The house was quiet. Through the closed living-room door, Kate could hear the television and see the light from the screen flashing underneath. She tiptoed past and went upstairs to Emma’s room. She opened the door but the room was empty. Kate frowned. What on earth’s happened to her, she thought?
“She’s at the police station.” Kate swung round. Angie was standing unsteadily behind her, carefully nursing the ever-present glass in one hand, a cigarette in the other. Kate froze.
“You have to go and get her.”
“What d’you mean she’s at the police station?”
“She’s at the bloody police station, don’t you understand English? I don’t know what the friggin' hell you two have been up to but she’s in trouble. I’ve had some up-herself policewoman here looking down her nose at me. She said Emma’s been thieving. I said our family would never steal anything but she wouldn’t have it. She wanted me to go down and sort it out with them down there. I said to her, I said, do I look as if I’m in a fit enough state to go to a bloody police station. For Chris’ sake anyone can see how ill I am. I said you’d go when you came home, whenever that was going to be.” She tutted and shook her head.
“I dunno. You girls. I do my best for you and this is how you repay me. You’ll be the death of me you will. Bringing trouble home here when you know I can’t cope with it. I would have thought you’d have had more consideration for me after all my hard work. You’re a couple of ungrateful little cows, you really are.”
She swayed and grabbed hold of the handrail to stop herself from falling. Kate raised her eyes when she heard how her mother had spoken to the police. Now she would have to go and face them. She looked quickly down at her clothes and glanced up at Angie. She seemed not to have noticed.
“OK,” she said. “I’ll go and get her.” Angie nodded, turning to go back down the stairs.
“Oh, and by the way. You’d better not go in those things you’re wearing. I don’t want both my bloody daughters banged up in a cell now do I? There’ll be no one to cook the tea.”
***
Kate trembled as she went through the glass doors of the police station’s reception. She couldn’t imagine what Emma had stolen this time but whatever it was her days as Robin Hood had come to an abrupt end. The desk sergeant looked up from his paperwork as she approached the counter.
“Yes, Miss?”
“I’m Kate McGuire. I’m here about Emma McGuire. My mum said I could pick her up from here.”
“Right. Just wait a moment,” he said pompously. He went in to a small office and then came out a few moments later holding a clip board. “You’re her sister, right?” Kate nodded.
“How old is Emma?”
“Fifteen.”
“She looks a darn sight older than that.”
“Yes, I know she does but she really is only fifteen. I should know. I’m her sister.” He looked at her crossly. “There’s no need to take that tone with me, young lady.” Kate’s stomach began to churn. Why was he asking questions about Emma’s age?
“Is Emma all right. She’s not hurt is she?” He looked up at Kate again, a look of resignation on his face. “No, not this time but she could’ve been. She’s been very lucky today.”
“What d’you mean by that?”
“I think you know.”
Kate was beginning to feel threatened. Suddenly everything seemed to be spinning out of control. “Please. Can I see her? I need to talk to her.” He beckoned her to follow him. “I’ll take you to the interview room.”
She followed the policeman down a narrow corridor lit by a fluorescent strip on the ceiling. It flickered constantly with an annoying click each time it blinked. The policeman rapped his knuckles on one of the doors. A female voice answered firmly. “Come in.” He opened the door revealing a pale Emma sitting at a desk. Next to her was a young policeman. On the other side of the desk sat an older woman, her elbows resting on the desk. “Emma's sister’s here. I think you were expecting her.” The woman nodded and beckoned Kate towards her. “Come in, dear. Sit here.”
Kate went into the windowless, airless room and sat on a hard, orange plastic chair next to Emma who looked at her sheepishly. All was still except for the rustling of papers in a file the woman studied. Finally she leant towards the girls, her arms resting again on the desk.
“What are we going to do about this mess? My name is Mrs. Underwood, and I’m a welfare officer. I'm here because Emma is a minor, too young for any action by the police without a guardian. Your mother seemed unable to come here today. If she’d joined us this would’ve all been far less complicated. Now that we're involved there are more questions we have to ask.”
