by Rachel Ward
‘See you later, babe.’
As Bea made her way to her checkout, she looked around the store. This was her world, had been for some years now. She loved it here. Didn’t she?
First up at the checkout, Bea had a visit from one of the Four Musketeers. Beth was there with her mum, who paid the bill.
‘Stocking up on tins and stuff to take back with me,’ said Beth. ‘Got exams coming up, so there’s a bit of revision fodder too.’ She patted a tidy little pile of chocolate bars and smiled self-consciously.’
‘Ha! I flippin’ hated exams,’ said Bea.
‘They don’t get any better.’
‘I always think it’s cruel having exams straight after Christmas,’ said Beth’s mum. ‘I wonder if – no, it doesn’t matter.’
‘What?’ said Beth.
‘I just wondered if that lad who killed himself at New Year was stressed about exams or something like that.’
‘Mum, we don’t even know if he was a student,’ said Beth.
‘There could be lots of reasons, anyway, couldn’t there?’ said Bea.
‘Yes, you’re right,’ said Beth’s mum. ‘We don’t know. Nobody seems to know about him.’
Bea tried to scan the shopping as quickly and efficiently as she could, grouping the goods in the packing area to make it easier – fresh veg, things for the fridge, things for the freezer. It was how she worked anyway, but somehow she wanted to show Beth that she was good at her job. It felt like it mattered. ‘I had a spell in the office yesterday,’ she said.
‘Yeah?’
Bea cringed inside. Was she really doing this? Trying to impress? ‘Yeah. It was all right.’
She’d cleared the shopping now, and fancied she could see a ball of tumbleweed rolling along her conveyor belt. She added Beth’s mum’s points onto her Costsave Saver Card and processed her payment. There were smiles all round as they heaved the bags into the trolley, but Bea felt nothing but relief when they started making their way towards the exit.
Damn, she thought, Beth used to be my friend. What happened?
She was glad to see someone else heading towards her, another of her regulars: a young mum called Julie, who had two under-fives. Julie was one of the ones Bea worried about, because sometimes her dark glasses didn’t completely hide her bruises. Today, though, she wasn’t wearing the glasses and she was looking good – hair shiny and pulled back into a neat ponytail, new winter coat in a very flattering shade of green, only one child in tow and, even better, a smile on her face when she spotted Bea.
‘Like the coat. What a fab colour.’
Julie beamed. ‘Yes, it’s new. Dave got it for me. Wasn’t even in the sale.’
Bea tried not to react at the mention of Julie’s husband. She’d filed him under ‘sleazeball’ after he’d propositioned her in the pub one evening, and that was before she knew he hit his wife. ‘How are things?’
‘Actually, things are good. Really good at the moment.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Yes. Better than they’ve been for a long time.’
‘That’s great. No Mason today?’
‘He’s at a friend’s house, someone from nursery. This one misses him, though.’ Julie ruffled the hair of her daughter, Tiffany, who was facing her in the trolley seat, dangling her legs in front and clutching the pink plastic duck that never seemed to leave her sticky hands.
‘Nothing wrong with a bit of girl time,’ said Bea, ‘you and Mum together?’
Tiffany ducked her head and gave Bea a shy little smile.
‘We’re on our way to pick him up now anyway, aren’t we?’ Tiffany nodded. Julie paid for her shopping in cash as usual and pushed the trolley towards the door. Bea felt relieved that she was happier, but she still had a niggle of anxiety about that little family.
She turned to her next customer, ‘Hello there, would you like some help packing?’
The police didn’t make an appearance until just before lunchtime. Bea clocked their car driving round to the back of the store and a little later there was an announcement on the tannoy: ‘Bea Jordan to the management suite.’
She put the ‘checkout closing’ sign at the end of her station and signed out of her terminal. Upstairs there was quite a gathering in George’s office: George herself, Anna, Neville and the two community police officers Shaz, and, yes, Tom.
There was a flicker in Tom’s eyes as he saw her come into the room. Not quite a wink, but not far off. There weren’t enough chairs, so Bea stood just inside the door next to Anna.
‘Bea,’ said Tom. ‘I understand that you found the cat in the cardboard.’
