by Lynda Renham
Moira glanced at the entrance of the flats. A woman wearing rollers strolled to the dustbins and threw in a carrier bag.
‘I’m not parking my car in there,’ said Moira, horrified.
‘We’ll look uppity parking here,’ said Holly and pointed to a space in the car park.
‘Let’s park there,’ she said.
‘I’m happy here,’ said Moira, feeling far from happy. She got out of the car, locked the doors and checked again just to make sure.
‘I don’t know why I’m bothering,’ she muttered. ‘They’ll just smash the windows.’
‘Honestly,’ sighed Holly, walking ahead.
Moira hurried after her. It was icy and twice she nearly slipped.
‘Watch yourself darling,’ someone shouted.
She didn’t turn. Best not to give them attention, she thought.
‘Don’t look at them,’ she told Holly.
‘Honestly, Mum, they’re not lepers.’
They reached a block of flats and Holly said ‘This is where Rosie lives. She’s on the sixth floor.’
‘The sixth floor?’ repeated Moira.
Holly made for the lift where the woman in rollers was waiting.
‘It takes an age,’ she said smiling.
Moira didn’t respond.
Someone was banging at some drums. Moira rubbed at her temples. How can people live in places like this, she wondered? What on earth was Alf doing coming here? Harry really ought to talk to him. What was wrong with Harry these days? Maybe he was going through the male menopause. He was about the right age.
‘We’re going to see Rosie,’ said Holly. ‘Do you know her?’
‘Rosie Foster? Yeah, I know her but she don’t live here no more.’
Moira tutted. All this effort for nothing and heaven knows what was left of the car. She only hoped they still had tyres to drive away with. This will teach Harry for not talking to his dad.
‘Holly, let’s go,’ she said, grabbing Holly’s arm.
‘Do you know where she lives now?’ asked Holly.
‘Nah, she never told no one.’
Holly allowed Moira to pull her away.
‘Your grandad mentioned letting her have one of his little houses,’ said Moira. ‘I never for one moment thought he was serious.’
‘That’s nice of Grandad,’ said Holly. ‘Shall we go there?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘We should just check.’
Moira had no desire whatsoever to see Rosie Foster again. She’d caused far too much trouble as it was. She checked the time on her phone. It was getting late and dinner would be ruined.
‘I don’t think it’s a good idea, Holly.’
‘Please, I’m worried.’
Moira sighed. Why did she have to get lumbered with this?
‘Okay, but that’s it. What Grandad does is really up to him.’
Holly kissed her warmly on the cheek.
‘Thanks, Mum.’
Much to Moira’s surprise the car was still in one piece.
‘Let’s go,’ she said accelerating away from the estate. The more distance they put between themselves and the Tradmore Estate, the happier she would be.
*
Doris, Shirl and Crabbers
‘I don’t understand it,’ said Doris. ‘She should surely have been back by now.’
‘It’s her new place, you’d think she’d want to be here making it look nice,’ agreed Shirl.
‘It’s sodding freezing,’ said Doris, pushing her cold hands into the pockets of her coat. ‘Where could she have gone in this weather?’
Crabbers peeked through the window.
‘What are you doing?’ hissed Doris. ‘People will think we’re trying to break in.’
‘Just checking everything looks normal. It doesn’t look like it’s been trashed,’ he said, forming an arch with his hands and peering into the living room.
‘Trashed?’ said Shirl. ‘Who’s going to trash it?’
‘Matt Fisher,’ said Crabbers dryly, straightening up. There was silence as Doris and Shirl took in his words.
‘Oh God,’ muttered Doris finally. ‘I’d forgotten all about him.’
‘Hell’s bells, you don’t think,’ whispered Shirl as Crabbers limped away from the window.
‘She wouldn’t be the first person that owed Matt Fisher money and suddenly went missing. Joey Smith disappeared for five days and was found …’
‘Shut up,’ snapped Shirl. ‘I don’t want to hear about Joey Fisher. Oh, poor Rosie, she’s been through so much. What an end if she’s …’
‘Oh do stop it Shirl,’ said Doris harshly. ‘This isn’t The Essex Boys.’
