The Cost of Living

by Rachel Ward

  ‘Right,’ she said, rubbing her hands together. ‘I can do this.’

  She checked Anna’s list of passwords and logged on, then examined the alarming array of icons that filled the screen.

  ‘One thing at a time,’ she muttered and was about to select the first one that looked interesting when Gavin came in.

  ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘you’re on the system already. I was coming in to help you with that.’

  ‘I used my initiative,’ said Bea. ‘Texted Anna.’

  ‘Anna? You’ve been in touch with her?’ His voice was conversational, but he was jiggling his hand against his leg.

  ‘Yeah, she told me where the desk keys were and the password file.’ The jiggling carried on. ‘That’s okay, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, of course,’ he said. ‘Well done. Easier to ask me first, though, than bother Anna. I’m right next door.’

  ‘Well, you are the boss. I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than hold my hand. I mean— I didn’t mean—’

  He held his hand up to halt her stumbling apology.

  ‘It’s okay. I am the boss, but I like to think that we’re all colleagues here. And I’m happy to help you while you settle in. That’s part of my job. An important part.’

  He grabbed a chair and trundled it over next to Bea, so he could see her screen too. Close to, Bea could smell his aftershave which wasn’t quite masking an underlying hint of unwashed armpit.

  ‘That’s what’s so nice about working here,’ she said. ‘You really want people to get on. You care.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, I do.’

  ‘I couldn’t help overhearing you talking about Ant with Neville yesterday. I wanted to thank you. For dealing with his problem so sensitively.’

  Gavin smiled. ‘I know the staff laugh at me when I talk about the Costsave family, but I really believe it. And families look after each other. Ant’s not a bad lad. And if he’s given a chance and the right support I think he’ll make something of himself.’

  ‘I agree. He’s sharp. He just hides it well sometimes.’

  ‘You’ve taken him under your wing, haven’t you? I appreciate that.’

  ‘We’re mates now.’

  ‘Might be a good idea not to get too pally, though. If you’re going to join us on the management side.’

  ‘Well, I never thought that I would—’

  ‘You need to start thinking that way. I believe in you. Be ambitious for yourself.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  He reached over and rested his hand on top of hers. Surprised, she glanced at him. He smiled and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

  ‘Right,’ he said. ‘Let’s get started. We need to keep on top of the basics. You need to compile daily reports on stock levels and sales and email them to me. I’ll show you how to do that – it’s very straightforward. You’ll also be the first port of call for routine staff issues: holiday forms, sickness reporting, that sort of thing. You can report them to Neville and then keep the records up to date and liaise with staff. There are some routine health and safety things, too. Inspections, reports. I’d like you to get involved with those. Okay?’ He looked sideways at Bea, who had started to glaze over. ‘I’m sorry. It’s a lot, isn’t it? Let’s start with the routine stats. I’ll show you. No, better still, I’ll tell you and you do it. You need to click on the “Stock” icon . . . ’

  Gavin talked Bea through some of the daily admin tasks. After compiling a couple of reports, he set her the task of running two more while he dealt with his emails and phone messages. Before he went back to his office, he hesitated.

  ‘You look great, by the way. Professional. Smart. I’m not wrong about you, Bea. You’re going places.’

  ‘Thanks, Gavin – sorry, Mr Howells.’

  ‘Gavin’s fine here in the office, Bea. Colleagues, remember?’

  He turned to leave, when Bea remembered something else.

  ‘How often do we change the code on the staff door?’

  ‘It’s meant to be every month, but that’s slipped a bit.’

  ‘I’ve just seen Dean downstairs. Said he was collecting his things.’

  ‘Ah. Point taken.’

  Bea was left with a bright screen, a set of databases, and a rising sense of panic. She tried to remember the steps they had just been through together. There was a paper manual, too. She set it firmly on her desk and started paging through to the right section.

  I can do this, she told herself. I’m going places.

  She worked through until lunchtime. She had to ask Gavin for a few pointers, but on the whole she was pleased with how she coped. The phone went from time to time, emails pinged into a general branch inbox, but mostly it was quiet, orderly and calm. It reminded Bea of all those years of doing her homework at her desk in her bedroom. She liked it.

