Dangerous Promises (25 page)

‘Okay, I’ll have a word.’

‘You’ll get it sorted?’

‘I just said, didn’t I?’

‘But you’ll do it soon, yeah? And that gas fire’s been playin’ up again. Icy it’s been for the past few nights. It ain’t good for business having the punters freezing their bollocks off.’

Velma heaved out a breath. ‘Anything else, hon, or can I get on with my drink now?’

‘Oh, pardon me. Didn’t know I was interrupting something important.’ The girl threw Velma a hostile look before flouncing off.

Sadie gazed after the prostitute, her brain rapidly digesting the words she’d just heard. She hadn’t got around to asking Velma what she did for a living and now she didn’t need to. Her jaw must have dropped because Velma gave a light laugh.

‘Not shocked are you, love?’

Sadie quickly shook her head. ‘Why should I be shocked?’

Velma smiled wryly. ‘Because you’re a nice middle-class girl who’s just discovered that she’s out with a tom. Wouldn’t blame you for feeling a bit —’

‘I don’t,’ Sadie insisted. And then, seeing the sceptical look in Velma’s eyes, she shrugged and admitted, ‘A bit surprised, I suppose, but that’s only because I’d never have guessed. I mean, you don’t look like…’ It was true that Velma maybe dressed a little young for her age, but plenty of women did that. ‘I just thought you worked in a shop or an office.’

‘To be honest, I pretty much hung up the fishnets a few years back. You reach a certain point and…’ Velma gave a resigned kind of sigh. ‘Well, Terry has a couple of houses down Albert Road and I help look after the girls. It don’t bring in a fortune but it keeps me going. Every little helps, as they say.’

Sadie gazed curiously at Velma. She had never met what her mother would call ‘a lady of the night’ before and found herself fascinated. ‘So you’re a sort of madam now?’

‘Ah, I wouldn’t call myself that. No, I just book the punters in and make sure they behave themselves. I ain’t no Cynthia Payne, that’s for sure.’

Sadie remembered the name. Cynthia, a middle-aged so-called party hostess, had made the headlines when she’d been charged with running a brothel in Streatham. There had been lurid tales of elderly men dressing up in lingerie and being spanked by young women. And something faintly farcical about payment being made with luncheon vouchers. ‘She was in the papers, wasn’t she? Didn’t she go to jail?’

‘Six months, hon, although the judge gave her eighteen at the end of the trial. There was talk of lawyers and MPs being clients, not to mention a vicar or two. That’s what really got up their noses. Still worried about all that Profumo shit, you see. The sentence was reduced on appeal though; she only served six.’

‘Don’t you ever worry about being raided?’

‘There’s no chance of that. Terry makes sure that all the right palms are greased. Old Bill pull a few girls off the streets every now and then, just for appearance’s sake, but then Terry pays the fines and everyone’s happy.’

Sadie, although she’d heard about police corruption, about bent coppers, had never been sure how widespread it was. ‘Really? Is that how it works?’

‘Sure. The law knows it can’t get rid of prostitution, love. It ain’t called the oldest profession for nothing. They can move the girls on for a while, clear a street or two, but they can’t make it go away. For as long as there are men willing to pay, there’ll be girls prepared to take the cash.’

Sadie took a sip of her wine while she thought about this. ‘It must be scary, though,’ she said. ‘You don’t ever know who’s going to walk through that door. Do you get much trouble?’

‘Some, but nothing I can’t deal with. And it’s safer for the girls being inside than out. Mainly it’s regulars, same guys turning up again and again. It’s the strangers you got to watch out for, the unfamiliar faces; you’re never sure how they’re going to behave.’

Sadie couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have sex with a stranger, to have a man pay you money to… The very thought made her flesh crawl. And what about when one of them turned nasty? She recalled what the blonde had said about Dexter, about being dead meat, about how long it had taken him to get up the stairs. ‘Gruesome,’ she murmured.

‘I need a pee,’ Velma said. ‘This vodka’s going straight through me.’

It was less than thirty seconds before her place was taken by Nathan Stone. He slid into Velma’s chair and said, ‘So, have you made up your mind about the funeral?’

Sadie looked at him, frowning again. ‘I thought we’d already had this conversation.’

‘Having it and resolving it are two completely different things.’

‘And how would you like it to be resolved?’

Stone gave her a long steady look. ‘By you seeing sense and getting on the first train out of here tomorrow morning.’

