She Did It: You think you know her - think again.

by Mel Sherratt

  ‘I don’t believe this.’ Tamara glared at them both in turn, trying to hold in the tears she could feel stinging her eyes. ‘For once I wanted to do something on my own merit!’

  ‘That will be a first,’ Elizabeth replied.

  Tamara gasped at her petulant tone. If her mother stopped to think how much she had held her back over the years because of her put-downs and sharp comments such as that one, she might show a little understanding. It was the last straw. She wasn’t going to listen to anything else.

  ‘I am going to prove you both wrong.’ Tamara threw her napkin down on to the table. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I have work to catch up on. Sorry, it won’t wait.’

  ‘Darling,’ Elizabeth shouted after her as she marched out of the restaurant, ‘we’re having A Window to The Ivy for desert. I know it’s your favourite thing. Darling!’

  But Tamara kept on walking. Not even the temptation of chocolate mousse and sponge filled with a velvety cherry centre could entice her to spend another second in her mother’s company.

  Outside, in Leicester Square, she passed a young Chinese woman taking a selfie, her family intent on squashing into the frame behind her. Several groups of teenagers overtook the pavement as they rushed to their next destination, their language as colourful as their clothes. A woman handed a young girl an ice cream. Her shrieks of joy could be heard long after she had passed.

  Everywhere she looked, people seemed to be having fun yet she was feeling so … low. How could she be such a disappointment to her parents? This was her time to prove herself, yet, even before she’d tried, her previous failures had been thrown back in her face.

  After a few minutes, her footfall slowed and her breathing began to return to normal.

  She was going to do this. With Esther’s help, she was determined to prove them wrong.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  It was half past seven when Esther left her flat again that evening. She had only been there long enough to grab a shower, a change of clothes, and a slice of toast. It was still absurdly hot as she sat on the Central line tube. Even with a T-shirt and Capri pants, she was sweltering. Her flat pumps were needed tonight though, no heels for her. A denim jacket hung over her handbag.

  She looked around the carriage as it rattled along, trying not to scratch at her wig as it was making her itch in the heat. She’d had the black geometrical bob look for a while now, and even though it wasn’t to her taste, she quite liked the persona it created. Every time she wore it, it made her feel like Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction.

  Esther was always quick as lightning when the tubes were full. It was easier to catch someone unaware that way, but that was best done during the rush hours. At this time of the day, there were empty seats everywhere.

  The summer months made her task much easier and she exited Covent Garden tube station with a smile as the sun hit her again. It must still have been twenty-two degrees, a clear sky promising more of the same in the morning. Smells of takeaway food wafted towards her as hordes of people ate on the run. Babbles of conversation intermingled with car engines and horns, laughter and the odd burst of music.

  She walked across the cobbles next to the market stalls, the night seeming to come alive. In a matter of seconds, she passed by three buskers, a magician and two singers, one with a guitar. People were drinking and having dinner everywhere, their chatter loud.

  Esther loved London for that, nothing like where she’d come from at all. But it was at times like this that she could let her past ride over her, and drink in the here and now. Everything was working out the way she had planned. Jack Maitland wouldn’t suspect a thing and she could have some fun in the meantime. She just had to decide how far to take things.

  The wine bar she chose was full, both inside and outside on the pavement, but she managed to grab a table in the square as someone was leaving.

  She got her phone out and pretended to look at something on the screen. A waitress came over and she ordered a glass of sweet white wine. Surreptitiously, she glanced around the tables. A family of four sat next to her. The parents of boys aged around six and three. The youngest one was feeding himself and making such a mess but he was happy enough. The older child was showing his dad something on his iPad.

  To her other side, three women sat hunched close together enjoying a gossip over a meal and a bottle of Prosecco. One had her handbag on the table; the other two rested them in between their feet on the floor.

  She moved her chair closer to them. Her toe was almost inside the handle of one of the bags, her heart pumping its usual erratic beat. As it slid towards her across the paving, she kept her eyes up, still looking around, wondering if anyone could see her.

  She looked at her watch as if she was waiting for someone. All the time, her foot was hooked through the handle and the bag was coming to her. It took less than thirty seconds and then it was under her table.

  Without further ado, and no thought to the waitress who would come back with a drink to find her gone, Esther bent to put the bag she was about to steal inside her own, picked it up, and jumped into the crowd of people walking past. She made it a rule never to look back but she could guess that the women would still be chatting, oblivious to what had happened.

  She raced out of Covent Gardens, dived into the next bar she saw and made her way through the crowd to the ladies’. Inside a cubicle, she checked the contents of the bag and almost laughed out loud. She had struck lucky with this one. There was an iPhone and a mini iPad. They would be locked and maybe traceable with ‘findmy’ apps, but Colin, her pawnbroker, wouldn’t mind that. There were ways of getting around anything now. She switched them both off.

  The purse contained one hundred and forty pounds. She pulled out a bottle of scent – Chanel – and sprayed it liberally around her neck and body. She sniffed: it was a nice aroma for a change. Some women had weird taste in perfume.

