by Hugh Fraser
‘Only I don’t like to say no to him,’ I say, trying to look a bit pathetic.
‘I know love. Come on in.’
She ushers me into the hall. As soon as I’m inside she slams the door behind me and locks it. ‘Gerry!’ she shouts.
A door opens on the landing and a big bare chested man appears and lumbers down the stairs. I take out my gun, grab hold of Auntie Fran, put my back to the front door, pull her to me and hold the gun to her head. The man stops at the foot of the stairs.
‘Get Dawn or I shoot,’ I say.
He stares at me and doesn’t move. I put the muzzle up against Fran’s temple and pull back the hammer. She starts to tremble.
‘Go on Gerry,’ she says.
‘Where’s the key?’ he asks.
‘Kitchen table.’
Gerry gives me an evil look, goes to the back of the hall and opens a door. I keep a firm grip on Auntie Fran.
‘He told me all about you,’ she says.
‘Oh yeah?’
‘I said he was mad to trust you.’
‘You got it right then.’
‘He’ll have you for this, you fucking slag.’
The door at the back opens and Dawn appears in a pair of skimpy pyjamas. Gerry pushes her forward and stands behind her. Her face is bruised and she looks shocked, as if she can’t quite make out what’s in front of her.
‘Put a coat on Dawn. You’re coming with me,’ I say.
She takes a breath, her eyes clear and she recognises me. I point at the coats on the hall stand and she takes one off its peg and puts it on. I move away from the door, gently push Fran towards Gerry and point the gun at the pair of them.
‘Open the door and walk to the right,’ I say to Dawn.
She does as I tell her and I back out after her and along the street with the gun aimed at the door of the house. I put Dawn in the car, get behind the wheel and fire up the engine. As we move away I look in the mirror. Gerry comes out of the house and I switch the lights off so he can’t get the number plate.
‘What are you doing?’ says Dawn.
‘I’ve got Johnny where he can’t hurt you and I’m getting you away.’
‘Where to?’
‘I’m not sure yet.’
‘After what I did?’
‘Don’t worry about it.’
‘I stole from you.’
‘It’s OK. I just want you safe.’
She looks away and out of the window and I can tell she’s crying. I reach over and take her hand.
‘How you can be so kind to me?’ she says.
‘I know what you’ve been through.’
‘I woke up at your flat and you weren’t there, and it hit me that my baby was dead, and I was so angry at him for what he’s done to me and all I wanted to do was get hold of him and tell him what a bastard he’d been, and I looked in your wardrobe for something to wear and I found the gun and I decided to kill him.’
‘I don’t blame you.’
‘I’m really sorry I stole from you and got you into even more bother.’
‘It’s all right.’
I feel her relaxing and I concentrate on trying to find the way to the hotel. I get back to Aston Road, turn right and drive into town. I see some familiar landmarks, make a couple more turns and get to a station called Snow Hill that I recognise from earlier. I turn into Colmore Row and park in front of the hotel.
The night receptionist looks a bit confused when I tell him Dawn’s sharing my room, but after I give him a quid for his trouble he alters my booking in the register, we get into the lift and climb to the fourth floor. We enter the room and I lock the door.
‘All safe now,’ I say.
‘I don’t know how to thank you.’
‘Just stay away from bad men.’
‘I intend to.’
I pick up the whisky bottle. ‘Drink?’
‘I’d love one.’
‘Why don’t you hop into bed and I’ll bring it to you.’
‘Lovely.’ She takes her coat off, puts it on a chair and gets between the sheets while I pour her a whisky and one for myself. I sit on the bed and hand her the glass.
‘What was Auntie Fran like?’ I ask.
‘She tried to come on all mumsy and nice while she locked me in that back room – “Just for your protection my darling”. She’s all over Johnny like he’s her little baby boy and now he’s going to be a film star she’s fancying herself on the red carpet with him at the Oscars.’
‘Gerry?’
‘Never said a word.’
‘Did he try anything?’
‘No. He’s probably too scared of Johnny.’
She finishes her drink, lies back and stretches. ‘It’s lovely here isn’t it?’
