The Reading Room
Page 25
‘Eh?’
‘A visiting order.’
Derek processed the information. ‘But Uncle Rob’s not in jail yet.’
‘That’s right.’ Chas swallowed a stream of sad and angry words. He would not break down completely, because he was the man of the family, and he had better remember that. ‘Derek, I just want to say I’m proud of you, lad. I know I rag the arse off you, but it’s only in fun.’
‘I know.’
‘And I wanted you to have brothers and sisters – we both did. You must have been lonely.’ Chas told himself to shut up, but he couldn’t.
‘You what? Lonely? With Mam and you? It’s been more like a bloody three-ring circus ever since I was born. No worries, Dad. I know she lost her womb and it can’t be helped – I’m fine.’
‘Get me that VO, son. And make them hand over your mam’s stuff – nighties, knickers, perfume – you know the score.’
Derek paused for a moment. ‘Why the VO, Dad? What the hell are you going to do with one of those things?’
‘Don’t ask, lad. It’s better if you don’t know. Just remember we love you.’
The younger man turned to leave, then came back to face his father again. He knew Chas very well, realized there was something grossly amiss. ‘Dad, they saved her life in a way.’
Chas nodded. ‘They didn’t set out to do that, though, did they? The fact that your mam has a thick skull is just a piece of luck. And they haven’t finished. Oh, they may not go for my Evie again, but they’ve not done. The buggers’ll be back, lad.’
‘Dad, this isn’t nicking a few boxes of Scotch or betting on a horse. You can’t do anything here without risk. This is the big lads, the ones who play to win.’
Chas straightened his spine. ‘Ah, well. I played to win when I put my last five grand on an accumulator and won enough to get us where we are today. And where my family’s concerned I’m in the big boys’ class too, Derek, and I’m not just the milk monitor. I know people. I know people who know people. This is going to be nipped in the bud before somebody else gets hurt.’ He glanced up and down the corridor. ‘They weren’t after Eve, son. Your mam was a mistake, and yes, I know the mistake saved her a lot of bother with that thing in her head. But they’re out to get somebody else we know. They didn’t do any of this out of Christian charity. Now, bugger off out of it and do as you’re told.’
‘But Dad—’
‘Now, Derek. My mind’s made up. It was made up last night when I saw the state of her. Nobody does that to one of mine. And nobody does it to a good friend of one of mine, either. See you later.’ He walked back into intensive care.
‘You’ll have to get me out of here,’ complained the love of Chas’s life. Some of her wiring had been disconnected, and she looked well, if rather pale.
‘That’s right, girl. I’ll put you somewhere private.’
‘No. I didn’t mean that. If I’m forced to stay in jail, an ordinary ward’ll do for me. Looking at these poor people around me does nobody any good, God love the poor souls. I need somewhere among the living. But I’m not going private.’
Eve was another who refused to be shifted once her decision had been made. He smiled at her and hoped she couldn’t see that he’d been weeping again. ‘There’s two cops in reception,’ he told her. ‘They’ve been hovering like a pair of bluebottles over a pile of shite ever since you were brought in. I suppose they’ll be wanting to talk to you.’
‘Are they good-looking?’
He shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t know.’
‘Well, I want something to eat first, then a good wash, get my hair done and then . . . Ah. I’ve been shaved, haven’t I?’ She touched her heavily bandaged head. ‘Bugger. And I’ve spent a fortune on that colour, too. Lovely, my hair was.’
‘Yes, but you’re still lovely, babe.’
‘Right. Get me a wig catalogue. I can have a different colour every day of the week.’
Chas groaned. It was going to be like the shoes all over again, but at the other end. Seven wigs? One for each day of the week? ‘You can have anything you like, Eve. Now, shall we put these coppers out of their misery?’
‘All right, then.’
Out in the corridors once more, Chas found himself leaping about and punching the air like a kid at his first football match. He hadn’t wanted to go overboard in front of his wife, because she’d just had brain surgery, but he certainly needed to let off steam. And, he decided when he caught a whiff of body odour, he could do with a shower as well.
The constables followed him back to the intensive care unit. They were given five minutes, and they learned nothing except that Eve saw a large item dropping through the air just before she was hit the second time.
