by Joan Smith
‘You mean – Colin? Colin Kendall-Cole?’
‘Yeah, that’s his name, I couldn’t remember it exactly. That’s why I run away, see, I knew they wouldn’t believe me if I said it was him shot her.’
‘But why would Colin...?’
‘You don’t believe me! You’re just like all the rest! I thought you was better, like Clara – well, you can just fuck off out! Go on, out! Leave me alone!’ Peggy was on her feet, cheeks flushed, hand pointing to the front door.
Loretta pushed her hair back from her face, swallowed, and held her ground.
‘I’m sorry, Peggy, of course I believe you. I thought I’d worked it all out... I’m sorry I misunderstood. I came here because I wanted to help you and I still do – will you let me?’
For a moment it was touch and go, then Peggy sighed and sat down again.
‘I – I get upset,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry. It’s ‘cause I’m so scared.’
‘That’s not surprising. Colin – well, it takes a bit of getting used to. D’you feel up to telling me about it?’ Anxious as she was to hear Peggy’s story, Loretta was determined not to rush her in case she lost her confidence again.
Peggy nodded, then paused. ‘I dunno how to start.’
‘Why not – why not tell me why Colin shot Clara?’ The words seemed fantastic to Loretta; could the girl really be telling the truth?
‘It was ‘cause of the letter, see.’ Peggy was sitting hunched forward, her hands clasped between her knees. ‘He was frightened she’d give the letter to a paper, like she said. He told her to give it to him and she wouldn’t. I heard him walking round the room, he was going on about his career. Then I heard a noise like he was opening something and he shot her. I couldn’t stop him!’ she added, giving Loretta an imploring look.
‘No, I’m sure you ... But – didn’t he – why didn’t he shoot you?’
‘He couldn’t see me, could he? Not behind the curtain.’
‘What curtain – you mean the one in front of the bay?’ Loretta was confused. ‘Look, let’s go back to the beginning. Why was Colin there?’
Peggy waited a moment, getting her thoughts in order.
‘You know that bit in the paper? The thing about the women at the peace camp and how they should go back to their husbands?’
Loretta nodded. ‘He wrote it, yes.’
‘She was so cross about that she rang the paper. Then she rang him. That was in the afternoon, before Mick came. She said she had to see him – maybe she told him about the letter. I don’t think so. Anyway, then Mick turned up.’ She made a face. ‘She let him come in, Mick that is, and she had a chat with him. She said I was staying there for a bit, and how she’d have the police on to him double-quick if he kept hanging around. He shouted a bit, but in the end he took himself off. He knew when he was beat!’ She smiled at the memory. ‘So then we had something to eat, and we had some wine. Clara said this bloke was coming, and she was going to stop him making a fuss about the camp. She was all sort of... pleased with herself.
‘Then we heard him knock. Quick, says Clara, you go behind the curtains. I’m going to enjoy this, and you will as well. So I sat there like, quiet as a mouse. They both come in, and Clara offers him a drink, but he says no, he can’t stay long. They was ever so polite, he says how’s your husband and she says how’s your wife. So they’re sitting there and all of a sudden Clara says, It’s got to stop, just like that. She really lays into him, says she’s had enough of him going on about the peace camp and family life and all that. You’re a bloody hypocrite, she says. He says he’s got a job to do, and he’s not saying the women are wicked, just mis – misguided.’
Peggy stopped for a second.
‘And then?’ Loretta prompted gently.
‘Then she said again, It’s got to stop.’ For the second time, Peggy surprised Loretta by mimicking Clara’s voice. ‘He just laughed at her, he said things don’t happen like that. The peace camp was a nuisance, and he’s going to get rid of it. Oh no you’re not, Clara said. If you don’t stop it, I’m going to the papers with this!’ From the way Peggy reported the exchange, Loretta could easily imagine the triumph in Clara’s voice.
‘This is where the letter comes in, right?’
