by Jacqui Rose
Although Alfie wasn’t sure why, a strange feeling came over him again, which he couldn’t quite understand. It wasn’t doubt, it wasn’t suspicion, but something just didn’t feel right. Then as he had done so many times lately, he pushed it away to the back of his mind, then he smiled warmly and noticing Franny standing shivering, he spoke gently.
‘You’re going to catch your death. Come on. I picked up something to eat. I know we have to go and see this person tomorrow, but I need you to eat. I’ve got to start looking after you because you’re clearly not doing that yourself.’
Alfie walked to the back of the Porsche, pressing the key button as Franny came around.
Franny immediately froze, staring in horror at the back of the boot. She glanced at Alfie then back at the boot before saying in a tiny whisper, ‘Where are they? Alfie, where did you put them?’
‘What are you talking about, put what?’
Walking even nearer to the boot, Franny continued to stare, realising that somehow Bree’s belongings as well as her own bloodstained clothes she’d worn that day had gone. ‘In the back. There was … there was a black bag full of clothes and a suitcase. Remember, when I was having a shower, I told you I was doing some clothes sorting?’
Alfie shook his head as he lifted the food bags out. ‘I dunno, darlin’, I never saw them in there.’ He shrugged and turned away, heading for the house, but Franny, beginning to panic, grabbed hold of his arm, her eyes full of terror as once more her voice cracked into hysteria. ‘You must’ve seen them, Alf. Where did you put them?’
‘Fran, baby, stop! Stop. Just take a deep breath. What are you getting yourself worked up about? Come on, it’s cold, come on in.’
‘But you must have moved them. Think, Alf, think! Yesterday? Maybe you moved them yesterday?’
Not understanding why Franny was becoming so hysterical, Alfie spoke soothingly. ‘This is the first time I’ve used your car in a while, Fran. Look, you must’ve made a mistake, they’re probably still in the house. And anyway, I thought you said that it was old stuff, so who cares if you don’t know where you put them.’
As Alfie walked away, Franny stood, cold and barefoot in the rain, whispering to herself as she began to tremble violently. ‘I care, Alf. You have no idea how much I care they’ve gone.’
36
The drive to Doncaster on the M1 was long and gave both Alfie and Franny more time to think than they would’ve liked.
‘What have you done, Franny?’ Alfie’s voice broke the silence, and Franny, uncomfortable with the question, turned to look at Alfie as he drove. She tried to keep her voice light as she asked, ‘Done? What do you mean?’
Thinking about the texts he’d been receiving, Alfie asked again, ‘I mean, if you’ve done something, and you were worried to tell me, whatever it is, you can. The point is, look at me: I’ve fucked up so many times in the past myself. Bree …’
Franny cut in, ‘We’ve already gone through that, and I told you how I felt. What’s done is done.’
‘I know, and I’m grateful that you forgave me. I don’t deserve it, so if there is anything that you want to tell me, then you can. I’m hot-headed, we both know that, but we’re a strong team and I know we can get through anything as long as we’re truthful.’
Once again Franny’s smile was tight. ‘Where’s this coming from, Alf?’
Quickly glancing across to her, Alfie smiled before gazing back at the motorway. He knew that maybe he should mention the texts right now, especially as he was talking about being truthful, but each time he came to it – each time he was about to tell her about them – something held him back. ‘It’s not coming from anywhere. I just thought that everyone has their secrets.’
Franny, pale and feeling ill, stared back out of the window, her thoughts crossing from Mia to Bree to Shannon. She’d been trying to find Shannon since she’d seen her that day in the street. She’d asked around but nobody knew where she’d gone. With Charlie’s club closed she’d probably had to move on, find work elsewhere. Though in truth, she still would feel happier if she got to talk to her. ‘I don’t, Alf. I don’t have any secrets; maybe that’s just you.’
She glanced at him, giving another weak smile before the two of them fell silent again, retreating into their own thoughts.
An hour and a half later, the weather had got worse. A combination of heavy rain and sleet pelted down on the car as they drove through the centre of Doncaster, South Yorkshire.