‘No, it’s far worse. Matt Fisher is …’ said Crabbers.
‘Crabbers,’ exclaimed Doris. ‘You’re frightening Shirl.’
She punched into her phone.
‘I’ll try her again,’ she said. ‘She must have seen my missed calls and messages by now.’
But still there was no reply.
‘It’s not like her, is it?’ said Shirl worriedly.
‘I think we should call the police,’ said Crabbers.
At that moment a Range Rover pulled up outside the house.
‘This doesn’t look good,’ said Doris, her voice shaking.
*
Moira slowed down. There was a group of people standing outside Rosie’s house.
‘Who are they?’ asked Holly.
‘I don’t know,’ said Moira. ‘But we should be careful.’
‘For goodness sake’ Mum, I think you’re neurotic.’
The women turned to look at the car. Holly recognised Crabbers. He was the man that had been with Rosie that Friday night.
‘I know him. He’s got a handicap,’ said Holly.
Moira removed her driving glasses and then she too recognised Crabbers. Holly dived from the car before Moira could stop her.
‘Hello,’ she said. ‘Do you know if Rosie Foster lives here?’
The women looked at each other and then Doris said.
‘Yeah, she does. She’s not home though.’
‘I’m Holly and this is my mum,’ Holly said nodding towards her mum.
‘I know you,’ said Crabbers.
‘We’ve met, yes,’ said Moira.
‘We’re looking for my grandad,’ said Holly. ‘I’m a bit worried. We can’t seem to get hold of him. Do you know if he’s with Rosie?’
‘Oh God,’ groaned one of the women.
‘This is Doris and Shirl,’ said Crabbers. ‘We’ve been trying to get hold of Rosie too but she’s not answering her phone.’
Moira’s heart began to beat a little faster.
‘How long have you been trying to get hold of her?’ she asked.
‘All day,’ said Doris.
‘We think Matt Fisher may be involved in her disappearance,’ said Crabbers.
‘Disappearance?’ repeated Moira.
‘It’s not like Rosie,’ he said.
‘Or my grandad,’ said Holly who seemed to be enjoying the excitement.
‘Who’s Matt Fisher?’ asked Moira.
She didn’t really want to know. She should have known Alf’s relationship with Rosie Foster would be trouble. This will serve Harry right.
‘He’s a loan shark,’ said Doris.
The words seem to drip with fear as she spoke them.
‘A loan shark?’ repeated Moira again.
Crabbers nodded.
‘They lend you money and …’
‘I know what a loan shark is,’ said Moira.
Crabbers fidgeted on his feet. He didn’t like Moira very much. She’d been rude to Rosie the last time he’d seen her.
‘Other people have disappeared when they owed him money. Joey Smith was found …’
‘Crabbers,’ interrupted Shirl.
‘Oh,’ groaned Moira. ‘Do you really think …?’
‘She’s most likely fine,’ assured Doris.
‘I doubt it,’ said Crab
bers pessimistically.
‘We need to phone your father,’ said Moira.
Holly pulled her phone from her pocket with shaking hands.
‘Will there be a ransom note?’ asked Moira dramatically.
‘Oh no,’ said Crabbers. ‘He doesn’t bother with those.’
Moira felt faint and had to sit on the wall.
‘You look really pale, love,’ said Shirl.
‘I don’t believe this is happening,’ said Moira. ‘Things like this never happen in Gidea Park.’
‘I’m sure they don’t,’ agreed Doris.
‘Dad’s phone is off,’ said Holly.
Moira rolled her eyes. She’d throttle Harry.
‘We should phone the police,’ said Crabbers again. ‘Only the longer we leave it …’
‘You don’t think they’ve just gone out for the day?’ asked Moira.
‘Where would you go all day in this weather?’ questioned Doris. Moira nodded in agreement.
‘Alf doesn’t like the cold.’
‘I don’t think we should panic,’ said Shirl.
