by Rachel Ward
‘Yes. They came mid-morning like usual.’
‘Oh. Okay. Thanks, Mum. Well remembered. See you later.’ Bea killed the call and started texting Tom to tell him not to bother coming round.
At the other side of the room, Eileen was eating a chicken tikka wrap. It was a messy business, requiring two hands and an exclusion zone for the fallout. When her phone rang, she looked around for somewhere to put the wrap and ended up balancing it on the cellophane wrapper on her lap.
‘You what? Slow down. You don’t have to let them in. You don’t have to— Dean? Dean!’
She stood up and the wrap fell onto the stained, bald carpet. She ignored it and strode across the room towards Bea. If she’d had time, Bea might have run away and locked herself in the toilets, but Eileen was too quick. She was trapped.
‘It was you,’ Eileen spat at her. ‘You’re a vindictive cow, aren’t you? He lost his job here. What more do you want?’
‘Eileen, I—’
She didn’t wait for Bea’s answer, but stomped out of the room.
‘What did you do?’ said Anna, who had paused in the middle of her salad box to watch the show. Practically everyone else in the staffroom had done the same.
Bea shifted in her seat, turning her back to the others and whispered. ‘I told Tom that I thought Dean was the cat killer.’
Anna put her fork down. ‘Dean,’ she breathed. ‘Really?’
‘Yeah,’ said Bea. ‘Really. I don’t want to believe it, but there’s too much pointing to him to ignore.’
‘Oh my God, Bea!’ said Anna. ‘I don’t know what to say. I feel sick.’
‘I know,’ said Bea. ‘I’m so sorry, Anna. But at least we’ve caught him now.’
‘It’d explain why he targeted Joan, why the . . .the bodies keep turning up here,’ said Anna.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Vendetta. He hates this place since he got the sack. Trying to destroy our reputation, put the customers off.’
‘Blimey, I hadn’t even thought of that,’ said Bea. ‘You’re right, Anna. That’s another piece of the jigsaw puzzle. It’s gotta be him. Do you think they’ll lock him up?’
‘Hope so. They should’ve done that last time, when he went round to frighten your mum,’ said Anna.
‘Yeah, I know. I couldn’t believe he only got a warning.’ Bea shook her head.
‘Nasty piece of work.’ Anna looked down at the salad in the plastic box on her lap.
‘What’s that like?’ said Bea. ‘That kwinoa stuff?’
‘Keenwa?’ Anna pulled a face. ‘Inoffensive, but full of protein and fibre. It’s good for you. I don’t think I can eat it now, though.’
Bea had brought in a sandwich from home – chopped up boiled egg and mayo in sticky white bread – but she couldn’t eat either. She was rattled from her encounter with Eileen and was on tenterhooks now, waiting for the reports of an arrest.
Eileen’s outburst had set the staffroom fizzing. No one asked Bea what was going on but there were looks and nudges and enough low gossiping to make her really uncomfortable. She put her sandwiches in the bin.
Ant was coming through the staff door as Bea was returning to the tills. There was a definite spring in his step.
‘Hey, Bea,’ he said.
‘Hi.’
‘Lovely day, isn’t it?’
‘Not so as you’d notice, no.’
Ant frowned. ‘Whassup?’
‘What’s up, Ant? Oh nothing, except dead cats keep following me, I got threatened by a bloke the size of a small country, and I feel like I’m being stalked by a nutter with a knife.’ She huffed her disgust at him. ‘I’ve got to get back to work. I’ll see you later, at Jay’s, yeah?’
‘Ah,’ said Ant. ‘I might not go.’ He was trying to keep a serious expression on his face, but a grin broke through.
‘What’s going on, Ant? Got a better offer?’
The grin got broader. ‘Yeah. You could say that.’
‘I saw her in aisle ten. She looks nice.’
‘Better than nice, Bea. She’s beautiful.’ He took his hands out of his pockets and rubbed them together vigorously.
George was coming down the stairs towards them. ‘Ant,’ she said, brightly. ‘I understand Eileen has had to go home, so I’m going to need you on shelf-stacking this afternoon.’