It had been a while since Franny had been here, watching the races at the famous St Leger. But they had been happier times. With her father, with her uncle. Times where life seemed to be so much easier than it was now.
With a heavy heart, she watched as they drove along West Laith Gate, turning left into the busy Trafford Way. She supposed she should be pleased that Alfie was so on-board now, albeit she had to be careful, but she had a sinking feeling that since he’d seen the boy in the warehouse, this determination to find Barry was less about Mia and more about him and the young child. And as such she wanted to scream at him, wanted to let him know how much not knowing where Mia was, was slowly killing her.
Every day, every hour, every minute that passed felt like a painful, torturous eternity, but no matter how much she wanted to tell him, no matter how much she wanted to free herself of the burden, she couldn’t. She just couldn’t.
Sighing, she pulled down the passenger mirror and looked at herself, but suddenly her gaze caught sight of something, someone behind her. She screamed. There in the mirror, sitting behind her, was Bree.
Panicking, Franny unclicked her seatbelt and spun around, kneeling up, her breathing laboured as tears came to her eyes.
‘Fuck’s sake, what’s wrong! What’s wrong? Jesus, Fran, you nearly gave me a heart attack.’ Alfie, having got a fright from Franny’s sudden outburst, reached across and touched her whilst keeping his eyes on the road.
‘I … I … I thought …’ She stopped and gawked at the empty back seat.
‘Thought, what?’
She answered in a whisper, ‘Nothing … nothing …’ She trailed off as she continued to stare at the empty back seat. It was stupid. What was she even thinking letting her mind play tricks? She was stronger than that? She could keep it together …
‘Franny, talk to me, baby.’
Tensely, Franny said, ‘Sorry, Alf, I just thought … I thought you’d hit a rabbit.’
‘A rabbit?’
Sliding back into the cream, leather seat, and doing her belt back up, Franny shrugged. ‘A rabbit, a small dog, I dunno, it sounded like you hit something.’
Not saying anything, Alfie frowned as Franny huddled up, rubbing the side of her head as they continued to drive along; passing the mosque, heading towards Carr House Road, which took them past a row of small shops and houses, and on to Leger Way where the racecourse loomed large.
Gathering herself, Franny spoke calmly as she clenched her hands together. ‘How long now, Alf?’
Alfie glanced at the GPS, worried that it was all getting to be too much for her. ‘I reckon we can be there in about ten minutes, maybe five … I tell you something, I ain’t looking forward to it, Fran.’
Franny nodded, briefly touching Alfie’s hand. ‘Me neither – to tell you the truth, I’d rather be going anywhere else but here.’
On the eastern edge of Doncaster, Alfie and Franny came to Armstrong, a sprawling urban village with row upon row of terraced houses and bungalows. The roads were quiet as they drove along slowly, coming to Cleveland Street and turning into Rand Street, which was a long road made up of red-brick houses.
‘I never expected it to be like this, Alf.’
Alfie gazed around as he drove carefully along, much slower than he normally would’ve done as he tried to hold off the inevitable. ‘Me neither. It looks so normal. It looks like a place where you’d be happy to bring up your kids.’
‘I guess it is, but I suppose it’s a case of what goes on behind closed doors. You neve
r know who your neighbour is, not really.’
‘You never know who anybody is, Fran, so thank God I’ve got you.’
Franny fell silent, feeling her stomach twist up into a knot, feeling the guilt press down on her chest like a dead weight and feeling the loss of what they used to have together.
At the end of the road, Alfie pulled up outside a small block of flats.
He stared at them. ‘This is it. Are you ready?’
Franny shook her head. ‘No, Alf, I’m not, but then, I don’t think I ever will be.’
Inside the flats, the place was clean. Cream walls matching the cream square floor tiles, smelling of bleach and polish. A large potted plant stood in the corner and letters for the various residents were neatly stacked on a wooden shelf.
Alfie and Franny walked up the stairs and at the top landing, Alfie turned along the corridor to the end, followed by Franny.
