She's Out

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She's Out Page 28

by La Plante, Lynda


  ‘Find a way, love.’

  ‘Well, one minute you’re telling me to be with the builder, then the signalbox guy. I can’t do both of them.’

  ‘Yes, you can,’ Dolly snapped, and then looked at them all. ‘You have to do just what I tell you or this is finished before it’s started. I don’t want any arguments.’

  ‘Can we ask what you’re doing?’ Ester leaned forward.

  Dolly closed her book and stood up. ‘I’m going to London so I’ll need the car. I don’t want the kids left alone so one of you bath them, feed them and put them to bed. I might be late.’

  She walked out and they watched her go, no one saying a word until the door latched. ‘She’s nuts, you do know that, don’t you?’ Ester said angrily.

  ‘But you’re still here,’ remarked Julia tartly.

  ‘Yeah, but not for long if she carries on like this. We got a right to know what she’s doing.’

  Gloria cranked herself out of the chair. ‘Well, like she’s always saying, she’s paying out so let’s get on with it. I mean, I’ll do your job if you wanna do the cesspit.’

  Ester was no way going to dig shit. She was still in agony from the ride. ‘I can’t. I’m still injured.’

  ‘Well, then, we just do what Hitler says,’ Gloria mused.

  Connie said, ‘Okay, but I’ll never get that information, you know. I’m not supposed to even be in the signal box.’

  ‘Take him a bottle of wine,’ Julia said, and stroked Connie’s shoulder. ‘One for the builder as well.’ Connie shrugged her away.

  ‘Right, let’s get on with it,’ Julia said, and one by one they went to do their allocated jobs.

  Angela left the hospital, caught a bus and then made her way down the lane to the manor. No one was in sight so she pushed open the front door.

  ‘Hello? Anyone home?’

  Ester appeared on the stairs and glared at her. ‘Just stay put, no need to come in.’

  ‘I’ve come for my gear.’

  Ester disappeared along the landing. The three girls peeped out from the kitchen. Angela looked at them, then up the stairs.

  ‘They’re Kathleen O’Reilly’s kids,’ Ester called down.

  Angela smiled. ‘Hello.’

  ‘Hello,’ said Sheena.

  ‘How ya all doing?’

  Before they could reply, Ester returned with a suitcase which she hurled down the stairs. ‘There’s your gear. Piss off and don’t come back.’

  Angela was near to tears as she picked up her case. ‘I got no money.’

  ‘My heart bleeds. Go on, get out.’

  Angela walked back down the drive, dragging the suitcase, sniffing back the tears. She didn’t see Gloria and Julia way in the distance, digging and clearing the cesspit. Both wore thick scarves round their faces as the stench was disgusting. They heaved bucketload after bucketload, chucking it into a wheelbarrow.

  ‘This is making me sick,’ said Gloria and retched.

  Julia heaved up the wheelbarrow. ‘Keep at it. We’ve only cleared a quarter of it.’

  ‘It’s not on, you know. This could give us a disease, it’s disgusting. I mean, this is – this is old shit, you know that, don’t you?’

  Julia paid no attention as she wheeled the stinking, thick, gooey mud over to a pile of rubbish, smouldering with old bits of furniture and junk. She tipped out the barrow and stood back from the thick black smoke. She turned back as Gloria peered down into the pit.

  ‘Now what? I can’t reach in any further with the bucket,’ she yelled.

  ‘We’ll have to get into it,’ Julia said.

  ‘I’m not gettin’ in there,’ shrieked Gloria.

  ‘Well, one of us has to. We’ll toss for it.’ Julia picked up a rake and asked whether Gloria wanted the rake or flat side. Gloria bellowed she wanted the rake side. Julia tossed the rake into the air and it came down flat side.

  ‘You bloody did that on purpose,’ Gloria yelled. She looked down into the pit again and back to Julia. ‘I got an idea. Why don’t we get the kids to do it?’

  Julia gave her a hard push. ‘No way. Just get on with it, Gloria. Sooner it’s done the better.’

  Connie breezed into Big John’s yard. He was sitting on the steps of his small hut and looked up and waved.

  ‘Hi, how are you?’ She beamed as she crossed to him.

  He lowered his eyes. ‘Look, Connie, this has got nothing to do with you but that Mrs Rawlins is making me bankrupt.’

  Connie sat next to him and passed over the envelope. ‘Here you go, and there’s more coming in a day or two.’

  John opened the envelope and then stood up. ‘I’d better go and split this between the men.’

  ‘Oh, right now?’

  He looked down into her upturned face. ‘I got to. When they finish the job they’re on, they’ll be on their way. If you want that roof done at the manor, I got to pay them.’

  ‘How long will you be?’

  ‘Ten minutes.’

  She got up and slipped her arms around him. ‘Then I’ll wait, but only ten minutes, and we can have a …’ She kissed him and he gasped for breath when he broke away from her. ‘Don’t be long,’ she whispered, biting his ear.

  He blushed, glancing towards the gates then back to the small wooden makeshift hut. ‘You know, anyone can walk in here, Connie.’