‘Right. He says nothing for a while till he’s read it. Then – whoosh! He does his nut. Ranting and raving, swearing and threatening I don’t know what. Then he calms down a bit. What’s to stop me tearing it up, he says. Don’t you think I’ve got a copy, she says, and anyway, if I go to the papers it won’t matter whether I’ve got the letter. That’s just – the icing on the cake. Now, why don’t we sit down and talk about this like adults? So they–’
‘You mean you don’t know what was in the letter?’ Loretta could barely conceal her disappointment.
‘Oh yeah, I’ve got it, see? The copy, I mean. It was silly, really, it was only on the mantelpiece, D’you want to see it?’
Peggy started to get up; Loretta put out a hand to restrain her.
‘Wait a minute. Just tell me the gist for the time being.’
‘Oh, right.’ Peggy sat down again. ‘Well, it was old, this letter. It was from some girl Clara was at college with, her and this Colin bloke. Somewhere in Oxford, I think it was. It was all about how Colin’d got her into trouble and she was leaving college because he’d paid to have it taken away. Something like that. Christ, he was upset. This could ruin me, he kept saying. You kept quiet all these years – and now you’re gonna ruin me. I kept quiet for her, not you, Clara says, and now she’s dead. But Connie’s a Catholic, he said – that must be his wife?’
‘I think so,’ Loretta agreed.
‘And my career, he said, it’ll be the end of it. He kept talking about that bloke who knocked up his secretary, you know the one. The one who had to resign.’
‘But why ...?’ Loretta was doing rapid calculations. She had not been able to see, at first, why this ancient story about an abortion would be so damaging to Colin Kendall-Cole. But Colin and Clara must have been at Oxford a long time before the 1967 Abortion Act. The revelation of his complicity in a backstreet abortion was a scandal that an ambitious politician, particularly one who was playing the family card where the peace women were concerned, would find hard to survive. Not to mention the consequences for his marriage if his wife was, as it appeared, a Roman Catholic.
‘And that’s when you heard him walking round the room?’
‘Yes. I thought he was looking for the letter, I heard him open something. Then he says – sorry, Clara, but I have to do this – and bang. Two bangs. I didn’t know it was a gun at first. I heard her sort of sigh, and a noise like she fell. I was so scared then, I couldn’t move.’
Loretta leaned forward and put her hand on Peggy’s shoulder. The girl sighed heavily.
‘Shall I – would you like some tea?’ she asked Loretta, clearly needing a break.
‘I’ll make it,’ Loretta said.
She got up, went into the small kitchen, and a few minutes later brought back two cups of tea.
‘Is that all right?’ she asked, watching as Peggy sipped. ‘Or would you like more sugar?’
‘No thanks. Shall I tell you the rest?’
‘Please.’
‘It all happened very fast. After a bit I heard him go out of the room, and his feet going upstairs. I thought, you better get out, girl, get away from here as fast as you can. So I –’
‘Just a minute, Peggy. Why didn’t you – why didn’t you hide till he’d gone and then call the police?’
‘What, when he’s a bloody MP? And I’ve got –’ She stopped abruptly and Loretta remembered Peggy’s criminal record.
‘Was it because you ... you’ve been in trouble?’ she asked hesitantly.
‘What d’you mean? Did Clara tell you that?’ Peggy was suddenly belligerent. ‘She shouldn’t have! She promised...’
Loretta was about to explain the information had come from Chief Inspector Bailey, then thought better of it.
/> ‘Look, Peggy, it doesn’t matter, whatever you’ve done. It’s in the past, it’s your business. I’m just trying to understand ... so I can help you.’
‘OK, Miss Know-it-all! I’m a shoplifter, right? A thief! The only time the Old Bill’s ever been interested in me was when they was arresting me! They didn’t care that he’d buggered off and left me with a sick kid and no housekeeping. He used to hit me with his belt till I was black and blue – domestic dispute, they said. So when Clara’s lying there dead and the only people in the house’s me and a posh bloke like him, who’re they gonna believe?’ She stared angrily at Loretta.
It was precisely the question that was worrying Loretta. But she decided to put off thinking about it until she’d heard the end of the story.
‘I keep telling you, Peggy, I’m on your side – I’ll think of something. Just tell me what happened next.’
‘OK. Sorry. Sharon left me some Valium but I didn’t want to take them.’
