Survivor: Only the strongest will remain standing . . .

by Roberta Kray

  Brenda hurried into the kitchen, stopped and frowned at Terry. ‘Oh, it’s you. Where’s Joe?’

  ‘He’s busy.’

  ‘It’s Joe I want to talk to.’

  ‘And like I said, he’s busy. Do you want our help or not?’

  Brenda pursed her lips, clearly annoyed by this turn of events. Although she had nothing against Terry, she preferred to deal with the man at the top. She was canny enough to realise, however, that on this occasion she couldn’t call the shots. ‘Yes,’ she said through gritted teeth.

  ‘Good. Right, let’s get on with it, then.’

  Brenda went through to the hall and shouted up the stairs. ‘Tony! Get your arse down here! We’ve got company.’ She returned to the kitchen and, unwilling to offend Terry, vented her frustration on Lolly instead. ‘What are you standing there for? Clear off. Go to your room. This is private business, nothing to do with you.’

  Lolly didn’t need telling twice and gladly made her escape. As she headed for the door, Terry winked at her. She bowed her head and scurried past. She was going up the stairs as Tony was coming down. When she glanced at him, she could see he was furious: his eyes were blazing, his cheeks burning with anger. As the two of them drew level, he suddenly grabbed hold of her arms and pushed her back against the wall.

  ‘This is all your fault, you fuckin’ cow!’

  She struggled to get free but his grasp was too tight. ‘I didn’t —’

  ‘If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have the law on my back,’ he hissed into her face. ‘You and that bloody Jude Rule!’

  Lolly opened her mouth but nothing came out. The speed and shock of his attack had rendered her speechless. And anyway, she knew that anything she said would only provoke him. He was on the verge of losing control. He wanted to hit her, to lash out and maybe would have done if they’d been alone in the house.

  ‘I know your bloody game,’ he said. ‘You won’t get away with it.’

  Lolly felt his fingers digging into the flesh of her arms. She stopped struggling, aware that it was pointless, and stared up at him. His angry eyes bored into hers. What now? Her heart was thumping and her mouth had gone dry. She wondered if what she was seeing now was the last thing Amy had seen before she died. But then, as quickly as he’d grabbed her, he suddenly let go and went on down the stairs as if nothing had happened.

  Lolly rushed up to her room and closed the door. She leaned against it, her breaths coming in short fast pants. She rubbed at the tender places on her arms, feeling the bruises already beginning to form. When she had agreed to provide an alibi for Jude, she’d had no idea of the repercussions. How could she have known that Tony would bunk off work early and then lie about it? How was that in any way her fault? But he didn’t see it that way. So far as he was concerned, she’d landed him right in it.

  Lolly waited a few minutes before venturing out of the room again. She glanced along the landing making sure it was empty. Something important was going on and she wanted to know what it was. Terry hadn’t come to shift some dodgy gear. ‘Help’ was what he was offering and that help had to be connected to Tony.

  She leaned over the banisters but wasn’t close enough to hear clearly. Only muffled words floated up to her. Slowly she crept back down the stairs, being careful to avoid the floorboards that creaked. As she drew near to the bottom, she could feel her heart start to race again. If she was caught in the act of spying, she’d be in big trouble, but for Jude’s sake, as well as her own, she had to find out what Brenda was up to.

  Lolly crouched down when she reached a point a few feet up from the hallway. The living-room door was open and so was the door to the kitchen. Now she could hear the voices properly, could hear exactly what was going on.

  ‘Her name’s Jackie,’ Terry was saying. ‘Here’s a picture. Take a good look at it, Tony. You’ll need to describe her to the filth.’

  ‘I don’t like this,’ Brenda said. ‘Isn’t there any other way?’

  ‘Not if you want to keep him out of the slammer. You can see that, can’t you? No boy is going to want his mother to know he slept with a tom from the Albert Road. It’ll explain why he lied to the law about what he was doing on Tuesday afternoon.’

  Brenda gave one of her long sighs. ‘The whole bleedin’ world’s going to find out about it.’

  ‘Not necessarily. And even if they do, it’s better than people thinking he killed Amy Wiltshire.’

  ‘I’ll do it,’ Tony said. ‘I don’t mind.’

  ‘We’ll have to go through the times, make sure you’re properly covered. And you’ll have to be able to describe the inside of the house and the room you used. I don’t want to take you down there – it’s too risky right now – but I’ve got some photos for you to look at. There’s no reason why you’d remember every detail, just a few things that can prove you’ve actually been there.’

  ‘And what if the law don’t believe it?’ Brenda asked. ‘What then?’

  ‘It’s up to Tony to make sure they do.’