  At half past twelve she logged out of the computer and switched it off, locked the filing cabinets and walked along to the staff room.

  ‘All right, love. How’s it going?’

  Bob-on-Meat was by the kettle. He made a ‘T’ sign with his two index fingers and she nodded. He slung a tea bag in an empty cup and poured hot water onto it.

  ‘It’s good, thanks, Bob. Different. Miss my customers, though. Has Norma been in this morning?’

  ‘Yeah, she’s fine. And Reg. And Mrs Wills with the tartan trolley. All our regulars are fine.’

  ‘I didn’t know you did odd jobs for some of them?’

  ‘Oh. Yeah.’ He looked up, tea bag balanced perilously on a spoon in mid-air. ‘Who’s been talking?’

  ‘Can’t remember. Someone said you’d helped them out.’

  He dropped the tea bag into the bin. ‘Well, I don’t broadcast it or I’d never have a minute’s peace but I do look after my regulars.’

  ‘Good on you, Bob.’

  She added milk to both their drinks and looked round the room. Eileen was sitting close to Kirsty on the sofa. She looked away when Bea caught her eye, then seemed to change her mind. She said something to Kirsty, stood up and started heading towards Bea.

  ‘Have you seen Dot recently?’ Bob asked.

  ‘No. I want to visit today, if I can.’

  ‘I saw her yesterday. She’s doing really well now—’

  ‘You’ve got a nerve!’ Eileen butted in between them, getting right in Bea’s face. ‘Coming in here like nothing happened!’

  Bob placed his large hands on her shoulders and held her gently where she was allowing Bea to step back.

  ‘Hang on, Eileen,’ he said. ‘Calm down.’

  ‘She’s spreading lies and gossip to the police. That’s why they took my Dean in. That’s why he’s been suspended.’

  Deny it, Bea thought. Deny it and keep denying.

  ‘I didn’t gossip about Dean, Eileen.’

  ‘Didn’t you? Can you swear on your mother’s life?’ Eileen was jabbing her finger at Bea, and Bea, whose head was suddenly full of Queenie, made a fatal hesitation.

  ‘I didn’t mean—’ she stumbled.

  ‘Oh my God, it’s true!’ Eileen tore herself away from Bob’s grasp and launched herself at Bea. Bea felt a sharp pain as Eileen’s nails scratched the side of her face. The staffroom erupted, as people leapt to get them apart or get closer to watch the fun. Bob soon had hold of Eileen again and this time he led her to the far side of the room.

  ‘Let’s get you out of here,’ a voice said in Bea’s ear. It was Ant, and she gladly let him guide her out of the staffroom and down the stairs. Outside in the car park he handed her a tissue.

  ‘You’re bleeding. That cow took a chunk out of your face.’

  Bea dabbed where it hurt. There were two vivid red lines on the tissue when she held it away and looked. They blurred as the blood soaked into the fibres.

  ‘I’d better go to the loos, sort myself out,’ she said.

  ‘Don’t go back in there. Go in the café,’ said Ant.

  ‘I haven’t got my coat.’

  ‘Have mine.’


  He took off his parka and draped it round her shoulders. She was so touched by the gesture, she decided not to mind that it smelt a bit musty. She could spritz a bit more perfume on when she got back to the office.

  ‘Everyone knows,’ she said, as she watched the steam rise from her mug as they sat at the corner table in the café. ‘Everyone knows I’m a grass.’

  ‘So what? It could have been him. And if it was, you’d have been everyone’s hero. I hate a grass, I do, but this is murder. This is our town.’

  ‘I don’t know how I can go back there.’

  ‘You can do it. Eileen’s upset at the moment, but she’ll get over it. They all will. Deano’s a little shit. I don’t mind the egg stuff, it’s the nasty stuff, the sly stuff, telling my mum about Dot, setting his mates on you. That’s out of order. Hopefully Gavin will do the right thing and sack him.’

  ‘I was starting to believe it could be him, but if it wasn’t then it must be someone else. There must be evidence somewhere – the hammer or whatever was used, the clothes the killer wore that night. They’d have bloodstains on them. Where have those things gone?’