Hearing the sound of a baby crying, Franny whirled around to look at Alfie. Her eyes pleading. ‘Do you think that’s her? Alfie, do you think that’s Mia? It could be her.’
Alfie gazed down at Franny, his heart going out to her. ‘Listen, darlin’, it would be nice if it was, but I don’t want you to get your hopes up. Alan said nothing about Mia. For all we know this could be another wild goose chase. This woman, whoever she is, might not even know Barry.’
In the quiet of the hallway, Franny frowned, hearing herself sounding desperate. She knew she needed to keep it together. ‘But I thought you said that she would know who he was. Where he was. I thought that’s why we came here.’
‘I did say that, but we’ve only got a smackhead’s word for it. I’m sure he was telling the truth, but I’m just scared that if she doesn’t know him or she doesn’t know anything about Mia, then it’ll be tough for you.’
Franny hissed through her teeth, letting her emotions speak for her. ‘You know what I think, I think that you’re forgetting about Mia in all of this. I think that this is somehow your crusade against Barry, against your demons, and you just don’t give a fuck about anything else.’
Hurt, Alfie shook his head. ‘How can you say that? I would rather be at home, having a beer, having a laugh with my mates. Do you really think if I had any other choice that I’d come looking for the man who nearly destroyed my life? Every time I think of him, I get sick. I can’t tell you how many times I was up in the night, throwing up. I’m terrified, Fran, and that’s something I’d never admit to most people. I feel ashamed of my fear. I feel ashamed I haven’t dealt with it before, but I just couldn’t … Though I can’t let it beat me, because if it does, then Barry’s won and that little boy, and Mia, and all the others suffer. I won’t let that happen, not if I can help it. So don’t you think for a minute I don’t care about what happens to Mia, because I do. I’m just not good at talking about this.’
Franny pulled herself together. She gazed steadily at Alfie as she spoke with genuine remorse. ‘I’m sorry, Alf, I shouldn’t have said that. So why don’t we go and find out exactly where this scumbag is?’ She went into her pocket and pulled out a small gun. And with that, Franny walked towards the door.
Standing either side of the flat, Alfie and Franny had put on gloves. Alfie held his gun against him, knocking on the door with his foot as he nodded to Franny. There was no reply, so he tried again. This time harder.
A moment later, they heard a woman’s voice. ‘Piss off!’
He banged once more with his foot, not saying anything, and once more the woman shouted through the door. ‘I said, piss off!’
Alfie called back, checking up and down the corridor as he did so. ‘Alan sent me. I need to speak to you – it’s important.’
The woman’s voice held a strong Yorkshire accent. ‘I don’t know anyone called Alan, so it can’t be that important, can it?’
‘Well, he sent me. He said maybe you could help.’
The woman coughed. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, so if you don’t mind, piss off!’
There was a pause before Alfie, choosing his words carefully, said, ‘I just wondered if you had any spaces in … your crèche.’
There was silence then the sound of several locks opening. A second later, the woman put her head around the door. She was small, and looked to be in her mid-fifties. She was grey-haired with a tight perm and her face had deep wrinkles running all over it. Her eyes darted down the hallway and she spoke to Alfie, who hid his gun behind his back.
She spoke in a hushed tone, looking nervous. ‘I don’t know who you are, and I don’t know who this Alan is, but coming to my door like this isn’t how it goes. So, I’d be grateful if you could leave.’
Alfie bent down to her, his face inches away. ‘No, I’m not going anywhere because I’m at the right place, aren’t I?’
Nervously, the woman stared at Alfie. ‘Whoever this bloke is, he had no right giving out my address. Like I say, that’s not how it works. You could be anybody.’
The woman tried to close the door but Alfie jammed his foot in it as Franny stepped next to him. His voice was low and threatening. ‘I just want a word.’
‘Sally, what’s going on?’ a man’s voice from behind the woman called out. He appeared briefly, but seeing Alfie, he frowned then suddenly darted back.
Alfie pushed the door open with force, slamming the woman out of the way, who fell to the floor screeching.
