Live to Tell (30 page)

I shook my head at the fleeing figure. I wanted to scream after him. Instead, I turned and just walked away.

I was back, living my personal nightmare. But in the intervening years since we clashed before, I had changed and grown up. The teenager I had been found it almost impossible to cope with the effects of this man’s senseless crime. The adult woman I now am had become stronger and more resolute.

Over the next few days I worked like a robot, my brain churning with half-imagined horror that I couldn’t bear to dwell on. The thought of the man that I chased up the street made me feel physically sick. Instead, I concentrated on the blood in the hallway and Aidan’s floppy, broken hand, his poor shattered knees, and his crushed spirit.

My father caught up with me entering the office, one morning.

“Are you okay Dear? You seem a bit under the weather. Not doing too much are you?”

“No, Dad. Don’t worry. I might have a cold coming on, that’s all,” I lied.

“Have you been assigned to the Wavertree and Fletcher audit? I think it could throw up some difficult anomalies,” he said. “You need to keep on the ball with that one. If you feel unhappy about something you find and want some support, give me a ring. I don’t want the work getting you down.”

I kissed him, not at all offended by his offer. Not many of our clients knew that we were related, as on the rare occasions that we had to attend the same meeting he was called Alan Scanlon, while I kept to Mrs Powell.

“Yes, I will and thank you. Now stop fussing. And that’s an order. I’ll be all right.” If only you knew, I thought. I wonder what advice you would give me. Probably tell me to walk away. And
that’s
why I can’t tell you what’s happened.

He pressed the button to call the lift and ushered me in ahead of him. Dear Dad, I love you so much.

By night, I roamed the area in which I lived and beyond, searching through the public houses, seeking out the monster who had caused this chaos. I had to track him down. Gathering all my courage, I returned to the Gladstone pub. The intervening years had not been kind and it looked tired and dirty. The brass bar fittings were tarnished and unpolished, some of the bulbs in the chandeliers had stopped glowing making the room even darker and the carpet was torn in places. I walked up to the bar and ordered a gin and tonic. The skinny young barman looked quite surprised as if, I wondered, he wasn’t used to women drinking in there alone. I turned my back on him and studied the clientele. Most of the largely male drinkers were elderly, some with walking sticks and one with a Zimmer frame. They returned my stare with hostile, suspicious looks.

Going home I retraced the route that Aidan and I raced along nearly fourteen years earlier, almost willing someone to follow. I felt no fear. Since Danny’s death nothing could touch me. I courted risk and defied danger with almost religious zeal.

Finally, I reached my house but it no longer felt comforting like a home should. Inside, an eerie silence enveloped me. White dust sheets loomed in lumpy mounds casting unfamiliar shadows as I prowled about trying to find something to do.

Then, I heard a miaow and opened the door to admit Clothilde, who seemed to have come round to console me.

It was not only the van keys that changed hands. Barry insisted on keeping a set of my house keys so his boys could let themselves in if I wasn’t home. This meant there could be no early morning shirking on my part, on pain of embarrassment.

The next day I rose at six and went to work before they arrived, coming back long after the time when I thought they would be gone. Should only be a few more days now, I thought, as I walked up the road from the station. Then it will be finished. Barry’s original estimate was a bit optimistic and his team were running behind schedule but I smiled when I thought how nice it would be when the work was done.

I bought my fruit for the day in a Sainsbury’s supermarket, not wishing to go back to Mrs Amin’s emporium and cursed myself for behaving like a coward. I was also still burning inside with righteous indignation, coupled with a frustrated anger, that I couldn’t bring the devil to justice. I was determined to find him even if I had to trek the whole of North West London to do it.

Coming round the corner into the mews, I encountered my neighbour, Mrs Jeffery. She looked distressed and was wringing her hands together, tightly clutching a handkerchief.

“Hello,” I said, trying to put on a happy face. “Isn’t it a lovely evening? Is everything alright? Are you okay?”

“Oh, hello Dear”, she said, pressing the dainty lace trimmed cloth to her mouth. “I’m a bit worried to be honest. Just a bit worried. I’ve had some bad news you see. Yes, that’s it.” She started to walk back to her house but I followed her.

“Is it your family? Are they alright? Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No. I don’t really have a family anymore since my sister died two years ago. That was before you came here you know. No, I’m quite alone now.” She rubbed her hands together again, anxiously. “But actually you might be affected as well, although they didn’t say.”

She opened her front door and for a moment I thought I saw tears in her eyes.

“Hold on. Don’t go. Please. Can I help at all?”

“Not really. It’s the roof you see. They say it’s got to be replaced. It’s quite urgent, they said. I dread to think what it will cost.”

Alarmed, I decided I would help her whether welcome or not. I followed her through the open door. The handles of the thin plastic bags containing the fruit were digging into my left wrist. Thankfully, I dumped the bags onto her lobby floor.

