Lethal Ties

by Christmas, Helen

  Chapter Twenty

  For the next few days, Joe shoved the whole ugly business of Orchard Grange to the back of his mind. As for the mystery of Sam, if Maisie thought she could trace him with the help of her friend then so be it.

  He couldn’t imagine she’d have much luck, but who was he to stop her trying?

  With his brain overloaded, he had left the Job Centre on a high note. To be employed by a major supermarket like Sainsbury’s would be a pivotal step if he could get through the interview. He had never imagined he would get even this far but as long as he kept a cool head and demonstrated a keenness to learn and work hard, there was no reason he couldn’t clinch it. The sheer nerve it took having to declare his criminal conviction had nearly toppled him. Yet despite his shady past, there were at least some people prepared to give him a chance.

  Marching along the pavement, head down, he couldn’t wait to get home. Devoting the latter half of the day to helping Matt in the charity shop, time had passed quickly. Yet he could no longer ignore the ache in his calves from the hours spent on his feet.

  The secluded cosiness of Maisie’s flat drew him like an oasis.

  Turning the corner though, he was unprepared for the sight of a blue light flashing in the road. Joe quickened his pace. The fluorescent yellow and green squares of an ambulance were next to register, two wheels parked on the pavement, directly outside the house where Maisie lived.

  Charging up to the door, he came to an abrupt halt. The first people to appear in the hallway were the Polish couple, Anna with her distinctive fair hair, her lips frozen in a circle of shock.

  “What the hell’s happened?” Joe gasped.

  An unpleasant bolt of worry speared his insides.

  Please God, don’t let it be Maisie.

  “You know - um - man?”

  Only then did he notice Maisie’s door was still shut, Anna pointing to the top of the staircase. He almost sagged with relief.

  “Oh him! The old boy upstairs, you mean?”

  “Is bad,” the male half of the partnership muttered.

  Glancing at Vlodek - a somewhat fierce looking man whose heavy black brows drew a perpetual frown to his face - Joe wished they could expand. Yet given the language barrier, nothing was forthcoming other than a sad shake of his head.

  “He’s not dead, is he?” Joe faltered.

  “Not yet!” snapped a guttural voice from above.

  A thud of footsteps followed, all heads turning as a heavily built woman waddled into view. This could be none other than Paula.

  “Collapsed and with any luck, the old git’s had a heart attack!”

  Joe raised his eyebrows. “That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it?”

  He felt the blaze of her eyes and suddenly he was the one under scrutiny.

  “Who are you?”

  “Joe,” he said, keeping his voice light. “I’m a friend of Maisie’s.”

  From the corner of his eye he saw the Polish couple flash another glance at each other. They seemed more relaxed, now they had communicated, offering him a final nod before discretely slipping away. The door clicked behind them.

  Paula, on the other hand, held her ground, her eyes pinned to him.

  She gave a cold smile. “Really? Bet she said I was a right fat slag.”

  “No way,” Joe chuckled. “Maisie wouldn’t say that.”

  He watched the hostility fade from her eyes.

  “Well, for what it’s worth, me name’s Paula and I live upstairs with me little ‘un. What d’you do?”

  “I’m trying to find work,” he said. “Up until a couple of weeks ago I was homeless but Maisie offered me a roof over my head.”

  “Girlfriend of yours?” Paula smirked.

  “Nope, we knew each other as kids.”

  He half expected the conversation to fizzle out until her expression turned strangely pensive.

  “Don’t s’pose you’re the owner of a black car, are you?”

  “Car?” Joe grinned. “You’ve gotta be joking. I’ve only just got a mobile, check this out,” and delving into his rucksack, he swiped out a nearly new Samsung Galaxy. “Can you believe it’s got a six month contract on it? Guy in the charity shop said I could have it... Sorry, what were you saying about a black car?”

  “I’ve seen it driving up our road a few times,” Paula continued. “Hanging about. I’m not being paranoid or nothing but d’ya reckon it could be a stalker?”