‘I can’t do that,’ she replied stubbornly. ‘I’ve said I’ll go and I will. Anyway, what would it look like if I didn’t? They’d all reckon I had something to hide. I didn’t kill Eddie so why should I act like I’m guilty?’

‘Do you know who did?’

The question surprised her and she struggled to maintain her composure. ‘Of course not! What makes you think… How would I know?’ She felt the blood burning her cheeks as she thought of Mona, as she thought of the plans that had been made and the small black gun that was lying in her bag. ‘I hadn’t seen him in years. I don’t know what he was up to or… or who he hung around with.’

‘You sure?’ he asked sharply.

‘For God’s sake,’ she said, desperate to be rid of him, ‘can’t you just leave me alone? I’m going, okay? That’s the end of it.’

Nathan Stone rose to his feet, shaking his head. ‘I doubt that,’ he said. ‘I doubt it very much.’

As he walked away, Sadie wondered if he really had killed his wife. Was he the kind of man who could put a bullet through a woman’s skull? She felt her stomach shift with fear and revulsion. Quickly she reached for her drink and took a gulp. It didn’t matter, she told herself. Nothing about Nathan Stone mattered. After tonight she’d never have to see him again. Tomorrow she’d attend the funeral and then she’d go back home to Joel.

Velma returned and sat down again. ‘You all right, love? You look kind of pale.’

‘I think I’ll make a move,’ Sadie said. ‘Do you mind?’

‘Ain’t you going to finish your drink?’

‘No, I’ve had enough. I’m really tired. I think I’ll have an early night.’ Suddenly, she wanted to be out of the pub, away from everyone and especially Nathan Stone. She got up and patted Velma on the shoulder. ‘You stay. I’ll be fine. I’ve only got to walk across the road.’

‘Okay, love. Take care. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

When Sadie reached the door, she glanced back but Stone had disappeared. The place where he’d been sitting by the bar was empty. His words, however, continued to revolve in her head.
Just watch your back, Sadie.
She swallowed down her fear and hurried out into the cold night air.

32

Petra Gissing stared at her son, who was examining his face in the living-room mirror. His left eyelid, the colour of dark ochre, was almost closed, and a more purplish shade of bruising had spread down to his cheek. His upper lip was split and swollen. ‘Don’t expect any sympathy from me,’ she said.

Wayne’s focus shifted slightly. ‘Did I ask for any?’

‘What were you thinking, going back to the Hope? Begging for it, that’s what. And now look at you! It’s not going to get any better by the morning. You’re going to look a right mess for the funeral.’

Wayne sneered and winced almost simultaneously. ‘Eddie ain’t going to care. It don’t matter to him.’

‘What were you thinking?’ she asked again, her voice sounding peevish. ‘You were just asking for trouble.’

‘Terry’s the one doing that. It ain’t right what he did and you know it.’ Wayne turned away from the mirror and sat down on the sofa. His hands with their large red knuckles rested on his heavy thighs. ‘He had it coming and you can’t say different.’

‘Yeah, right. Except I don’t see Terry walking around with his face all smashed up.’

Wayne sniggered. ‘Maybe not his face, but his pub ain’t looking so good.’

‘And you think he’s going to lose any sleep over that?’ Petra couldn’t figure out why the filth hadn’t charged that Sadie girl yet. She’d made the call to Cowan Road and had been hoping that a quick arrest might put an end to all this bother. But then Terry had friends in high places. Maybe he’d paid the bastards off, got them to leave Nathan Stone and his tart alone. ‘He’ll have the Hope all fixed up by now, but you won’t be able to see proper for days.’

‘It’s nothin’, a few bruises, that’s all.’

‘And next time?’

Wayne gave her a nasty look. ‘Next time I’ll make sure that it’s more than the pub that gets done over.’

Petra pulled a face, but decided to drop the subject. There was no reasoning with her son when he was in this kind of mood. ‘And what have you been doing down in that cellar?’

‘What?’

‘The cellar. You’ve been tramping coal dust all over the kitchen again. What are you doing down there?’

‘Nothin’,’ he said. ‘I told you. Looking for a screwdriver.’

‘That was days ago. Ain’t you found it yet?’

‘If I’d found it, I wouldn’t still be looking, would I?’

Petra reckoned he was lying. He was up to something, but she didn’t know what. If she didn’t hate that place so much, she’d nip down and take a butcher’s, but the cellar with its dim light and shadowy corners creeped her out. She always felt like she was being watched, that a bogeyman was waiting to pounce on her. Even the thought of opening the door made her go all cold and shivery. ‘Well, just think on.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘It means don’t go getting yourself in even more bother.’