  Quickly, she rummaged through each pocket to see if there was anything else worth taking. There was a case for sunglasses. Michael Kors; that might be worth something second-hand.

  When she was certain she had everything with a value, she removed a large plastic bag, with the high-street store logo emblazoned across it, from the pocket of her jacket. She then tucked the stolen one into the carrier bag and placed her own back around her body.

  Outside on the street again, she pushed the carrier bag into the nearest bin and continued on her way towards her favourite store. She had seen the exact thing she was going to buy.

  An hour later, with two wallets added to her haul, Esther returned to her flat. Once the door was closed and bolted, she breathed a sigh of relief. She had been caught shoplifting and pickpocketing many times during her teens, always dreading a hand on her shoulder as she left somewhere.

  There was a time when she’d stopped doing it but it hadn’t taken her long to get back into the habit again. The trouble was, she was good at it. She only went out every now and then; she wasn’t greedy. Besides, she was having too much fun working with Tamara at the moment; although that in itself was a double-edged sword, as she needed money for better clothes.

  And energy; she needed to stay alert. Which is why she was glad she had no temptation of amphetamines in her flat right now. The urge to score never went away.

  She went into the bathroom, ignoring the smell of the damp that lingered no matter what she did. Dropping to her knees, she pushed on the bath panel. It gave way enough for her to slip her hand inside and retrieve the biscuit tin that was hidden behind it.

  The tin contained her money, her passport, and a few other items. It wasn’t the safest place to leave her valuables but, after searching around for anywhere else, it had been the only choice. And if anyone came after it when she was in, she would do whatever it took to keep it with her.

  She added tonight’s takings to the cash that was already in there. Even though she knew how much there would be, she counted it all. There was over three thousand pounds now.

  She tucked it
away back in the tin and rested her hand on her one saving grace. She pulled it out carefully and laid it on the bed. Inside a blue towel covered in bleach spots was a gun, a semi-automatic pistol. Danny Bristol had given it to her after he’d used it.

  Danny had told her to lose it, and when she had refused, he’d left her with a black eye and split lip. But then she’d thought perhaps it might come in useful so, rather than dispose of it, she’d kept it. Danny had found out and had been trying to get it back ever since, hence why she was avoiding him. But he wasn’t having it until he gave her the money he owed in return.

  Danny had stolen a thousand pounds from Jamie Kerrigan and then put the blame on her. When Jamie had been found dead earlier this year, his dealer had come after her too but luckily, she had evaded him. If she ever saw Danny again, she would get her money back first and then barter over the gun. She still wanted what was hers.

  The smell from the bag of chips she had brought back wafted into the room and her stomach growled. She sat down to eat them in front of the small television, catching up with the news. There wasn’t much happening, only the usual bad stuff with the occasional glimmer of a happier event.

  She glanced at the dress she had bought, hanging from a coat hanger on the door. She hadn’t been able to resist new shoes too. Her wardrobe needed refreshing with all the events she’d started to go to. There might even be more opportunities to mingle with people who left their possessions in her reach.

  If she chose her targets carefully, in public places, she could make a fortune before she moved on again.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Tuesday, 20 June

  Although Esther knew that Tamara was nervous about the first meeting with Jack after the mess she had made of the pitch, she was looking forward to it. It wasn’t her who had screwed up everything – in fact, she was aware she had saved the day. But that was only for her own interests, and not Tamara’s. If Parker-Brown PR hadn’t been successful winning the pitch, Esther would have found another way to get close to Jack Maitland, even though she had been repulsed at the feel of him again when they shook hands.

  At Dulston Publishing, they were shown into the boardroom again, this time by Oscar. Jack and Ben were already seated. Esther noticed there were no signs of either Simone or Arabella, which she was sure would go down well with Tamara.

  They sat down across from the men, settling into their chairs with the usual small talk about the continuing heatwave, before Jack began.

  ‘First of all,’ he said, a huge smile on his face, ‘I’d once again like to say how we’re all really looking forward to working with you. I’ve started on some of the suggestions that you sent through already, but we’re all keen to see what else you have planned for Something’s Got to Give.’

  As Tamara ran through the things they had discussed, Esther studied the three men in turn. You could tell Jack Maitland was a natural leader as he listened intently to Tamara, nodding his head when necessary and giving her his full attention. His fringe kept flopping down in his eyes and he continually moved it out of his way. Esther wondered if he knew how much he did it out of habit, or if he thought it was charismatic, cool, charming. Only she knew the real word for him, and it began with the letter C.

  He caught her observing him and she looked away momentarily. When she glanced again, he was still regarding her. She put on a warm smile and then turned her attention to Oscar.

  Oscar was nodding too but he was so exaggerated in everything he did that he looked like one of those nodding dogs you’d see in the back of people’s cars. His folded arms and torso leaning back from the table gave away much more. She wasn’t sure why he wasn’t open to them as they hadn’t ruffled any feathers. But he was the editor of the book. Maybe he felt it was his duty to sell it too. It wasn’t: selling and promoting a book were two different things.

