by Roberta Kray
Logically, she could see no good reason for anyone to come into the room. But then she began to think of reasons. Mrs Gough probably still kept it clean and dusted even though Mal didn’t sleep here any more. And perhaps Esther came sometimes to . . . well, perhaps just to remember that she’d once had a husband who lived in this house.
Lolly held her breath, her pulse racing, as the footsteps approached. And then, horror of horrors, they stopped right outside the door. Her mouth went dry. What now? She should make a dash for it, perhaps, go and hide in the bathroom. It might not prevent her being discovered but at least she could dump all the clothes in the laundry basket. Then she could make up some story about . . . God, she couldn’t think of anything.
Lolly’s brain was shrinking, going into panic mode. Stay or shift? The problem with any sudden movement was that it might alert the person outside to her presence. And now, anyway, she was too paralysed by anxiety to make a decision. She prayed. She waited. It felt like an eternity, eons rather than seconds, before the footsteps finally resumed and whoever it was walked on. A female, she reckoned, from the lightness of the tread, but that only narrowed it down to three.
Lolly slowly released the breath she was holding. She didn’t try and leave straight away – there was a chance the woman would return the way she’d come – but instead walked over to the bed and sat down. Her legs were shaky, her heart still pounding. A close shave. If she’d left the room slightly earlier she would have run straight into the person at the foot of the stairs. Explaining why she was carrying a sackful of unusual swag might have been tricky.
While Lolly was waiting for her heart to recover, her gaze fell on the bedside table. Mal’s black leather wallet was lying there, probably in exactly the same spot he had left it on the day of his fateful row with Esther. She picked it up and flicked it open. Inside was his driving licence, credit card and a wad of cash. The money could be useful to him. She didn’t dare take it, though. If she was caught she’d look like a thief. Carefully, she replaced the wallet where she’d found it.
Once Lolly’s nerves had been restored she set off again along the landing. This time she made it down to her room without event, sighing with relief as she closed the door behind her. Step one successfully completed. Now she just had to get the stuff to Mal.
27
Tuesday 20 September. Kellston
Stella rubbed her eyes, yawned and got up from the bed. She looked at her watch – almost four o’clock – and frowned. She had only meant to lie down for ten minutes after lunch and that had been over three hours ago. Although lunch suggested food, hers had been of the liquid variety, a few much needed shots of vodka. The inside of her mouth felt stale, her teeth rough and furred. She stared at the basin for a moment but couldn’t be bothered to wash her face or pick up a toothbrush. All that routine stuff was too much effort now.
What was the point? she kept asking herself. Nothing was going to bring Dana back; the poor kid was gone for ever, obliterated, wiped out, dust to dust and all that. But she wasn’t going to let it go. The knot in her stomach tightened. The familiar anger flared and burned. She hated him, the arsehole who’d done it, and not just with any old hate – this was deep and lasting and vengeful. Making the bastard pay was the only thing that kept her going. Trying to out-think him, to get inside his head, to figure out what he’d do next.
‘Freddy,’ she muttered. ‘I’ll bloody well find you and when I do . . . ’
Downstairs some of the girls were gathered round the kitchen table. They stopped chatting as she came into the room, averted their eyes, pretended they hadn’t been talking about her.
‘Don’t mind me,’ Stella said.
‘You all right, hon?’ Michelle asked.
‘No, I’m not fuckin’ all right.’
Michelle raised her eyebrows. ‘Only asking. No need to bite me head off.’
‘Don’t ask bloody stupid questions then.’
Stella had considered making a coffee but now had a better idea. Instead she opened the cupboard, took out a bottle and poured herself a stiff vodka. Hair of the dog. Just what was needed.
Jackie, who could never resist throwing in her two pennyworth, said, ‘Go easy, Stel. That stuff ain’t going to help.’
‘And who asked you?’
‘All I’m saying is . . . ’
‘Keep it to yourself. I don’t want to hear it.’
