by Rachel Ward
‘But it’s Wednesday!’
‘I know it’s sodding Wednesday! And I know it should be sodding chicken and sodding rice, but it’s not. Okay?’
‘No! It’s not okay! I don’t understand—’
‘For God’s sake, Mum. Eat it or don’t eat it. I don’t sodding care.’
Bea grabbed her plate and took it through to the lounge, where she plonked herself down and clicked the telly on. She bit a good chunk out of the sandwich and started chewing. The tang of the brown sauce couldn’t hide the nastiness of the cold, congealed fat. The meat itself was tough and stringy. How could something so glorious when hot be so unpleasant when cold? Would microwaving it help? But then she’d have to go back into the kitchen, which she wasn’t prepared to do just yet. So she ploughed her way through it, bite by miserable bite.
By the time she got to the end, her stomach felt as heavy as her conscience. She hated falling out with Queenie, but sometimes, just sometimes she wished that things were different. She wished . . .
‘Made you a hot one.’
Bea started awake. The plate that had been balanced on her knees fell onto the carpet. ‘What?’
Queenie was next to the sofa, holding out a mug of tea.
‘Fresh cup of tea. Peace offering. I’m sorry.
Bea reached down and retrieved her plate and put it on the glass-topped coffee table. It was all coming back to her now.
‘No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lost my temper. I was just tired.’
‘I know. You were spark out just now. And it’s not your fault. I’d got in a state, hadn’t I?’
‘Yes, but—’
‘You shouldn’t have to deal with it.’
‘I don’t mind. Honestly.’
She took the tea from Queenie and put it next to her plate, then held her mum’s hands in hers and drew her onto the sofa next to her.
‘We’ll sort it all out, Mum. It’ll be all right.’
‘Will it?’
Queenie looked into her eyes, uncertain and yet trusting Bea to say the right thing, do the right thing, make everything better. Bea felt a sharp pang inside. When did she start feeling like the parent in this relationship? But she knew the answer, could trace it back to the terrible day six years ago, when the bottom fell out of both their worlds.
‘You’ll be there, won’t you? When they come to interview me?’
‘Yes, Mum. I’ll be there.’
A little crowd gathered for the end of the spinathon. Bea had wondered whether it would just peter out, but all the staff still on shift left their stations for the big finale. Neville, Bob-on-Meat and Dean from Stores were there. Most of the checkout ladies were processing the last stragglers but a couple escaped from their tills early. Some had come back after an evening at home, including Ginny, who looked as fresh as a daisy. The Leisure Centre staff were there, too, including Lee.
Gavin was doing the final leg on the bike. Turns out his suit hid a multitude of sins: in jogging bottoms and T-shirt his full size was revealed. He was not a small man. It was clear that he was struggling to get to the finish line. His face was red, worryingly tinged with grey.
‘He’s really trying, isn’t he?’ Ginny said to Bea, looking towards him and covering her mouth with her hand. ‘Can’t be easy, being that, you know . . . ’ She left the word big hanging in the air, unspoken.
‘We’re not all skinny little racing snakes like you,’ said Bea, without rancour. ‘But everyone’s mucked in, haven’t they? Proper team effort.’
There were still ten minutes to go. The pedals were slowing. Gavin was gasping for air.
Policeman Tom found Bea in the crowd. He put his hand on her shoulder, making her jump. ‘Can I have a word?’
What have I done now? thought Bea. Was it that sodding T-shirt, offending public decency?
He took her to one side and leaned in close.
‘I’ve had First Aid training,’ he said, ‘and I think he’s had enough.’
‘Do you think he might keel over?’
‘I think he should stop. Not good publicity for anyone if the manager is carted away in an ambulance.’
Bea went over to Lee, who was near the bike. She beckoned him close to her.
‘Do you think he can carry on to the end?’
Lee shook his head.
‘He started off way too fast and now he’s not looking good. I did have a word in his ear, but he’s determined to keep going.’
‘Someone needs to tell him. He’s not going to like it,’ said Bea.
