‘You’ll be home before it arrives,’ Craig told her when she wrote a postcard to Hannah. He read it upside down. ‘All well. Beautiful city. Lunch in restaurant overlooking bay. Hot enough. Flowers everywhere. Love Geraldine.’ Craig gave a mock frown. ‘No mention of the wonderful company?’ Geraldine remembered to post the card at the hotel desk as they were leaving.
‘Here’s hoping you’ll have a few days’ grace before they whisk you off on another case,’ Craig said on the flight home. He sounded tetchy.
Geraldine gave him a rueful smile and went back to studying her passport. ‘You can hardly see it.’ She pointed to a faint imprint of a stamp with the name ‘Dubrovnik’ barely legible.
‘Write over it,’ Craig suggested.
‘I can’t do that.’
‘You can’t, but I could,’ he replied, laughing. ‘All you need is a fine black biro.’ He grabbed her passport. Geraldine snatched it back and turned away, irritated.
The next day she downloaded the photos from her phone and trawled through them with a smile that wavered only when her own face appeared. She studied her image on the screen and tried to be objective about her dark hair, unruly when it wasn’t pinned back with slides, her large black eyes that always seemed to glow with health, and her small crooked nose that spoiled her looks.
The phone rang. Geraldine hung back for a moment before answering it. She didn’t want Craig to think she had been waiting for his call.
‘Well? How was it?’ Hannah asked.
Geraldine swallowed her disappointment. ‘Lovely,’ she replied. She knew what her friend meant. ‘It’s a beautiful city. I’d recommend it. And the weather was perfect. Not too hot.’
‘I’m not interested in Dubrovnik,’ Hannah interrupted impatiently, ‘How did it go with Craig?’
Geraldine hesitated. ‘Probably too well,’ she admitted.
‘When are you seeing him again?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You don’t know? How can you not know? You’ve been seeing each other for nearly a year, and you’ve just been on holiday together.’
Geraldine sighed. It was all right for Hannah. Married for eight years, she had no reason to feel insecure about her relationship. Geraldine felt like a love struck teenager waiting by the phone. She kept herself busy with chores, but the days passed and he didn’t call. On Thursday evening she caved in and dialled his number.
‘Craig Hudson.’
Geraldine felt her breath quicken at the sound of his voice. ‘Don’t make a fool of yourself,’ she thought. ‘Hi, it’s me,’ she answered breezily. ‘Geraldine. I wondered if you’d like to come over for dinner one evening? If you’re free, that is.’ Intending to appear casual, she sounded apologetic.
To her relief Craig answered straight away. ‘Sounds great. When did you have in mind?’
‘How about Saturday? Around seven thirty?’
‘Saturday? No, I can’t make this Saturday. Tell you what, let’s make it Sunday.’
‘Fine. See you Sunday.’
Geraldine gazed round her tidy flat and wondered how Craig was planning to spend his Saturday evening – and whether he would be spending it alone. He was charming and attentive when they were together but then weeks would pass without her hearing from him. When he did want to see her, the chances were she would be preoccupied with a case. Her relationship with Mark had been straightforward. With Craig, everything was so complicated. But Mark had met someone else. Geraldine had no idea how long he had been seeing the other woman before he left. Perhaps life had only seemed simple then. She remembered how hot it had been in Dubrovnik and shivered.
5
Market
‘It’s bloody hard work,’ Alice said, ‘and it’s getting harder. I don’t know how you manage, with your kids. You’re a bloody marvel.’
‘A martyr more like,’ Maggie grunted.
‘I mean,’ Alice warmed to her protest, ‘I suppose we do better than some I could mention, who haven’t even got a licence. But even so, working the market all weathers, it’s no picnic, is it?’ She ran a hand through her iron grey hair before repeating, ‘I don’t know how you manage.’
Maggie grimaced. ‘It’s bloody hard work. You’re right there. But needs must. No point complaining when we haven’t got a choice.’
