by Paul Clayton
‘God, no! Kids should be in their rooms. I’ll just go straight to bed. Promish.’
Cora watched her struggle to find the keyhole and close the door behind her. She remembered the times she herself had been the worse for wear. Not for a long time now, though. She began the brief walk home.
***
Frankie was extra careful driving Shannon and Henry to school, and her head seemed to clear on her return home. She gave a little yell of pleasure when she saw that her parking space remained unoccupied.
Walking across the grass to the front door of the flat, she heard her name. ‘Mrs Baxter, could we have a word?’
***
‘No sugar, thanks.’ Detective Sergeant Webb watched Frankie put the tea in front of him and slide the sugar bowl in his direction. She’d ladled three spoons of sugar into her own cup. In the corner of the kitchen stood the junior constable, PC Ashley.
DS Webb debated whether to try the steaming drink. ‘I’m sorry we haven’t been in touch for a while. We had a couple of things to sort out.’
Frankie nodded and looked at them suspiciously. He hadn’t told her the purpose of their visit.
‘But I’m happy to tell you, we’re a little less inclined to consider you as a leading suspect in the case of Mrs Steadman.’
Frankie couldn’t help letting out an audible sigh of relief. ‘What’s changed your mind?’
‘I’m not at liberty to tell you everything, Mrs Baxter.’ Webb sipped his tea and winced at the heat of the liquid. ‘We have the time you left the building logged onto the CCTV. It seems that Mrs Steadman may have taken a call on her mobile phone after that.’
‘So it doesn’t take Inspector Morse to work out she was alive when I left. Which is what I said all the time.’
DS Webb moistened his lips and looked at the tea again. ‘Could I have a spot more milk in this, love?’
Frankie reached into the fridge, smiling to herself. Within the last five minutes, she’d moved from ‘suspect’ in a murder investigation to ‘love’. She poured a large glug of milk into his tea, hoping it would cool it down quickly so he could drink it and go.
‘I do have one question for you though,’ Webb continued.
‘Yes?’
‘The incident in the supermarket car park. You had someone with you. Who was it? Robocop didn’t get a note of it at the time.’
PC Ashley sipped his tea and avoided eye contact with anyone in the room.
‘That was my friend, Cora,’ Frankie said. ‘Cora Walsh. She’d been shopping with me.’
Webb took a substantial quaff of the cooler tea. ‘You wouldn’t happen to have an address for her by any chance?’
Chapter Thirty-One
Little Girl felt her heart would crack when Lottie told her about Mr and Mrs Cooper’s visit. She couldn’t bear the thought of being separated from her best friend. She needn’t have worried; a few days after the interview in Mr Dale’s office, Lottie was told by one of the senior staff that her move into foster care wouldn’t be going ahead. The Coopers had failed some test.
Lottie found herself torn between the expectation of a fresh life and staying with her dearest friend. The possibility of being separated seemed to have intensified their intimacy and they spent every hour they could together. Up in the attic room, they told each other about life before the home. Neither of them attempted any explanation for what had brought them there, but both had memories of happier times. Lottie, never having had proper parents as such, listened with envy to Little Girl’s story.
‘I knew they didn’t like me, but I always thought it was something I’d done wrong. Nobody told me what it was. They were kind in their own way. We had a wonderful day at the seaside once, the only one I can remember. A long drive in the car and a walk across some fields to a tall white building that stood next to the sea with two little white houses at the bottom with green windows. It was the most perfect place. I hoped that one day I could live in one of the little white houses and stand in my garden and watch the sea.’
‘You’ve seen the sea? You saw the real sea?’ Lottie asked.
‘Yes, and it’s big and it goes on forever, although Mummy said that if I looked hard I could see France. When we grow up, we could both go and live in one of the white houses with the green windows.’
Lottie nodded. ‘And we could make all our own rules and look after ourselves.’
‘When I remember that day, I think the people who looked after me tried their best.’ Little Girl held Lottie’s hands. ‘They were my real mummy and daddy, but I felt they only wanted me some of the time.’
Sharing stories made the two girls inseparable, yet Lottie knew it was not forever. The deputy warden’s words echoed in her head: ‘They will find you somewhere. Somebody will want you.’
‘I don’t want fostering.’ Little Girl spat out the word as though it had a bitter taste. ‘I had proper parents. They didn’t want me. I don’t want anyone else.’
The girls loved their life in the home, but as they grew older the outside world pushed its way in. Now they went to a school down the road every day. They were in the same class, and sat next to each other, and did their lessons together, and shared their homework, and flatly refused to make friends on their own, yet the gentle harmony of the friendship changed.
Lottie started noticing boys.
Chapter Thirty-Two
It was a week before the reply to Frankie’s email arrived.
She now had more time to spend on her home computer and she logged on every day. She checked her emails every hour. She knew they had a phone number for her and every so often she checked for a missed call. She’d done nothing about any other job.
The Techno Factory had called and told that they could no longer offer her work due to her inappropriate behaviour. There was a negligible sum of money owing but, because of the nature of her flexible contract, she wasn’t eligible for anything else.