When they had finished, Chas followed them out into the corridor. ‘Any idea who it was?’ he asked as casually as he could manage.
‘Three people are being interviewed, Mr Boswell. We’re hoping they’ll be charged sometime soon, but we have to be sure. There’s lab work going on. DNA’s brilliant, but it doesn’t work overnight. Though we’re quietly confident that the men in question should be of some help with inquiries. One’s squealing like a stuck pig already.’
Chas breathed an audible sigh of relief. He didn’t want to ask any questions, because he had plans, and it was best to keep quiet.
‘Mr Boswell?’
‘Yes?’
‘Two women have disappeared from Eagleton overnight. One’s left a new job and taken her young daughter, while the other seems to have abandoned a nice little business. Any ideas? It seems strange that they should go so soon after your wife’s attack. And we’re told that Miss Latimer and your wife are good friends.’
Chas knew why they’d gone. Poor Lily was on the run, and she’d taken her hairdresser friend with her. ‘No idea,’ he replied, fingers crossed childishly behind his back. ‘But your seniors might know – something to do with Miss Latimer needing to get away from the south. Is it all right if I get back to Eve now? Only she’s not been awake long.’
They gave their permission, said they would talk to Eve again as soon as she was better, then walked away.
Chas sat on a chair in the corridor for a few minutes. So much had been packed into the past few hours. Eve had told him about Lily before the attack, he had lost his rag and gone to the pub, Eve had followed. ‘I should have stopped messing about. I should have gone home with her,’ he whispered into space. But they might have hit him too; they might have killed him, and what would have happened to Eve then?
A stop should be put to all this before it went any further. Chas had been an opportunist, though he had never set out to do any real harm. Luck had got him where he was today, but a man sometimes had to create his own good fortune. Eve was everything to him, and he had to ensure her safety. Somewhere out there, either on the loose or in a police cell, lay the answer. The men who had hurt Eve were the tools of someone else’s trade, and that someone was probably in jail. Chas knew folk. He knew those who kept company with the big boys. He was well respected, because he had helped many an old lag to survive in a cold, cruel world.
This situation could arise again. Next time, Eve might be visiting her new friend in intensive care or at some funeral parlour. No wonder Lily had fled; no wonder the poor woman had been scared halfway to death when she had first arrived in the village. For Eve’s sake, Lily Latimer had to be safe. Eve had taken a shine to the woman, and that friendship needed to be nurtured.
When he got back to the unit, Eve had fallen asleep again. Visitors were kept to a minimum in intensive care, so he crept out and asked Sarah to tell Eve that he’d gone home for a shower. Surely the cops would have finished by this time? ‘Shall I bring you a corned beef butty when I come back?’ he asked the nurse.
She grinned. ‘I’ll be off duty soon,’ she said. ‘And I can’t stand corned beef.’
Chas could. For the first time, he felt really hungry, and his mouth watered at the thought of two big doorsteps of very unhealthy
white bread with a quarter of corned beef between them and half a bottle of ketchup dripping down the sides. He was fine. His wife was going to be fine, and his son was a good lad. Or he might get a bag of chips. Chips and corned beef – he was going to heaven. Above all, he wanted to get his mitts on that visiting order. The process of finding the true perpetrator would begin very soon.
Eagleton had been turned into a circus. Clowns took several forms, some carrying boom mikes, others hiding behind cameras, while the precious few stood in front of the cameras, make-up exaggerated, clothes perfect, script scrolling up electronic idiot boards. Chas was of the Princess Anne school of thought when it came to journalists, so he told a few to bog off while he went inside his own house and begged permission to take a shower. Fortunately, the sergeant in attendance was Peter Haywood. ‘We’ll be out of your hair any minute,’ he said. ‘And we’ve lost Lily and Babs.’
‘I know,’ replied Chas. ‘And I know why as well.’
‘Yes.’ The policeman took Chas to one side while white-covered SOCOs left the house for the final time. ‘I think we’ve got the men who did this. They’re from your neck of the woods.’
‘Yes.’
‘He’s in Walton.’
Chas pretended to be ignorant. ‘Who is?’
‘Lily’s husband.’