  It surprised her that Oscar was an editor. His pompous attitude seemed far better suited for sales. But she could see right through him. She could tell by his accent and mannerisms he thought that everything should be handed to him on a plate. He would never lower himself to doing mundane business tasks, not like Tamara.

  ‘I think what you’re suggesting makes perfect sense to me,’ said Jack, breaking into her thoughts as she was about to study Ben.

  But Ben had been watching her.

  ‘So, Esther, now that you are back in the room with us, what do you think?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘Well, you’ve clearly had a late night. You haven’t stopped yawning yet.’

  Esther snapped her eyes up to his. ‘You were discussing whether to target a corporate website or a particular mum blogger, asking which we should aim for first.’

  Ben held up his hands in mock surrender. ‘I stand corrected. I thought you weren’t listening. So, what do you think?’

  Esther went over the pros and cons of their choices, all the time in the back of her mind fuming at his put-down. Her forehead became clammy, but she was burning inside with rage too. How dare he make a fool of her?

  The rest of the meeting followed through without a hitch. Esther came away with a full page of things to do, actions to create, and contacts to get in touch with.

  Afterwards, they sat and chatted about Ascot, which was the day after tomorrow. Everyone was looking forward to letting off a bit of steam.

  Jack’s phone rang and he excused himself from the room. Oscar mentioned a spreadsheet to Tamara and she followed him when he said he would show it to her. It left Esther sitting across from Ben.

  Ben spoke first. ‘Esther, I’m sorry about earlier. It was my chance at a bit of humour but I was out of line.’

  ‘You were.’

  Silence dropped on the room.

  ‘Peace-offering coffee?’ He looked over at her, tinges of red visible on each cheek.

  ‘Okay.’

  Esther watched as he made his way to the machine in the corner of the room, and waited until one drink was in its china cup and saucer. Then she moved over to him, blocking his way. He turned to her with it and, in one quick move she slapped the palm of her hand underneath the saucer and pushed it up in the air towards him.

  A dirty, brown puddle crept over Ben’s white shirt. The cup and saucer crashed to the ground, making a thud on the thick carpet tiles. As the hot liquid began to burn at his skin, he put down the now-empty cup and pulled the material from his chest.

  ‘Argh, you stupid …’ he started, but his words stuck in his mouth when he saw the look on her face. Although he matched her glare, it was his skin that reddened again. ‘Oops.’ She covered her mouth with her hand. ‘I hope you have a clean shirt with you.’

  She watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed. ‘What’s wrong with you?’

  ‘Don’t ever put me down in front of people like that again,’ she said.

  ‘I didn’t put you down! I was trying to—’

  ‘If you put one fucking hair out of place from now on, I will make you regret it. Do you understand?’

  She turned and left him in the room. He didn’t even have the courage to mutter anything. Anger simmered inside her but she wouldn’t be pushed around, walked over, belittled by anyone ever again, not least by some jumped-up idiot who thought he was God’s gift when he obviously wasn’t.

  Back on the tube home that evening, Esther recalled the conversation, still angry from the altercation. She hoped Ben would take heed of what she’d said to him. Because if he ever belittled her again, she would grab hold of his balls, twisting and squeezing until he begged her to stop, and then she would continue for the sheer pleasure of bringing him to his knees.

  No one would put her down like that and get away with it now.

  But as the night wore on, she began to realise how much she had overreacted. Ben had tried to make a joke. He hadn’t known her long; how was he to know that she would be so touchy? Okay, it had been a stupid attempt at humour, but he hadn’t set out to be vindictive.

  On
the other hand, she had. She’d need to watch that from now on.

  THE COFFEE SHOP

  Today

  Esther’s cappuccino had almost disappeared. She checked the clock on the wall and decided against getting another one. Too much caffeine on a day like today would make her more hyper.

  The man and woman on the table next to hers gathered their belongings. Esther pulled in the empty chair across from her as they stood up to leave and the man smiled back in appreciation. But she looked away quickly. She had nothing to smile about.

  Almost immediately, a young woman squeezed past her and took the free table. Esther glanced at her surreptitiously. She looked late teens – a student from the amount of books Esther could see shoved inside her bag as she put it down on the floor between her feet. As soon as she had sat down, her phone was out and her fingertips were sliding back and forth across the screen. Esther wondered if she was sending messages to friends, family, a lover, maybe. Envy tore through her. She could bet her life was simple.

  She stifled a yawn. She had woken every hour last night and by 4.00 a.m., had got out of bed and stayed up. Her mind wouldn’t stop going over and over the details of that afternoon two days ago. She closed her eyes momentarily, but the image that flashed before them made her open them abruptly again. A man flat out on the floor, blood pouring from a wound, eyes dead. Then another: this time he was upset, his face screwed up in anger, inches from hers. Despite how much she had hated him, it wasn’t how she wanted to remember him either.

  She turned back to the room. Coffee shops had always been one of her favourite places. When she was a child, there had only been one cafe where they had lived, and her mum would take her there every Friday after school. It was her treat for getting on so well in her classes.