‘Not me,’ Bea said. ‘It was Ant. But he’s not here today. He showed the, er, body to me soon after he found it, though.’ Out of the corner of her eye she could see Anna tense her jaw when she mentioned the word ‘body’.
‘And where is it now? Can we see it?’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Anna. ‘I’ve already taken her to the vet. She’s going to be cremated. They said I’ll get the ashes back in about a week.’
‘But there are images on CCTV,’ said Neville. ‘I can show you those. They’re not particularly good quality, but they do show the, um, item being dumped.’
‘And I’ve got photos,’ said Bea. They all looked at her, with varying levels of shock and disgust. ‘What? I took photos. Just in case.’
‘In case of what?’ said Neville.
Anna looked stricken.
‘I’m sorry, Anna,’ said Bea. ‘I took them in case they’d be useful. Exactly like now. Evidence.’
Tom smiled his approval. ‘Let’s have a look, then.’
Bea found the photos and handed her phone over. Tom and Shaz scrolled through them.
‘You know,’ said Tom, ‘I can’t officially endorse investigations by private individuals, but in this case, well done, Bea. Can you email these to us?’
‘Yes. Sure.’
Tom handed her a business card, and she sent the email there and then.
‘So we’d better have a look at the CCTV video. Let’s hope it will help us ID the suspect,’ said Shaz.
‘Unfortunately, I don’t think it will,’ said Neville. ‘We can identify the exact time it happened, but you can’t tell much about the person who did this.’
‘Monster,’ Anna muttered.
‘I’m sorry?’ said Neville.
‘The monster who did this. It was a deliberate act. It was butchery. And then her . . .body . . .was dumped quite deliberately here.’
‘Yes,’ said Shaz. ‘It does look premeditated. It’s a disturbing case.’
‘But one we’ll be able to keep out of the papers?’ said George, quickly.
‘If there’s a serial cat killer on the loose in Kingsleigh,’ said Shaz, ‘then it’s our public duty to warn people, and to ask for their help in catching them.’
‘Is there any way of leaving the store out of it?’
‘I’ll talk to the boss and the press office, but public and, um, feline safety must come first.’
Bea stayed upstairs and had a subdued lunch with Anna in the staffroom. She was just throwing her sandwich cling film in the bin when someone tapped her on the shoulder. She spun round to find Dot standing behind her with her arms spread wide. ‘Ta-dah! I’m back!’
Bea gave her a big hug. ‘Are you really?’
‘Just had my occupational health interview. Phased return to work starting next week. A few hours to be getting on with, then building up.’
‘That’s the best news ever.’
‘It is, isn’t it?’ said Bob-on-Meat, who was standing next to Dot, beaming. ‘The place hasn’t been the same without you.’
‘’Course it hasn’t,’ said Dot. ‘Are we having a cuppa?’
Bea checked her watch. ‘I’ve only got ten minutes.’
‘Make it a quickie, then,’ said Dot, with a wink. ‘You’ll make it for us, won’t you, Bob? I just need a sit-down.’
Bob swung into action without a murmur, w
hile Dot and Bea squeezed in next to Anna on the sofa.
‘So where is everyone?’ said Dot, looking round the room. ‘Where’s the new one, Jay, is it? Where’s Ant?’
‘Shh,’ said Bea, with a warning look in her eye. ‘Ant’s off sick.’
‘Really?’
‘Lightweight,’ said Bob, manoeuvring his substantial bulk round the end of the sofa and putting two mugs of tea down on the coffee table. ‘Been here eighteen years and I’ve never had a day off sick. Mind you, it wouldn’t be any surprise if it was that Jay. Measly little fellow. Someone told me he was—’ he leaned down towards the women and lowered his voice to a whisper ‘—vegan.’
Dot clapped her hand to her mouth in mock horror, then started laughing. ‘A lot of people are these days, Bob. It’s not illegal any more.’
‘Well, it should be. At least, they shouldn’t be allowed to work in a food shop like this. It’s just wrong, isn’t it?’
‘Live and let live, Bob. Takes all sorts.’
He snorted his disagreement and went to fetch his own mug from the draining board.
‘Anyway,’ said Bea. ‘Jay’s not ill, he doesn’t come in until four.’
