The Anita Waller Collection

by Anita Waller

  He picked up one pile of clothes off a chair and dumped them in front of the washer. He glanced inside it and saw it was empty.

  ‘Ma!’ he roared. ‘The fuckin’ washin’ machine’s empty. Get some fuckin’ washin’ done.’

  There was silence for a moment, and then Aileen Walmsley, her curly blonde hair like a halo around her head, appeared in the doorway, holding on to a book tightly pressed open against her not inconsiderable breasts.

  Her blue eyes zeroed in on her son for a long moment, and he wished he hadn’t said anything.

  ‘If you want some washin’ doin’, me lad, then do it yourself. And if I ever hear you speak to me like that again, I’ll cut off your balls. I’m readin’ me book, not washin’ clothes. Like it or lump it, I don’t bloody care either way. It’s a pity you didn’t read more books, ’cos then you might not have ended up dealin’.’

  He considered arguing back, for a moment, but then decided it wasn’t worth the hassle. She knew which knife was the sharpest, and he might need his balls.

  ‘Sorry, Ma,’ he mumbled. ‘I’ll put a load in, shall I?’

  ‘Aye,’ she said, ‘and then, I’ll have a cuppa tea.’

  She turned and went back into the lounge, not much better in the tidiness stakes, but it did hold a large, extremely comfortable sofa, brilliant for lying on to read her books. She settled down, satisfied that she’d sorted the little git; she’d have no more lip from him, not ’til next time.

  She heard the washer start and then the hum of the kettle. As a bonus, she heard the tap gush with water, and she knew he would have to wash some pots, to get a clean cup for her. She didn’t fool herself that he would do them all, but what he did tackle would be a help. She opened her book and began to read.

  He brought in the cup of tea without another word being exchanged, and as he walked out of the room, she smiled. Sorted.

  Vinnie was a decent-looking lad, around five-feet-eight and with an athletic build, but according to Aileen, he was more like his non-existent dad than her. His short brown hair and brown eyes gave him a look of honesty, and he used that attribute extensively. Strangers trusted him. Acquaintances were wary.

  He sat at the kitchen table and took out his small black book. He would be lost without it; he needed to know who owed him what, and who he needed to lean on. That last delivery of cocaine had been more than he normally handled, and he daren’t leave it in the house. The woods had been the ideal place.

  He’d once watched someone on telly that spoke about hiding things, and they’d said something about the best place being to hide it in plain sight, so he’d hidden it in plain sight of the police station. He hoped that’s what it meant.

  It wasn’t a package he needed to split; it was being sold on as a full delivery to somebody who would contact him in two days and then pay him for his part. He felt sure he’d hidden it well, far enough down in the hole to stop any animals digging it up. He had a brief flash go through his mind of a fox high on coke, and despite his worries, he laughed.

  In his peripheral vision, he saw a face at the kitchen window and turned. He waved the newcomer in.

  ‘Fuckin’ ’ell, Liam, you gave me a bit of a shock. Don’t do that.’

  Liam laughed. ‘Sorry, pal. Thought I’d call round to see what you up to. You doing your chores?’

  ‘Nah,’ Vinnie said, trying to keep his voice low. ‘Ma’s doing the washing.’

  Aileen could hear every word. She stood and moved towards the kitchen.

  ‘Oh, hiya, Liam. Good to see you. You’ve not been for a few days. Vinnie, that last load you put in, is it ready yet? Don’t go out without hanging it on the line, will you? And then put a dark load in.’ She turned and walked back into the lounge, a huge grin splitting her face. That’d teach the cheeky little bastard to have a go at her. His mate would never let this drop.

  Liam thought it best not to say anything. Not here, anyway. Maybe when all the lads met up later, when Vinnie was bragging off about what he’d been doing, maybe then he could drop it in about the washing…

  He closed the kitchen door, pulled out a chair and moved the clothes off it. Sitting down opposite Vinnie, he delved into his pockets and produced two cans of beer. They opened them and drank. It was marginally more hygienic than using a glass from the Walmsley household.

  ‘You got it, then?’ Liam asked.

