Текст книги "Dangerous Promises"

Автор книги: Roberta Kray

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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 31 страниц)

Wayne sneered and winced almost simultaneously. ‘Eddie ain’t going to care. It don’t matter to him.’

‘What were you thinking?’ she asked again, her voice sounding peevish. ‘You were just asking for trouble.’

‘Terry’s the one doing that. It ain’t right what he did and you know it.’ Wayne turned away from the mirror and sat down on the sofa. His hands with their large red knuckles rested on his heavy thighs. ‘He had it coming and you can’t say different.’

‘Yeah, right. Except I don’t see Terry walking around with his face all smashed up.’

Wayne sniggered. ‘Maybe not his face, but his pub ain’t looking so good.’

‘And you think he’s going to lose any sleep over that?’ Petra couldn’t figure out why the filth hadn’t charged that Sadie girl yet. She’d made the call to Cowan Road and had been hoping that a quick arrest might put an end to all this bother. But then Terry had friends in high places. Maybe he’d paid the bastards off, got them to leave Nathan Stone and his tart alone. ‘He’ll have the Hope all fixed up by now, but you won’t be able to see proper for days.’

‘It’s nothin’, a few bruises, that’s all.’

‘And next time?’

Wayne gave her a nasty look. ‘Next time I’ll make sure that it’s more than the pub that gets done over.’

Petra pulled a face, but decided to drop the subject. There was no reasoning with her son when he was in this kind of mood. ‘And what have you been doing down in that cellar?’

‘What?’

‘The cellar. You’ve been tramping coal dust all over the kitchen again. What are you doing down there?’

‘Nothin’,’ he said. ‘I told you. Looking for a screwdriver.’

‘That was days ago. Ain’t you found it yet?’

‘If I’d found it, I wouldn’t still be looking, would I?’

Petra reckoned he was lying. He was up to something, but she didn’t know what. If she didn’t hate that place so much, she’d nip down and take a butcher’s, but the cellar with its dim light and shadowy corners creeped her out. She always felt like she was being watched, that a bogeyman was waiting to pounce on her. Even the thought of opening the door made her go all cold and shivery. ‘Well, just think on.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘It means don’t go getting yourself in even more bother.’

Wayne lit a fag, sat back and smiled thinly at her. ‘I suppose you’ll be making a move once the funeral’s over.’

‘You trying to get rid of me?’

‘No.’

‘Sounds like it.’

‘Just wondering, that’s all. You could take Kel with you for a while. Yeah, a bit of sea air would do her the world of good.’

‘The law might have something to say about that. She’s supposed to stay in London, ain’t she?’

Wayne gave a shrug. ‘I don’t reckon she’s a suspect any more. So long as we let them know where she is, there won’t be a problem. Yeah, she could do with a break, get away from here. Why don’t you ask her?’

‘Maybe she doesn’t want to leave. She’s got all her friends in Kellston.’

Wayne frowned at her. ‘So? It’s not like it’s for ever or nothin’, just a week or two.’ He took a drag on his cigarette and squinted with his one good eye through the stream of smoke. ‘She stays here, Mum, she’s going to get in bother. I’m sure of it. You know what Kel’s like when she goes off on one. Don’t want to see her banged up, do you? No, you’re better off taking her away, least in Bournemouth she’ll be safe and you’ll be able to keep a check on her.’

‘I can keep a check on her here.’

‘Not really. What if she flips, decides to have a go at Nathan Stone?’

Petra narrowed her eyes. ‘She doesn’t know about that girl and Stone. Shit, tell me you haven’t told her. You haven’t, have you?’

‘Course not. But you think she ain’t gonna find out? People talk. She stays here and she’ll hear about it soon enough.’

The front door slammed and a few seconds later Kelly came in. ‘What?’ she said, glancing from one to the other as a silence fell over the room.

Petra smiled at her daughter. ‘You okay, love?’

‘I was,’ she said, staring at them both suspiciously. ‘What’s going on?’

‘We were just chatting. Your brother here thinks it might be a good idea if you came back with me to Bournemouth.’

Kelly shot him a look. ‘I ain’t going nowhere.’

‘You see?’ Petra said smugly to her son. ‘I told you so.’

‘Just for a few days, a week,’ Wayne said. ‘Why not?’

‘You know why not,’ Kelly snapped back. ‘I ain’t leaving here until I find out who killed my Eddie.’ She stormed through to the kitchen, her face full of anger. Shortly afterwards there was the sound of the kettle starting to boil followed by the noisy clatter of mugs and spoons.