‘Shame. I’ll have to meet him another time, then. Nice to have some fresh blood around here . . .’ She stopped as Anna gathered up her things and stood up. ‘Sorry, Anna. I didn’t mean – I was very sorry to hear about—’
‘It’s okay.’ Anna just about got the words out before rushing for the door.
‘Oh Gawd,’ said Dot, looking mortified. ‘Me and my big mouth.’
‘’S all right, Dot. It’s a difficult day. We just had the police in asking about it.’
‘Grim.’
‘Yeah.’ There was silence for a moment or two. ‘Anyway, I’ve missed you and your big gob.’ Bea caught Dot’s eye and, in spite of the sober circumstances, or maybe because of them, they both dissolved into giggles.
7
The TV news was on as usual as Bea and Queenie ate their dinner – fish, oven chips and frozen peas, because it was Friday. Queenie was lapping up Bea’s news about the visit from the police and Dot’s return.
‘Do you think she and Bob are back on?’ she asked, shaking a bit more ketchup onto her plate.
‘They weren’t ever a thing, not really,’ said Bea, ‘but he’s obviously keen. And he’s been spending a lot of time round at hers, helping her out.’
‘I reckon he’s nearly got his feet under her table.’
‘Not his feet you were thinking about, though, was it?’
‘Less of that. You can keep your mucky talk for Dot,’ said Queenie haughtily.
‘Hmm, got to admit, she is the queen of banter. I’ll be glad when she’s back. Oh. Oh no—’
‘What?’
‘Where’s the whizzer? Give it here quick!’
Bea grabbed the remote control and rewound the news. Then she shushed Queenie, pressed play, and watched in horror as she realised she hadn’t been mistaken. The news footage clearly showed Ant, in the ill-fitting jacket that he’d last worn at Ginny’s funeral, walking along a city street and up the steps of the local crown court.
‘Is that Ant?’ Queenie spluttered.
‘Yes. Shh!’ Bea tweaked up the volume.
‘Prolific offender, Colin Thompson, was in court again today to learn that he’d been sentenced to three years in prison for a string of burglary convictions. Thompson pleaded guilty to three counts of burglary in December and was branded “heartless” by prosecutors for targeting families over the festive period. Thompson who lives in Kingsleigh near Bristol, seen here on the way into court supported by his family, will serve at least eighteen months.’
‘Colin, Bea. That’s his dad, isn’t it?’
Bea felt a surge of relief – it wasn’t Ant in the dock – but if anyone else at Costsave was watching this, he was in a different kind of trouble. She reached for her phone and dialled Ant’s number. After half a dozen rings, it went to voicemail.
‘Ant, mate,’ Bea said, trying to quickly gather her thoughts and assemble them into a message that would strike the right chord. ‘I’ve just seen you on the sodding telly! I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. Call me?’
An hour later, she remembered he’d told her he’d lost his mobile, so she tried his home phone and was pleased that he picked up.
‘I’m so sorry about your dad,’ she said. She could almost hear him shrugging at the other end of the line.
‘It’s normal, innit? Normal for us anyway. My dad’s a burglar. It’s his job. Sometimes he’s at home. Sometimes he’s away. It’s always been like that, my whole life.’
‘Jeez, Ant. I didn’t know.’
‘It’s just how it is. We’ve all got to look after Mum now, like we’ve always done.’
‘What if you lose your job? Calling in sick like that.’
‘I’ll find another one, or do whatever I need to do.’
Like your dad? Bea didn’t say it out loud. ‘Ant, we’ve got to find a way of you staying at Costsave. Throw yourself at George’s mercy. Get in there first thing – talk to her before she calls you in. Just be honest. It’s the only way to salvage this.’
‘Nah, reckon I’ll just fly under the radar, keep a low profile.’
‘Ant, you were on the telly. You’d only have a higher profile if you stuck a revolving neon sign on the top of your head.’
‘They shouldn’t shove cameras in your face when you’re going to court. Bastards.’
‘If Neville’s seen it, he’s bound to tell George.’
‘Look, Bea, I’m pretty knackered now. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?’
‘Do you want me to meet you at Costsave early on? Go in with you? I don’t mind.’
