by Chris Simms
‘Is he…’ The words didn’t want to come. ‘Is he OK?’
‘If you hang on, I’ll pop my head in and find out.’
He heard the phone being put down. In the background came a low moaning yowl. The noise was repeated and Jon knew it must be a cat. He pictured the thing locked inside a carry-basket, staring out at the world with baleful eyes. Alice glanced over her shoulder and spotted him. He raised a hand and turned his head to show he was on the phone. She nodded and continued leading Holly along the pavement.
‘Hello?’ The female voice again.
Jon closed his eyes. She sounded subdued. He’s dead. She’s about to tell me my dog is dead. ‘Yes?’ The word cracked as it came out.
‘He’s extremely poorly. There’s a faint heartbeat, but he’s lost so much blood. Erm, given his state, Mrs Ackford wondered whether it might be kinder…whether you might consider – ’
‘No. I’ll pay whatever, OK?’ He thought about his bank account. Not a lot in there, as per usual. But there was the spending money they’d put aside for the coming stay at Center Parcs. And if they cancelled their fortnight in France that summer, they’d probably get most of the money back. ‘Tell her money’s not a problem. I’m taking my family home and then I’ll come over with my chequebook, OK?’
Barking reverberated in the back of the van. It was a heavy, monotonous sound that caused the two men in the front to grimace.
Twisting in his seat, the passenger looked through the hatch. ‘Fuck’s sake, she’s totally lost it!’
The shoulders of the man at the wheel stayed hunched. ‘Bastard just came steaming down the road. This far from my face, he was. Punching at the glass.’
‘Sean!’ the passenger yelled. ‘We need to get off this road. Find somewhere to calm her down.’
The lights ahead turned red and Sean had to stamp on the brakes. The barking intensified.
‘Ah, Jesus, people are looking across.’ The passenger sank lower in his seat, trying to cover the side of his face with a hand. ‘They’re all staring.’
‘Where the fuck are we?’ Sean murmured, glancing around. Shoppers were slowing, heads turning. ‘Is that a sign, Devlan? Up ahead.’
Devlan nodded as the lights changed. ‘Says the A34.’
‘Shall I take it?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You said you knew where the motorway was!’ He turned left and joined the two lanes of traffic. The barking was abruptly replaced by a low growl. ‘What’s she doing now?’
‘Biting at the wheel arch.’
‘She’ll snap a fucking tooth. Shit.’ Sean yanked the wheel and pulled into a lay-by. Cars flowed past. ‘I’ll try and settle her. You work out how we get on the motorway.’ He jumped from the van only to reappear at the driver’s door a second later. ‘This is desperate.’
‘What?’ Devlan’s fingers were pecking at his phone.
‘Rag’s not covering the registration plate. That peeler? I think he ripped it off.’
Devlan looked across. ‘He saw our registration? That’s a kick in the bollocks. We can’t go on the motorway now. They have cameras over here recording every car. Ferry’s out too.’
Sean climbed back in. ‘We need to dump this van. It’s the only way. If he’s made the call, every patrol car in Manchester will be looking out for us.’ His eyes went to the stream of vehicles going by.
‘Then we torch it,’ Devlan announced.
‘And Queenie?’ The barking began again. ‘We can’t be walking the streets with her. No way.’
‘What do we do with her, then?’
‘I don’t fucking know!’
Jon pushed the cup of tea across the table as his wife stepped into the kitchen. ‘How is she?’
Alice sat down with a sigh. ‘She doesn’t want to talk about it. She said she wanted to watch telly, so I put a DVD on for her.’
He watched his wife as she ran her fingers through her hair. Then she placed both hands on the table and looked directly at him. ‘Those golfers, I could hear them talking. One of them thought that thing was about to go for Holly.’
Rage wanted to billow in Jon’s chest. He had to suck in air before replying. ‘I know.’
‘What sort of an effect will this have had on her?’ She blinked angrily. ‘What is wrong with this country? I mean, why do people feel the need…’
He had to look down at the table. ‘I think this is my fault.’
‘What do you mean?’