Petra started to get to her feet, but Wayne waved her back down. ‘I’ll have a word with her,’ he said. ‘You want a brew?’

‘I wouldn’t say no.’

As soon as he closed the kitchen door behind him, Wayne knew he was for it. Kelly turned, her eyes blazing, and hissed, ‘What’s your fuckin’ game? What are you playing at?’

‘I’m just trying to get shot of her,’ he said. ‘It’s the only thing I could think of. She’s been asking about the cellar. I reckon she knows something’s going on.’

‘So? She ain’t going to go down there, is she?’

‘You don’t know that for sure. It’ll make everything a damn sight easier if she just goes back to Bournemouth.’

‘Well, I ain’t going with her so you can forget it.’

‘You could go for a few days and then come back. The tart’s still going to be here. What difference does it make?’

Kelly jabbed at his chest with her index finger. ‘Ain’t you listening to a word I say? No! No way! You got it? I’m staying right here until we sort that filthy murdering cow.’

‘Okay,’ Wayne said, raising his hands palm out. ‘I get it. Keep your voice down, huh? You want Mum to hear?’

Kelly stared at her brother, her teeth bared. ‘That Sadie is going to pay for what she did. The bitch is going to fuckin’ pay!’

33

Sadie woke with a jolt from a bad dream she’d been having. Rushing from room to room in a strange house full of men and women she had never met before, she’d been searching desperately for Joel. Where was he? Why couldn’t she find him? It was important, essential, that she tracked him down. There was a party going on, music playing, people dancing and laughing. She ran upstairs and downstairs, panic rising inside her. Have you seen Joel? He had gone, someone said, he had already left. She was too late.

Sadie lay peering into the darkness, feeling her heart racing in her chest. A dreadful sense of loss swept over her, as if Joel was the one who had died rather than Eddie. She thought of the funeral that was still to be endured and wished the day was over and that she was back in Haverlea. If only she could turn her head and see Joel sleeping. If only she could hear his steady breathing she would know that everything was going to be all right.

Despite the blackness that surrounded her, she was certain it was morning. Outside there was already a steady flow of traffic in the street. Rain fell against the window, making a hard smattering sound and causing the glass to rattle. She recalled the night before, her drink with Velma in the Fox, and the unwelcome interruption from Nathan Stone. There were things that she had meant to ask him, about the Gissings, about Eddie’s murder, but they gone clean out of her head when she was face to face with him. Had he sensed that she wasn’t entirely innocent? There had been a look in his grey eyes, something like suspicion, but perhaps that was just her guilty conscience.

Sadie reached out and flicked on the lamp. She looked at her watch – it was almost eight o’clock – and quickly pushed back the blankets. Instantly, she was aware of the cold. She got dressed hurriedly, pulling on the black trousers and the black polo neck sweater she had chosen to wear for the funeral.

After padding along the corridor to the bathroom, Sadie returned to her room and stared at her reflection in the mirror as she combed her hair. Her face was pale, its almost ghostly pallor exaggerated by the darkness of her clothes. She put on some lipstick and then wiped it off again; the colour seemed too bright against her skin.

How was she going to get through the morning? There was a stone in her stomach the size of a boulder. She shouldn’t have come. It was wrong, a mistake. It didn’t matter what people thought of her; she should have stayed in Haverlea and sent a wreath. She was tempted for a moment to follow Stone’s advice and get on the first train out of Kellston. But she wouldn’t, she couldn’t. She owed it to Eddie to at least attend his funeral.

Down in the breakfast room, she had the impression of time standing still, of everything being exactly as it had been on the last occasion she’d been here. Even the rain seemed to be falling with the very same speed and intensity. The room was empty apart from the middle-aged man sitting in the same place, reading what could have been the same copy of The Times. He glanced up and gave her a nod.

‘Good morning.’

‘Morning,’ she replied.

Sadie sat down at the same table she had chosen last time. She was still not fully awake and things had a vaguely dreamlike quality to them. Her gaze floated over the box of cornflakes, the sugar bowl and the jug of milk. The white tablecloth was stained in places, pale beige patches where something – probably tea or coffee – had been spilt in the past and not come out in the wash.

Mrs Cuthbert shuffled in and placed a small pot of tea and a metal rack containing four quarters of lightly browned toast in front of her.

‘Thank you,’ Sadie murmured.

The old woman grunted and shuffled back to the kitchen without a word. Sadie wasn’t sure if this response was a sign of disapproval or if she was equally taciturn with everyone at this time of the morning.

