‘It’s a free country.’ She turned her back on a fuming Babs and started walking away. Then stopped. ‘I nearly forgot, here’s Mister Silly.’ Mel handed the stuffed elephant back to Jen. ‘You’re a little cutie, ain’t ya?’ She patted the child’s nose. Babs swung Jen away as if her kid might catch some fatal disease.
When Mel had gone, Babs sternly twisted her tearful daughter to face her. ‘What did she do? Did she hurt you?’
Jen shook her tear-stained face, her mouth wobbling. Babs didn’t comfort her. Her child had to learn to never, ever go near someone she didn’t know.
Babs watched her hated enemy disappear into the distance. That bitch had followed them here; she just knew it. That vindictive excuse for a woman was up to something.
Forty-Eight
When Babs got home with the exhausted girls, two coppers were waiting by her front door. Something told her this had to do with that malicious Mel, but she didn’t know what. She kept it all peaceful.
‘Mum, take the girls in while I find out what these nice gentlemen want.’
Rosie sent her a fretful look but didn’t say a word.
The tallest officer spoke. ‘We’ve had a report that a crime has been committed and we need to search your property.’
‘What crime is that then?’
‘Robbery,’ the other cop said simply.
Babs just laughed. ‘I don’t know who you’ve been talking to, but I can guess.’ She glared across the estate to where the Ingrams lived. ‘Be my guest.’ She waved her hand at the door. They were going to find fuck all in her place. Probably Mel had called them with some bogus tale just to aggravate her. She wasn’t giving the nutter the satisfaction.
Her mum looked properly worried as the coppers moved into the sitting room where she was dealing with the girls.
‘These gentlemen just want a bit of a butchers,’ Babs said quickly, ‘why don’t you take the girls into the kitchen for a bite to eat.’
Both of the cops were staring hard at Jen. Now Babs was worried. Why were they looking at her little girl like that?
‘’Ere, what’s going on?’
Her mum tried to shield Jen from the unwelcome visitors, but one of the coppers stepped towards her. ‘Miss—’
‘It’s Mrs Wilson to you,’ Rosie snapped.
‘Can you please hand me that toy.’ He pointed at Mister Silly, dangling from Jen’s hand.
Babs couldn’t get her head around it. Why would he want Jen’s favourite toy? Before she could think it through, her mum reluctantly passed it over. This didn’t go down well with Jen. ‘Mister Silly, Silly, Silly,’ she sobbed.
The officer pressed the toy and turned it this way and that. Eventually he said. ‘There’s nothing here.’
An angry Babs cut in, ‘’Course there’s nuthin’ there, it’s a bleedin’ stuffed elephant. That crazy woman from across the way has put you up to this.’
The officer held the toy out to Jen. ‘I can only apologise for this—’
But before Jen could take the toy, the other cop grabbed it, sending her into crying mode all over again.
‘I think there’s one place we missed,’ he said, slyly.
And there was. Mister Silly’s hollow trunk. He stuck his finger all the way up it. Grinned. Pulled out one of the most gorgeous rings Babs had ever seen.
She shouted, ‘I’ve never seen that before in my life.’
Most people on The Devil’s Estate were a tad shy about stepping foot in a cop shop and Babs was no different. But she didn’t have much choice this time.
‘I’m telling you, I was set up by this Melanie Ingram. Perhaps you’re in on it!’
The two plods ignored her. Babs kept up her loud protestations of innocence as the sergeant at the desk booked her in. When she got out of here – if she ever got out of here – she was going to batter Mel until even her mother couldn’t recognise her. Fancy using a kid to do her dirty work. Just the thought of that moo near her beautiful daughter made her sick to the stomach.
‘I wanna call my husband,’ she yelled. But she didn’t say it twice. Cornwall or not, he was never around anyway.
Once again, they ignored her. One of them opened a door and the other one pulled her through. What was she going to do? Was she meant to call a brief or something? That other time the disgusting Cricket and Horner had ignored her when she demanded a lawyer and then slung her in the slammer. She couldn’t be banged up again. What would happen to her girls? Last time she’d ended up losing her firstborn.
All these thoughts made her mind whirl and she began to tremble.
‘I’m under the quack,’ she pleaded. ‘I need my medication.’ She needed one of her Annies badly.