Bea saw a flash of panic in Ant’s eyes. His lack of literacy made some tasks more difficult than others.
‘Yeah, right, boss,’ he said to George.
‘Good.’ George brushed past them and Bea was about to follow her into the store, when Ant put his hand on her shoulder.
‘I reckon I can work out what goes where. I’ll look for the gaps, match the packets and that, but, Bea—’
‘Yeah?’
‘Can you just swing by now and again to check the labels are right?’
‘I’ll try, Ant. If I can dodge Neville.’
‘Thanks, mate.’
She was settling into her station and had logged on, preparing for the afternoon’s customers, when her phone started vibrating in her pocket. She’d forgotten to move it into her bag and stow it away in her locker. She surreptitiously slid it out and had a look at the screen. It was an incoming call from Tom.
Bea had a look along the line of checkouts towards the customer service desk. Neville was looking right back at her. Damn! She put the phone back in her pocket. It continued vibrating for a few more seconds, then stopped. It stayed there, burning a hole in the polyester until she could reasonably take a loo break.
On her way to the back of the shop, she passed Ant. He was putting cardboard trays of baked bean tins onto the shelves, and everything was in the right place.
‘You’re doing a grand job,’ she said.
Neville was bearing down on them.
‘I’m sorry, Neville,’ she said. ‘Call of nature.’
‘Beatrice, did I see you with your phone earlier?’
‘This really won’t wait,’ she said. ‘Time of the month. Think I’ve come on.’ She had the satisfaction of seeing Neville’s look of horror before she hurried off to the staff toilets.
She shut herself in a cubicle, and checked her phone again. One missed call from Tom. She pressed ‘call’.
‘Bea!’
‘Sorry I missed your call. I couldn’t pick up. How are things going?’
‘We had a chat with your friend Dean and an informal look round his house and the back yard.’
Bea waited.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘And?’
‘And nothing. There’s nothing to suggest he’s involved in taking or hurting animals.’
‘But I saw him with a cat.’
‘He said that belonged to a friend’s grandparent. They were looking after it for him.’
‘So you’re going to check that out, right?’
‘Bea, I think you’re barking up the wrong tree. I know you don’t like him, and, fair enough, he’s been a bit of a tosser in the past, but he’s not the cat killer.’
‘Because he says so.’
‘Because there’s no evidence that he is.’
‘I can’t accept this.’ Her hackles were up now.
‘Bea, it’s starting to feel a bit like harassment.’
‘Yes! He left a cat’s head on my doorstep.’
‘Bea, you’re missing the point. It seems like you’re harassing him, or at least getting us to do your dirty work. Just leave it, okay? I’m saying this as a friend. Some friendly advice.’
Bea’s heart was racing. Her palms were sweaty and damp. She killed the call before she said something she regretted. That’s it, then, she thought. I’ve tried telling the police and they won’t listen. I’m on my own with this. She was shaking now and starting to feel faint. Sitting on the toilet, she planted her feet more firmly on the ground and leaned forward, with her head between her knees. She took some deep breaths.
You’re not on your own, she told herself. There’s Ant and Dot and Jay.
Now that Ant had bailed on them, she would have him all to herself tonight. But could she really leave Queenie alone after dark, with a maniac on the loose? She sighed out loud. Amid all this madness, the thought of Jay felt like a little beacon of hope. She wouldn’t cancel just yet. She’d hold onto the hope that she would be able to go, and perhaps if Bob was going round to Queenie’s for tea, she could.
Her breathing had calmed down now. She sat up and decided to have a wee since she was there anyway. She was just flushing when her phone sprang into life again, vibrating as a text came in.
‘TALKING TO THE FILTH. BAD MOVE, BITCH.’
Was it Dean? Was it Tank? Was there someone else out there, watching her?
She took a screenshot and sent it to Tom’s email.
He rang her back straight away. ‘Hey, Bea. Are you okay?’
‘Yeah. Sort of.’
‘Is the text from Dean’s phone?’
‘I don’t know. It’s not a number I recognise. It’s him, though. It’s got to be.’
‘Just let it all cool down, Bea. There’s no direct threat there. He’s just pissed off with you. The whole thing needs some heat taking out of it.’