That was good news. Chas prayed that the authorities would not move him on just yet. ‘Really?’
‘Really. We all know who’s to blame for this, you know.’
Chas could say nothing to Babs’s Pete. Cops were not the enemy, but they were to be avoided when it came to certain aspects of life. ‘I’ll grab a shower,’ he said. ‘Is our Derek still here?’
Pete shook his head. ‘No. He collected his mother’s things, then went back through the graveyard. He was meeting a taxi on the top road, because he wanted to avoid that lot outside.’
‘What do they want, all them flaming paparazzi?’
‘The dog. It’s a hero. Look, have your shower, then I’ll take you back to the hospital. That way, you can avoid the crowd outside.’
While Pete waited, Chas took his much-needed shower in Eve’s almost completed en suite. According to the lady, a house was nothing until the master bedroom had its own facilities. She knew it was a cottage, was aware that plumbing was primitive at the time it was built, but she was going incongruous. Never mind, because this was a very powerful shower, and Chas was glad of it.
He dried himself in the bedroom. The police were aware, then. They probably knew that Lily’s ex had ordered the hit, that he had found a way to pay the hired assassins, that Chalmers was the real culprit. ‘Keep him where he is,’ Chas begged the air as he dressed. ‘Keep him in Walton.’ For now, the danger was over. Eagleton was a hot-spot. No one would try again for a while, and Lily was safely out of the way.
When Chas went downstairs, he was surprised to find Derek and a taxi driver waiting with Pete. ‘I thought you were avoiding that lot outside,’ Chas told his son.
Derek pointed to the driver. ‘Tell them,’ he said.
Thus Chas and Pete learned that Lily and Babs had probably gone to Blackpool. ‘I’m Eric Johnson,’ said the man. ‘The woman told her little daughter she’d like Blackpool, and then they got in another woman’s car. This was the second time I’d been to that phone box today, you see, once to drop off, once to pick up, and I just mentioned it to this young chap here. It was a red-haired woman I drove, the one who talked about Blackpool.’
‘Aye, it would be her,’ commented Pete. ‘She’s a right blabbermouth.’
‘Wise enough move, Blackpool,’ said Chas. ‘Busy place, especially at this time of year. Half of Glasgow’ll be there for a start.’ He thanked the taxi driver and asked him to take himself and Derek back to the hospital. ‘Save you a trip,’ he told Pete. ‘And see if you can locate Lily and Babs. Just to be on the safe side, like.’
The three men had to push their way through a gaggle of reporters with microphones. Derek and Chas climbed into the rear seat while their driver fought to get behind the wheel. ‘Nosy buggers,’ he yelled at the intruders. ‘Leave them alone. They have to get to the hospital.’ The car edged its way forward inch by inch until it cleared the crowd.
Chas exhaled loudly. ‘Tell you what, Derek. If that’s our fifteen minutes of fame, I could have done without it.’
Derek agreed. ‘I hope I’ve got all my mam’s stuff,’ he said anxiously. ‘I don’t want her kicking off again. For somebody who’s just had brain surgery, she looks like a very good candidate for the Olympics.’
‘Naw,’ replied Chas. ‘They don’t do mithering. If they did, she’d take gold. There’d be no contest.’
Stupid bleeding bastards. I’ve been questioned by police. Pleaded ignorance, of course, but the chances of them believing me aren’t good.
They got the wrong woman. I’m sure my face would have changed when the cops told me that. Wrong house, wrong target, wrong everything. And there’s something going on in here. Took a punch to my right kidney this morning, can’t go to the gym any more. No real loss, because the gym’s full of gorillas on steroids – don’t know how they get them, but they do.
Even the screws are looking at me funny. When I was hit, one of the two lags holding me still said the blow was a gift from a man called Boswell. The other told me the screws will turn a blind eye, because Boswell helped a few repeat offenders on their way to the straight and narrow.
I should have used my own people. Messages can be sent just about anywhere; all it takes is careful planning. Bloody Scousers. They might be quick and funny, but they don’t know their arses from their patio doors. Have to keep my wits about me now, because I could be in real danger. Boswell’s wife’s in hospital – I wish I was.