‘You don’t need Valium,’ Loretta said firmly. ‘Who’s Sharon?’
‘Me best mate. We was at school together. She works up a shop in Mare Street. She said I could stay here, she’s just moved here. It took me a while to find her, I didn’t have her new address and I remembered it a bit wrong. Where was I?’
‘Behind the curtain.’
‘Oh yeah. I could hear him upstairs, I dunno what he was doing but it made a lot of noise. I thought, this is me chance. I dunno how I managed it, I was nearly wetting meself with fright. Soon as I came out, I could see she was dead, I couldn’t do nothing for her. I got the letter off the mantelpiece and I went to the door, on tiptoe, like. I ran across the hall into that bathroom, I didn’t wanna go in the garden in case he looked out and seen me. Then I heard him come downstairs and I was hoping he’d go out the front door but he didn’t. I was so scared, not knowing what he was up to, I dashed into that store place that’s off the bathroom. It’s got all the garden stuff in it – deckchairs and spades and things. I never went in there before, but it’s got a door into the garden. Funny sort of house, it is. I got it open ever so quiet, and then I hid in the trees at the side of the garden. I got down near the gate and I saw a car, a posh one like you see on telly. I listened for a bit, but I couldn’t hear nothing from the house. So I dashed up the lane to the road, and I didn’t know where to go. Then I remembered the peace camp. I knew they’d help me. I got down on me hands and knees and went past the kitchen window, then I started running. I hid behind hedges and trees when I got tired. One time I heard a police car go by. Then it came back again and I guessed they’d been at the camp, looking for me. So I knew it was safe to go there then. I had to do something, all me stuff was back at the house. I had the clothes I stood up in and twenty-seven pence in me jeans pocket.’
‘And you got a lift to the motorway next morning. They told me.’
‘D’you wanna see the letter? The copy? I suppose he took the real one with him. It’s in me bag in the bedroom. Me new bag, Sharon give it me.’
‘In a minute,’ Loretta said. ‘We must do something. I’m just trying to think...’ She got up and looked out of the window, hardly taking in the row of lock-up garages and the small yard behind the flats. ‘Peggy, you’re not going to like this but it’s the only thing we can do. You can’t hide for ever, really you can’t. The police know how to find people, they’ll talk to your mother, your friends, everyone who knows you. And you want to be with your daughter, don’t you?’
‘Yeah, but –’ Peggy seemed about to argue but changed her mind. She looked warily at Loretta.
‘I’m not suggesting we go to the police, not yet. My husband, my ex-husband, he works on a newspaper. If I get him to come here now’ – she looked at her watch and saw it was just after three – ‘we can tell him your story and he’ll help us. You can trust him.’ She hoped that Tracey would have more ideas than she did about how to get Peggy out of her predicament: accusing an MP of murder, when the only witness possessed a criminal record and had been on the run, seemed to Loretta a gargantuan undertaking. ‘Maybe he could put a story in the paper on Sunday, I don’t know. But the more people who know what really happened, the safer you are.’
‘What if they arrest me?’ Peggy asked flatly.
‘We’ll get you a lawyer, a good one. Peggy, at least you’ve got the letter – that’s evidence. We can prove Colin had a motive. Let me ring John. Please.’
Peggy sighed. ‘I got no choice, have I? If I stay here, they’ll get me – and I got nowhere else to go.’
Loretta hid her relief. The sooner she had Tracey in on this the better.
‘Is there a phone here?’
‘No, Sharon hasn’t got one yet.’
‘D’you know where there is one? What about next door – oh, it’s boarded up. What about the other neighbours?’
‘Dunno. Sharon keeps herself to herself.’
‘OK, we’ll have to go and find one.’
‘No! I’m not leaving here.’ Peggy turned out to be stubbornly resistant to all Loretta’s arguments; the flat had come to seem her refuge, and she didn’t intend to set a foot outside it.
‘Oh, all right,’ Loretta said; it had occurred to her that Peggy’s picture might be splashed all over the Standard by now. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can. I don’t suppose you’ve got any change? Oh, well ... See you soon, And try not to worry.’ She hugged Peggy briefly and went to the door, leaving her sitting on the rug-covered sofa. ‘Bye.’ She pulled the front door shut behind her.