‘Nah, it’s okay.’ She could hear a stifled yawn. ‘Night.’
‘Goodnight, Ant.’
The next time Bea saw him, she was already twenty minutes into her shift and had processed her first handful of customers. He came slouching towards her from the back of the shop, head down, hands in pockets.
‘What’s happening?’ she said, when he reached her checkout.
Ant slouched more deeply. ‘Suspended, aren’t I? I did what you said, Bea. Completely honest. Cards on the table. But it was no good.’
‘Did you go in early?’
He shook his head.
‘You were meant to do that before you got called out on it. Oh, Ant, I wish I’d been there with you. You’re entitled to have a rep with you.’
‘Yeah, well. Too late now. She was pretty harsh.’
‘But you’re suspended, not sacked?’
‘Yeah. Suspended for a week with no pay. I mean, can you even do that? Is it a thing?’
‘I wouldn’t argue, mate. At least you’ve still – oh, here we go. Incoming.’
Neville was strutting towards them with a gleam in his eye. ‘Anthony, I’ll have to ask you to leave the shop floor.’
Ant straightened up a little. ‘I’m suspended, Nev, haven’t you heard? So, I’m a customer now.’
‘What are you buying?’
‘I’m thinking about it,’ said Ant. ‘I’m trying to remember what we need.’
‘If you are not actually buying anything, you must stop distracting my staff.’
Bea had almost been enjoying Ant’s spirited display, but now her hackles were up. ‘Your staff?’ She clutched at the Costsave logo embroidered on her tabard and pushed it forward towards Neville. ‘I think it says Costsave here, not Neville.’
Neville visibly bridled. ‘While you are on the shop floor, Beatrice, you are well aware that I am your manager. You work for me.’
Their voices, initially kept at the level of furious hissing, had now risen, but even so, they all heard the sound of a woman’s screams coming from one of the aisles behind them, wordless to start with and then, ‘Oh my God! Somebody help! We need a doctor!’
Bea looked up. There was a flicker of panicky hesitation in Neville’s face, but Ant had already gone, sprinti
ng along the end of the aisles. He swung round a display of food supplements and vitamins – ‘New Year, New You’ – and disappeared into ‘Bread and rolls, Jam and Spreads’.
Bea and Neville followed in his wake. When they found him, he was kneeling on the floor next to someone who was flat out on the tiles. Bea saw the man’s feet move as Ant leaned onto his chest and made quick rhythmic compressions. It only took a few seconds for Bea to realise that the shoes belonged to Charles.
Ant was counting out loud as he worked. When he got to thirty, he stopped, shouted, ‘Has someone rung for an ambulance?’ and tipped Charles’ head back a little and breathed into his mouth. He repeated it three times and then was back to the chest compressions and the counting.
Bea helped Eileen and Neville to clear the aisle of customers and cone it off at both ends.
It took twelve long minutes for the paramedics to arrive. Ant was sweating furiously, still going, still counting.
‘Okay, mate. We’ll take it from here.’
Exhausted, Ant moved away a little and sat with his back against the marmalades, legs sprawled out in front. Bea crouched down next to him and put her arm round his shoulders.
‘Well done, Ant, you were brilliant.’
But Ant wasn’t listening. He was staring past her towards Charles. ‘Is he going to be okay?’
The paramedics were preparing to use a defibrillator now.
‘I don’t know, Ant. I don’t know.’
The defibrillator fired, jerking Charles’ body.
‘We’ve got a pulse.’
Ant looked at Bea and started to cry.
‘It’s okay. Come here. It’s okay.’ Bea hugged him close, while he shook in her arms and her own tears ran down her face.
When he had recovered a little, Bea helped Ant to his feet. By now, Charles was on a stretcher being carried to the ambulance and staff were clearing up the floor and reopening the aisle.
‘Come on,’ said Bea. ‘Let’s get you a cup of tea.’
As they walked to the end of the aisle, Bob stopped picking up cones and slapped Ant on the back. ‘Well done, son.’
A gaggle of customers had gathered nearby. One of them started clapping. Then two or three more joined in and the sound spread and grew until it seemed like the whole of Costsave was applauding with cheers and wolf whistles thrown in for good measure.