  ‘Things like that don’t just disappear,’ said Ant. ‘I suppose he could have burnt the clothes.’

  ‘Yeah, but someone would’ve seen that, wouldn’t they? Seen the smoke from a bonfire. Someone must know, must have their suspicions. It’s so frustrating.’ She checked her watch. ‘Better get back. I’ll just fix my face.’

  ‘It’s fine. It’s not bleeding or anything.’

  Bea got her mirror out of her bag. Ant was right. The scratches had stopped oozing. She dabbed on some powder and you could hardly tell they were there at all.

  ‘She’s a psycho, that Eileen. I’ve never liked her.’

  ‘She was just upset. I don’t blame her,’ said Bea.

  ‘You don’t blame her for nearly scratching your eyes out? Who are you, Mother Theresa?’

  ‘It’s mums, isn’t it? Mums defend their kids. Like yours with Dot.’

  Ant rolled his eyes to the ceiling. ‘Don’t remind me.’

  ‘Are you going to see Dot today?’

  He scraped his chair back and jumped to his feet. ‘Yeah. Dunno. Maybe. Your coat, Madam?’

  He held his coat out and put it round her shoulders again. Bea glanced down. There were some dark spots on the front. There must be evidence. Ant headed for the door, and while his back was safely to her, Bea lifted the coat material closer to her nose and sniffed at the stains. There was a slight whiff of vinegar and something sweeter. Ketchup, she thought. Evidence of nothing more sinister than a late-night visit to the chippy.

  ‘Coming?’ said Ant. He was holding the door open for her.

  ‘Yeah, I suppose,’ she said. ‘Back to the coalface.’

  Gavin came into her office when he heard her come back. He shut the door behind him. ‘I heard about the kerfuffle in the staffroom. Do I need to call Eileen in and have a word?’

  Bea was mortified. ‘No. No, it’s all good. It was a misunderstanding.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘She thought I was behind Dean being arrested. Thought I’d told the police about Dean.’

  ‘The police? And had you?’

  ‘No. Yes. I might’ve mentioned something.’

  He frowned. ‘You rang them up?’

  ‘No, nothing like that. I’m friends with – was friends with – Tom, the copper that’s been in here a couple of times. We were just . . . talking.’

  ‘And they acted on your information. Sounds like they haven’t got much idea about the case.’

  ‘Yes. I don’t think they’re making much headway. I wish they would, though. I wish this was all over.’

  ‘We all do. Well, you’ve done your bit.’

  ‘Yeah. I was wrong though, wasn’t I? It wasn’t Dean.’

  ‘No, but it could have been. By the way, I’ve checked the records over lunch and Anna has got a bit behind with the general Health and Safety inspection. Can you look at that, please? I’ve put the file on your desk. There’s a checklist, but do ask if you’re not sure about something. Maybe Anthony could help you with it – observe and report back. Might help with his confidence.’

  ‘Okay. Thanks, Mr—’ He raised his eyebrows and she quickly corrected herself. ‘Thanks, Gavin.’

  ‘And, Bea, if things are still difficult with Eileen, do let me know. All families have arguments, but I don’t want this to get out of hand.’

  19

  ‘Bea, you’d better come over here.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Come here.’

  They’d started their inspection in the bakery. Now, in the butchery, Bob was watching them, standing with his arms folded, but still keeping his distance.

  Ant was looking into a shallow drawer. Bea peered in. There was an array of utensils – knives, scissors and a hammer.

  ‘So?’

  ‘Look at the handle,’ he hissed.

  Bea peered more closely. Against the pale background of the bottom of the drawer she could see a dark strand. A hair. A longish, dark hair. One end seemed to have caught in the seam where the handle met the head of the hammer.

  ‘Shit.’

  She glanced behind her. Bob was staring at them.

  She straightened up.

  ‘Bob?’ she said.

  He unfolded his arms and walked towards them.

  ‘I can tell you now, there’s a hammer in there. A meat hammer. Is that what you’re getting excited about?’

  ‘Bob, is this your hammer?’

  ‘I’ve just told you. Yes.’