Outside the block of flats Loretta stopped and looked around. There wasn’t a phone in sight – why, she thought, hadn’t it occurred to anyone that the residents of Ernie Bevin House might want to use a phone? – and she decided the best thing to do was retrace her steps to where she’d parked the car. She went back along the path past the South Hackney Unemployment Fightback Centre, came out next to the road and saw a red telephone kiosk to her left at the junction with Well Street, next door to the pub she noticed earlier. Inwardly cheering, she hurried to it, pulled open the door and stepped inside. She ignored the peculiar smell, which was more like vomit than urine, and picked up the receiver. As she was feeling in her bag for her purse, the message ‘999 calls only’ flashed up at her. With a sigh of impatience she punched in 100 for the operator, but the dialling tone continued uninterrupted. Slamming the phone down, Loretta shouldered her way out of the telephone box and looked up and down Well Street. Had she passed a kiosk on her way here? She didn’t think so. Coming to a quick decision she turned left, going in the opposite direction from Mare Street, and followed the road round to the left. She soon came to a dentist’s surgery and some small shops on the left-hand side of the street; on the other was a hall of residence with a couple of battered cars parked outside. Students, here? she was thinking, when she realized she had come to a large, modern branch of Tesco’s. Beyond it Well Street became much narrower, and the road itself was closed to traffic because of a bustling street market. There must be a telephone box here, Loretta thought, plunging down the street. Her progress was slow, as she had to circumnavigate queues for vegetables, underwear, and one at a stall that sold only damaged tins, but she eventually reached the end of the street. There was a kiosk, sure enough, but there were three people waiting outside it as well as the man who appeared to be having an angry conversation inside. As she stopped to join the queue, a woman with two heavy bags of shopping at her feet turned and spoke to her.
‘Fifteen minutes, he’s been in there, it ain’t fair, is it?’
Loretta’s heart sank; she wondered whether she should open the door and plead with the man on the phone, but realized she would have to start explaining her urgency to the people in the queue as well.
‘Have you tried Tesco’s?’ the woman said, seeing the frustration on her face. They got one inside. I’d go up there meself ‘cept I got these bags to think about.’
‘Thanks,’ Loretta said fervently, wanting to kiss the woman. ‘Thanks.’
&
nbsp; She turned and went back up Well Street as fast as she could, jumping over bags and an orange-crate in her hurry to reach the shop. The automatic doors opened as she approached and she rushed inside, peering round towards the check-outs for the phone. She spotted it, then realized the shop was arranged in such a way that she’d have to go to the far end and back up the next aisle to get to it. Muttering apologies right and left, she thrust her way through a dense mass of people doing their weekend shopping and turned back on herself when she reached the bakery counter at the bottom. She headed up the aisle to the nearest till, squeezing past a large woman with a half-full trolley, and flung herself at the phone. The receiver was in her hand before she saw the small notice on the wall announcing it was out of order. Close to tears, she hurried outside the shop wondering whether she shouldn’t force Peggy into her car and take her to her flat in Islington. Reluctant to waste more time, she decided to have one more try. She went along Well Street the way she’d originally come, stopping when she came to the Indian grocer’s she’d noticed earlier. She went inside, marched straight up to the till and asked the young Asian woman behind it if she could use her phone. The woman looked at her uncertainly.
‘Please,’ said Loretta, ‘it’s an emergency. I’ll pay!’ She produced her purse and started pulling out a five-pound note. The woman waved it away.
‘OK,’ she said with a strong East London accent. ‘It’s out the back.’
She led the way to a small room at the rear of the shop, and left Loretta to it. Within half a minute she was through to Tracey’s desk. A female voice answered and said he was out of the office for the moment.
‘Are you expecting him back?’
The woman said she was.
‘Tell him his wife rang, and it’s urgent. I have to see him. No, I can’t leave a number. Tell him I’m in London, and I’ll ring again in half an hour.’ By then she’d have Peggy safely at her flat. Tell him it’s very, very urgent, a matter of life and death.’ The woman probably thought she was mad, but what did that matter as long as Tracey got the message?