“Questions?” asked Kate. “Questions about what? I don’t understand.”
“Emma stole a wallet from a gentleman in Birch Street. I use the term gentleman loosely however because she was picking pockets in The Maze, the red light district.” Kate gasped and looked at Emma who couldn’t meet Kate’s eyes. The welfare officer continued. “We've asked Emma why she was picking pockets and why she chose The Maze to do it but she can't give us an answer. Perhaps you can?” Kate shook her head. “I don't know anything about it. We were going to meet at The Coffee Kisses Cafe in Henry Street, you know, where the Tudor buildings are. But she didn’t turn up and I was really worried.”
“She had a shopping trolley with her,” Mrs. Underwood said, “although only the Good Lord knows how she thought she was going to get away with picking pockets weighed down with a shopping trolley. You say you knew she'd been to the town.” Kate nodded. “I usually do the shopping at Hatters Market for Mum on a Saturday morning but I had to meet someone so Emma said she would do it instead and then we were going to meet later.” Kate realised her words were tumbling out of her mouth much faster than she wanted.
“So what time did you leave her at the market?”
“'It was about quarter-to-twelve.”
“And you didn’t see her at all after that?”
“No,” Kate answered in a small voice.
Mrs Underwood studied the papers yet again. “The reason I'm asking you about this is because sometimes pickpockets work in teams. A pickpocket will steal a wallet from someone’s jacket or a purse from someone’s bag, make a run for it and pass it on to an accomplice who waits at the end of the street. Then he’ll pass it on to someone else and the chain continues. The police have assumed you and Emma are working as a team because when they went to your home you weren't there and your mother said you went out together. Emma is under age but I believe you're sixteen, is that right?” Kate nodded. “That doesn’t make me a thief.”
“No,” agreed Mrs Underwood, “it doesn’t, but I’m afraid you'll have to convince the police of that. If they think you’re involved the charge will be against you for the offence instead of your sister who will be treated as a minor. You’ll carry the can, my dear.”
***
The police car pulled slowly into Sunningdale Terrace. “Which one is it?” asked the young constable peering through the windscreen with narrowed eyes. While they’d been inside the police station a blanket of snow had fallen covering everything in a sparkling white frosting.
“It’s on the left-hand side,” answered Kate. “Number fifty-three.”
The policeman pulled the steering wheel to the left and came to a slow halt outside their home. He turned off the engine and looked over to Kate sitting in the front passenger seat. She turned her head away, determined not to return his gaze.
“I need to come in with you and see your mother,” he said. “She needs to know what’s happened.”
“It won’t do any good,” she said, turning back to look him in the eye and stare him out, daring him to challenge her. “I’ve already told you and Mrs Underwood our mum's ill. I know we have to be careful and that we mustn’t allow anything like this to happen again. I gave Mrs. Underwood my word it won’t. It won't, will it, Emma?”
She turned to look at Emma who was sit
ting in the back seat of the car. She’d hardly said a word all afternoon, leaving the cajoling and reassurances to Kate. Shaking her head miserably she said, “No” in a very small voice. The constable nodded. “OK. Well, you know what’ll happen if it does. Mrs Underwood’s OK, she is. She pleaded your case for you. Don't let her down, girls.”
***
The afternoon had drawn in, and by the time they entered the house it was already dark. Kate flicked the light switch in the hall but the light didn't come on. She flicked the switch again, but still nothing. “There must be something wrong with the fuse box. Or maybe it’s a power-cut. I don’t know anything about electricity.” “There’re some candles in the cupboard under the sink,” said Emma. “We can use Mum’s matches to light them.”
“Yeah...and bring some saucers as well.”
Kate went into the living room to try the light, hoping it was just a broken light-bulb in the hall. She knew different parts of the house ran on different fuses because Joe had told her. It would mean at least part of the house would be all right if it was the fuse, but the light in the living-room didn’t work either. Kate shivered. She looked up as the glow from a candle lit up the hall and Emma came into the living-room holding a candle in a saucer and a piece of paper.