  “Is someone stalking you?” Joe frowned.

  She bit her lip but at the same time could not hide the doom chiming in her voice. “Can’t take no chances with me little ‘un.”

  “Well cheers for the warning. I’ll keep a lookout. Oh, and for what it’s worth, I’m sorry about the old boy upstairs. Maisie did say he was ill.”

  Leaving the conversation on a friendly note, he turned to let himself into the flat. Just before he stepped inside, he spotted an envelope on the doormat; an envelope with his name on it. Thinking about what Paula said, he felt a prickle of goosebumps.

  A black car hanging about, and now a letter?

  Something didn’t feel right.

  After a torturous thirty minutes and later than expected, Maisie returned home at six. At first, he did not hear her. Desperate to distract himself from the shock pounding through him, he had taken to cleaning the bathroom floor like there was no tomorrow.

  Crouched on all fours when she crept through the door, he was unprepared for the tap on his shoulder, and jolted in shock at her touch.

  “Maisie! You scared the shit out of me!”

  “Well, who else did you think it was?” she retorted.

  “Never mind,” he muttered, sweeping a damp curl off his forehead.

  “Sorry I’m late, traffic was hideous. I’ve been stuck in a nose-to-tail crawl for the last half hour but at least I was able to park... I see Mr Lacey’s car is gone.”

  Joe nodded, catching her train of thought.

  “Has something happened?” she pressed.

  Moving in the direction of the kitchen to fill the kettle up, she listened in stunned silence as he related the scene he had come home to.

  “An ambulance?” she echoed.

  “He’s been rushed to hospital.”

  “Oh, hell,” she said sadly. “I wonder if the cancer’s back...”

  A frown crossed her face as she studied him more closely. How could he explain? An icy sweat clung to him that had nothing to do with his endeavours.

  “What’s up?” she whispered. “Is something else bothering you?”

  “No,” he shrugged. “I was just worried it might have been you.”

  Retreating into the spare room, he changed his clothes. No matter how hard he tried not to think about that letter though, its words were burned into his brain as if they’d been branded there.

  At first it appeared to be a Salvation Army leaflet; the same leaflet he had distributed for their homeless campaign, where the photo of a man huddled in a sleeping bag struck a nerve. But that was before he flipped it over...

  Crawl back to the gutter where you come from, scum,

  people like you are not fit to live in our society.

  Scrawled on the reverse in red pen, the words played darkly on his mind.

  There was only one person who had ever called him ‘scum.’

  Maybe he should have told her, but there seemed no point, not now he had burned the note in a furious act of rebellion. But with his life finally on an upward spiral, did the bearer of that hateful message really think he was about to chuck it all away? He had something to fight for, now. He wasn’t going to give it all up.

  A chill nonetheless crawled over him as he examined his new mobile, another reason to be grateful for Matt’s savvy.

  Thinking back to the last time he had owned a mobile, this nearly new Samsung had opened his eyes to a whole new world. Joe had never given social media much thought but the stuff Matt showed him blew his mind; platforms that joined people all over the world and
got them talking. Matt’s particular preference was Twitter, humorous and brutal in equal measure, trends that raised awareness, not to mention a permanent shitstorm of political argument.

  With no hesitation he had installed the app and registered an account.

  And whoever was trying to intimidate him could fuck off.

  Because ‘society’ had suddenly become a lot more interesting.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  It so happened that having a new gadget to play with was not the only pleasurable diversion to take his mind off things. Joining Maisie in the lounge, he put on a brave face as she told him about the text she had just received.

  “It’s Jess. She asked if we fancied going out for a meal later. Her treat.”

  At first he was unsure what to say.

  “Oh come on! She did offer a while ago but you can never tell with Jess.”

  An hour later, they were huddled around a table in ‘Mamma Mia,’ an unpretentious but pleasing Italian restaurant.

  Glancing around, Joe nodded in approval. A soft glow infused the chalky walls, the interior rustic and comforting. Best of all, it was located some distance from the town centre, a place he felt secluded.