Following Alfie, Franny ran inside, closing the door behind her, but she stayed with the woman as Alfie charged into the bedroom.
Seeing the man trying to climb out of the window onto the small balcony, Alfie, still holding his gun, ran across, grabbing hold of the man’s legs, dragging him back. He grappled with him as the man fought hard. He took a swing at Alfie and picked up the chair in the corner, throwing it across the room before trying to make his escape over the bed.
Alfie pointed his gun. ‘I’d stop right there if I were you.’
The man just stared at Alfie then slowly reached down and picked up a toddler who’d been asleep in a cot.
The man smirked. ‘You might as well put the gun down, because you and I both know you’re not going to shoot.’
Alfie said nothing as he watched the man back out of the bedroom carrying the young child. But not having seen Franny enter the flat, the man stepped into the hallway where Franny quietly walked up behind him, hitting him hard over the head, knocking him out cold as Alfie ran forward to catch the falling child.
37
It was another half an hour before the man, who Sally had informed them was called Anthony, regained consciousness – though when he did so, he found himself tied to one of the kitchen chairs.
Pulling at his hands, which were bound behind him, Anthony glared at Alfie. ‘Untie me now! I said, untie me now.’
Alfie walked up to him and shook his head as he stared back at Anthony, who was sitting next to Sally – also tied – to another chair.
‘Are you having a laugh, mate? You’re tied up and you’re trying to tell me what to do? If I were you, I’d wind my neck in and keep quiet. Don’t make this any worse than it is already.’
Anthony made a snorting sound, bringing phlegm into his mouth. He smirked, then spat straight at Alfie whose face curled up in disgust. Wiping the spit off his blue cashmere top, Alfie sneered.
‘You’ve really made a mistake now.’ He brought his fist back, then struck Anthony hard across his face, causing his nose to pop and blood spurt out. Alfie pulled up a chair next to Anthony, straddling it backwards and sitting down to light a cigarette. He stared, full of hatred, blowing the smoke into Anthony’s face.
‘I want some answers, Anthony, because I’m not here to talk, I’m here to listen. So, come on then, tell me everything you know about where I can find Barry.’
‘I’m not telling you anything, so you can sing for all I care.’
Alfie smiled nastily then grabbed Anthony’s hair, pulling his head up higher, forcing him to look. ‘I think by the end of the day, it’ll b
e you singing.’
‘Piss off!’
Alfie laughed though his eyes were cold. ‘It must be a northern thing that makes you lot so stupid, ain’t that right, Sally?’
Alfie glanced at the woman who began to screech with anger, ‘Fuck off! You heard what my husband said – we haven’t got anything to say to you because we don’t know anything. So, you can do anything you like to us, you still won’t learn anything new.’
‘Is that right?’
Sally nodded defiantly. ‘Yes, it bloody well is!’
Alfie, finishing off his cigarette, stubbed it out on the carpet. He looked around the small flat. It was tidy and clean. Flowered wallpaper adorned the room and the blue leather couch was strewn with large velvet cushions. The polished wooden floor was semi-covered with a thick cream rug, and the fake fireplace bounced with flames. And whether it was because he knew what sort of people Sally and Anthony were, he thought the whole place with its spotless, dust-free shelves and furniture held a sinister air.
‘So, you’re saying whatever I do, you won’t talk.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Okay.’
Alfie stood up. He winked at Franny who sat in a chair holding the toddler who had gone back to sleep, then Alfie made eye contact with Sally again. He grinned as he pulled out his belt from his jeans. ‘As in anything I do, Sally?’
The confidence in Sally’s voice seemed to disappear. ‘Yeah … yeah … that’s what I said, isn’t it?’
‘Even this, Sally?’
Taking Anthony by surprise, Alfie looped the belt around Anthony’s neck and began to pull it tight. ‘How about now?’
Beginning to panic as she watched Anthony’s face turn red, his eyes bulging, Sally screamed, ‘You’re hurting him!’
Alfie chuckled and jarred and pulled the belt even tighter as he stood staring at Sally. ‘And how about now?’