He reached uneasily for his cup of tea. What do I tell her? If my suspicions are correct, I’ve no idea what’s happening.
‘Jon?’
He glanced back up. The sound of the man calling out to the driver of the van echoed in his head. High-pitched, with an Irish accent. It had sounded like Darragh. ‘I’m not sure. I need to look into a few things.’
‘What does that mean?’
He sat back, crossed his arms and tapped a finger against the bulge of one bicep, not knowing what to say.
‘What’s that on the back of your hand?’
He glanced down to see the registration of the van written there. ‘It’s…it’s the number plate of the van.’
‘That’s not a British registration. Where’s it from?’
His tongue slid across his lips. ‘Ireland. It’s Irish.’
Her eyes narrowed for a moment, then widened as she made the connection. ‘You mean, this is to do with you going over – ’
‘I don’t know. Not necessarily.’ He could almost hear the cogs in her mind whirring. ‘Ali, it could just be a – ’
‘They know where we live!’ She stood. ‘Oh my God, they know where we live.’ Her eyes cut to the kitchen doorway. ‘Holly.’
As she made for the door, Jon started to get up, one hand outstretched. ‘Alice! They’ve gone. The van raced off heading for the…’
She hurried down the corridor and into the front room. Jon followed. She was standing over their daughter, looking anxiously towards the window. ‘Are you OK, sweetie?’
Holly was staring up from her beanbag, face confused. ‘What?’
Alice stepped round their daughter. ‘I…I thought I heard you crying.’ She checked the street outside then drew the curtains.
Sensing her mum’s distress, Holly turned to Jon. He squatted down in front of her. ‘It’s fine. We just wanted to check you were fine.’
‘Where did Punch go?’
He cleared some hair from in front of her eyes. ‘He’s at the vet’s. A vet makes animals better and that’s where Punch is.’
‘And then they’ll bring him home?’
‘Yes. But not yet. He might have to stay a bit, like at a hospital.’
‘Can we visit him?’
In the periphery of his vision, he could see Alice move back to the doorway, fingers twisting together. ‘Not yet. I’ll pop round there soon. Perhaps we can bring him home tomorrow.’
‘So he can come to Center Parcs with us?’
‘I hope.’
‘OK.’ She turned back to the screen.
‘Do you want a drink or anything?’
She shook her head, attention now on the film.
‘OK. Mummy and me are just in the kitchen.’
They stepped out of the room and he started to shut the door.
‘Leave it open,’ Alice whispered, one hand fluttering.
‘Alice,’ he murmured, trailing behind her. ‘We don’t know for sure if this is connected to me going over there. And even if it was, they’re gone. In fact, they couldn’t get away fast enough. Come on, sit down. Please.’
‘What happened in Clifden?’ she whispered. ‘You didn’t tell me everything, did you?’
He brushed at an eyebrow, wanting to hide from her gaze once again. ‘There was a bit of push-and-shove in the nightclub where Zoë was supposed to be working. The bouncer and the owner of the place.’
Alice sat. ‘For God’s sake, Jon, what did you do?’
‘Me? I didn’t do anything. The bouncer we
nt for me. He ended up on his arse. Then the owner produced a baseball bat. I took it off him. Said something like he shouldn’t wave things around he didn’t know how to use.’
Alice bowed her head and Jon felt relieved to be free from her stare.
‘What did you do to aggravate them?’
‘I told you: I went in there asking for Zoë. Everyone blanked me. Then you got that other call from Siobhain to say Zoë was in the back office of the club.’
‘Yes – you said you were going to the rear of the building. Just to check.’
‘I did.’
‘And what was there?’
‘A van. I presumed it was the one Siobhain said was being loaded with pirate DVDs.’
‘Was it?’
‘No. I checked on my way out. Just a delivery of drinks and crisps for the club.’
‘And that’s when they attacked you?’
Jon examined his tea. ‘Not exactly.’
‘Meaning?’
‘I went into the back office. Of the nightclub.’
Anger had set her eyes ablaze. ‘You did what?’
‘I was trying to find Zoë. I went in and things…everything just escalated. There was no sign of Zoë or any DVDs so I got out as fast as I could.’ Alice said nothing and he wondered if she was about to cry.