Frankie was glad that it was over. When things blew up in her face, she had always run away; she didn’t hang around and sort out the mess. Now her hopes lay with the childcare job and, for the time being, she didn’t pursue the possibility of any other compensation. She hated the snotty condescension of the staff in the job centre, jumped-up little managers with half a GCSE, who themselves were only one step from unemployment.
‘I don’t think you’d be eligible for anything anyway,’ said Cora at their next coffee meeting in the Deli. ‘It’s a minefield trying to claim against a company. It could end up costing you money.’ She paused for a moment. ’I know it’s a little rude, but is everything okay in that department?’
‘I’m managing. Just about. A couple of cash in hand shifts at the launderette. I don’t want to have to go and sign on. I hate doing that. I’ve always worked. I’m holding out for this childcare post – and at least I don’t have to pay for the coffees.’
Cora smiled. ‘My pleasure.’
‘It’s very generous of you. I do think about it, you know, what a lucky chance it was, you bumping into Henry and bringing him home. I don’t know what I’d do without you.’
***
Frankie put the laptop on the kitchen table and opened the email.
Dear Mrs Baxter,
Thank you for your recent application for the post of childcare assistant. We are pleased to say you have been put through to the next round of the application process. Please see the attached questionnaire which you should complete and return to us by 18th October.
Yours sincerely,
Sheila Ferguson.
Frankie couldn’t believe her eyes. She picked up her phone and dialled Cora.
‘I can’t take your call at the moment. Leave a message. I’ll get back to you.’
Frankie hated leaving messages on phones, but she had to share the news with someone. ‘It’s me, Cora. I’ve got through to the ne
xt round. On that job. I am so buzzing. I’d love to meet up for a bottle of wine. And I’m paying.’
***
Frankie made sure she arrived at the wine bar first so she could do what she’d promised and buy the wine. She chose a bottle of house white, much cheaper than the stuff Cora bought. She hoped it would be okay. The chunky barman brought the bottle and two glasses over to her table, and she poured herself a glass and took a generous sip.
She thought about how strange this relationship was with someone she knew so little about. Yet in many ways that was why it worked: no history, no keeping up appearances. Cora seemed happy to take her as she was. She knew nothing about Frankie’s ex-husband, father of Jonny and Shannon, or about the disastrous liaison that had brought Henry into the world. Cora only saw the results, three children of whom Frankie was inordinately proud.
Every day she asked herself how she’d managed to have them, what she’d done right. There had been so much upheaval and disruption in her life, so much unwillingness to commit to anything. But once she’d held Jonny in her arms, she knew all would be well and she would give her life to protect him.
Cora came through the door exactly on time as always, her green-and-yellow coat swirling dangerously near other people’s drinks as she passed their tables. She unbuttoned it to make it easier to sit down and, as she did so, Frankie caught sight of a lanyard dangling from Cora’s neck. How strange she’d never noticed it before. It was bright yellow plastic with a printed card inside. ‘What’s the lanyard for?’
Cora poured herself a glass of wine and clinked Frankie’s glass. ‘First things first. Cheers and well done you.’ She took a sip and Frankie was sure she saw her flinch as she tasted the wine. She held out the lanyard so that Frankie could see the card. It had what looked like a recent photograph and the words Langley Social Services Assessment Officer.
Frankie wasn’t clear what Cora meant her to think. ‘Is that your job, then?’
‘Well, it’s not my preference in jewellery.’
Frankie laughed. ‘It’s just that I’ve never seen you wear it before.’
‘And you wouldn’t have seen me wearing it tonight if I hadn’t been so keen to get here and celebrate your good news. It’s not important.’
‘But it is important.’ Frankie put down her glass and lowered her voice. For some reason, she didn’t want anyone to hear what she was going to say. ‘Langley Social Services are behind my job offer. You know, the people who are asking somebody to apply. They put me through to the second round.’
‘I didn’t want you to know.’ Cora spoke softly but clearly, almost as if she were talking to a child. ‘I didn’t see your application. Whoever assessed it put it through to the second round because it was a wonderful application. Okay?’
‘Yes. But what now? What are you saying?’
‘What I’m saying is that your application falls under my control. As long as you don’t mess up the next stage, I’ll do my best to make sure you get the job.’
Frankie’s heart thudded in her chest. There were no words to cover her joy or surprise.
Cora went on. ‘It will be my decision. I have to make sure that I’m employing somebody who can do the job, but if that somebody is my friend, an individual who I know this job means a lot to, then I’d be happier if they got it. Get my meaning?’
Frankie poured a large splash of wine and downed it in one. This was all too much to think about. A dream job that she’d applied for and been lucky enough to get through to the second round, and now here was her friend saying she could decide whether or not Frankie would get it. ‘They sent me a questionnaire.’
‘Yes, I know. When you’ve done it, send a copy to me. I’ll check it over.’
‘Are you allowed to do that?’ Too many times in her life Frankie had fallen foul of silly mistakes, misunderstandings. What if this was illegal in some way and she lost her chance of the job? She couldn’t bear the thought of that.