‘No, but you’re in charge, aren’t you? Of the spinathon?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘Time for a substitution.’
Ant was skulking at the back of the crowd. Bea quickly threaded her way through to him.
‘I’m going to take Gavin off,’ she said. ‘Are you fit to do the last ten minutes?’
‘Me? I don’t think I’m flavour of the month.’
‘Just do it for me. I’ll look after Gavin, take him away for a sit down, and you nip on and finish the job.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah. Come with me now.’
They made their way to the middle of the gathering. Lee and Tom stood nearby. She looked at both of them and they nodded. Okay, deep breath.
Gavin was still going, just. His head was hanging between his arms, his glasses slipping down to the end of his nose.
‘Gavin,’ Bea said, ‘it’s time to stop.’
He lifted his head a little to look at the monitor. He squinted his eyes, trying to make sense of it.
‘Is it?’ he said. ‘I can’t see the time on this thing.’
‘Yes,’ said Bea, firmly. ‘You’ve done brilliantly. It’s time now. Come on.’ She put her hand on his arm and started to help him off the bike, then she turned to the crowd. ‘Big round of applause for Gavin, everyone. Come on, show him some love!’
The onlookers dutifully complied with a burst of applause, some whooping, and a very piercing whistle. Bea and Tom led Gavin to a folding chair, set up near Customer Services.
‘Is your wife – Steph – coming along? Do you want me to ring her?’
She wasn’t sure if he’d heard her, then he muttered, ‘No. No. Don’t ring.’
‘You sure?’
‘Don’t ring her. I’m all right.’
They handed him some water and draped a towel round his neck. Tom discreetly took his pulse. ‘I’ll take it again in five minutes, make sure you’re recovering okay.’
Egged on by their own noise, the crowd kept going, encouraging Ant as he pedalled furiously, his legs becoming a blur.
Gavin was hunched over for a while. When he looked up he seemed confused.
‘Why are they still cheering? What’s going on?’
‘Ant’s just doing the last five minutes.’
‘What? Didn’t I—’
‘You did brilliantly.’
‘I didn’t do thirty minutes, did I? I couldn’t even manage that.’
He looked absolutely crushed. Bea did a bit of quick thinking.
‘No, but it’s not over yet. You’ve got five minutes to get your breath back and then lead the thank yous to everyone who’s still here. I can’t do that public speaking stuff. That’s your job.’
‘Oh, right. Right.’
He took another swig of water and started wiping his face and neck with the towel. He looked up at Bea. ‘It’s been a team effort, hasn’t it?’
‘Yes, Gav. It really has.’ She beamed at him.
In the middle of the crowd, Ant looked like he was going for some sort of record. Tom took Gavin’s pulse again and seemed satisfied. Bea waited until everyone started the countdown for the last thirty seconds.
‘You okay to speak?’ she asked Gavin.
‘Yes.’
He stood up slowly. He was still flushed but he looked normally hot now, rather than worrying grey. The crowd parted to let him and Bea through.
When Lee blew the whistle for the fin
al time, Ant climbed up onto the saddle and took a flying leap, like a triumphant jockey. He stumbled a bit on landing, but Dean and Bob were there to set him on his feet again.
Gavin waited for the noise to die down, then gave a short speech, thanking everyone for taking part. He reminded them about the reason they’d done it – little Kayleigh and her mum Keisha who were both, he said, part of the Costsave family. He thanked the Leisure Centre for providing the bike and their staff, and especially Bea for making it all happen. Bea felt herself colouring up as the cheers rang out for her. She did a little self-conscious curtsey and then stepped back into the crowd. She was so busy wishing she could disappear that she almost missed the last words from Gavin. ‘I propose that we all move on to the Nag’s Head. The first round is on me!’
Bea thought the roof was going to come off.
Neville bustled around with his clipboard, reminding everyone to log off from their tills and scrub down the counters like usual before they left. The off-duty staff mucked in. The last few customers were dealt with and escorted out, the shutters brought down on the freezers and fridges. Gavin locked the front door and people trooped back to the staffroom to get changed and collect their things.