‘It’s a nice hotel.’
‘Are you getting into bed?’
‘I need to go out for a bit.’
‘Must you?’
‘There’s something I need to see to.’
‘Will you be long?’
‘I shouldn’t be. You go off to sleep and I’ll see you later.’
‘All right.’
I put on my jacket and go to the door. ‘I’m going to lock you in, just in case. Is that all right?
‘I’m used to it,’ she says, with a smile.
• • •
The roads are almost deserted apart from a few cars and vans and a couple of dustcarts. It’s just getting light as I park in the side street off the main road. I walk to the Aston Chain and Hook building and along the passageway to the side. I’m excited by what I’m about to do and my hands are trembling as I take out my lock picks, but when I bend down to the keyhole, I find the door’s unlocked. I get a firm grip on my gun and go in.
The filing cabinet’s on its side, the rope is lying on top of it and Brindle’s gone. Some night watchman or security bloke must have found him on his rounds and I kick myself for choosing a warehouse. As I walk forward I hear a rustling sound in the far corner. I bolt out of the door, run to the main road and along towards the car. There are footsteps behind me and I glance round to see Brindle coming after me. I turn into the side street and stop. As he comes round the corner I trip him up and he falls onto the pavement. He gets to his knees and I swing a kick at his head which puts him on his back. I’d like to shoot him now, but even though there’s no one watching, there could be after a gunshot. I make a dash for the car and turn it round. As I move off he starts to get up and I’m tempted to drive onto the pavement and smash into him, but I can’t be sure of killing him that way and I can see someone walking along the other side of the main road.
15
I drive down Aston Road with an eye on the mirror to make sure he didn’t have anyone watching the place, who might be following me. I turn off the main road and look for a car to swap for the Cortina. Brindle’s going to be hot to get me now and I need to be wide awake. Not only him, but Gerry and Auntie Fran have got my number and seen the car. I reckon he’ll be expecting me to take Dawn and go back to London, which is why I’m going to stay here and try to do him on his home turf.
I turn up a side street, looking for an inconspicuous motor and spot a grey Hillman Minx that’s seen better days and looks boring enough. I park the Cortina, give it a wipe over for prints and wait for a bit to make sure there’s no one around. When I reckon the coast is clear, I take the wallet with my lock picks out of my pocket, walk along to the Hillman and kneel down beside the driver’s door. I’ve never done a Hillman before but most car locks have three wafers to turn and I’m hoping this one does, as that’s the only rake I’ve got with me. I take the tension tool out of the wallet and work it into the lock. I slide the rake in beside it, feel for the wafers and find I’m in luck when the lock turns. I open the door and have a look for the ignition wiring. I have to use my knife to prise off a panel under the dash to get at the wires, but when I twist the reds together and touch the browns, the engine starts first time.
I drive until I see a phone box and
look up car breakers in the directory, but I can’t find any. As I’m opening the door, an old bloke in overalls walks past and I ask him if there’s a yard anywhere about. He says there’s one in Bracebridge Street and tells me how to get there. He seems like a nice old chap so I thank him and offer him a lift, but he says he’s going in the opposite direction and toddles off on his way.
It’s just gone eight o’clock when I turn into Bracebridge Street and find the yard. The gate is shut but I can see a tall thin type on the other side of it walking towards a shed, carrying a kettle. I jump out of the car, call to him and he comes to the gate and gives me the once over and a leery smile.
‘What can I do for you, young lady?’ he says, in a broad Brummie accent.
‘I want a set of plates,’ I say.
‘Do you now?’
‘Old ones.’
‘If I were to give you them, I’d be breaking the law.’
‘A tenner do it?’
‘I dare say so.’
He opens the gate, I follow him to the shed and he puts the kettle on a gas ring, strikes a match and lights it. He opens a cupboard on the far wall, takes a pile of number plates off the bottom shelf and puts them on the desk.
‘Take your pick,’ he says.
‘Are these all dead?’ I ask.
‘And buried.’