Friday was generally busy. Maggie liked to arrive early and set up without having to rush but she had to get the kids’ breakfast ready before she set off. As her battered van rattled along the street, it began to rain. Maggie swore. Her windscreen wipers weren’t aligned properly but she couldn’t afford to get the van seen to. Worse, the market was always slow in wet weather. She drove carefully, screwing up her eyes to peer through the veil of fine rain, and screeched to a halt beside the inadequate parking area closest to her stall. A dirty black van was straddling two spaces, leaving no room for her. She had to park at the other end of the market, furthest from her pitch. Fuming, she hauled banana boxes out of the van and lugged them across to her stall. She set up as quickly as she could, unpacking her stock in the shelter of the tattered awning. New bags went up last, in the front.
‘That’s nice.’ Alice pointed at a pink and purple bag as Maggie finished. ‘Is it new?’ Maggie shrugged. Her mind wasn’t on the job that morning. It was a dull day. The rain cleared but there weren’t many people around. Maggie stood idle, fretting. After a while she wandered over to Alice on the neighbouring stall.
‘Keep an eye out, will you, Alice? I’m going to speak to Geoffrey.’
‘What’s the fat bastard done now?’
Maggie described how she had been unable to park near her stall because Geoffrey had blocked her space. ‘Selfish bastard.’ She tugged at the zip on her anorak, squared her shoulders, and strode off.
‘Geoffrey!’
‘Hello, Maggie. Take a look at this, will you? It’s perfect for you.’ He held up a small fake gold watch hanging from a thin black strap.
‘I’m not looking for a watch. And if I was, this would be the last place I’d go. You know why I’m here.’ Geoffrey leaned his hands flat on his trestle table and met her gaze, a smile on his rubbery lips. ‘And you can take that bloody grin off your face.’
‘No need to be abusive, Maggie.’ He turned away and began fiddling with his stock.
‘You did it again, you selfish bastard, parked right across two spaces,’ Maggie burst out. Geoffrey appeared to ignore her, but she could see his fat lips twitch in annoyance. ‘Just keep away from me, or I’ll speak to the manager. You park anywhere near my stall again and you’ll be –’
‘Don’t you stand there and tell me where I can and can’t go,’ he interrupted her, suddenly red-faced. Spittle flew from his lips. Maggie stared in disgust. ‘I’ll park where the hell I like. I didn’t see your name written there. I was there first.’
With a curse, Maggie retreated. It was obvious she wasn’t going to get anywhere with Geoffrey. At least he knew she was on to him, and she meant what she had said. She would go to the market manager and complain if Geoffrey took up two parking spaces again.
‘How did you get on?’ Alice asked.
‘Was it busy?’
Alice shook her head. ‘You didn’t miss much.’ She gazed around the damp empty market place, and pushed her hair out of her eyes with the back of a gloved hand. ‘Some bloke took a bag, one of those khaki ones with the shoulder strap. Stupid sod tried to give me some cock and bull story about how he’d bought one off you and the strap broke. Tried telling me I should give him one for free. As if. Weird looking bloke, funny eyes.’
Maggie was still thinking about Geoffrey. ‘Bastard.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Nothing.’ Geoffrey had rattled her, but she wasn’t going to be intimidated. She knew why Geoffrey had it in for her. Maggie’s stall was in a prime position, on the corner opposite the station. A wintry sun broke through the clouds and she smiled. From now on, she would make sure she was in early enough to park where she wanted. Let
that Geoffrey leave his van round the other side. ‘Serve him right,’ she said. ‘Stupid sod, thinks he can get one over on me, just because I wasn’t there. I’ll show him.’
‘Exactly,’ Alice agreed companionably, ‘but don’t worry. I made him pay for it, full price.’
6
Brenda
It was dark when Brenda woke up. She didn’t know what time it was. A streetlamp cast a dim light into the room. Although the television had been switched off she stared at the screen for a few moments. In the silence the house was making strange noises. She hauled herself stiffly out of her chair and made her way quietly upstairs. Cal didn’t like it when she woke him up.
She stole into the bedroom. The bed was empty. She patted the covers tentatively to make sure. If she woke him up, he’d be angry, but at least she wouldn’t be alone with the noises and the darkness. He wasn’t there. She turned the light on. A naked bulb threw stark shadows round the room. Her own face stared at her from the mirror, white and misty. She fumbled for a cigarette. It took several attempts to light a match; she was shaking by the time she finally inhaled.