‘It’s not illegal. If it were, I wouldn’t be doing it. I’m offering some informal guidance to a preferred candidate for the good of my department.’ Cora picked up her glass and held it out. Frankie raised hers to meet it. ‘After all, I want what’s best for everybody.’
Chapter Thirty-Three
Lottie wasn’t sure when she first noticed Craig Heaton, but it wasn’t long before she was in a group of girls who were seeking his attention. He was one of the tallest boys in his year and even occasional acne, lank black hair and a beak of a nose didn’t prevent him being the apple of many female eyes.
Seated together as they were during many of their lessons, Little Girl was often irritated by the amount of time Lottie spent trying to catch Craig’s eye. ‘You do know he’s done it with Janet Happs, don’t you?’ she whispered during a boring English lesson about Jane Austen’s Mansfield Park. ‘It’s not only Fanny who’s been doing it behind the ha-ha.’
Lottie, who’d been paying no attention to the lesson, didn’t get Little Girl’s reference. It was the rumour that Janet might be ahead of her in the race for Craig’s affection that displeased her. ‘She’s a slag. That’s why she’s done it.’
Little Girl applied herself to the novel in front of her, something that Lottie did little of. Although the girls were still close and spent evenings together in their attic room doing homework, more often than not this consisted of Lottie copying Little Girl’s notes at the last moment.
‘You do know people say they’ve done it and often they haven’t.’ Lottie always made sure she had the last word. Boys were her latest addiction. First there had been ponies, which involved lengthy walks for both of them to a nearby farm where she fed apples stolen from the kitchen to a dismal old nag of a horse. Then there were computer games. The common room had a PlayStation which the children could use each evening for an hour. Lottie quickly gained a reputation for forcing other children out of the way in order to play on it. Twice she was banned from using it until, after several fights had broken out, they removed the machine.
Now her focus was sex. She’d done kissing and been willing to go a little further on more than one occasion. All this was for her own benefit, just to find out what it was like – the boys involved had not interested her. Now she’d made up her mind that if Craig Heaton wanted to go the whole way with a girl, she was going to be the first.
Little Girl couldn’t see the point of it all. She liked school and she found her lessons interesting. Someone had said that knowledge was power, and power meant control. Little Girl had already made up her mind that she would be in charge of the rest of her life.
Lottie started hanging around the boys at morning break. Craig Heaton held court on the edge of the school playing field round the back of the science block. Several girls would arrange themselves a short distance away in the hope of catching his attention.
Lottie strode straight over and perched on a railing near him.
‘Whatcha doin’?’ he said, trying to raise his eyes from her breasts, which were still a curiosity at this stage of his life. His mates whooped around the two of them like dingoes circling a kill.
Lottie was delighted that he feigned surprise. She could see full well how much he loved the attention. ‘I’m doing whatever you fancy.’
‘And how do you know what I fancy? Bet you’re just another prick tease like Janet Happs.’
Lottie jumped down and stepped close to him, so close that she could have reached out and burst one of his pimples. Instead, she studied his face with eyes full of mischief. ‘Try me.’
By Christmas, she was pregnant.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Clutching the envelope, Henry walked through the gates at the top of the park and out onto the high street. This must be how spies felt, he thought, delivering secret information to contacts they didn’t know. Except that he was taking his mother’s job application to Cora.
He wasn’t
sure why it had all been arranged like this. Mum had filled out the questionnaire on the computer last night and then asked Henry if he would meet Cora outside Snifters wine bar and give her the envelope.
‘Why do I need to do it, Mum?’ he’d asked.
‘Because.’
‘Because what?’
‘Because I say so, Henry Baxter.’
It was Cora who’d told Frankie it wasn’t a good idea if anyone saw them together until the whole job application process was over, but Henry knew none of this. This brief foray into the world of espionage was filling an otherwise boring half-term afternoon.
As soon as he came out of the park gates, he saw Cora in the green-and-yellow coat, the only thing she ever seemed to wear. She was standing on the corner by Snifters. He hurried across the road, narrowly missing a cyclist who yelled at him.
‘Mum said you want this.’ He looked around quickly to make sure no one saw him hand over the envelope.
‘Thank you, Henry. Though you do seem to have a problem crossing the road when I’m around.’ Cora laughed and ruffled his hair. He jerked his head away. She placed the letter in her shoulder bag and then, without another word, headed up the street.
Henry had turned back towards the park when a thought occurred to him. No one knew where Cora lived. He knew it must be by the park, near where he’d met her on that dark evening of his lonely expedition. Mind made up, he scurried along the pavement after her.
She was about a hundred yards ahead of him and it was easy to follow her thanks to the coat. Every so often she stopped and Henry dived into a shop doorway. A little further along the road, she turned into Parkside. As soon as she disappeared from view, Henry quickened his pace. Reaching the corner, he turned into the road after her.
To his surprise, there was no sign of Cora. The road was deserted. In the failing light of the autumn afternoon, Henry could see the gate set in the railings where he’d made his secret entrance into the park with Cora’s help. She must live in one of these blocks of flats.