  Vinnie nodded. ‘Don’t say owt to anybody though, Liam. And keep your voice down, she’s got ears like bats, has Ma. This is serious stuff now. I’ll make a packet on it, but if owt goes wrong…’

  ‘I shan’t say owt, mate, don’t worry. Best make sure your ma can’t stumble across it, though. She wouldn’t be best pleased.’

  ‘It’s well hidden,’ was all Vinnie would say.

  ‘God, Vin, I wish you’d get a proper job.’

  ‘Like you? Stacking shelves at Asda?’

  Liam could hear the mockery in his friend’s voice, and he flinched. ‘Yeah, but stacking shelves ain’t going to get me killed.’

  ‘And it’s not going to earn you eight grand for babysitting a packet of white powder.’

  Liam shrugged. They’d never agree on this. He’d never touched drugs, and he didn’t think Vinnie had either, but Vinnie had touched them in a different way. He sold them.

  ‘So, when do you meet this geezer?’

  ‘Probably tomorrow. They’ll be safe enough until he contacts me.’

  ‘And he pays you?’

  ‘Yeah. This is going to give me a bit more working capital. It’s all happening, Liam. A couple of months and I’ll be getting a new car.’

  Liam nodded. He knew it was hopeless trying to make Vinnie see sense, so, as usual, it was time to simply agree with him. If it all fell apart, he’d be there to pick up any pieces that were left and try to get him a job at Asda.

  ‘You going out tonight?’ Liam asked.

  ‘Nah, watching t’match later. I’ll nip round to t’shop and get some cans in, fish ‘n’ chips for tea, and have an early night. Big day tomorrow.’

  Liam stood. ‘Right, I’ll see you probably later, after its done. On nights, so I’ll be in bed for seven in the morning. You take care, mate. You don’t know owt about this bloke.’

  Vinnie laughed. ‘You’re like an owd woman, Liam. I’ll be fine. It’s simple. I hand t’bag over, he pays me, and we don’t meet up again till he wants some more.’

  Liam couldn’t help but think his friend was a little too blasé about the issue, but he left with a final wave through the kitchen window.

  Vinnie drained the last dregs from the bottom of the can and aimed it at the overflowing waste bin. It made a clatter as it fell and rolled across the floor.

  ‘Pick it up!’ was the command from the lounge.

  ‘Christ, she really has got bat ears,’ he muttered.

  ‘I heard that!’ she called.

  He did as instructed and tied the rubbish bag at the top before carrying it out to the black bin. Perhaps he should go back in and clear a few of the dishes, try to tidy things up a bit. He had a position in the area now. Things needed to smarten up around here.

  Aileen smiled as she heard the gush of water once again. Maybe she’d even manage to finish this book that afternoon, then she could start a new one later, while Vinnie was watching the footie. Sometimes, life was okay.

  He finished all the dishes, sorted the remaining laundry into piles and then took the black wheelie bin around to the front of the house and onto the pavement, ready for the next day’s collection. He saw young Sammy Walker and waved at him; nice looking, young black kid, smart as well. Just needed to keep off the gear.

  Sammy flinched, turned around and went towards the back of the houses, a circuitous way home instead of the direct route past the Walmsley house.

  Vinnie watched him, a frown on his face. What was that all about? The kid had looked scared.

  Vinnie shook his head. Next time he saw him, he’d damn well ask if there was a problem. He didn’t l
ike being dissed.

  Liam was worried. He knew Vinnie was in too deep, but unfortunately, Vinnie didn’t know it.

  Liam set off for work, wondering how to make Vinnie see sense. Perhaps he should talk to Vinnie’s ma; he felt sure she would do something about it. Dealing a few pills here and there was a different kettle of fish to what he had taken on, and it bothered Liam that Vinnie would only drop deeper and deeper into the drug-dealing world.

  He reached Asda, not realising that his journey had taken him within six feet of the plastic bag of cocaine that Vinnie had carefully buried, scared of a repeat visit by the police. They had found nothing last time, but Liam knew Vinnie wouldn’t take that risk again.