I look through the plates. The number on the Hillman is KON 297 and I want something similar so it’s the same sort of age. I find LRB 934, take two fivers off my roll and put them on the desk. The kettle whistles and our man takes a teapot and a packet of Typhoo off the shelf. ‘Cup of tea?’
I could murder a cup but I need to get moving. ‘No thanks,’ I say.
‘Suit yourself.’
He picks up the notes and slips them in his pocket. I put the plates under my arm.
‘Cheers,’ I say.
‘Sure you won’t have a cup?’
‘I’ve got to go,’ I say, as I move to the door.
‘Bye love,’ he says.
I drive round a few corners until I find a deserted street of terraced houses that are half way through being demolished and pull over. I take the needle-nose pliers out of my pick wallet and change the number plates. I bury the old ones in a pile of rubble on a demolition site and set off for the hotel.
Breakfast’s happening in the dining room when I get there and I wait at the front door and check there are no film people about before crossing the foyer to the lift. When I get to the room I open the door quietly and see that Dawn is sleeping. She’s lying on her back in the middle of the bed with her blonde hair fanned out on the pillow. Her breathing is slow and regular and she looks perfectly at peace. I sit on the bed and feel grateful that she’s here and away from the monsters. As I look at her, so still and calm, I suddenly feel very tired and I know I’ve got to sleep. I go to the door, put the ‘Do not disturb’ sign out, take off my clothes and put the gun and blade on a shelf in the wardrobe. When I get in beside Dawn she opens her eyes and she’s far away for a moment before she recognises me. ‘Mmm… you’re here,’ she mumbles as she snuggles up to me. I put my arm round her, gently rub her back and feel her sliding back to sleep, as I close my eyes.
I’m running down a street. The houses on each side of me are being smashed to pieces by huge cranes and wrecking balls and people are escaping through doors and windows, as the houses collapse around them, and fleeing down the street. Auntie Fran comes out of a house wielding a huge number plate and she’s bashing me over the head with it and I go down and people are trampling over me and I grab her ankle as she runs away and then she’s lying next to me on the pavement and shouting in my face and I can’t hear her above the noise and it’s getting louder and louder. A phone box crashes down on the pavement and the door flies open…
I wake with a jolt and sit up. The phone by the bed is ringing but it stops as I reach for it. I look round for Dawn and feel like I’ve landed back on earth when I see her sitting in the armchair, holding a cup and saucer.
‘Afternoon,’ she says, as she gets up and switches on the kettle.
‘What time is it?’ I ask.
‘Just gone two.’
I feel panicked for a moment as last night comes back to me and but then I realise that I just have to do two things, get Dawn away from here and kill Johnny Brindle.
‘Sugar?’
‘Just milk.’
She brings the coffee to me and sits on the bed. ‘You were dreaming.’
‘I often do.’
‘I’ve given you nightmares.’
I laugh and sip hot coffee.
‘It’s not just you, believe me.’
‘What are you going to do about Johnny?’
‘I’ll think of something.’
‘He’s an evil bastard. If he catches hold of you…’
‘I’ll be all right.’
‘If there’s anything I can do.’
‘You’ll be the first to know,’ I say, as I drain the coffee cup and pull back the bedclothes. ‘The sooner you get out of here the better, so let’s find you something to wear and get you on a train.’
‘Aren’t you coming too?’
‘I’ve got a couple of things to do here,’ I say as I head for the bathroom. I’m sure she’ll have an idea that there’s bad stuff on the way, but after what she’s been through I reckon she’ll have the sense to stay out of it and let it happen. I have a shower and get dressed. When I put on my bra and pants I remind myself to buy some fresh underwear when I’m shopping for Dawn. I put on my jeans, shirt and leather jacket, with the gun in my belt and the blade in my boot.
I ask her if she wants a shower but she says she’s had a wash. I’m not sure we can get away with her wearing pyjamas when we go out but when she rolls the trousers up to her knees and puts her coat on she looks OK. I find a pair of hotel slippers in the wardrobe for her bare feet and we take the lift downstairs. I ask the receptionist where we should go to buy women’s clothes and she suggests a shop called Rackhams in Corporation Street. There’s a cab for hire waiting outside so we jump in and I tell the driver to take us there. I sit low in the seat with my head turned away from the window on the way and tell Dawn to do the same.