The door to Ray’s bedroom creaked. Brenda peered inside. His bed was empty too. She took a few steps into the room and dropped ash on to the pillow. Serve him right. Before Ray came to live in the house, Cal used to take her out with him. Now it was all Ray, Ray, Ray. She dragged frantically at her cigarette and flicked more ash on to Ray’s pillow. She hoped it would choke him.
A blade of pain sliced through her head. Her legs shook. Her heart was pounding. Alone in the house, she heard footsteps coming up the stairs. She stood very still, not daring to breathe. The house was silent.
‘Silly,’ she mouthed. If she showed she didn’t care, the footsteps would go away.
Cal would have laughed at her. ‘There’s nothing there,’ he’d say. Brenda waited. It was all right for Cal, but you couldn’t be too careful when you were in the house on your own. Anything could happen. They came in through the walls.
‘Go away!’ she shouted suddenly, surprising herself. ‘I’m not frightened!’ They knew she was lying. Aching all over, she went back downstairs and fell into her chair. She couldn’t settle. Cal and Ray had gone out on a job. She hoped Cal wouldn’t come home in a temper again.
Brenda trembled as she thought of his rage. But if he was angry with Ray, that was good. She gave a wary smile.
Pressing herself into the safety of her chair she screwed up her eyes and looked round the room. A strand of dry hair clung to her face, scratching at her eye. That wasn’t what made her flinch. Something was lurking in the shadows. A voice whimpered nearby. Brenda pulled herself to her feet and limped over to Cal’s chair for a light. A moment later a flame shot from her fingers. She fought for control of her body. Her legs kept jerking which made it difficult to light her spliff.
At last she leaned back in her chair and watched as a thin trail of white smoke trickled out of her nose. It didn’t help. Dope might soften the pain but it couldn’t stop her shaking. Feeling nauseous she sat up without moving from her chair. When she threw up, Cal made her scrub the carpet until the stink of dettol made her sick all over again. Experience had taught her to know when she was only going to retch.
Craving wrenched at her guts but Cal had gone out. He never left anything in the house. Said he couldn’t trust her. Viciously she stubbed her spliff on the arm of the chair and watched it singe a ragged hole in the fabric. Glowing threads faded into grey.
With a soft fizzle, the naked light bulb above her head went out. The whimpering began again.
‘I know you’re there,’ she whispered. Her eyes flicked round the corners of the room. In the darkness, something stirred.
Cal dismissed her night terrors. ‘There’s nothing here.’ He would stamp his foot in the corner of the room. ‘So much for your snake. I’ve squashed it. Flat.’ Then he would throw his head back and laugh. Nothing frightened Cal. But Cal had gone out. She was alone in the darkness.
‘He’ll be back soon,’ she whispered, glaring into the darkness. Her voice was feeble. In the corner, the snake hissed. Brenda whimpered. She lit a cigarette and forced herself to think about Cal.
He had been complaining again. ‘If it weren’t for you, we’d be fine. As if I haven’t got enough to worry about with the rent due and the fucking TV, you’re always going on, never bloody satisfied.’ His face had been red and sweaty. She had waited, trembling. But afterwards he’d brought out the skag and everything had been all right. ‘You’re a lucky girl,’ he told her as he wiped a dribble of blood off her chin. ‘Don’t say I don’t take care of you.’ Brenda had nodded, too far gone to speak.
She trembled in the darkness. Salty tears stung her split lip. ‘Bastard,’ she muttered. She would never dare speak to him like that to his face. If only he had left her a fix. ‘It’s not so much to ask,’ she whined. She began to cry in earnest and the whimpering fell silent. As long as she was crying she was safe from the voices. Her eyes throbbed. They felt as though they would burst, but she couldn’t stop crying. ‘Let me sleep,’ she pleaded with the silence. ‘I want to sleep.’ Her eyes were sore. They hurt when she shut them. With shaking fingers she clutched at her cigarette and leaned back in her chair, inhaling deeply. She didn’t know when Cal would be back.
Cal took care of her. She pressed herself against the back of her chair, clutching a cushion to her chest. Cal put on a front, but Brenda knew better. He wasn’t so tough. When it came to it Cal was no worse than all the other men. Better, because he looked after her.