‘But—’
‘Leave it for now, Bea. I won’t let anything bad happen to you. Trust me, we’re handling things.’
He rang off, leaving Bea feeling so frustrated she banged her hand against the wall, just as Eileen walked in.
‘Temper, temper,’ she said. ‘They didn’t find anything, did they? So you can stop picking on him now.’
‘All right. I’m sorry, Eileen. I was wrong.’
‘You were, and I won’t forget this.’
She pushed past Bea, barging her shoulder into Bea’s arm. Bea groaned and set off back to the shop floor.
31
On her way back to the checkout, Bea took a detour to see how Ant was getting on. He was in the fresh fruit and veg area, and seemed happier there. She looked around. Neville’s customer service desk was out of sight, and there weren’t any other staff about.
‘Ant, look.’ Not thinking, she slid her phone out of her pocket and showed him the message, forgetting he wouldn’t be able to read it.
‘What does it say?’
‘Sorry, mate.’ She read the message to him. ‘It’s Dean, got to be. Tom rang me and they searched his and Eileen’s house and found nothing, so Dean’s still out and about.’
Ant gave a low whistle. ‘This is nasty. We need to stop. Stop investigating. Stop asking questions. Just go about our business.’
‘That’s giving in to them, though.’
‘Sometimes it’s best to keep a low profile. There’s some bad shit going on here and it’s better not to get mixed up in it.’
‘But we must be close to something if they’re threatening me.’
‘And you’ve told the cops everything, so let them do the rest. Bea,’ he said, putting his hands on both her shoulders. ‘It’s not worth you getting hurt over this. Let it go.’
‘I don’t know if I can.’
He ruffled the top of her head, causing her to squeal in protest.
‘Oi! Mind my hair!’
‘Sorry.’
‘I’d better get back before Neville throws a hissy fit. You seem okay here, anyway.’
‘Yeah, it’s pretty obvious where this stuff goes. I can do this,’ he said, bending down and then lugging a tray of cabbages into place.
‘Ha! I haven’t seen you eat a vegetable all week,’ Bea said.
‘I do eat veg.’
‘No, you don’t.’
‘I do.’
Bea sighed. ‘Oh God, Ant, today’s been so shit and now we’re arguing about vegetables. I’m going back to my checkout. I’ll see you later.’
‘Hey, watch this!’
Ant eyed the display next to them and then reached for the nearest thing and popped it in his mouth. Bea watched agog as he crunched his way through a Brussels sprout. At one point he started to look a bit distressed, but he rallied and kept chewing before swallowing it all down.
‘There,’ he said. He opened his mouth to show her that it was empty, which was only partly true. She recoiled, then turned back to high-five him.
‘Fair play to you,’ she said.
‘Not bad,’ he said, ‘but I don’t think I could ever be vegan.’
Despite Ant’s efforts to cheer her up, things were getting to Bea. She found herself making mistakes at the till. When a customer came back to complain that she’d charged her twice for the same item, Bea could only apologise, but by now she was feeling wretched.
At around half past three, her phone started vibrating in her pocket.
Oh no, she thought, another text. But that was normally just one notification, and this time it kept going. Someone was trying to ring her. The phone stopped buzzing briefly and then started again. Reluctantly, she got it out and checked it. It wasn’t Tom. It was Queenie. Bea sighed. What now? Against all Costsave rules, she accepted the call.
‘Bea, something dreadful’s happened.’
Her mum’s voice was shot through with distress. Bea’s stomach went into knots.
‘What?’
‘I can’t even . . .I don’t know how to . . .it’s Goldie.’
The misery in her mum’s voice could only mean one thing. She was dead. Bea knew it.
‘What happened?’ said Bea.
‘I only left her for a couple of minutes,’ said Queenie.
‘Left her? Left her where?’
‘Outside the launderette.’
‘Mum, what’s happened to her? What’s going on?’
‘She’s . . .she’s gone, Bea. She’s disappeared.’
32
‘Okay, okay. Calm down. Calm down. Tell me again what happened.’