But they just took her down a long, narrow corridor with closed doors on each side. A door opened just as they reached it and a man stepped outside and bumped into Babs.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said as he grabbed her arms to steady her. Then his hands fell away, as if he’d been burned.
Babs’ mouth dropped open. She was face to face with the good looks of Tricky Dickie Smith. In a police station?
‘You?’ she blurted out.
The cop holding her arm greeted Richard Smith with a nod and a ‘Detective—’
Richard Smith swiftly cut in before any more was said. ‘May I ask what this woman is doing here?’
Babs was in a daze. Detective? Fucking hell, he was a copper. Her tummy started turning. Had he been playing another part so he could find out about Denny’s murder? She couldn’t think straight.
Richard Smith pulled one of the officers aside and whispered for a while in his ear. The officer nodded, turned to his colleague and beckoned him over, leaving Babs standing on her own. But she wasn’t on her own for long. The two Bill who’d detained her disappeared, and Richard Smith joined her.
‘This is all a bit unfortunate.’
‘You don’t say.’ She should’ve twigged ages ago. Babs gave him a crafty smile and he had the decency to shift his gaze away. His ears and cheeks went beetroot red.
‘I might have guessed. Cut your hair and shave your ’tache off – it’s obvious. You’re still a fine-looking man—’
He gave her a gorgeous smile that she would’ve appreciated on any other day.
What are you thinking; a fine-looking man, my arse! He’s an effing copper!
Babs carried on dissecting him. ‘You’ve got those policeman eyes . . .’ Her emotions were riding sky high. ‘Is that what you were doing round the Ingrams’ the other day? Fitting me up?’
He touched her arm and Babs got that electric shock again. She shook him off.
‘This is nothing to do with me,’ he said calmly. ‘And to prove it, I’ll get the charges dropped . . .’
There was bound to be a but.
‘But only if you have lunch with me and hear me out.’
Mickey slapped his wife across the face.
‘I told you not to stick your oar in,’ he spat.
Mel touched the cut on her lip and looked back at him defiantly. He didn’t scare her. ‘She had it coming. Both of those twats have been making a proper Jerry outta you. One of us had to do something about it.’
Mel had gleefully confessed how she’d stitched Babs Miller up as soon as her husband had come in, but instead of a pat on the back, he’d clouted her one. That’s thanks for you.
He raised his hand again, but she didn’t flinch. She pulled herself off the wall and turned to the gawping children. ‘What are you lot staring at? Think this is a puppet show? Get out of my sight.’ Donna and Tommy didn’t need telling twice and Donna took snoozing Stacey with her.
She turned back to him and softened her voice like she used to in the old days.
‘I was only thinking of us. Restoring our self-respect.’
Mickey took a deep breath, calming down. ‘So she’s down the nick. What if she starts blabbing about that girl? It wasn’t until she started mouthing off about that Denny in court back in ’72 I clocked she even
knew the girl.’ He tapped the side of his head. ‘Fucking think, will ya. Before we know it the plod will be at our door wanting answers to questions they should know nuthin’ about. And what happens if Stan finds out, eh?’
Mel wrapped her arms around herself. For once her nitwit of a fella was right. She’d been so intent about getting at Stan she hadn’t thought it all through. It had still been a real treat seeing the coppers take that bitch away, though.
Mickey’s voice intruded on her thoughts. ‘We’ve already had Richard Smith sticking his snout in.’ He grabbed Mel’s mouth and twisted it. ‘Keep that shut.’
Forty-Nine
Babs should have walked. Blanked him, like Stan had told her to. But she was too shocked. She was also relieved. Now she wouldn’t have to rely on Stan to find out who the guy was. She thought bitterly about how little she trusted her husband.
She didn’t need to worry about the girls because her mum was looking after them. At first she insisted Richard take her for a nibble down Hackney way; being seen breaking bread with a plod was not a good look on The Devil. But he promised her he wasn’t stationed in the East End and no one knew him there, so she agreed to go to a local greasy spoon. The music playing on the radio, Bill Haley’s ‘Rock Around The Clock’, matched the Rockabilly hairstyle of the old geezer who owned the place.