‘If it wasn’t for me, where would you be now?’ he asked her. ‘How would you live? And where? On the street, that’s where.’
‘Yes, Cal.’
‘Where would you be?’
‘On the street, Cal.’
‘Bronxy’s had enough of you.’
‘Yes, Cal.’
‘But I look after you.’
‘Yes, Cal. You look after me.’
Brenda had been happy at first, working for Bronxy. Bronxy was tough with the girls but fair. She looked after them.
‘We’re a team, girls,’ she used to say. ‘I make sure the punters are comfortable but you’re the ones who keep them happy.’ The trouble was, Brenda wasn’t keeping men happy any more. She still danced, but none of the customers wanted to pay to spend time with her. It wasn’t as if she was old. When Bronxy took her off the podium, Brenda was shocked.
‘What am I supposed to do for tips now?’ she complained to the other girls. They didn’t care.
‘All the more for us,’ one of them pointed out.
‘What can I do?’ she asked Bronxy in desperation.
‘Clean yourself up for fuck’s sake,’ Bronxy snapped. ‘You’re a disgrace.’
When Cal took her to live with him, Brenda couldn’t believe her luck.
Bronxy seemed pleased with the arrangement too. ‘He’ll put a roof over your head and take care of you. Don’t mess it up, Bren. And get yourself off the smack for fuck’s sake, before he gets tired of you. You’re being given a chance here. Don’t screw it up.’
Brenda tried to explain that the smack wasn’t the problem but Bronxy wasn’t listening. No one understood, except Cal. She wondered where he was. He could be gone for hours. She closed her eyes.
In the darkness a snake uncoiled, hissing.
7
Second Attempt
They waited until the road was clear. Cal turned the van lights out and was careful not to rev the engine as they crawled slowly up Harchester Hill. He parked in a side street. No one saw them hurry on foot past houses set back from the pavement behind tall bushes. Without a word, Cal vanished through a gap in a hedge. Ray followed close on his heels. They crept along under cover of evergreen shrubs. Somewhere a dog barked. Cal paused, one hand raised above his shoulder. Ray almost barged into him. He stopped himself just in time and hung his head, waiting for Cal to move. They listened. The dog went on yelping. It was nowhere near them. Cal tapped Ra
y on the arm. They resumed their cautious progress towards the house. In the darkness they made their way silently down the side of the front garden, trampling late autumn flowers into the earth.
‘Quick, make a dash for it,’ Cal whispered in Ray’s ear. They sprinted across a narrow strip of grass. Security lights came on. They reached the house and flattened themselves against the wall.
‘They’ll think it’s foxes,’ Cal whispered to Ray who nodded, hunching his shoulders and holding his breath. His heart was pounding beneath his jacket. He hoped Cal couldn’t hear it. They waited. As soon as the lights clicked off, Cal gave Ray a shove and a leg up over the side gate. Ray slid the bolt across. They were inside. The security lights came on again. No one looking out of the window would have seen two figures pressed against the side wall of the house in the shadow of the gate. After a moment the lights went out. They manoeuvred their way along the wall, avoiding setting off the lights, until they reached a low window.
Ray glanced around nervously while Cal worked. It was awkward cutting the glass while keeping himself pressed against the wall. The faint scratching seemed to go on forever. At one point, Ray sidled up and put his hand on the window.
Cal paused in his task. ‘What?’ he snarled under his breath.
‘Thought I heard a phone ring.’ They stood listening. There was no sound from inside the house. Cal shrugged and carried on, muttering softly.
‘It’s taking too long,’ Ray whispered. The security lights had made him nervous.
‘Nearly done,’ Cal insisted. He pressed harder against the glass. The cut out panel broke away with a soft snap. He reached in to release the window catch.
Cal and Ray were in a large kitchen. The wall to their right was covered in pristine white cupboards, a gleaming glass fronted oven stood in the corner, and in the middle of the floor stood a central island with a stainless steel gas hob. On the far side of the room an open door led into a dining area. They could dimly make out a table and chairs through the opening. To their left a back door led out on to the garden. Cal crossed the room and closed the door to the dining room. Then he tried the door to the garden. It was locked.
Road Closed Page 3