Stella grabbed the glass and marched out through the back door to the yard. Why couldn’t they just leave her alone? She lit a fag, walked to the end of the yard and opened the gate. While she drank and smoked, she gazed along the length of the empty alley. All she could think about was Dana and the shithead who’d murdered her. And what were the pigs doing about it? Fuck all so far as she could see. She had a mind to go down Cowan Road and have it out with them. Except she’d probably just end up in the slammer.
Already she had a picture of Freddy in her head, a man old enough to have learnt how to manipulate women, but still young enough to have been able to make a connection with Dana. He was out there somewhere, probably eyeing up his next victim; his type never stopped at one. Well, if he thought he’d got away with it, he had another think coming. She wouldn’t rest until she’d hunted him down.
28
Tuesday 20 September. West Henby
Dinner was at six o’clock. As soon as Lolly entered the dining room she could sense the atmosphere, something off-kilter, something not quite right. Her gaze raked the faces. Esther was in an unusually good mood, her eyes shining, her gestures even more dramatic than usual. Jude had on his angry expression. He glared across the table at Heather, his bad mood a consequence perhaps of Lolly’s earlier attempt to stir things up between them. She had no regrets about that.
‘Lita, darling,’ Esther said. ‘What have you been doing all afternoon? We’ve barely seen you.’
Lolly was instantly wary, afraid of falling into a trap. Esther was never interested in anything she did. She felt the anxiety that comes with keeping secrets and fearing they might suddenly been exposed. ‘Oh, nothing much.’
‘You must find this place very dull after the bright city lights.’
Lolly thought of Kellston, probably one of the least bright areas of London, and raised her eyebrows. ‘Of course not.’ She had a choice between sitting beside Jude or Heather and plumped for the latter, the lesser of two evils.
‘London’s so vibrant, isn’t it?’ Esther continued. ‘Always something to do, somewhere to go.’
‘Your London, perhaps,’ Jude said crossly. ‘You have no idea how the other half live.’
‘Well, I’m sure you won’t hesitate to enlighten me.’
Lolly’s eyes took in the fare on offer. Tonight’s meal wasn’t that different to last night’s, except the chicken and ham had been replaced by a cold game pie. Either Mrs Gough had been down to the village or there had been a delivery to the house. This was good news. Lolly had decided to delay seeing Mal until this evening and now, hopefully, the larder had been replenished and she would have more supplies to take him.
Heather joined Esther in extolling the charms of London: the cinemas, the theatres, the parks, the art galleries. Jude said the city was a cesspit. While the three of them debated the point, Lolly picked at her meal, nerves blunting the edge of her hunger. She glanced towards the window. The light was beginning to fade but it wouldn’t be dark until about half past seven. That should, theoretically, give her enough time to raid the kitchen, sort out the clothes and get down to the lake. She could hardly go walking in the pitch black, at least not without raising suspicion.
Lolly glanced at Heather. She would have liked to confront her over the claim that she’d seen Vicky Finch with Esther but could hardly do so without revealing her source. It was annoying and frustrating. What was the girl playing at? And then there was the lie about not working on the book with Esther any more. Mal’s theory that Esther had just changed her mind didn’t wash. There were manoeuvrings going on here
, scheming and duplicity. She was certain of it.
As the meal progressed, the conversation petered out. Soon the only sound that remained was the scraping of knives against china. Esther released a sigh into the quiet of the room. ‘Everyone’s so glum tonight. I do hope you’ll cheer up before tomorrow.’
Lolly, who’d been lost in thought, pricked up her ears. ‘Why, what’s happening tomorrow?’
‘The party, of course!’
‘What party?’
‘Didn’t I mention it? I’m sure I did. One last fabulous do before I say goodbye to the old place. You’ll stay for it, of course. You must. You don’t have to go rushing back to London, do you?’
It seemed to Lolly, looking round, that she was the only person surprised by the news. She had no idea if this was a genuine oversight on Esther’s part or if everyone had conspired to keep her in ignorance until the last minute. Although she had no immediate plans to leave – and really couldn’t so long as Mal was here – she felt a sudden sense of unease. ‘Erm . . . I’m not sure.’