‘We need to tell Dad,’ said Holly.
‘I’ve got dinner cooking,’ said Moira.
‘You can drop me home and then go and get Dad,’ said Holly sensibly.
‘I can give you my number,’ said Doris. ‘If Rosie and your dad turn up you can give me a ring. I should take your number, so I can let you know if they turn up here.’
‘He’s my father-in-law,’ said Moira.
‘Well, same thing,’ said Shirl with a laugh.
Moira gave Doris her phone number and then she and Holly climbed back into the car.
‘Don’t worry, love,’ called Doris.
But Moira was already worrying.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Harry
‘I really must go, Steph.’
‘Harry, we haven’t sorted things out,’ said Steph, her voice rising.
He really didn’t want to have this conversation with Steph. Not while they were in the church hall.
‘People will wonder what we’re still doing here,’ he said.
‘I don’t care.’
‘Keep your voice down Steph. I promise we’ll talk about this, but not now.’
‘I thought you were coming back to my place,’ she said, blocking his way. ‘You usually do.’
‘I know, but I have this thing with Holly. She’s not well.’
‘What’s wrong with her?’ she demanded.
He didn’t like Steph when she was in one of these moods. He didn’t want to tell her about Holly. It was best if they kept it as quiet as possible. The last thing they needed was for it to be broadcast all around Gidea Park.
‘She’s not well.’
‘I don’t think you love me any more,’ she said sullenly.
‘Don’t be silly.’
He could end it now, he thought. She was giving him the opportunity. All he had to do was say that he didn’t love her at all. He couldn’t face the confrontation though, so instead he said,
‘I’ll come round at the weekend.’
She draped her arms around him seductively.
‘Do you promise?’
‘Of course,’ he said trying to disentangle himself.
‘Kiss me.’
‘Steph, anyone could walk in.’
‘But they won’t will they?’ she argued.
He leaned forward. She pulled him close and his mouth touched hers. She clung to him and hungrily devoured his lips. A high-pitched shriek pulled them apart.
‘Harry!’
He turned sharply, his foot stamping on Steph’s.
‘Ouch,’ she gasped, jumping back in pain.
Harry stared in shock at Moira who stood in the doorway of the church hall. Her mouth gaped open and she blinked several times. He saw tears glistening on her cheeks.
‘Moira,’ he said, his mind racing with excuses but none seemed plausible. ‘What … what …?’
‘Harry,’ she repeated but more quietly this time. ‘How could you?’
She broke into a little sob. Her face was bright red. Harry’s eyes met hers and he started to walk towards her, but she turned on her heel and rushed from the room.
‘Shit, shit,’ Harry muttered.
‘Just as well,’ said Steph, rubbing her foot. ‘You had to tell her some time.’
He turned to her.
‘It’s over Steph.’
‘What?’ she said surprised. ‘What do you mean? She’ll get over it.’
‘I have to go after her.’
‘Oh for goodness’ sake,’ sighed Steph. ‘I don’t know why I bother with you.’
Harry ignored her and hurried from the hall, but Moira was already driving away.
‘Oh no,’ he groaned walking to his car. He had left his lights on.
‘Shit,’ he yelled, slapping his thigh. The battery was bound to be dead.
*
Moira could barely see the road ahead. Tears were blurring her vision. She’d taken her driving glasses off so that didn’t help either.
‘How could he?’ she repeated over and over. ‘How could he do this to us?’
She couldn’t go home. Not yet. How would she explain being so distressed to Holly? Poor Holly. It wasn’t her fault her father was a dick.
‘Bastard,’ she yelled, thumping the steering wheel.
With that stupid bimbo too, what was wrong with him? She recognised her. She worked in human resources at Harry’s office. She remembered her from last year’s works party. She couldn’t be more than twenty-five.
‘I can’t stand it,’ she groaned. What had become of them? First Holly and now Harry. It was shameful. She braked sharply as the car in front of her slowed down. A pedestrian waved angrily at her. She was going too fast. She really should slow down. She turned the car onto the A13 and headed towards Dagenham East. Her phone bleeped. It must be Harry. He’d have to wait until she stopped. She ought to tell him about his dad disappearing. That was surely more important than their marriage problems.
