. Steve might supply the gear, but it was Charlie who shifted it, who made sure Steve’s bills were paid and his old granny stayed in her warden controlled flat, which was a bloody sight better than the tip she’d been in. Yeah, Steve knew Charlie called the shots, with or without the gun.
‘Good,’ he said, relaxing a little, then whirling around as Daniel pulled the diesel hose from the filling hole behind him. ‘Are you pushin’ your bloody luck!?’ he fumed, levelling the gun at him.
‘No, Charlie,’ Steve answered for Daniel, diverting Charlie’s attention back to him. ‘He wouldn’t dare either, mate. Got his wife and kid to think of, hasn’t he?’
Charlie kneaded the knot in the back of his neck. What was it with this headache? Man, it was getting on his nerves. ‘Yeah,’ he nodded, at length. ‘And he’d better not try either, if he wants to be around to think.’
‘So you gonna tell me what this grand plan of yours is then, or what?’
‘He’s rung the bank,’ Charlie said, nodding at Daniel. ‘They’re calling him back to confirm the money’s on notice of withdrawal.’
Steve nodded, his forehead still creased with a frown. ‘So what now?’
‘So now nothing but plain sailing,’ Charlie answered obliquely. ‘It takes them two days to release the funds,’ he went on, as Steve looked evermore perplexed. ‘It takes us two days to get to the centre of Birmingham. Meanwhile, we’re on the move. Floating ducks, you might say, rather than sitting ones.’
Charlie chuckled at his own wit.
Steve nodded again, though he still looked baffled. Did he realise how irritating that expression was? Charlie sighed, exasperated.
‘And what do we do when we get to Birmingham?’ Steve asked, finally. ‘Hold hands and walk through the town centre?’
‘Don’t be clever, mate. Doesn’t suit you.’ Charlie threw him a warning glance. ‘We take a taxi, don’t we,’ he informed him, in deliberately slow tones. ‘Sorted.’
‘Oh, right, yeah,’ Steve scratched his kanji’d head. ‘Like all five of us, you mean, and the gun?’
‘Like I said, sorted.’ Charlie winked and slid the sawn-off neatly into the fishing rod holder.
‘Sweet.’ Steve ironed his perpetually puzzled face into a flat smile. ‘And if he refuses to go in and make the withdrawal, you’re just going to shoot him in broad daylight in the middle of Broad Street. Brilliant.’
‘Aw, for … You stay with the wife, don’t ya!?’ Charlie spat, getting seriously annoyed with Steve’s ignorance. ‘I go with Danny Boy. And if he doesn’t comply, she’s dead, ain’t she?’
Oh, man. Charlie sighed heavily as Steve’s frown took on five bar gate proportions.
Chapter Fifteen
‘Locks!? How come you never said anything about locks?’ Charlie blinked, disbelieving—and seriously aggravated.
He’d been quite enjoying the trip until Danny Boy nosed the bow end of the boat into the bank. Doing the strong, silent bit, again, he was. Hadn’t even bothered to keep him informed. And that irked Charlie. He sighed and got to his feet, fed up to his back teeth with Danny Boy’s obstinacy. The man really was going to have to learn to obey orders.
‘We have to open them,’ Daniel said, climbing off the back of the boat before Charlie had the chance to consider how he was going to teach him.
Charlie squinted at the huge wooden gates barring their progress, his annoyance with Daniel momentarily forgotten. ‘Can’t you press a button or something?’ he asked, even more irked by his own ignorance.
Steve poked his head above deck, failing to suppress a smirk
as he caught sight of Charlie. ‘They have to be operated manually,’ he said, straightening his face as Charlie glowered at him. ‘The wife says her and the girl will do it.’
‘No chance,’ Charlie said emphatically. Couldn’t risk one of them slipping off into the undergrowth. Danny Boy he was beginning to get the measure of. He wouldn’t leg it, leaving the wife and daughter in the firing line, Charlie was sure.
He motioned Daniel onwards. ‘He can do it.’
‘Whatever.’ Steve shrugged. ‘The wife says she don’t drive too good though. Like trying to guide the Titanic through the eye of a needle, she says.’
‘Shit,’ Charlie muttered, shaking his head. ‘What you smilin’ at!?’ he snapped at Daniel.