She raised her chin, face pale. ‘They know where we live, Jon. Whoever they are, they’ve got our address.’
I know, he thought. They also have an idea of our routines. His mind ran back over the last few days. I got back from Dublin late on Sunday afternoon. Collected Punch from the Bramleys and took him for a walk. Next morning, I walked him again. Alice was over at her mum’s with Holly. I spoke to Rick on the phone, telling him about Ireland. Walked Punch again at dusk, when he lost his tennis ball somewhere near the clubhouse. Went to bed feeling optimistic the police in Clifden hadn’t been called by Darragh. That’s three times I’ve walked Punch since getting home. ‘It’s not for certain there’s any link.’
‘Some bloody coincidence!’
He placed both palms flat on the table, lifting his fingers in appeal. ‘I need to call in at the station and check a few things out.’
Shoulders still too high, she crossed her arms, wrists digging in under her breasts. He wanted to wrap his arms round her, tell her to relax, that there was nothing to worry about. But he knew that would be a lie.
‘Let’s say there is a connection,’ she said in a small voice. ‘How did they find out where we live?’
The prospect of the people in the van having that information made Jon want to hang his head. It was a policeman’s worst nightmare. You went to work on the understanding the job didn’t follow you home. All the scum, the low-lifes, the criminals – you visited their world. They didn’t then turn up in yours. That was the deal. To have your home address out there, doing the rounds of the shitbags whose lives it was your duty to ruin…it didn’t bear thinking about.
‘Ali, there’s no point in going down that route. It’ll only make things worse.’
‘I want to go down that route. How would they know our address?’ A tremor of anger was now in her voice.
‘OK,’ he conceded. ‘There are three possibilities, as I see it.’
She shot him a glance. You’ve considered this already.
‘I spoke to a police officer in Clifden,’ Jon rapidly continued. ‘When I popped into the station to kill some time. I told him my surname and that I worked for the police in Manchester.’ He held up a finger. ‘That’s one. Then there’s my car. Plenty of people saw me driving around. All it took was to note down my registration.’ A second finger went up. ‘That’s two.’
Alice was looking puzzled. ‘Hang on. Both of those explanations would require co-operation from the police, wouldn’t they? The officer you spoke to or someone with access to the computer system with all the car registrations on.’
‘Could just be a contact at the DVLA.’
‘But it suggests they’re organised, Jon. Professional.’
He knew where she was heading. ‘No, it doesn’t. It could have just been a careless remark made by the officer in his local pub.’
‘Which is hundreds of miles away in Ireland. Then days later, that thing is let loose. Here, in Manchester. Pirate DVDs, dodgy nightclubs.’ Her voice was starting to waver. ‘I read the papers, Jon. You know as well as I do that organised crime in Ireland is linked to – ’
‘We are not being targeted by paramilitaries, Alice. Stop, OK? You’re only going to terrify yourself.’
She took a deep breath. ‘I should never have let you go over there.’
‘If – and I say if – this is linked to Clifden, there’s one other explanation.’
She raised her eyebrows.
‘Siobhain. She found this phone number. She knows my name. She probably has our address, too.’
‘Why would she ask you to help Zoë arrange for us to be attacked?’
Jon shrugged. ‘Because I just buggered off? I don’t know – but things don’t add up with her. That’s why I need to call in at the station.’
Alice looked horrified. ‘Now?’
‘It’ll be fine. Whoever was in that van, believe me, they’re long gone. Lock up after I go. I’ll have my mobile with me and I’ll also have a word with Simon from across the road. Ask him to keep an eye on the house. I’ll be two hours, that’s all.’
‘OK,’ she sighed, blinking a couple of times and uncrossing her arms. ‘You’re right.’
He gave a small smile. That was more like the Alice he loved. A thought sent his spirits plummeting. Punch. ‘I’ll go by the vet’s, first.’
‘Thank God he’s alive,’ she said. ‘And thank God we’ve got this break in Center Parcs coming up. It’ll take Holly’s mind off what she saw and give Punch a chance to mend.’