‘Oh, how could you Harry?’ she moaned.
She hadn’t fully realised where she was heading but she suddenly found herself outside Sam Foster’s garage. The lights were on. She checked her face in the car mirror. It was blotchy from her tears. She sighed heavily and looked down at her phone.
There were two missed calls from Harry and a text.
Moira, please. We need to talk about this. I’m stuck here. The car won’t start. The AA are on their way. Please call me.
Moira stared at the message for a moment and then typed a reply.
I need time to think. I came to tell you that your dad seems to have gone missing. I can’t get hold of him. I will see you later. How could you Harry? I’ve gone to see Rosie’s son. No one has seen her all day either.
She wiped away the tears that just didn’t seem to stop flowing and sent a text to Holly.
I’m going to see Rosie’s son. Dad has a flat battery but will be home soon. Keep the dinner warm.
Although Moira had no idea how she would face going home. The tears started to flow again and she sniffed. Why weren’t there tissues in her bag when she needed them? She was fumbling for a tissue when there was a tap on her window. She looked up, for a moment forgetting her tear-streaked face and puffy eyes. Sam Foster was peering at her.
‘Oh,’ she said flustered and quickly patted at her hair.
She wound down the window.
‘You’re blocking my entrance …’ he began and stopped on seeing her face. She went to speak but just found herself in floods of tears again. Sam looked uncomfortable. He opened the car door and offered his hand.
‘You can’t stay in your car,’ he smiled. ‘You’ll drown.’
‘I’ll … I’ll move it,’ she hiccupped.
‘Don’t worry. It’s only me wanting to get out. Come and have a cup of tea.’
His voice was matter-of-fact. There was no softness in it. Just as well, thought Moira. I’l
l probably start blubbering all over again if he shows me any sympathy. She didn’t even want to imagine what she looked like. She followed him into the garage and through to the tiny office. It still smelt of his soap.
‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ he said.
Moira blew her nose and wiped her eyes. Sam made the tea silently and Moira waited.
‘I’ve put three sugars in it,’ he said placing a mug of strong tea in front of her.
‘My husband’s having an affair,’ she said, feeling the tears run down her cheeks again. ‘I just went to the church hall. He’s putting on a Christmas play. They were kissing and … She works in human resources. I think she types up the scripts and … and … Oh, how can this be happening?’
Sam bit his lip.
‘I’m sorry.’
She lifted her head.
‘You probably think I deserve it.’
He raised his eyebrows.
‘No. I don’t think anyone deserves that. I’ve been there so I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.’
‘You think I’m uppity,’ she said, sipping from her tea.
‘You’re up your own arse a bit,’ he said handing her a tissue.
Her lips quivered.
‘I didn’t think Harry … Well I never imagined he had it in him. She’s only about twenty-five. It’s made me feel old and ugly.’
‘You’re not ugly,’ he said softly. ‘And you’re certainly not old.’
Moira sniffed.
‘She’s got legs up to her armpits and shiny blonde hair. I’m forty-three and going through the menopause and what’s more my daughter has just had an abortion.’
Sam’s expression didn’t change.
‘What you need is a Custard Cream,’ he said, standing up.
‘Can I use your loo?’ she asked.
‘It’s a mess but yeah, it’s through there,’ he said pointing to a door.
Moira grabbed her bag and made her way to the loo. She stared at her face in the cracked mirror and sighed. Oh, she looked terrible. Her hair was all over the place and her eyes were red and sore. Her face was flushed. She looked like an old hag. No wonder Harry was knocking off a 25-year-old. It was her fault. Sam Foster was right. She’d always been too much up her own arse. She pulled a hairbrush through her hair, felt the tears prick her eyelids and quickly walked from the toilet.
Sam had placed some Custard Creams onto a plate.
‘Thank you,’ she smiled.
‘Feeling better?’ he asked.