‘Nothing,’ Daniel answered fast.
‘Well, don’t!’ Charlie eyed him mistrustfully. Could’ve sworn the bloke had smirked there for a minute.
Daniel dropped his gaze.
‘He didn’t do anything, Charlie.’ Steve sighed. ‘Give him a break and let the women go do the gates, will you, or we’ll be ‘ere all day.’
‘Bring them up.’ Charlie acquiesced, with a begrudging sigh. ‘But go with them,’ he instructed Steve.
Women drivers. That Charlie didn’t need. They’d probably scupper the boat, and his plans along with it. Still, he was perplexed. What was it with Danny Boy and his missus, offering up information, seeming almost helpful? Had they been hatching some devious little plan? Charlie squinted at Daniel.
Nah, they hadn’t been alone together long enough, he reassured himself, as the wife and daughter emerged from the back of the boat. The front was staying padlocked, Charlie had decided. One exit, one entrance, and he would be watching it at all times.
And watching them. Charlie looked the two women over, checking for anything amiss.
Don’t, Jo silently implored Daniel with a small shake of her head as Charlie’s look turned from searching to lewd.
Daniel’s jaw tightened. He clenched his fist at his side, but any action from him, he knew would invite a reaction of the worst kind.
Though, in fact, it was Jo keeping him safe, just then.
No way could he have handled the locking gear. Jo must have known it. There were forty-two locks in all, between the bottom and top lock. The flight was well-maintained, but damned hard work. Jo had managed it once before, but only by throwing her whole bodyweight into winding the paddles. Daniel would have stood no chance of moving them, not without alerting the scum to the searing pain in his side. And that was without opening and closing the gates. Jo had obviously thought it through. Daniel was grateful that she still had fight in her enough to.
She was strong. He tried to hold on to that. Should have held on to it when Jo seemed so low, he couldn’t see how she could ever fight back.
He should have helped her, opened up to her if that’s what she needed—about his past, how it had obviously fundamentally affected his ability to communicate his feelings.
Dammit. He hadn’t trusted himself, but couldn’t he have trusted Jo, to be what he knew her to be, strong enough to deal with it? To love him, despite it?
He glanced at her, as she climbed off the boat, and knew that he had to now.
For Jo’s sake, he had to tell her. Convince her that none of what happened around, or after the loss of Emma was her fault.
Before it was too late.
Jo looked back at him, her expression seemingly calm, but her eyes held a quiet warning. Don’t let him goad you, her swift glance said, as she ushered Kayla before her out of harm’s way.
Daniel set the throttle to neutral and idled the engine, wishing he could set his emotions so easily to neutral, as he watched Jo follow Kayla along the towpath. Kayla was wearing a waterproof over her skimpy clothes, he noted, despite the soaring heat. No need to guess why.
Daniel swallowed a lump in his throat.
Then another, as Charlie called after them, ‘Cool coat, sweatheart. No point leaving anything to the imagination now we’ve seen it all, though, is there, darlin’?’
Which was when Daniel knew, with certainty, the only time he’d attain neutral emotionally would be when Charlie Roberts was silenced.
****
‘Cat got your tongue?’ Charlie asked, once they were inside the lock chamber.
‘Not speaking to me, hey, Danny Boy? Ooh, my heart is just breakin’.’ Charlie clamped a hand theatrically to his chest, and lowered his face to peer up at Daniel.
Too close. Way too close. Daniel’s jaw tensed. He counted, slowly, pure anger—and panic—rising in his chest. It was getting to him. He could feel it. It had never bothered him before, as dark and enclosed as the chamber was. He’d never let it. But it was bothering him now, being closed in by walls twenty foot high, which, he knew was probably more to do with the close proximity of the psycho beside him than the phobia, but still, Daniel struggled to control it.
‘Yo, sweetheart,’ Charlie called up above, to where Kayla waited to open the lock gate, ‘show us yer tattoo, luv.’
‘Just there, it is.’ Charlie turned to Daniel. ‘On her boob.’ He prodded Daniel in the chest with a finger.
Daniel concentrated hard on breathing.