  He clocked on and waited to find out what his duties for the night were to be. The next day he would go and see Vinnie, make him listen, scare him to bloody death if necessary, but he had to stop him before he took a beating, or worse.

  The football match was good, Spurs beating Chelsea by two goals. Vinnie didn’t particularly like either of the teams, but he did like football, and supporting Sheffield Wednesday, as he did fervently, meant you didn’t always get to see quality footie. He rephrased the thought in his head. Very rarely got to see quality football.

  Ma had already gone to bed, taking her damn book with her. He’d never known anybody read as much as she did; truth be told, he didn’t know anybody else who read. He had commandeered the sofa in her absence and reached down to the floor to grab another can of beer. It popped with a most satisfying sound, and he drank deeply.

  His phone pinged, and he scrabbled around underneath him trying to find it. When he did, he was surprised to see a text. He hoped it wasn’t anybody wanting any gear at this time of night. He couldn’t be arsed to go out, especially as he’d had a fair bit to drink.

  The text was short:

  4 pm tomorrow, Asda car park, Silver Audi ending in ECV.

  He answered with a thumbs-up emoji, then put down the can of beer. Suddenly, he didn’t want any more. He wanted to go to bed and sleep. The next day, if everything went well, he would be eight grand richer, and his rating would have gone up significantly.

  He thought about Liam and smirked. Get him a job at Asda? Not fuckin’ likely. He was going places. One day, he’d be able to text somebody that he was in a silver Audi.

  He picked up the cans and took them to the newly emptied waste bin in the kitchen. Checking all the doors was second nature to him; he was usually the last in bed, anyway, and he turned off all the lights as he headed upstairs.

  Aileen heard him go up. She felt troubled; she had partly heard the conversation between Liam and Vinnie and sensed Liam’s concern for his best friend. She had no idea what Vinnie had got himself into, but ever since the police visit when they were looking for drugs, she had been wary, watching him carefully. She knew he didn’t have the intelligence to be aware of danger. He was no Liam.

  It was her mother’s instinct kicking in that told her he was into something he couldn’t control. It didn’t take a genius to work out it was a step up in the drug dealing, but it would take somebody smarter than her to find out which local thug was employing her lad.

  She doubted that Liam would know. She considered Liam to be one of the smarter lads on the estate and never really understood why he had palled up with her Vinnie. Still, he was all she had to try to get some information. So when he next called round, she’d find something out if it killed her.

  She picked up her book again, her thought processes around Vinnie exhausted, and removed the bookmark. Just two more chapters, she promised herself, and then, I’ll go to sleep.

  She could hear that Vinnie was restless. He slept on a metal-framed bed, and every time he turned, the bed squeaked. The bed squeaked constantly, and at one point, five chapters further on into her book, she considered going into his room to see if he was okay. She didn’t think he would want to talk, but she wanted him to know she could hear he was restless.

  She tapped on his bedroom door. ‘Vinnie?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You okay?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Sure?’

  ‘Yeah. Fuckin’ ‘ell, Ma, I’m twenty-two. You don’t need to check up on me.’

  ‘And you’ve been in bed over an hour, and you’re still not asleep. You worrying about something?’

  ‘Shit, Mother, leave me alone! I’m trying to drop off here, and you’re mithering me from t’other side of a door. Go back to bed. I’m okay.’

  ‘Right, g’nite, son. Sleep well.’ She headed back to her own room, deeply troubled. Something was wrong, and she didn’t know how to deal with it. But she still had her fallback plan.

  Liam.

  She took off her Harry Potter pyjamas and dressed in leggings and a top, then crept out of her room and back down the stairs. She grabbed her bag, quietly opened the door and equally quietly closed it behind her. She rummaged around in the bottom of her bag until she located the car keys, then headed towards the car. She hoped Vinnie wouldn’t hear it start. She didn’t want him knowing where she was going.

  A twenty-four-hour supermarket is indeed a wondrous place. It’s busy even at midnight, and at 12.06am, Aileen stepped onto the travellator taking her up to the shop level of the store. She grabbed a basket, deciding against a trolley. She wasn’t there for shopping. She wandered around the store, looking for Liam. When she spotted him, he was stacking shelves on the stationery aisle.