  ‘No, actually look at it.’

  Bob glanced down.

  ‘Yes, that’s my hammer.’

  Ant and Bea looked at each other, at a loss what to do next.

  ‘I’m going to fetch Gav,’ Bea said.

  ‘Why?’ said Bob. ‘What’s the problem?’

  He stretched his hand out to pick up the hammer.

  ‘No!’ Ant and Bea shouted in unison. Ant grabbed his wrist.

  ‘Now, wait a minute—’ said Bob, with a warning look in his eye. Ant held firm.

  ‘Bob, there’s a hair on there. A long hair,’ Bea said.

  Bob frowned. He leaned forward and examined the hammer.

  ‘Shit,’ he said. ‘There’s a hair. And it’s not mine, is it?’ He ran his free hand over the top of his mostly bald head. ‘I don’t know anything about this,’ he said. ‘Get Gavin down. Call the police. Do whatever you have to do.’

  He started backing away and Ant let go of him.

  ‘Use the internal phone, Bea. It’s over there.’ Bob pointed to the white plastic phone on the wall further along the counter.

  Bea rang Gavin, who appeared soon afterwards with Neville. Gavin took one look, then rang the police on his mobile phone.

  ‘I’m sorry, Bob,’ he said, ‘but for the time being I need you to wait in my office. Ant, will you go with him please? Take Joe with you. Neville, you and I will deal with the police when they get here.’

  ‘All sorts of people come in and out of here,’ said Bea. ‘Cara’s in here every day.’ Cara was Bob’s apprentice on the meat counter. With her partly shaved head and round face, she didn’t look dissimilar to Bob.

  ‘And the police will need to question her too. In the meantime, I need her serving out on the counter. We need to keep things as normal as possible.’

  But when the police arrived, it was clear that nothing was normal any more.

  There was an air of foreboding among the staff and gasps when Neville’s voice came on the tannoy: ‘This is a customer announcement. Would all customers proceed to checkouts. The store will be closing in ten minutes.’

  People stood in the aisles and looked up to the ceiling, then started asking any staff they could find what was going on.

  Bea logged onto her till to help speed people out of the shop.

  Julie was there, with her sunglasses on again, hiding God knows what.

  ‘Wh
at’s going on?’ she said. ‘Is it a terrorist thing? A bomb?’

  ‘No, nothing like that,’ Bea said. ‘It’s just routine. They need to clear the shop, but we’ll be open again as soon as we can.’

  ‘Is it that girl? The one that was killed?’

  ‘I can’t say. They haven’t told us anything. We’re the last to know!’ She tried to make light of it.

  ‘I felt so sorry for that girl. Her family.’

  ‘Yeah, I know. She was great.’

  ‘Oh, I’m so sorry, you knew her, of course. I didn’t mean to be . . . ’

  ‘It’s all right. It’s fine.’

  ‘You should feel safe, though, shouldn’t you, walking home in your own town.’

  ‘Yeah, you should. They’ll get him. Whoever it is. Maybe sooner rather than later.’

  Julie leaned forward to grab a tin of mandarin segments which had rolled into the corner of the packing area. Bea glimpsed an angry purple bruise under her left eye.

  You should feel safe at home as well, she thought.

  She didn’t know what to say, how to help. So again, she didn’t say anything, and she hated herself as she watched Julie walking out of the store. Gavin stood by the door, ready to lock up. Although he forced a smile at the last few customers, his face was ashen. He came up to Bea.

  ‘We need to get some signs up, apologising for the temporary closure of the store. Say we’ll open again tomorrow morning.’

  ‘It’s okay. I’ll do it,’ said Bea.

  She hurried up to the office, logged on and composed and printed a couple of signs, then blew them up on the photocopier to A3 size. The staff were filing into the staffroom for a briefing as she finished.

  ‘These okay, Gavin?’

  Gavin scanned them and nodded.

  ‘I’ll fix them up. Be right back.’

  She went out of the staff exit and round to the front door, sticking the paper on with tape. It was clouding over again and she wondered whether the paper would hold out if it started to rain. But they wouldn’t be needed for long, would they?