“Sorry,” I said. “Who said it’s got to be replaced? If it’s been damaged by the winter storms, you might be able to claim on your house insurance.” I mentally crossed my fingers praying her building was insured. I had no choice in the matter. Building insurance was another bill I had to find.

“No, come through, Dear,” she said leading the way into her kitchen and sitting down wearily. “Some men were working in the road behind us and saw the state of it. They were here telling me, just before you got home. They’re coming back tomorrow to let me know how much it will cost. They said if we have any rain, my bedroom will be soaked. I couldn’t stand that. I’d never be able to cope. Things are hard enough for me to do at the best of times without water to mop up, as well. Would you like a cup of tea, Dear? I’ve got some
Lapsong
if you’d care for it.”

She once told me she was a dancer when young. Seeing her now so shrunken and bent, it was hard to believe.

“Er, no, er, not for me. But shall I make you some?” I looked at her collection of china tea-pots arranged on her antique kitchen dresser. She’s really got some beautiful pieces, I thought. “You know, I really think you need a second opinion. I don’t know much about buildings but surely just looking from a distance—they might not be able to see it properly at all.” I felt it was incumbent on me to convince her not to part with any money until more was known about her supposed problem. And definitely not to let strangers into her house.

“Oh, they’ve been in the loft as well,” she said. “Said it was wet already up there.”

“Really? You know, I think you ought to ask someone else before you commit yourself to spending anything. Just get another opinion. I think I know whom to call, the man who’s doing my work next door. He might be able to at least confirm what they say—or not. Shall I get hold of him for you? Is that alright?”

She nodded and sank down in her seat, head bent.

I let myself out and went home. Barry’s van was still outside my house so I knew he must be in the area. I had his number on speed dial on my mobile phone. I pressed the button. A terse message greeted me. “Can’t speak to you at the moment. Leave a message and I’ll get back. Cheers.”

Oh, damn, I thought. He must have switched off the phone. “Hi, er this is er Mrs Powell from number seven. Can you call around soonest, well um before it gets dark? Er thank you. Oh, and it’s Thursday evening. Thanks. Bye.”

I knew he would come. The day we met he told me he was divorced and it must have been obvious I lived alone. I hardly had enough possessions for one let alone two. He tried to discover my status but I was extremely reticent and I guessed he assumed I was divorced as well. Before his team arrived, I placed all my trinkets away in boxes but during his initial inspection, he would have seen photographs of Danny. Beside my bed I kept a particularly beautiful one of him, smiling at me. It was the last thing I looked at each night before I went to sleep.

An hour later there was a knock at my door. Barry stood there smiling, his arm draped around the frame. “You make me sound like a bleedin’ vampire,” he said. “What’s up?”

“It’s the lady next door at number six. You know; the kind one who lets me use her parking space, while you are using mine. She’s got a problem.”

His face fell. “Okay. What’s wrong?”

I related the story, word for word, adding “and she’s over eighty you know. I don’t like the thought of her being overcharged. Would it be possible for you or one of your associates to give her an independent assessment? If necessary, I’ll pay for the inspection.” God, I hope it’s not expensive, I thought.

“You know what this sounds like, don’t you? Bleedin’ scam. These people ought to be locked up.”

“It might be genuine.”

“Yeah, and I’m Robin ’ood. I’ll ’ave a look. If there is water in the loft it’s probably an open and shut case. But if there ain’t any… Bleedin’ robbers.”

I knew that if anyone could charm the neighbours over the road to let him into their bedrooms to look at Mrs Jeffery’s roof, it would be Barry but it seemed sensible to check the loft first.

Ten minutes later Mrs Jeffery and I stood waiting in her ground floor lobby as Barry walked back down the stairs.

“Shall we have a cuppa, do you think,” he said. “Mrs J?”

She nodded. The cups and saucers rattled as she gathered them together and I knew she was nervous. So far, Barry had not commented on his findings in the loft but from his swagger, I was confident it was good news.

“Right,” he said after taking a long slurp of his drink. “Now, how we play this is as follows. I personally don’t think there
is
anything wrong with your roof, at least nothing that isn’t normal in a building of this age. But I’m not a roofer. There’s certainly no water up there that
I
could see. It’s as dry as a bone. So, when these jokers come back I think you should send them off with a flea in their ear. I’m next door most of the time but if I’m not, my foreman Olaf will be. If they argue with you, just call for one of
us
to give you a hand. You can tell them that we’re your sons, if you like. That should scare the proverbial out of ’em. Then if you want some extra reassurance, get your insurance company to send round one of its assessors. They’ll do that quick enough, if they think it’ll save them some dosh in the long run. Just tell ’em you might have storm damage.”

Mrs Jeffery gazed at Barry as if he were a saint and clasped one of his hands in both of hers.

By the time we left her it was dark and although I wanted to get back on my patrol, I felt too tired to go out again. At my door, Barry spoke to me softly.