Wayne lit a fag, sat back and smiled thinly at her. ‘I suppose you’ll be making a move once the funeral’s over.’

‘You trying to get rid of me?’

‘No.’

‘Sounds like it.’

‘Just wondering, that’s all. You could take Kel with you for a while. Yeah, a bit of sea air would do her the world of good.’

‘The law might have something to say about that. She’s supposed to stay in London, ain’t she?’

Wayne gave a shrug. ‘I don’t reckon she’s a suspect any more. So long as we let them know where she is, there won’t be a problem. Yeah, she could do with a break, get away from here. Why don’t you ask her?’

‘Maybe she doesn’t want to leave. She’s got all her friends in Kellston.’

Wayne frowned at her. ‘So? It’s not like it’s for ever or nothin’, just a week or two.’ He took a drag on his cigarette and squinted with his one good eye through the stream of smoke. ‘She stays here, Mum, she’s going to get in bother. I’m sure of it. You know what Kel’s like when she goes off on one. Don’t want to see her banged up, do you? No, you’re better off taking her away, least in Bournemouth she’ll be safe and you’ll be able to keep a check on her.’

‘I can keep a check on her here.’

‘Not really. What if she flips, decides to have a go at Nathan Stone?’

Petra narrowed her eyes. ‘She doesn’t know about that girl and Stone. Shit, tell me you haven’t told her. You haven’t, have you?’

‘Course not. But you think she ain’t gonna find out? People talk. She stays here and she’ll hear about it soon enough.’

The front door slammed and a few seconds later Kelly came in. ‘What?’ she said, glancing from one to the other as a silence fell over the room.

Petra smiled at her daughter. ‘You okay, love?’

‘I was,’ she said, staring at them both suspiciously. ‘What’s going on?’

‘We were just chatting. Your brother here thinks it might be a good idea if you came back with me to Bournemouth.’

Kelly shot him a look. ‘I ain’t going nowhere.’

‘You see?’ Petra said smugly to her son. ‘I told you so.’

‘Just for a few days, a week,’ Wayne said. ‘Why not?’

‘You know why not,’ Kelly snapped back. ‘I ain’t leaving here until I find out who killed my Eddie.’ She stormed through to the kitchen, her face full of anger. Shortly afterwards there was the sound of the kettle starting to boil followed by the noisy clatter of mugs and spoons.

Petra started to get to her feet, but Wayne waved her back down. ‘I’ll have a word with her,’ he said. ‘You want a brew?’

‘I wouldn’t say no.’

As soon as he closed the kitchen door behind him, Wayne knew he was for it. Kelly turned, her eyes blazing, and hissed, ‘What’s your fuckin’ game? What are you playing at?’

‘I’m just trying to get shot of her,’ he said. ‘It’s the only thing I could think of. She’s been asking about the cellar. I reckon she knows something’s going on.’

‘So? She ain’t going to go down there, is she?’

‘You don’t know that for sure. It’ll make everything a damn sight easier if she just goes back to Bournemouth.’

‘Well, I ain’t going with her so you can forget it.’

‘You could go for a few days and then come back. The tart’s still going to be here. What difference does it make?’

Kelly jabbed at his chest with her index finger. ‘Ain’t you listening to a word I say? No! No way! You got it? I’m staying right here until we sort that filthy murdering cow.’

‘Okay,’ Wayne said, raising his hands palm out. ‘I get it. Keep your voice down, huh? You want Mum to hear?’

Kelly stared at her brother, her teeth bared. ‘That Sadie is going to pay for what she did. The bitch is going to fuckin’ pay!’

33

Sadie woke with a jolt from a bad dream she’d been having. Rushing from room to room in a strange house full of men and women she had never met before, she’d been searching desperately for Joel. Where was he? Why couldn’t she find him? It was important, essential, that she tracked him down. There was a party going on, music playing, people dancing and laughing. She ran upstairs and downstairs, panic rising inside her. Have you seen Joel? He had gone, someone said, he had already left. She was too late.

Sadie lay peering into the darkness, feeling her heart racing in her chest. A dreadful sense of loss swept over her, as if Joel was the one who had died rather than Eddie. She thought of the funeral that was still to be endured and wished the day was over and that she was back in Haverlea. If only she could turn her head and see Joel sleeping. If only she could hear his steady breathing she would know that everything was going to be all right.