‘But you’ve got to be here, darling. I’ve got a very important announcement to make.’
This didn’t do anything to allay Lolly’s fears. ‘What sort of announcement?’
‘Well, if I tell you now, there won’t be anything to announce, will there? Let’s hope the rain keeps off. It’ll be lovely if we can spread out into the garden.’
Lolly couldn’t think of anything worse than a crowd of champagne-fuelled guests wandering around the grounds. What if one of them stumbled on the summerhouse? What if they peered through the window and noticed something odd? Or heard something. Or even forced the door. It was flimsy, rotting, and the lock might easily give way.
Mrs Gough came in and started to clear the plates off the table. She performed the task with a kind of stiff-backed disdain, as though the job was beneath her. In the old days Mrs Docherty had done all the fetching and carrying.
‘Leave those for now, Mrs Gough. Be a dear and bring us some coffee in the drawing room.’
The housekeeper gave a pained smile, nodded and said, ‘Very well, Mrs Fury.’
Once she had left the room, everyone else stood up. Only Lolly loitered as the others headed for the drawing room. Heather stopped at the door and looked back. ‘Are you joining us?’
Lolly shook her head. ‘Maybe later. I’ve got a phone call to make.’
‘You will stay for the party, won’t you?’
Lolly lowered her voice and asked softly, ‘Do you have any idea what this announcement is?’
‘Not a clue.’
As soon as she was alone, Lolly darted over to the door, closed it and set about gathering up some of the food that was left over. She quickly wrapped a large piece of pie, bread and a hunk of cheese in a napkin, hoping that Mrs Gough hadn’t noticed what was remaining during the brief time she’d been in the room.
Once she’d finished, she went over to the door again, opened it, checked that no one was in sight and hurried along the corridor and up the stairs. Back in her bedroom she placed the booty on the dressing table, pleased that she’d saved herself a trip to the kitchen and possibly a long delay while Mrs Gough was dealing with the dishes.
Lolly dug out Mal’s clothes from the back of the wardrobe. She hadn’t dared leave them on view in case Mrs Gough had come snooping. Now all she had to do was get out of the house and down to the lake without being spotted. With Esther, Jude and Heather safely ensconced in the drawing room the only person she had to worry about was the housekeeper.
Another problem remained, however: how to transport the clothes to Mal. There was a suitcase on top of the wardrobe but she didn’t dare take the chance. Creeping out of the house with luggage would look mighty odd unless she was leaving. No, she had a better idea.
Lolly took off her own sweater and put on Mal’s instead. It was fine knit, cashmere, far too long and big for her but not too lumpy. She slipped the shirt on top of that and tucked them both into her jeans. She put on her thigh-length raincoat, did up the zipper and went over to the full-length mirror to examine her reflection. Well, she didn’t exactly look slimline but she reckoned she’d get away with it. The coat was big enough to cover a multiple of sins.
Before leaving, Lolly pushed the underwear and socks into her left pocket and the food into her right. She would take the rest of the things first thing in the morning: the jacket, trousers and shoes. If she woke early enough, she could be up and about before anyone else rose from their beds.
‘Here we go again,’ she murmured.
Lolly walked softly down the stairs and was passing the drawing room, heading for the rear of the house, when the door suddenly opened and Jude came out.
‘Where are you off to?’ he asked.
Lolly was starting to wonder if she was cursed by bad luck. Every time she tried to do something surreptitious, she seemed to run into obstacles of the human variety. ‘What?’ she asked, playing for time.
‘Where are you going?’
Lolly could have answered, quite simply, that she was going for a stroll in the garden but worried that it might seem odd. It wasn’t dark yet but it was getting that way, dusk settling all around, the sky low and grey. ‘The village,’ she said. ‘I’m going to see a friend.’
‘At the pub? Actually, I might join you. I wouldn’t mind getting out of here myself for a few hours.’
‘No,’ Lolly said, mortified at the thought. ‘I’m going to Theresa’s. Just for an hour. I haven’t seen her since I got here and . . . ’ She glanced down at her watch. ‘I’d better go or I’ll be late. Will you let Esther know?’