  “We often come here for pizza,” Jess said. “Isn’t that right, Maisie?”

  Their eyes met across the table, bringing a lump to his throat.

  It didn’t seem that long ago he was surviving on scraps donated by the compassionate few; people who didn’t regard him as ‘scum.’

  Now here he was, mouth watering from the delicious aromas of garlic and pizza wafting from the kitchen. Looking at Jess, it was hard to forget the disdain on her face the first time she had clamped eyes on him. Tonight though, he felt the warmth of her smile and there was no denying her beauty.

  “What d’you do for a living?” he couldn’t resist asking her.

  “I work for a PR consultancy in Chichester,” she purred. “It’s one of the best jobs I’ve ever had, since no two days are the same...”

  Joe shifted in his seat as she proceeded to describe her role. Being at the heart and soul of the media, they worked with a range of clients from local dignitaries to visiting actors and celebrities. It all sounded very glamorous.

  “You are lucky,” Maisie broke in. “It’s days like today I wonder why I stick with my job. Our media company produced a new video, to raise awareness about child neglect but it upset me! A poor little girl, curled up on a filthy mattress. Looks in the fridge and there’s not a scrap of food to be seen...” She exhaled a helpless sigh. “At least it got us talking about our next radio appeal.”

  “I couldn’t do what you do,” Joe said. “I would wanna kill people.”

  “Don’t dwell, Joe. A lot of kids get help, you know, hence the appeal. We want as many willing fosterers to come forward as possible.”

  “Sure,” he nodded. “I totally get that.”

  His eyes flitted nervously as the food arrived, though Jess didn’t seem to pick up the exchange. Happy to keep the banter flowing, whilst twittering on about her own successes, she took a delicate bite of pizza.

  “Social media, of course, has a huge influence these days,” she added.

  Joe kept quiet. Reluctant to show his ignorance, he tucked into his carbonara, the spaghetti cooked to perfection with just the right bite, the sauce deliciously creamy.

  “How are you getting on with your new mobile, Joe?” Maisie piped up, as if desperate to drag him into the conversation.

  Dropping his gaze, he wound another length of spaghetti around his fork. “Okay. Matt helped me set up my email and he’s just got me onto this Twitter thing.”

  “Twitter!” Jess gasped. “Oh brill! What name do you go under?”

  He reached for his mobile and launched the app. “Still an unhatched egg with one follower, but what do you think? Darth Joe? Joseph of Winterfell?”

  “Oh, go for Winterfell,” she joked. “Everyone loves a ‘Game of Thrones’ fan and with smouldering eyes like yours, you could pass as Jon Snow.”

  He felt a flush spread across his cheeks, unused to such flattery.

  “Jess!” Maisie breathed. “You’re making Joe blush.”

  “Oh come on, you must be used to it!”

  “No, but I could get used to it,” he teased her.

  Was she playing with him?

  Despite her bravado, he sensed a troubled soul who hungered for attention. Maisie hadn’t divulged much about her friend, other than a string of broken relationships. He, on the other hand, had no delusions. Sure, this ravishing girl enjoyed flirting but he couldn’t imagine he came close to being in her league.

  She nevertheless held his gaze. “You need a portrait picture. Let me take a photo, you’re looking good and I love that shirt. Black suits you.”

  Joe shook his head. “No. Please. Let’s not bother with it now...”

  A finger of cold trailed down his back. Despite the ambience, the food, the smells and the company, he could not forget the venom in that earlier message. It was enough to resurrect his fear, and the thought of being recognised online petrified him.

  True to her word, Jess insisted on picking up the bill, though the conversation continued long after they had finished their Frascati. As they debated their preferred social networks, Joe’s shoulder muscles began to relax again. He desperately wanted to be a part of their world, if they could just find common ground.

  Thinking back to his murky past, he had no interest in joining Facebook.

  Conversely, Maisie had shied away from Twitter.