  She smiled. Maybe she wasn’t there for the shopping, but would it be so bad if she bought a book? Only one. Or maybe two, as they were two for seven pounds. She pretended she hadn’t noticed Liam and inspected the books.

  She put the first one in her basket and then searched for a second one.

  ‘Mrs Walmsley!’ There was surprise in Liam’s voice.

  She turned around, feigning surprise. ‘Oh, hello, Liam. I didn’t realise you were working tonight.’

  ‘You’re shopping late.’

  ‘I know. I couldn’t sleep, and I’d finished my book, so I thought I’d nip over here and pick up another one. It wasn’t so much that I can’t sleep, it’s more that Vinnie is keeping me awake, tossing and turning in that bloody metal bed. It creaks every time he moves, and he’s certainly moving. It’s like he’s worrying about something. I don’t suppose you know what it is, do you, Liam?’

  Liam gulped. She knew. She fuckin’ knew Vinnie was up to something. But he wasn’t going to be the one to dob Vinnie in. It was up to Vinnie to tell his ma what he was doing.

  ‘He’s okay, I think,’ Liam said nervously. ‘He’s not said anything to me…’

  ‘Yes, he has, Liam. I heard him. What’s happening tomorrow?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ He’d never felt so miserable in all his life. Vinnie’s ma was obviously upset and worried, and Liam was making things so much worse by lying to her.

  ‘Oh, sorry, Mrs Walmsley, my supervisor’s watching. I have to go. He wants me on bananas.’

  She sighed. ‘Okay, Liam, but if anything happens to my lad, and you haven’t told me something that could have prevented it, I will find you. Is that understood?’

  Liam nodded miserably. He scuttled away from her and felt immensely grateful when he saw her go through the self-service checkout and back down the travelator. He took out his phone and texted Vinnie, telling him his ma was on the warpath and to pretend to be asleep. She would be home in five minutes.

  Aileen arrived home to a house still in darkness, and she knew he hadn’t realised she had gone out. She crept back upstairs and into her own room, then quickly undressed to sleep once again with Harry Potter. The bed creaks had stopped, and she guessed Vinnie had fallen asleep. Climbing into bed, with the new books placed on her dressing table, she picked up the one she had abandoned to go to Asda.

  She removed the bookmark and slid down the bed. ‘Just two more chapters,’ she muttered, ‘and I’ll tackle Vinnie in the morning.’

  Vinnie lay silently, immobile. He couldn’t fac
e an inquisition, so he needed non-squeaking bedsprings. By two o’clock, the household was quiet, and tired brains had closed down for the night.

  Time enough to think, to plan, tomorrow.

  Chapter 3

  The Gang of Six had met by eleven o’clock. The sun beat down on them, and they decided to have a day of tree climbing. Moving further into the small woods took them to trees previously unclimbed, and this activity lasted until just before lunchtime.

  Dom suddenly veered away from them and crossed to where the white powder had been buried. He had to know if it was still there. They would look stupid if they went to the police and told them about the powder, only for them to find nothing. The others looked horrified; panic set in, and they tried to persuade him not to dig, but he simply shook his head and said he had to know. It was there, and he stared at it.

  ‘We have to talk,’ he said. ‘I think we should tell the police. I think we should take it, tell them we found it while we were playing, and we’re guessing it’s drugs. We’ll be heroes for handing it in, but most of all, we’ll be believed. Let’s go and eat, and then, we’ll have a vote.’

  They returned to the den and went inside to eat the assorted items of food they had managed to bring from home. It made for quite a feast; biscuits, a few sandwiches, bottles of water, crisps. They felt satiated and decided to have a rest and finish off the game of Uno.

  But Dom wouldn’t let the matter drop. ‘Stop ignoring it. That’s drugs, and I reckon it’s a lot of drugs. We’ve had the talk at school. We know they kill. We’ve got to tell somebody, and I think we have to go next door and take the packet to them. We don’t mention this, though, the den. We can tell them we were playing hide and seek, and we found it while we were playing.’