  She giggled. ‘Exciting, isn’t it? Besides, you can lock the main gates, can’t you? But I think it’s better if they’re open and we screw knowing somebody’ll walk in any minute. And look, I brought us a bottle of wine.’

  He was all over the place, kissing her, groping her beautiful breasts, and then he ran like hell to his truck. He shouted back that he would be no more than ten minutes.

  Connie started to undo her buttons and he could hardly put the key into the ignition. 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 and order forms. She found 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.

  Mike snatched it up. Susan stood with her hands on her hips.

  ‘Hello, is that Mike?’

  ‘Yes, it’s me.’ He knew who it was – he recognized the voice.

  ‘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 be listening.

  ‘Need to see you, love, it’s urgent. I’ll be at the Pen and Whistle pub in the saloon bar, six thirty.’

  ‘I can’t – I can’t see you.’

  ‘I think you can, Mike. Six thirty, you be there. It’s the pub on the corner by your mother’s flat.’

  Mike was about to speak when the line went dead. He stood there, holding the receiver, and then dialled his station. He was put through to the incident room and told them he was not feeling too well so he would be in a bit late. Then he looked towards the kitchen. He was sure that Susan was listening. All his anger and frustration surged against her as he dropped the phone back down.

  Ester, being lazy, called a number of railway museums but was not getting the information she needed. She then tried another tactic by saying she was making a documentary film for the BBC and 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. However, permission was not granted by British Ra
il, so she was now contacting the private railways, saying the BBC documentary had 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. No way was it going to be easy.

  Big John had only been gone twelve and a half minutes, during which he had flung the money at his labourers and driven straight back to his yard. He ran a comb through his hair, wished he’d got a spot of cologne and locked the big double gates before he ran to his hut. The door was closed and he threw it open, beaming.

  Connie had left, no note, nothing. She’d even, he noticed, taken the bottle of wine with her.

  Still carrying her suitcase, Angela walked along the road towards 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 his front doorbell. She wanted to confront him, tell him about the baby, but the nearer she got the more her confidence dwindled. She sat on a wall, wondering if he would come out. She didn’t want to see his wife.

  Mike and Susan were having one hell of a row. She was demanding to know about Angela, about the phone calls, and he was refusing to answer. ‘You stay out all night, you come and go 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 couldn’t deal with it. Right now, Angela was the least of his problems. He was afraid of what Dolly Rawlins wanted, scared he was heading even deeper into 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 him. And what was worse, she saw Angela.

  Mike yanked open the car door when she confronted him. ‘We got to talk, Mike.’

  He got in and slammed it. ‘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.’

  ‘I lost the baby, Mike.’

  ‘I don’t care, Angela, you hear me? I don’t care.’

  She was sobbing, looked 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, please stay away from me. Go away, Angela.’ He threw the money on to the pavement, and started the car. She sobbed even louder and he hesitated, but then he saw the time: it was six fifteen. Although he was afraid to meet Dolly Rawlins he was also afraid not to, so he drove off.

  Angela picked up the four twenty-pound notes, unaware that Susan was watching from the bedroom window. The two of them were crying. Susan knew it had to be the girl and she’d seen her husband giving her money, which made it even worse. She wished she had enough money to get the locks changed there and then.

  Gloria and Julia were both in the cesspit, still clearing away the filth. It was deep, and their heads appeared at the lip as Ester carried out two mugs.

  ‘All right for some,’ moaned Gloria, accepting the tea.

  ‘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 towards the house.

  Gloria looked at Julia. ‘What if she’s got us diggin’ a bleedin’ grave? Just so long as Dolly Rawlins doesn’t intend finishing us all off. She shot her old man, you know. I wouldn’t put nothing past her.’

  Later that night, 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 saw her panties, 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 might be a very long night.

  Dolly sipped the lemonade, flicking through her little black notebook. Mike stood over her as she looked up then smiled.

  ‘Nothing for me but 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. It’s up to you, Mike. Tell me now if you don’t want to do it. You must have some old friends from the army days – they might be helpful, but if you don’t want to do it …’

  ‘I’ve just said so.’

  ‘Oh, I know you did, but you see, Mike, I don’t think you really believe that I’d be prepared to sell myself down the tubes. But I would, I’d go back inside and I wouldn’t be on my own. You’d be sent down as well, and they might even get your mother back from Spain. You tell me now – can you get the information I need?’

  He shuffled his feet, took another look round. ‘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 to continue the same route. He looked at the slip of paper she had passed him with the name of the security firm she had taken from the vans she’d seen outside her local station. It was a well-known firm: he didn’t know if he could get any information from them. He needed a drink, a large one, to stop himself shaking. 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 burnin
g. She got out, leaving the lights on, and walked towards it. She examined it, satisfied it was big enough and, most certainly, deep enough.

  When she got in she found the kitchen in a mess: dirty soup plates, tinned mince on a pan left to one side, 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 blaring. Neither heard Dolly. She walked up the big staircase, 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 any more?’

  ‘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 double 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 exterior she showed to them all. They all had secrets, all had hidden pain. Somehow she had not expected Gloria to have so much.

 

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