  “So maybe we can hook up on Instagram,” she suggested.

  “Hmm,” Joe pondered. “What’s that then?”

  She explained the platform, and he could immediately see its appeal. Joining a photo sharing network, he could retain the same anonymity as on Twitter.

  “Beach shots are my favourite,” she kept enthusing. “The way the light shines at different angles, it changes the colour of the sea...”

  Scrolling through her photos, he understood her passion; the calmness of the sea at dawn so still it shone like glass - a stark contrast to the next image, a thunderous black sky folding shadows into the waves as they went galloping over the breakwaters.

  “And we get amazing sunsets here, especially in winter.”

  It must have been winter she had befriended those guys in the beach shelter.

  Joe sighed inwardly. How he wished he could have paid for tonight’s meal, but with two crumpled fivers in his pocket, he could just about run to a round of drinks. So taking the lead, he coaxed both girls in the direction of the Waverley, which ironically stood right opposite the beach shelter he had just been thinking about.

  A soft breeze spiralled from the sea, filled with the hiss of waves, the sound evoking memories. Entering the pub through a side door, he held it open. Jess sneaked a glance over her shoulder, a wily glint in her eye as she surveyed him. He caught his breath, wondering how much she really knew of his humble origins.

  “So, how are things now?” she began quizzing him. “It’s been a while since you’ve moved in with Maisie – how’s the job hunting going?”

  “Funny you should ask,” he said and keeping his voice low, nudged a little closer. “I’ve got an interview with Sainsbury’s next week.”

  Jess lifted her eyebrows. “Great! What’s the job?”

  “You know this online shopping malarkey? They need pickers.”

  As Maisie joined them at the bar, he paid for the drinks. Two delicate flutes of white wine rested on a tray, alongside a pint of ale.

  “It’s average pay and I have to roll up at the crack of dawn, but hey, it’s a job. Something physical, enough hours left in the day to keep up the voluntary work and I can always apply for some bar work.”

  “Well done, you,” Jess mused. “I impressed you’ve turned things around.”

  “I’m not just your average scuzzy tramp,” he replied with a wink.

  “Oh, stop it!” she laughed.

  St
rangely enough, he was warming to her. Glancing from Jess to Maisie it was amazing how two girls could be so different. They were like the moon and the sun, Maisie the enigmatic one with her closed body language and intelligent, probing eyes. She possessed a hidden beauty. Whereas Jess’s glamour undulated off her in waves. Her teasing eyes amused him, her smile soft as summer rain, instilling that first trickle of desire. She had built him up in a way that made him feel ten foot tall and for that, he could only be grateful.

  “Good luck with the interview,” her voice rose again. “I really hope you get it.”

  His heart swelled with fortitude. “Well, thanks, Jess and if so, I’ll pick up the bill next time we go out.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Maisie could not resist winding him up. Creeping their way home in the inky darkness, he had insisted on escorting Jess to her door first. At least they didn’t have to walk very far, with her own seaside apartment situated only a couple of blocks from the Waverley.

  On the way back to Maisie’s, a light-hearted mood had prevailed.

  “I reckon she fancies you,” she tittered.

  But Joe laughed it off. “Jess enjoys flirting, it comes naturally to her.”

  “Oh, don’t be so negative,” she argued and closing the door, turned to hang her coat up. “She sees you as a saviour! Finally she’s met a man who doesn’t treat her like some blonde bimbo and like she said, you’re looking good.”

  It was a nice fantasy, and stealing a glance at his reflection, he so wanted to believe her. Face glowing with confidence, his hair cleaner and glossier than it had looked in years, there was no question he was a reformed character compared to the ruin of a man she had found in the beach shelter.

  Battling ahead with their normal routine the next day, Joe thought nothing more of it. For a start, they needed shopping and like most working people, Maisie usually left it until the weekend. On this gloomy, chilly Saturday, however, the prospect of plodding to Morrisons held no appeal, so she decided to drive to Sainsbury’s for a change.