  Lolly’s fingers curled around the banisters. She felt disappointed at Terry, let down. Why was he doing this? By providing an alibi, he was letting Tony off the hook. She was becoming more and more convinced that Tony Cecil was guilty. He was nasty enough, vicious enough, and she’d seen little evidence of genuine grief at Amy’s death.

  There was a rattle at the front door – Brenda must have closed up the shop – and Lolly gave a start. What if someone came through from the kitchen to let the customer in? Worried that she might be caught in the act of eavesdropping, she fled back up the stairs and into her bedroom. Here she paced back and forth, angry and confused. If the law believed Tony’s story, suspicion would be thrown back on Jude. But even worse than that, a murderer might be about to go free and there was nothing she could do about it.

  21

  Old Ma Fenner was one of those typical East End matriarchs, strong and feisty and opinionated. She was the type who didn’t suffer fools gladly and wasn’t afraid to show it. Stanley wasn’t sure how old the woman was, but he’d hazard a guess that she was knocking on ninety. Although still sprightly, her face was deeply lined, her pale blue eyes almost hidden by the heavy folds of flesh.

  ‘So you want to know about Angela,’ she said.

  Stanley sat back in the armchair. ‘Anything you can tell me could be useful. To be honest, she’s a bit of a mystery. As I mentioned, I’m trying to trace some family for Lolly. There must be relatives out there, aunts, uncles, cousins, but I’m not making much progress in finding them.’

  ‘And what makes you think I can help?’

  ‘You used to be neighbours, didn’t you? I was hoping she might have mentioned her family, where she came from, anything about her past.’

  Ma studied him closely for a while as if attempting to read his face while she weighed up the veracity of his words. Trying to decide, perhaps, whether he was the sort of man who could be trusted. Eventually, she came to a decision and gave a small nod. ‘Angela was never much of a talker, not that that’s a bad thing. Most folk just prattle on for the sake of it, even if they’ve got nothing worth saying. I can tell you she came from south London, over Lambeth way, but she never mentioned family. I got the feeling – and it was only a feeling, mind – that they may have fallen out. I’ve no idea if there were brothers or sisters.’

  ‘And what about her name?’ Stanley asked. ‘Was she calling herself Angela Bruce back then?’

  Ma shook her head. ‘No, not Bruce. Martin, it was, Angela Martin.’

  Stanley leaned forward, surprised by this piece of information. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘I might be old, Mr Parrish, but I ain’t senile.’

  ‘Sorry, yes, I just… Only later, when she came back to the Mansfield, she started dating a guy called Billy Martin. I don’t suppose you knew him?’

  Ma thought about it for a few seconds but then shook her head. ‘Can’t say it rings any bells.’

  ‘You see, I had the impression she only
met him for the first time then, but maybe that wasn’t the case. If she was calling herself Martin fourteen years ago then there could have been more of a connection than I thought.’

  ‘It’s a common enough name.’

  This was true, but for Stanley it was still too much of a coincidence. ‘Was it possible she was married to him when she first came here? Did she ever —’

  ‘No, she never mentioned nothin’ about being married. And she lived in that flat on her own. Could have been separated, I suppose, or just using his name.’

  Stanley nodded. ‘Maybe Bruce was her maiden name, something she went back to. Or, if they were separated, she could have got married again.’

  ‘Ain’t there ways you detectives can check that kind of thing?’

  ‘There are,’ he agreed, ‘if you have some solid information to start with. As things stand, I’ve got no birth certificate, marriage certificate, nothing to prove she was who she says she was. I could spend days down Somerset House, searching through the records, but if none of these names were actually hers then I’ll just be wasting my time.’ Stanley rubbed at his face in frustration. The Lambeth lead might be useful – he could check out any Bruces in the area – but what were the odds of finding one related to Angela? ‘I feel bad for Lolly. She’s been left with no one. As things stand, she’s stuck in limbo, not knowing where she came from or who her real family is.’

  Ma pulled a disapproving face. ‘What she’s stuck with is that Brenda Cecil.’

  ‘You don’t like her?’

  ‘What’s to like? The woman ponces off the poor, takes advantage. Show me someone who got a good deal from Brenda Cecil and I’ll show you a bleedin’ unicorn. And God knows why she’s taken in the child; she ain’t got a charitable bone in her body.’

  Stanley could have enlightened her on this point but chose to keep quiet about it. ‘At least it’s a roof over her head.’

  ‘And that’s about all it is. I’d have offered to look after her myself if I was ten years younger.’

  Stanley glanced around the room. The decor was dated, the furniture old and brown, but everything was neat as a pin. Lined up on the mantelpiece were numerous photographs of what he took to be kids and grandkids and probably even great grandkids. ‘Did you know that Angela was pregnant when she moved out of Carlton House? Did she mention it to you?’

  Ma shook her head. ‘Pregnant? No, she… No, not a word. She said she’d got a job up in Manchester, something with better prospects. A secretary, I think. She seemed happy about it. She was excited.’