‘Aren’t you going to use the front door?’
What’s with the twenty bloody questions, she wanted to ask. Instead she said, ‘I was just looking for an umbrella in case it rains. Never mind, I’m sure it won’t.’ Lolly turned and walked back the way she’d come. She could feel his eyes on her as she opened the door and closed it behind her.
As she hurried down the drive, Lolly wondered if Jude suspected anything. Had he noticed the bulk under her coat? Had she seemed shifty, evasive? She replayed the exchange in her head but couldn’t come to any firm conclusion. In case he was watching her, she felt obliged to keep walking down the drive until she came to the bend and passed out of sight of the house. At this point she veered onto the grass and started circling back round towards the lake.
Lolly dived into the trees and followed the curve of the perimeter wall. The detour had cost her an extra five minutes and she walked with fast, furious strides, wanting to get to Mal before darkness fell. It was spooky in the twilight. Everything looked different from the daytime, shapes contorted, familiarity replaced by strangeness. The birds had fallen silent, their song replaced by other sounds, tiny rustlings that made her jump and turn and peer into the undergrowth.
By the time she reached the lake and joined the narrow path, she was slightly out of breath. She slowed her pace as she approached the summerhouse. There was no sign of life. A part of her hoped he’d gone, seen sense and scarpered. He was better off out of here, a thousand miles away. She was scared of what might happen if he stayed.
Lolly went up to the door and knocked very lightly. Her hopes were instantly dashed. She heard the key turning in the lock and a few seconds later the door opened. Even though this wasn’t the first time she’d seen Mal she was still shocked by his appearance. The suave sophisticated man had been replaced by a down-and-out, ragged and dishevelled with emptiness in his eyes. But as soon as he smiled this impression left her and she saw the real Mal again.
‘Ah,’ he said, ‘it’s always lovely to have visitors. Please excuse the state of the place; I’ve only just moved in.’
Lolly grinned, went inside, took the food out of her pocket and placed it on the table. ‘Game pie. Very tasty. And some bread and cheese.’
‘You’re an angel. What would I do without you?’
‘Starve to death, I suppose.’ She emptied her other pocket of the p
ants and socks. Then she took off her jacket, removed the shirt and sweater and laid them over the back of a chair. ‘I’ll bring the rest tomorrow.’
He smiled again when he saw how she’d hidden the clothes. ‘They’ll be recruiting you to MI5.’ He reached out a hand and touched the soft cashmere. ‘Thanks. It’s been a while since I wore anything decent.’
Lolly put her coat back on – it was getting chilly – and perched on the edge of the chair. ‘Are you warm enough with the rug? Should I bring you a blanket?’
‘No, the rug’s fine. Do you have any news? Have you found out anything?’
‘Only that we have a problem. Esther’s throwing a party tomorrow night.’
‘That’s not a problem.’
‘Of course it is. There’ll be guests swarming all over the place, especially if it stays dry. Make sure you keep the door locked.’
‘What’s the party for?’
‘I’ve no idea.’ She didn’t mention the announcement, afraid that this would only encourage him to take unnecessary risks. Especially if he thought it was about his daughter. ‘Does Esther need a reason?’
‘No, I suppose not. Don’t worry, I’ll stay out of sight.’
‘You won’t do anything daft, will you? You won’t try and get in the house or talk to Esther?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘I won’t do anything daft. I promise.’
Lolly had always trusted Mal, always taken him at his word. So why, on this occasion, did she not believe him?
29
Tuesday 20 September. London
It was evening before Nick Trent finally made it home. He threw his car keys on the table, switched on the kettle and took a couple of aspirin. His head was banging from too many hours spent in a police interview room being asked the same questions in a number of different ways. It was probably a good thing that he hadn’t known the identity of the client at the time or he might have overthought what he’d said. Providing evidence that could lead to the conviction of Terry’s Street’s enforcer was hardly conducive to free and open speech.