‘I tied her up outside the launderette, Bea. On one of the railings. I did a double knot, not really tight or anything, but done up all right. I went in to talk to Jill about the job and we were getting on really well and she was showing me the machines and telling me what it involved and then I just had a feeling, I don’t know what it was, and I said to Jill, “I’ll just check on the dog” and so I went to the door and . . .’ There was a pause and in that moment Bea could feel the sense of horror, the awfulness of the moment. ‘And she was gone.’
‘Do you think the lead came undone?’
‘I don’t see how. I s’pose it’s not impossible but . . .’
‘Okay, where are you now?’
‘I’m still at the launderette. I went into the car park and started going along the shops, but then I froze. Jill brought me back in. She’s making me a cuppa.’
‘Have you rung the police?’
‘No. I’ve just rung you.’
‘Okay. Stay there. I’ll see if I can get off work. Ring the police, Mum. Do it now.’
Mind going ten to the dozen, Bea logged out of her till and stumbled towards the back of the store, colliding with Neville in aisle eleven, next to the freezers.
‘Oof! Mind where you’re—’ He steadied Bea and then held her at arm’s length, like something slightly dangerous or unsavoury.
‘Neville!’ she said. ‘I’ve got to go home.’
He let go of her shoulders and looked from Bea to the staff door and back again. He seemed at a loss for words. ‘If you’re not well enough for work, then of course.’
Bea doubled over a little and screwed up her face. ‘Yeah, it’s just really painful. Bit of a flood, I—’
He held his hands up in self-defence. Bea almost expected him to cover his ears.
‘Bea,’ he said firmly. ‘Go home. I’ll tell Anna in the office. Do you need me to call you a taxi?’
‘It’s okay. I’ll walk. Sometimes the fresh air helps. Thanks, Neville.’
She ran up the stairs and grabbed her bag from her locker, put her coat on over her tabard and rushed out of the building. She was halfway across the car park when she heard a shout behind her.
‘Bea! Bea, wait up!’
She looked over her shoulder. Ant was running to catch up with her. She turned around and walked backwards.
‘I can’t stop, Ant,’ she called out. ‘I’ve got to get home. Goldie’s gone missing.’
There was a thought forming at the back of her mind, a thought she was trying to suppress: I need you to keep quiet.
‘Wait!’ shouted Ant. ‘I’ll come with you!’ He was pulling at his sweatshirt, stretching it over his head.
‘Ant, don’t be silly. You’ll lose your job. Look, I’ve gotta go. I’ll call you.’
He stood, with his sweatshirt in his hand, and watched as Bea turned back and started running.
She jogged along the High Street, dodging the afternoon shoppers and looking ahead for a glimpse of tawny fur. The thought of Goldie crossing a road on her own made her blood run cold, even as it was coursing painfully through her veins and arteries. She just wouldn’t wander off, would she? And if she did, she wouldn’t go far.
Anxiety fuelled her legs. She turned out of the High Street and went by the old people’s bungalows. The Oldest Paper Boy was in his little square of garden in front of one of them. He was bending down, tying some string to one of a series of sticks, in some sort of bird-scaring arrangement.
Bea stopped running. ‘Excuse me,’ she said, her voice coming in gasps. ‘Have you seen a stray dog? A big golden retriever?’
He straightened up, as much as he could. Even cowed with age, he was a big chap, almost completely bald, with ancient tattoos on his forearms, corrupted over time into a blue blurry mess. ‘No dogs here,’ he said, brusquely. ‘Not in my garden.’
‘Right. Thanks,’ said Bea. She was going to ask him to keep an eye out, but he was already bending down again, fiddling with the string, shutting the conversation down.
She started running again and came to the edge of the rec. There were a couple walking their dog in the middle, so she ran up to them and asked them about Goldie. They hadn’t seen anything, but were more solicitous than the man at the bungalows.
‘We’ll keep our eyes open. Hope you find her.’
Schools were starting to turn out, bringing a cluster of parents and little kids in the fenced-off play area. Bea veered over and called across the fence. No one had seen Goldie. Sweating profusely under her coat, Bea carried on to the far side of the grass and up to the shops.