  Stanley wondered how that tallied with Angela turning up in Dagenham a month later with a baby in tow. ‘You’d have noticed if she was expecting, wouldn’t you? I mean, she was a slim girl. It’s not the kind of thing she could hide.’

  ‘She’d have told me,’ Ma said. ‘She wouldn’t have kept something like that a secret.’

  ‘Even if she was going to be a single mum? There are plenty of people even today who don’t approve of unmarried mothers.’

  ‘I don’t judge, Mr Parrish. Angela knew that. And anyway, she can’t have been pregnant, she —’ Ma stopped suddenly as if she was about to reveal something but then had second thoughts. ‘No, I’m sure she wasn’t.’

  Stanley stared at her, his interest piqued. ‘Is there something you’re not telling me?’

  ‘She asked me not to say.’ Ma shifted in her chair, avoiding his gaze. ‘I don’t like to break a confidence.’

  ‘I understand, but Angela’s dead and Lolly has no family. Perhaps the time for secrets is over.’

  There was a long silence while Ma studied the floor. Eventually, she looked up again. She sighed as her eyes met his.

  ‘For Lolly’s sake,’ he urged.

  Ma sighed again, a thin whispery sound. ‘What if Lolly ain’t Angela’s daughter at all?’

  Stanley felt a tingling run the length of his spine. Darren had already sown some seeds of doubt, but now those seeds were beginning to take root. ‘Why do you think that?’

  ‘All I know… all she told me, was that she couldn’t have kids. It broke her heart. That’s what she wanted, really, a family of her own. She was seeing this bloke, Calvin, and it was serious for a while, an engagement ring, marriage plans, but when she told him about how she couldn’t… Well, some men can’t see a future without children. He dumped her, didn’t he? That’s when she decided to leave and head up to Manchester.’

  ‘I don’t suppose you know where he lives?’

  Ma shook her head. ‘Haven’t seen him in years, although I don’t get out so much now. Mind, I’m not sure I’d recognise him even if I did see him.’

  ‘Any idea of his surname?’

  Ma scratched her temples and frowned. There was a short silence while she thought about it. ‘No, I don’t recall. It might come back to me.’

  Stanley laid his disappointment aside and continued to probe. ‘So Angela had some kind of medical problem?’

  ‘That’s what she said. When she turned up with Lolly, I thought maybe the doctors had made a mistake, or that she’d adopted the girl.’

  ‘And what did she tell you?’

  ‘She didn’t tell me nothin’, Mr Parrish, and that’s the truth of it. Fact is, she went out of her way to avoid me.’ A cloud passed across her face as if the memory upset her. ‘I didn’t understand it, but there you go. I suppose there were questions she didn’t want to answer.’

  This made Stanley wonder why Angela had come back to the estate. If she had something to hide as regards Lolly, surely she wouldn’t have taken the chance? But then again, with her mental problems she might not have been thinking straight. Or perhaps there was a reason she had to come back, something important that outweighed the risk she was taking.

  ‘So you didn’t have much contact after she moved into Haslow?’

  ‘No,’ Ma said sadly, ‘although it weren’t for the lack of trying. By me, I mean. But once she’d made it clear… well, there’s no point in forcing the issue, is there? She didn’t want to talk, didn’t want anything to do with me, and that was the beginning and end of it.’

  ‘Was there anyone she did talk to?’

  ‘I wouldn’t know. She got a job at the Fox but it didn’t last long. I heard she was fired. I did see her around with a bloke for a while – maybe it was that Billy you mentioned – but she never looked too happy. And then all that strange business started when she took to wandering about the estate. It was obvious she wasn’t well but she wouldn’t let anyone help.’

  Stanley nodded. ‘Was there any sign of her illness when you first knew her?’

  ‘Not at all. She was a nice girl, friendly, normal. That’s what made it all so strange when she came back and virtually ignored me. It wasn’t like her. She wasn’t the nasty sort. She used to pop in all the time when we were neighbours, make sure I was okay and do a bit of shopping and the like if I didn’t feel up to it.’ Ma’s hands trembled a little in her lap. ‘Do you know what I sometimes think, Mr Parrish?’

  Stanley waited.

  Ma took a few seconds to get the words out. ‘I sometimes wonder if she came to see me on the day she died, if she thought I was still living up top. She might not have realised I’d moved. Maybe, if she’d found me…’

  ‘I guess we’ll never know,’ Stanley said softly.

  ‘And there’s no point dwelling on it,’ she said briskly, although the expression in her eyes belied the tone of her voice. ‘What’s done is done. We can’t turn back time. We just have to get on with it. Sorry, I haven’t been much help, have I? You’re still no closer to finding any family for Lolly.’