‘Dreary day for it,’ the middle-aged man said.

Sadie looked over at him. ‘Yes, I suppose so.’ She wasn’t sure if he was referring to the funeral – did he even know about it? – or just to life in general. Not wanting to get into a conversation about Eddie she busied herself with the toast and butter and marmalade.

‘You brought the rain with you,’ he said.

Sadie gave him a nod, a faint smile, before returning to her breakfast and hoping he would get the hint. Please leave me alone, she wanted to say. Leave me in peace. I don’t want to talk to anyone. She needed this time to get her thoughts in order, to prepare for what was to come.

A silence followed, broken only by the sound of the man clearing his throat and then the gentle rustle of his newspaper. Sadie felt her shoulders tense as she waited for him to speak again. She nibbled on the toast, wondering what she would say to Eddie’s parents. I’m so sorry for your loss. Wasn’t that what people usually said? And she was sorry, but she doubted if they would actually believe her. There was too much history, too much bad feeling.

At a quarter to nine Sadie went back upstairs and put on her coat. She would have to leave the holdall here and collect it later; she could hardly turn up for a funeral toting her luggage. Yes, she would come back when it was over, pay Mrs Cuthbert what she owed and jump on a train. It was still early but she wanted to check out exactly where the church was. Velma had given her directions and they seemed simple enough, but the last thing she wanted was to show up late.

As it turned out St Luke’s wasn’t hard to find. It was a small, pretty stone building with a modest spire and a few old tombstones scattered around its grounds. She stood in the street and stared at the arched door. At the moment there was no sign of activity; it would be a while before the undertakers and the mourners arrived. She thought of Eddie lying in his coffin and gave a shudder. Gone. Gone for ever.

Sadie moved away and crossed the road to Kellston Cemetery where she intended to wait until it was time for the service to begin. She walked down the main thoroughfare, along the wide tarmac path, avoiding the wet grass. The rain was still falling heavily, splattering against the canopy of her umbrella.

Occasionally, she stopped to peer at one of the gravestones and to read the inscription. What had their lives been like? Happy or sad? A bit of both, she supposed. But how many of them had gone to their graves with unspoken secrets on their lips? She wondered how long she could keep quiet about what she knew: a month, a year, a lifetime? Already the guilt was eating away at her.

There were narrower side paths leading off into the far reaches of the cemetery, winding round to what looked like older, wilder parts. In the distance she could see tall obelisks and grey stone angels with their hands clasped in prayer. For a while she took shelter under a willow tree and watched the people – mainly office workers, judging from their appearance – hurry past her on their way to the station.

Every few minutes she glanced down at her watch, unsure as to whether she wanted the time to speed up or slow down. Anxiety fluttered in her chest. She took deep breaths of the damp winter air, trying to steady her nerves. The cold seeped into her bones as she waited.

Eventually, at a quarter to ten, Sadie made her way back to the main gate and began to walk towards St Luke’s. She could still change her mind. It wasn’t too late. She didn’t have to go through with it. But already she could see the hearse and a few black-clothed mourners gathered in front of the church. If she was going to retreat she would have to do it quickly.

Sadie was tempted; there was no denying the fact. Now that the moment was almost upon her, she wasn’t sure if she could go through with it. Why hadn’t she let Joel come with her? Safety in numbers was what they said, and here she was, utterly alone.

‘It’s a funeral,’ she muttered to herself. ‘Not a battleground.’

Still she held back, searching for friendly faces in the small group by the door, but seeing none. And the longer she stood there the harder it became for her to move. She felt, suddenly, like one of those stone angels in the cemetery, doomed to stand for ever in the same position.

It was only the appearance of Stan Wise that finally jolted her into action. He glanced over in her direction but gave no acknowledgement that he had seen her. Yet she was sure he had, sure that his eyes had rested on her for a moment. And then she knew she had no choice. She took one last deep breath before crossing the road.

34

Sadie slipped into a pew at the very rear of the church, sat down and stared along the central aisle towards the mahogany coffin covered with lilies. Her gaze lingered there for a while – her head full of memories of Eddie – before moving up to the stained-glass window. Despite the greyness of the day, the colours shone through with a shimmering beauty.

It still did not seem possible that Eddie was dead, that his body was lying in a box. It was unreal, hard to grasp. She kept thinking that someone would say that it was all a big mistake. She shivered as the priest’s words flowed over her: ‘We meet in the name of Jesus Christ, who died and was raised to the glory of God the father. Grace and mercy be with you.’