“The electricity bill hasn't been paid,” she said. “This was on the kitchen windowsill.” Kate took the bill from Emma, moving closer to the candle so she could read it more easily. “It should have been paid two weeks ago at the latest. Mum’s had the money because I worked it out for her and told her how much to pay. She promised me she’d do it.” Emma frowned, cross at Kate's naiveté. “Why did you rely on Mum to do it? You know what she’s like. I bet the money ended up at the offy.” Kate rotated her neck and shoulders, trying to shrug off the intense tiredness that had suddenly wrapped around her. “I just thought it would give her back a bit of responsibility, you know encourage her to be the way she used to be. She always paid it before, even when Dad was here. She paid the gas as well.” A thought suddenly struck her. “Is the gas still OK?”
“Yeah, I checked it,” said Emma. “I’ve put the hob on in the kitchen to get some warmth in there. It feels like a bloody igloo in this house.”
Taking the candle from Emma, Kate went across to the grate. Stone-cold ash lay at the bottom of the tray. She couldn’t face doing it, not in the dark. “Come on”, she said. “We'll sit in the kitchen. It’ll be warmer in there. It’ll take ages to get a proper fire going.”
“Can we pay the bill?” asked Emma, her legs wrapped around the legs of the chair. “Do we have any spare money?”
“Nope.” Kate replied. “So I don’t know how we’re going to pay it.”
“Where do you think Mum is?” Emma asked her. Kate laughed. “In bed with her bottle if she’s got any sense.”
“Don’t say that.” Emma reached for her sister’s hand and squeezed it gently. “I’m sorry about today,” she whispered. “I promise I’ll never do anything like it again.” Kate looked at her frowning, feeling so drained she didn’t have the energy to join in an argument with Emma. “I don't understand why you did it,” she said. “I know we’re short of money but what you did...” She took a deep breath. “It was really stupid, Emma. The area you were in is dangerous but you knew that already. How many times did Mum and Dad tell us never to go to The Maze? The police thought you were picking up men as well as picking pockets...and they were going to charge me because they thought I’d been doing it too.” Emma pulled a face. “Ugh, Yuk City.” Kate rested her forehead on the table’s cold Formica top then looked up at Emma again, wondering how she would ever get through to her. “You were in the red-light district where all the prossies hang out. I mean, what were you doing there?”
Emma looked contrite. “'I do know what kind of place it is. And the men who go there have money so I thought if I was going to pinch someone’s wallet I might as well make it worth my while. The punters are bad too, aren’t they? I didn’t want to rob an old lady which would’ve definitely been easier, or a mum with loads of kids, 'cos they’re probably like us. They need every penny as well. So I decided to take it from those who can afford it and the men who go there can afford it.”
“Whether they can afford it or not, isn’t the point. Yeah, we need to get money but not in that way. The man you robbed had a knife and it was because he knew he was going into a bad area. You’re a young girl and you walked into that awful place on your own. He probably thought you were a prostitute. You were really lucky the police were there today, Emma, otherwise he might have killed you.”
Kate paused to lean across and push Emma’s fringe out of her eyes. She spoke softly to her. “Do you understand what I’m saying to you, Em’? I love you and I don’t want to lose you. You’re all I’ve got.” Emma smiled. “It didn’t look a dangerous place in the daylight. It looked like any other place, but I'll never go there again.”
“I wish I could believe you, Emma. I know you think I nag but honestly it’s so dangerous there. The man had a fight with the police when they tried to get the knife off him. He sounds horrible. I wonder if they gave him his wallet back.”
Kate watched in astonishment as Emma got up from the table and began pulling down her jeans. She put her hand between the two pairs of big knickers and retrieved a brown leather wallet. She handed it to Kate. “No, they didn’t.” Kate hesitated then took the wallet from her. “Have you opened it?” Emma shook her head. “He was giving them so much trouble they forgot all about the wallet. All they seemed worried about was that the man I took it from was someone they’d been after for ages, so I didn’t say anything. Honestly, I really believe I did the police a favour.”