Rackhams is a nice looking store that sells everything, so we go straight to the shoe department and buy Dawn a pair of suede slip-ons, then it’s up the escalator to Ladies Fashions for a dark grey trouser suit by Cresta, that doesn’t break the bank, and I get myself a slinky lurex mini dress in a metallic grey. Dawn’s all over me with gratitude and it’s good to see her happy in her new threads as I drag her to the underwear department and get myself an Emilio Pucci bra and three pairs of pants. I take her to the café on the top floor and leave her with coffee and toast while I go to the menswear floor and buy a belted raincoat and a tweed cap.
I go and collect Dawn and we go down to the ground floor, where I pick up a hairbrush, a few bits of makeup and some kirby grips, and we score a couple of blasts of free perfume from the testers on the counter on the way out. I hail a cab on Corporation Street and it takes us round the block to Snow Hill Station. I pay the driver while Dawn has a look round for familiar faces. When she gives me a nod we get out of the cab and go into the station. The ticket office is round to the right and we join a short queue.
‘Is there somewhere you can go which is out of the way of the Teales?’ I ask.
‘I don’t know. Like I said before, Marlene knows most of my mates, but I’ll think of something.’
‘Outside London?’
‘I don’t know anyone.’
‘What about your parents?’
‘My dad’s dead and my mum’s in a home in Barking.’
I can’t give her the key to my flat after what she did before and I can’t ask Lizzie to take her in, for the same reason. She’d be too close to the Teales with us anyway. She sees me looking concerned.
‘It’s OK, I’ll find a squat. Highgate or somewhere.’
‘Will you be all right?’
She looks into my eyes and I feel that strength and purpose in her that I saw when I first tried to get her away from the house in Leighton Buzzard.
‘You’ve done enough for me, and I love you for it, but I can take it from here.’
She’s still got me with her eyes and for a moment all I want to do is get on the train with her, but then the ticket man is tapping on the window. I ask him when the next train to London leaves. He says there’s one to King’s Cross from platform 6 in ten minutes and I buy Dawn a single ticket.
We say goodbye outside the office. I watch her striding towards the platform and I reckon she probably can take it from here.
It’s not far along Colmore Row to the hotel and I decide to risk walking it. When I get there, I go up to the room, put my hair up and hold it in place with the kirby grips. I put on the tweed cap and the raincoat, put the collar up and turn to the full length mirror. The jeans are a bit odd, but apart from that I’m satisfied that I don’t look like me. I check my gun’s loaded, put Rebecca in my pocket, go downstairs and try to remember where I left the Hillman.
I drive to Saltley and park where I can see the entrance to the gasworks and film people going about among the trucks and vans inside. I can just see the back of Brindle’s trailer and the light on inside tells me he’s here. I reckon he’s got some bottle, turning up for work after the bashing he took last night. I keep an eye on the gate for a bit, but I don’t recognise anyone from the unit among the few people who are coming and going, so I take out Rebecca, put it on the steering wheel and read about our girl being so overwhelmed by Manderley and the formality of it, and thinking that the servants are laughing at her and feeling out of place and unworthy of the grandeur of it all and not being as good as the famous Rebecca, Maxim’s first wife. Then her sister-in-law visits and she’s nice to her and tells her to stand up for herself and buy herself some new clothes and then she goes for a lovely walk with Maxim and she’s feeling better until they get to a beach and he gets all tearful and buggers off and leaves her to find the dog that’s run away.
Just as I’m finding out that this is where Rebecca drowned, I look up and see a black Ford Zodiac approach the gasworks and stop near the gate. Gerry’s at the wheel and there are three men in the back. I pull my cap down and back the car further away from the gate to where I can still see them. It’s getting dark now and people from the unit are leaving in ones and twos. Brindle comes through the gate by himself and a big bloke in a dark suit gets out of the Zodiac and opens the front door of the car for him. Brindle gets in and the bloke closes the door and gets in the back. As they drive past me I see Brindle turning to the back seat and saying something which gets a laugh from the others.