Jon thought about the booking; they’d paid a premium for a lodge where dogs were permitted. There’s no way she’ll let me pull the plug on the trip now. He drained his cup of tea then placed the mug carefully on the table. ‘I don’t know what the vet’s bill will be, Ali.’
‘We’ve got insurance. You took out that policy – ’
‘It was years ago. I didn’t renew it.’
Her face fell. ‘Oh, Jon. The bill could be huge.’
‘I’m sorry. We never made a claim – seemed like we were just throwing money away. When we started getting Holly’s nursery bill, I let Punch’s insurance lapse.’ He watched her think things over.
‘The balance for our summer holiday isn’t due until next month,’ she mused. ‘If needs be, we could always forfeit the deposit and go camping in the Lakes, instead. I was a bit worried about driving all the way to the Alps with a newborn baby, anyway.’
Jon placed a palm over hers. ‘Maybe it won’t be that expensive.’
Alice gave him a look. ‘Punch was protecting our daughter, Jon. I don’t care about any bill.’
He wanted to kiss her.
‘But I think we must go to Center Parcs,’ she continued. ‘Holly’s been looking forward to it for weeks.’
He nodded. They were in agreement, forging a way forward. A team, working together again.
Chapter 8
A brass plate screwed to the bricks read ‘Heaton Moor Veterinary Practice’. A short corridor ended at a waist-high door leading into a cramped office. To the right was a large waiting area. He glanced in and saw an elderly woman sitting in the far corner, a Highland terrier lying at her feet.
‘Can I help you?’
He turned back to the office. A young lady in a white tunic was looking up at him. Uneasiness was playing at the edges of her eyes and he knew it was merely a reflection of the look on his face. He cleared his throat. ‘I think I spoke to you a bit earlier. My Boxer dog, Punch, was attacked…I think your boss, is it? Mrs Ackford – ’
‘Yes, she brought him in.’ She closed down the computer screen and stood up.
Jon searched her eyes for any hint of how Punch might be. ‘Is h
e doing OK?’
Her eyes shifted momentarily to the side. ‘Well, he needed a – ’
At that moment there came the scrabble of claws in the corridor beyond the opposite side of the office. A Boxer dog appeared, straining at the leash. For a split-second, Jon thought it was Punch. But then he saw the large patch of white fur covering its chest. Another dog came round the corner, then a ruddy-faced woman with locks of thick ginger hair. Behind her was a slim woman in a medical gown.
The young lady in the office stepped back. ‘Valerie – this is Punch’s owner.’ She glanced back. ‘Sorry – what was your name?’
He thought about his reluctance to reveal his identity at the golf course. You can forget that now, he told himself. You’re about to sign a cheque to pay for all this. ‘Spicer. It’s Jon Spicer.’
The vet spoke up. ‘Mr Spicer, I’m Valerie Ackford.’
By now the two Boxers were in the office, both peering inquisitively about, squashed noses flaring at the wealth of strange smells. Their owner looked at Jon, sympathy making her eyebrows tilt.
Mrs Ackford squeezed past the two animals. ‘These are Bertie and Bruno – they’ve just saved your dog’s life.’
Jon looked from the dogs, to the owner, then back to the vet. ‘Sorry?’
‘Let’s talk in the waiting room.’
Jon retreated, a flicker of hope in his head. Saved your dog’s life. She definitely said that. He felt the tightness around his eyes easing.
Valerie stepped into the room and nodded at the old lady in the corner. ‘Hello, Mrs Young. I’ll see Flora in just a minute.’
The dog’s owner smiled back. ‘Thank you, dear.’
Valerie turned back to Jon. ‘Now, Mr Spicer, your dog’s not out of the woods yet. Not by any means.’
He felt the muzzle of one of the Boxers pressing against his thigh and glanced down. Big brown eyes stared up at him and he reached down to rub his fingers behind the dog’s velvet ears. Punch is alive!
‘Bertie and Bruno are two of my donor dogs.’ Valerie continued. ‘Pamela here kindly makes them available whenever we need blood.’
Jon glanced at the woman, trying to take all the information in. ‘Thank you – but I’m not sure I follow…’