The flame from the candle on the table flickered sending long shadows across the walls. Kate put her finger to her lips as she hid the wallet under her jacket.
“Are you back?” Angie called down the stairs.
“Yes, Mum,” Kate answered. The bedroom door slammed shut again.
Kate retrieved the wallet and opened the clip. Inside were notes of various denominations adding up to thirty-eight pounds.
“It’s a fortune,” cried Emma.
“Shush, we don’t want Mum to hear,” whispered Kate.
“Are we going to keep it?” Emma asked her, her voice lower now. Kate bit her lip as she wrangled with her conscience. “How much is the electricity bill?” Emma looked at the bill again. “Seventeen pounds and thirty-four pence.”
“We could pay it, couldn’t we?” Kate took the money from the wallet and closed it. “We’ll keep the money. I know we shouldn’t but right now I don’t think we’ve got a choice. We won’t look at the wallet again. I don’t want to know anything about this person, his name, his address, or his shoe size. I don’t want to see photographs of his family. We’ll ditch the wallet when we can and that’ll be an end to it, OK?” Emma nodded. “OK.”
Suddenly a big grin spread across her face and she began to laugh. It was infectious and Kate smiled. “It’s not funny, Emma.” Soon they were both laughing. “We can afford elephant. Maybe you should tell Mum. It might cheer her up a bit,” Emma whispered. “What d’you think she’d make of that?” she said, thumbing upstairs. They held hands across the table, united in the knowledge they had beaten adversity yet again. They were laughing in the face of it, challenging it to try its very worst. Nothing could spoil the moment.
Chapter 10
“What’s she like, Steve?”
“Ripe.”
“Really? That good?”
“That good.”
“So you’re not worried about where she comes from?”
“Nope. Look I’m not going to marry her. Girls like that are good for one thing, and we know what that is, right? I’ll get what I want eventually.”
“You always do, Stevo. You always do.”
When Kate left him suddenly at the cafe, Stephen went to The Farmers Inn. He walked into the bar, greeted by cheering and laughing.
“Blow you
out did she, Stevie boy? Never mind. She's not your type anyway. Don’t know what you see in her.” Stephen accepted their taunts with good grace. His friends hadn’t seen Kate, so he didn't care what they thought about her. “Yeah, yeah, very funny. I had a great time thanks.”
“So where is she then?” a voice called out from the other end of the bar.
“She had an important engagement to attend to,” he said, smirking.
“Ooooh,” they chorused loudly. “An important engagement.”
An attractive girl with short, spiky-blonde hair, wearing black leather hot-pants and a red satin waistcoat sidled up to him and leant against him suggestively, her breasts touching his lower chest. She forced her right leg between his.
“I can think of a way to make you feel better if you’re feeling disappointed, Stephen.”
He raised his eyebrows and grinned. “Can you, Suzy?” She beckoned to him, smiling at him all the time, ignoring the hoots and wolf whistles. Once outside she led him to a Mini Cooper parked under some trees. “This is my boyfriend’s car but I’m sure he won’t mind. He likes me to have a good time.” She unlocked the door and pushed the front seats forward. “Come into my parlour said the spider to the fly,” she purred, beckoning him to her. He walked towards her and she grabbed him by his jacket lapels and placed her open mouth over his. As he opened his mouth to return her kiss, she pushed her tongue between his lips then pushed him roughly away from her. “Let’s see what she’s missing.”
She got into the back of the car, pulling off her clothes as she stretched out on the back seat. Stephen looked around to see if anyone was watching. Satisfied they were completely alone, he grinned and followed her inside.
Chapter 11
“I'm so proud of our Jack, Ray.”
“Me an’ all, Ivy.”
“Who'd have thought one of our boys would grow up to serve their country.”
“I know. That little blond-haired lad who played in the street with a pretend gun is now trained to use a real one.”
A Dish of Stones Page 9