She asked for a cuppa but after seeing him order the full works thought, sod it, he’s paying, and decided to have the most expensive thing on the menu. A slap-up breakfast – toast, fried bread, three sausages, two rashers of bacon, bubble and chips. No way was she going to be able to scoff that lot, but that wasn’t the point. As long as he was out of pocket, that would keep her nice and chirpy. While they waited, Babs tried to work him out. He still looked like Poldark to her. A very good-looking Poldark indeed.
As soon as their food arrived, he got down to business. ‘Since you know who I am now, I’m going to be frank with you. I’m a detective working out of Scotland Yard in a special department with specific duties. My name isn’t Richard Smith, but you can call me that anyway.’
Babs mumbled, ‘Tricky Dickie, more like.’
Her disdain didn’t deter him. ‘I’m currently working on a difficult case but I can’t tell you what it is. I’m not even telling my colleagues at the local police station what I’m up to. They think I’m doing a traffic survey. But I’ll tell you straight off, I’m not interested in, nor am I after, your husband, Mickey Ingram or your good self. I’m not interested in Denny, either. But you’ve got some information that would help with my enquiries. It’s about what happened at Mickey and Mel’s trial in 1972.’
Babs stiffened. She wasn’t mad keen on facing a perjury charge. ‘I dunno. I just gave evidence. Why don’t you talk to the judge?’
One of his eyebrows arched as he smiled at her. ‘That wasn’t what I had in mind. I need to look at the broader picture. You know – get some background, a bit of light and colour.’
Babs knew she had to be careful. She took it for granted that this cop was lying to her because she took it for granted the cops were always lying. But in this case she assumed it even more. She’d seen Richard go into the Ingrams’. It made sense that he’d enlisted Mickey’s help to untangle what had happened. But had Mickey played along to stuff up Stan and get his revenge? What didn’t make sense was why Smith thought she’d help him shaft her own husband. But what she didn’t share with him was that over the years – since Stan had started behaving like a proper twat – she’d begun questioning Stan’s whole story about Mel forging her name on those house deeds and his on that police statement. If it was forgery, it was a bloody stellar one. She was too old to be anyone else’s fall girl, even her old man’s.
‘Sorry, Tricky Dickie. It’s not happening.’
‘I can understand why you’re not eager to help.’
He knew something. He was playing her. She decided to play detective herself. ‘Tell me, Richard – what on earth makes you think I would tell you anything?’
He studied some chips he’d forked before admitting, ‘I messed up there. My understanding was that you and Stan had split up in some acrimony and I thought you might be willing to help. But it seems I was given the wrong information.’
Not that ‘they’ve split up’ bollocks again. ‘Who’s been bending your ear with that codswallop?’
His soft grey eyes were deadpan. ‘Just something I turned up.’
‘I see. And is Mickey Ingram helping? I saw you go into his gaff.’
Richard looked pained. ‘I was in discussions with a view to him helping me out. But he seems to have changed his mind. Are you sure you don’t want to help? I’ve told you, I’m not after Stan.’
‘I’m not helping the law, I don’t care who you’re after.’
‘I admire your loyalty, Babs. But it’s misplaced. Stan doesn’t tell you everything.’
‘What do you mean by that? What things?’
He said nothing for a moment, but then: ‘It’s in your interest to tell Stan nothing about our meeting. You need to stop thinking about your husband and think about your children’s future instead.’
That sounded like a threat if she’d ever heard one. But what worried her more were these ‘things’ she didn’t know about. What was he not telling her? And why did it feel like he was sure he had a way to get her to talk?
Stan was back from ‘Cornwall’.
Babs gave him chapter and verse about what had gone on with Mel at the park, but he didn’t seem that interested. He waited until her mum had gone before showing where his real interest lay. ‘Right – what did this Smith bloke say when he came round the other day?’
It had taken Babs ages to get her mum to believe that the Bill weren’t pressing charges. Then and only then had Rosie been willing to leave, after she’d given her granddaughters huge kisses and hugs.
Babs didn’t answer Stan straight away. She couldn’t get those ‘things’ she didn’t know out of her head. She inspected her old man. Stan was in his trademark three-piece suit but she noticed it was of a higher quality than usual, tailor made. Her dad had taught her all about the difference between off-the-peg and made-to-measure. He was also wearing a gold disc watch and a flash bracelet. She gave him a chilly stare. ‘Come into some money? And might your daughters be seeing some of it?’