As they filed out of the staff door, Dot linked arms with Bea. ‘Coming to the pub? Don’t think you’ll have to buy a drink all night.’
Bea imagined the crush in the hot, sweaty room – condensation running down the windows, booze on everyone’s breath and the waft of cigarette smoke every time someone opened the door. It had been a while since she’d been out. She was kind of tempted. But then she remembered Queenie and the letter, and she knew she’d be waiting for her, hovering by the back door until she got home.
‘No,’ she said, ‘I’d better get back.’
There were howls of protest.
‘Noo! Come on, Bea! This is your night.’
‘Come on, Bea. Pleeeeease.’
‘Ah, maybe one, then.’
A cheer went up. Her conscience pricked her, but it couldn’t quite spoil the feeling of being the hero of the hour, as they swept along the High Street and bundled into the Nag’s Head. Soon she was crammed into a corner by the bar with a vodka and tonic in her hand. There were multiple toasts and her drink was soon gone.
‘Can I buy you another?’
She looked round. It was Dave, the married man. A movement in the crowd pushed him even closer to her. He seemed to stumble forward, pressing against her. He put his arm behind her and braced his hand against the wall, relieving some of the pressure.
‘Busy in here, isn’t it?’ he said.
Close to, Bea could see a thin layer of stubble on his jawline. His eyes were brown and kind, and he had surprisingly long eyelashes. His face was only a few inches away from hers and once again she found herself imagining the gap closing, the feel of his mouth on hers. He had a nice mouth, not thin, but not too full. He’s also got a wife, she told herself firmly. A wife who had a black eye this morning.
‘So, what are you drinking?’ he said. His arm had dropped to rest around her shoulders.
‘Nothing. I’ve got to go, actually,’ Bea said. ‘I just popped in for one.’
‘Ah, go on. One more won’t hurt.’
‘No, really – excuse me.’
‘Bea,’ he said. ‘One drink.’ The kindness had evaporated from his eyes. There was something steelier there now.
‘How do you know my name?’ she said. Despite the heat, a chill ran down her spine.
‘You’re not wearing it now, but you were last Thursday.’ She must have looked confused. ‘Your name badge,’ he said.
‘Oh, right.’ She made a show of looking at her watch. It was nearly a quarter to eleven. ‘Okay, I’ve really got to go now.’
‘Boyfriend waiting for you?’
‘Mum.’ Damn! The minute the word was out of her mouth, Bea wanted to take it back. Not Mum, boyfriend. Big, fierce, imaginary boyfriend that would keep creeps like you away from me.
She wriggled away from him and squeezed through a gap in the crowd.
‘You going, babe?’ Dot said, as she passed her.
‘Yeah. Better get back to Queenie.’
‘Give her my love, then. See you tomorrow.’
‘See ya.’
Gavin was near the door. ‘Want another drink, Bea?’
‘No, thanks, Gav. I’ve got to get off now.’
‘Not on your own, surely?’
‘It’s only a few minutes, Gav. I’ll be fine.’
‘Okay, if you’re sure. Thanks for today, Bea.’ He high-fived her, and she reached for the door handle.
The air was shockingly cold after the warm fug of the pub. She pulled up the collar of her coat and set off. A few metres along she heard the swell of noise from the pub as the door opened again, but she didn’t think anything of it. Her mind was focused on getting home, having a nice cup of tea and going to bed. It had been a very long day.
She turned off the High Street and walked past the bungalows. She thought she heard footsteps behind her. Well, it was the normal time for people to be walking home from the pub. Even so, she glanced round. The man, and she was sure it was a man, was in the shadows, between the pools of soft yellow light thrown out by the streetlights. He was about thirty metres behind her.
Okay, don’t panic, she thought. Her legs protested as she increased her speed. The day’s exertions had taken their toll. Oh God, she thought, I couldn’t run if I had to. I just couldn’t. She listened hard as she walked along. The man seemed to be keeping pace with her. Getting closer, even. Don’t look. Don’t let him think you’re rattled. But she was rattled.