Sadie’s eyes raked the congregation, finally seeing a few faces she recognised, old drinking buddies from the past, people who seemed like strangers to her now. Stan and Marcie Wise were at the front with their daughter, Denise, and several other members of the family. Behind them was Eddie’s girlfriend, her long fair hair tied back in a ponytail and held with a black velvet ribbon. An older woman, her mother perhaps, was to Kelly’s right, and to her left were a short thickset man and another blonde in her thirties.

As the service progressed, hymns were sung and prayers were said. Sadie found herself assailed by a number of emotions, by sadness, by pity and guilt, but most of all by shame. She should have been honest about Mona Farrell, about what she knew. She should have thought less about her own position and more about the truth. And yet the truth lacked a certain appeal when the end result could be a prison sentence.

While the priest was talking, Sadie became aware of being watched. She shifted her gaze and saw that the thickset man had turned and was glaring at her. Wayne Gissing. It had to be. He was as ugly as Velma had said, and his looks weren’t improved by a black eye and a split lip. Was that down to the trouble with Terry Street? Stone’s warning echoed in her mind and she felt her body tense.

As Gissing turned back to face the front, Sadie glanced to her right, to the two guys who were seated at the other end of the pew. One of them, the one nearest to her, caught her eye and gave a thin smile. Mates of Eddie’s? She didn’t think so. They were too smart, too clean-cut. The next thought that sprang into her head was police.

Now she had something else to worry about. If they were cops, what were they doing here? Checking out the mourners, perhaps, seeing who showed up at the funeral. And she must still be on their list of suspects when it came to Eddie’s murder. Were they observing how she behaved, making a note of her body language? Instantly she became self-conscious, overly aware of what her hands were doing, of how she was standing, even of the expression on her face.

Sadie’s intention had been to have a few words with Stan and Marcie and then leave before the burial – she presumed Eddie was going to be interred in Kellston Cemetery – but now she began to have second thoughts. Would it look like she was running away? That she was scared of something? Well, she was. She was afraid of the Gissings and what they might do.

As she stared at the back of Wayne Gissing’s head, her heart began to thump. She could feel a prickle of sweat on the nape of her neck. But then if the cops were present what could he do? The officers might make her feel uncomfortable, as if she was under scrutiny, but they also provided protection. So long as they were around, she was safe.

The service came to an end and the coffin was carried out of the church. Sadie shuffled out of the pew and joined the other mourners who were congregating in front of the building. She immediately realised there wasn’t a hope of talking to Eddie’s parents at this point; they were already climbing into a sleek grey Bentley to follow the hearse to the cemetery.

Most people, she could see, were simply going to walk and she stood for a while trying to decide whether to follow them or not. The two men – she still didn’t know for sure whether they were cops – had already set off. Stay or go? She shifted from one foot to the other while she tried to make up her mind. A few of Eddie’s old friends glanced over in her direction, gave a nod but didn’t come over to talk to her.

As the space in front of the church began to clear, she wondered if anyone would actually notice her absence. Well, Wayne Gissing probably would, but by the time he realised it would be too late. In less than fifteen minutes she could get back to Oaklands, pick up her holdall and be in the station waiting for a train to take her home.

Sadie decided that, on balance, it might be smarter to make herself scarce. There was no point in looking for trouble. She was on the brink of leaving when she felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to see the blonde woman who’d been sitting with the Gissings.

‘Hello, love,’ she said. ‘I’m Sharon, Kelly’s stepmum. Walking over to the cemetery, are you?’

Sadie shook her head. ‘No, I don’t think so.’

‘Oh, that’s a shame. Our Kelly was hoping to have a word with you later.’

‘What for?’ asked Sadie with a defensive edge to her voice. ‘I don’t know anything more than I told the police.’

‘We know that, dear. We’re not blaming you for anything. But it would really help if you’d have a little chat. Put her mind at rest about a few things. Five minutes, that’s all she’s asking. You can spare that, can’t you?’ Sharon smiled warmly and linked her arm through Sadie’s. ‘Come on, we can walk there together.’

And suddenly Sadie found herself being swept down the path and into the street, her protestations falling on deaf ears. ‘I’m not really sure if —’

‘Miserable old day, isn’t it? Shame we didn’t get a bit of sunshine. Still, at least it’s stopped raining. We should be grateful for small mercies, I suppose. Mind, that graveyard is going to be muddy as hell. I knew I should have worn my boots; these shoes are going to be ruined.’