Stan got defensive. ‘I hired the clobber. I’m in business, looks count . . .’
‘Have you found who this Richard Smith is yet?’ she asked innocently, playing it dumb. The mask was off now. She didn’t trust her own husband any more. He hadn’t been in Cornwall and she didn’t believe he was borrowing his flash clobber either. Stan wearing someone else’s clothes like he’d been rummaging around in a charity shop? You must be joking.
‘I’ve heard things but my enquiries are ongoing. That’s why I’m back.’
‘What things?’ Babs was coming to despise that word.
‘Never you mind.’
Here we go again, treating me like a mutt only fit for a pat on the head. Babs had to restrain herself from twisting her mouth. She told him about Mel Ingram’s little caper with the ring but skipped the part where Richard had got her off. Instead, she wanted to know what he was going to do about it. Stan didn’t answer her. He went to their bedroom. Babs was in the middle of downing some pills when he reappeared in workman’s trousers and boots, a ripped turtleneck and a donkey jacket. He stood in front of the mirror and adjusted a flat cap, which he pulled down low over his forehead so his face was partly concealed.
She frowned. ‘Stan, what are you doing?’
‘I’m going to see a man about a dog.’ He went into the kitchen. She followed him. He took a bread knife and headed for the front door.
The blood drained from her face. ‘Stan, what are you planning on doing?’
But he ignored her, heading out across the estate.
Fifty
Stan picked up speed as he approached the Ingrams’ front door. He wanted to get this over with. He
hammered with his fist. Mel answered, and looked at him with a mixture of surprise, fear and contempt. ‘Well, look who dropped off the back of a lorry.’
Stan looked her up and down. ‘Blimey babe, you’ve let yourself go, ain’t ya? I remember when you were a peach. Now you look like a potato that’s been left in the sun too long.’
‘Fuck you.’
She tried to shut the door on him but he was too quick. His steel-toed boot wedged in the gap and he began to push it open. ‘Is the old man in, Mel? I need a word. By the way, that was a bit naughty, you and the ring.’
She tried desperately to keep him out, but he was too strong. ‘He ain’t in.’
‘You won’t mind if I have a quick butchers around then?’ He put his hand in her face and pushed her backwards.
Mickey was in the front room, watching the racing, apparently oblivious to the commotion. He looked up in shock. ‘What the fuck are you doing here? I thought we’d cleared things up. I’ve shown the missus what-for for playing silly buggers with Babs, no harm done I hope. I’ll go down the nick myself and get her off the hook.’
Stan took a seat. ‘Babs is back home. You wanna keep that missus of yours on a lead. Nuthin’ would make me happier than to leave it at that. But that was then and this is now and we need to clear up a little misunderstanding.’
Mel glowered at him. ‘Kick him out Mickey; he’s probably here to grass you up again.’
Stan shook his head. ‘That’s nice, ain’t it? I come round to clear the air and his missus is mouthing off like her husband still counts for something. That’s charming. I’ll tell you what, droopy drawers, why don’t you go and organise a nice cuppa and some gingernuts. That’s if you haven’t eaten them all, which judging by your figure you have.’
Mel turned to Mickey. ‘You gonna let this cocky cunt talk to me like that?’
Mickey looked at Mel and then at Stan before saying quietly, ‘Go and make some tea Mel. I’ll sort this out.’
She slammed the door behind her. Stan looked around the front room and felt almost sorry for his old sparring partner. Once Mickey had been the top geezer and he had been his sidekick. Now look at him, living in a piss-poor flat with run-down furniture and cheap rugs to cover the holes in the carpet. Stan had heard that Mickey was mouthing off about how he was still a big shot but there was no evidence of it in his drum. He made a mental note that while Mickey had once been a wiry fighter, he’d become a bit of a pudding like his wife. Stan, who spent his spare time in boxing gyms, knew he could take him now. There would be no repeat performance of the hiding he’d taken in the solicitor’s office. He could work this fat slob over.
Blood Mother: Flesh and Blood Trilogy Book Two (Flesh and Blood series) Page 26