They were supposed to have cased the joint. I described her well enough, but now I wonder whether she’s changed her appearance. She’s got enough bloody money, I know that. The fact is that Leanne’s a tart. Some of the letters she got from men who watched her on TV were filthy, and she just laughed at them.
‘Beautiful and feisty’ was one of the descriptions of her in the gutter papers. She loves being looked at, likes the thought of men panting after her, never gave a shit for the one that married her. What are my chances of getting her done in now? Will I be charged again? Will the Scouse canaries sing so loudly that I’ll have no chance? I hope they move me. I hope they move me soon . . .
Eleven
Blackpool had developed a rather pleasing split personality. Neither Lily nor Babs had seen it before, but they had read about the most popular resort in England, how it had burgeoned, how people had flocked there during the first half of the twentieth century. Now it embraced bistros and taco bars, upmarket restaurants and some extremely grand hotels. Nevertheless, in spite of all the renovations and spectacular improvements, the soul of the town remained untouched. Although it probably had its fair share of crime, it was a place to which a family might come to feel safe and embraced, because it was friendly, welcoming and lacking in pomposity.
Fortunately, it did not yet boast the huge casino with which it had been threatened, so the town was not overrun by dedicated gamblers and nervy females addicted to one-armed bandits. It was a lively place, though, and Babs took to it immediately. Lily, aware of Babs’s good-time-girl past, rented a flat well away from the centre. It wasn’t that she wanted to extinguish completely her friend’s fire; the fact was that she preferred to keep Babs where she could see her. ‘We are supposedly in hiding,’ Lily repeated at least twice a day. ‘So stay in during the evenings and shut up.’ For the most part, Babs did as she was advised, though she still insisted on talking to strangers, since she was a self-described collector of folk.
Lily too rather liked Blackpool. Alongside all the recent developments, stalwarts upheld tradition by clinging to the glorious past like limpets to a ship. Seven glorious miles of pure golden sand ran alongside housing estates and newer commercial premises. But in the centre, the Golden Mile was
still punctuated by all the old stalls selling candyfloss, kiss-me-quick hats and the inevitable Blackpool rock and naughty postcards. Here and there, fortunes were told by large ladies in flowing skirts and red headscarves, while fish and chip shops thrived among elegant and newer feeding troughs. All these factors proved to Lily that the past mattered, and that the real Blackpool lived on.
Cassie loved it. Armed with bucket and spade, she copied the actions of older children and concentrated hard on giving birth to her first intact sandcastle. Several abortive efforts were accompanied by unhappy weeping, but she finally mastered the art, leaving Mummy and Auntie Lee to bask in sunshine while they could. Like the rest of Lancashire, Blackpool occupied space west of the Pennines, so it enjoyed a better climate than Yorkshire, but wetter weather. Avoiding the showers was a skill that the two women were learning fast. Rules were simple. No matter what the temperature or how blue the sky, always carry collapsible umbrellas, raincoats and proper shoes. Wrap picnics properly unless you don’t mind sandwiches turned to soup, and take a towel with you. Once the law was formulated and complied with, life in Blackpool was easy.
‘I could stay here for always,’ sighed Babs. She was coated in cream of a factor so high that the sun needed to apply in triplicate for permission to kiss her skin. Like many redheads, Babs could not take too much ultraviolet.
‘Could you?’ breathed Lily sleepily. ‘Without Pete? Could you really live anywhere without the love of your life?’
Babs shrugged. ‘He may be the love of my life, or perhaps he isn’t.’
‘Fickle.’ Lily laughed.
‘He could get a transfer.’ Babs stuck out her tongue, but Lily, whose eyes were closed, did not see the action. ‘I’m going to phone him, Lily,’ Babs went on. ‘I can’t bear the thought of him worrying.’
‘So he is the love of your life, then?’
‘Probably. But I’m not allowed to phone him, am I?’
Lily sat up and looked at her friend. ‘He’ll tell the police where we are, just as we had to when we first moved to Eagleton. The top brass will be asking about us already, but there are bent cops, Babs. Pete could tell the wrong chap, and we’d be found when that wrong chap sold the information. Do you want me dead?’ She felt mean after Babs’s last question, because she had been phoning Paul Smith without mentioning it to Babs.