‘And she’s got a mole. Did you know she’s got a mole?’ Charlie went on, gnawing away at Daniel’s willpower like a disease. ‘On her nice, flat …’ Charlie paused, the gun pointed at Daniel’s midriff ‘ … stomach,’ Charlie finished.
And waited.
Barely brushed Daniel’s stomach with the gun.
Then laughed out loud when Daniel winced anyway.
****
Hannah watched DI Short through the window as he walked towards his car. He had Kayla’s earring. She was sure the silver drop earring DI Short had been holding was one of Kayla’s.
They were trying to gather information about a serious incident, he had said. Wanted to interview anyone who might have been at Strobes last night, when they’d been there. And now Kayla wasn’t anywhere. And nor were her parents.
And he’s got one earring. Found where, Hannah wondered, a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.
Oh, God—she chewed worriedly on her nail polish, had he hurt her? That bastard, Charlie, had he murdered Kayla? Were her mum and dad down at the station, desperately trying to come to terms with it, and praying for someone to come forward with information that would help?
****
Charlie got bored with the game around about the fifth lock. Danny Boy was turning out to be a harder nut to crack than he’d anticipated.
Charlie had wound him up mercilessly, looking for his breaking point. Said he’d had whatsername in every conceivable position and still the bloke had stared straight ahead without flinching. He would get a reaction though.
Had before.
Would again.
Learning what made Danny Boy tick was an amusing diversion, but also necessary. Kept his cards close to his chest, Daniel did, but Charlie was determined the stubborn bugger would show his hand before the game was over. The man was either a coward, or too clever by half. And Charlie couldn’t abide clever sods.
He’d find the bloke’s weak points, and then take great pleasure in bringing him to his knees. Had a massive bruise, he did, where Daniel had pushed his luck and rammed the gun into him, back at the house. Nobody messes with Charlie Roberts’ finely honed physique and gets away with it.
Getting bored with these bloody locks, as well, he was.
Charlie sighed and reached for his cigarette roller. He skinned up, wondering what else he could do to amuse himself, took a long tout on his spliff, then turned to relieve himself over the back of the boat while he pondered.
Well, well—he caught Daniel’s glance sideways in his peripheral vision—that got Danny Boy’s attention.
‘Whatsamatter?’ Charlie grinned lewdly, zipped up slowly, took the joint from his mouth and blew a fat cloud of smoke over Daniel. ‘Fancy a bit, do you?’
Daniel tightened his grip on the tille
r and rammed the throttle full forwards, clearing the barely open top-gates by a whisker.
Gotchya. Charlie smirked smugly.
****
Jo glanced nervously at Steve, who’d least had the good manners to help with the gates.
‘He’ll be all right.’ Steve answered her unasked question, with an awkward shrug.
‘Will he?’ Jo ventured to ask, Steve appearing to have a scrap of humanity, at least. Was it possible, she wondered, noting something near compassion in his eyes, that he might not be an entirely willing participant in this?
‘Yeah,’ Steve said, as he heaved the lock gate closed behind the boat. ‘He’s winding him up, that’s all. Charlie’s like that. Likes to get people’s measure, he says.’
Before going in for the kill, Jo thought bitterly.
‘He’ll be okay, as long as he doesn’t react and do anything stupid.’
Well he would be all right then, Jo tried to convince herself. Daniel wasn’t the reactive sort. At least he hadn’t been.
****
Kayla waited for Jo and Steve to close the gates, before walking on to the next lock. She’d been watching them, angry with her mum at first. What was she doing, sucking up to him? Then she’d listened.
And learned.
And Steve was talktoable, Kayla had realised. He might deal drugs, but he didn’t do drugs, like that crackhead freak she’d actually fancied.
If they could get him on their side, then maybe … Yes, her mum wasn’t so daft, was she? The Neanderthal Hannah fancied was worth sucking up to.
What was it he’d called Hannah? A tart. Got it into his head that she was putting it about, even though she worshipped the ground he walked on, for some unfathomable reason. An idea put there by Charlie, no doubt, who didn’t care about anyone but number one, and where his next fix was coming from. Well, Kayla would put Steve right on that particular subject, for starters. Driving a wedge between him and Charlie might be to their advantage.
She’d talk to her mum about it, Kayla decided, mopping her sweat-sodden hair from her face as Jo approached.
The Edge of Sanity Page 18