She was skirting around the edge of the Green now. The path was close to the rows of houses, but all the curtains were drawn, the doors shut and bolted. No one was around. No one could see her. There was an opening to a roadway between the houses. It would take her much longer to get home that way but a road felt better than a path right now.
She dodged sideways and hurried along. As she turned the corner, she couldn’t help looking back. He was ten metres away now – a dark figure, wearing a hat or a hood which somehow shaded his face.
She turned another corner onto the main road into her estate, relieved to see headlights coming towards her.
‘Bea!’ The man behind shouted her name, as the car slowed to her pace and drove alongside. The streetlight picked out the fluorescent stripe down the side. The driver wound down his window. It was Tom.
‘Bea!’ he called. ‘Get in!’
She ran around the back of the car and yanked open the passenger door. She swung into the seat and slammed the door shut.
‘Drive,’ she said. ‘Just drive. There’s someone . . . I think there’s someone following me.’
‘I’m a policeman,’ Tom said. ‘If there’s someone there, I’ll have him.’
They both looked in their side mirrors and then twisted round in their seats to look behind. There was no one there.
‘We’ll wait for a minute. See if he crawls out of the woodwork, although I should think the jam sandwich will have frightened him off.’
They sat for a little while. Bea leaned back in the seat and shut her eyes.
‘You all right?’
Tom put his hand on top of hers. It was large, warm, reassuring. Bea just sat and enjoyed the feeling for a few seconds, then she opened her eyes.
‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘Thank God you came along when you did.’
‘I was in the pub,’ he said, ‘and I saw you leave. I just didn’t like the thought of you walking home on your own.’
‘That’s really kind,’ she said. Without really thinking about what she was doing, she turned her hand over so that their palms met. His fingers closed around hers, and this meeting of hands was something else now. A sort of conversation without words. And he was looking at her and she was looking at him.
‘I’d better get home,’ she said, and the spell was broken.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Shall w
e drive around for a bit, see if we can spot this guy?’
‘I don’t know. No, really. I’d rather just go home.’
‘Okay. I’ll patrol the area when I’ve dropped you off.’ He put the car into gear and drove off smoothly. ‘Can you tell me anything about him?’
‘No, not really.’ Once again, Bea felt at a loss. ‘It was dark when I looked back. He had a hood up, I think.’
‘Tall? Short? Well built?’
‘I don’t know. Sorry, I’m a bit useless.’
‘It’s all right. If this guy’s out there, we’ll get him.’
‘If?’
‘If this was the one that attacked Emma. We’ll get him. We won’t stop until we do.’
‘Did she say anything about the guy that attacked her? Was he wearing a hoodie too?’
‘I shouldn’t be telling you this, but she can’t remember anything about the attack. She only remembers starting to walk home. The attack itself and five or ten minutes before that are blank.’
‘Oh. Maybe it’ll come back to her.’
‘Yeah, the doctors say that might happen. You can’t force these things though. So until then, we’ve got no description, no ID.’
‘He needs stopping. Women should be able to walk home without being raped.’
‘Emma wasn’t raped, Bea. He hit her, punched her, but there wasn’t anything sexual.’
‘Oh, but I heard—’
‘That’s the trouble with the rumour mill, isn’t it? People just make stuff up and it gets repeated like gospel. Anyway, we’ll get the bastard, don’t you worry. Is this you here?’
Tom was pulling the car up outside Bea’s house.
‘Yeah. Thanks, Tom. I mean it.’
She fumbled with the catch to release the seatbelt. He went to help her and their hands touched again.
‘You were great today, Bea,’ Tom said, and he leaned across and kissed her softly, just at the side of her mouth. Bea moved her head a little and her mouth met his. Two kisses. Three. Tentative. Gentle. They drew apart. Bea couldn’t look at him. Wanted to, but couldn’t.
‘Okay. Thanks,’ she said, and opened the door. Then she remembered, ‘One thing. About the guy following me. He knew my name.’
‘Right. That narrows it down. I’ll go looking now. I’ll radio the other cars, too, just in case. Goodnight, Bea.’
