Midnight on Lime Street (21 page)

Babs snorted. ‘As if. No, I’m going to phone Mr Macey – he does a lot for the NSPCC as well as the RSPCA. He’ll manage things, because he knows important people.
I’m going for a quick word with Gordy first. If the phone rings, answer it, then come and get me.’

‘Right.’ Sally dashed upstairs with the bleach. When Babs was in serious mode, it was necessary to follow instructions to the letter.

Acting DS Eddie Barnes entered Eve’s office. He’d been sent by his superior to explain what was going on across the fields to the west of Meadowbank Farm. By
rights, he should have had someone with him, but this was a big case, and he’d come alone due to a sudden lack of manpower. Liverpool and Manchester police had joined together to bring about
the arrest at sunrise of a dealer in drugs, so several detectives were missing, presumed busy. Shuttleworth, known as Boss, had been apprehended and was being processed, which was great news. The
bigger of two mysteries was solved, but three abused boys were still missing. ‘Miss Mellor?’ he asked.

Eve frowned. ‘That’s me. And you are?’

He produced his badge of office. ‘Eddie Barnes, Detective Sergeant,’ he told her, ‘though I’m still learning and I sometimes call myself Defective Sergeant. I’m
here to reassure you about what’s going on yonder.’ He waved a hand towards the window. ‘We’ve found some interesting stuff, and that’s all you need to know. The
subject is not to be discussed – lives may be at stake.’

‘Oh yes?’ she managed. ‘I thought I heard sirens on the main road.’

‘We’ve cordoned off a scout hut that’s no longer in use for that purpose. Some runaway boys have been living in it. Have you noticed any boys lurking about, Miss
Mellor?’

‘No. It’s the trees, you see, and we’re quite a long way from any other buildings, huts included.’

He nodded. ‘You’re a very great distance from anything and everything, aren’t you? No shops, no proper road to the house – how do you manage?’

She stared at the man. He had a glint in his eye that advertised his knowledge of the situation. ‘I have a van.’

‘Of course you do.’ He watched her face as it began to display a degree of fear. Framed by curlers of many colours and a scarf in pink chiffon, it was not a pretty sight. She was a
huge woman in a housecoat that had seen better days, and she wasn’t young. How could he say something without saying anything? ‘Miss Mellor, I—’

‘It’s Eve. Call me Eve.’

‘Who lives here with you, Eve?’

Her cheeks reddened suddenly. ‘A few women who’ve had troubled lives,’ she replied truthfully. ‘Some have been knocked about – you know the type.’

‘And you shelter them?’

She nodded. ‘They work – that’s what the van’s for. Like everybody else, they have to earn their keep. So I drive back and forth dropping them off or picking them up.
It’s nearly a full-time job.’

‘I see.’ He knew what the van was for; he hadn’t spent all those cold evenings and nights in the centre of Liverpool without knowing what the van was for. This was still
difficult territory, because he approved of Eve yet dared not say so. ‘They’re safer here with you,’ he managed. If his bosses found out that he had given his blessing to the
owner of a brothel, he’d be in the rubbish bin long before his new status was made permanent.

‘Yes. They’re happier away from the city and away from folk who mistreated them,’ Eve told him.

‘So carry on with the good work.’

‘I’ll do my best.’ Just now, she couldn’t imagine how the house might carry on at all unless Belle and Tom found some replacements.

‘Eve?’

‘What?’

‘I have to search the house. Really, the team should do it, but I’m sure you wouldn’t like a crowd of blokes trampling through in their size tens. These boys could be just
about anywhere.’

She turned down the corners of her mouth. ‘They’re not here,’ she said.

Eddie smiled. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll do my best to keep you sheltered from invasion. After all, vulnerable women must be protected.’

Each stared at the other, both of them recognizing and understanding the other’s thoughts. Eve spoke up. ‘Four attics, we have. Three are used and the fourth is storage. Three
bathrooms and six bedrooms on the first floor, two bathrooms and three smaller bedrooms on this floor. Kate and me share a room behind the kitchen; Kate’s my housekeeper. The cellar door is
to the right of the chimney breast near the range. The kitchen’s the main living room.’

‘Don’t worry, Eve. I’m on your side.’

She believed him. ‘There’ll be a bacon butty when you’ve done, officer.’

‘Eddie.’

‘OK, Eddie. On your way out, ask Kate to get cooking, will you? Or there’ll be raw bacon on your bread.’

He left the office and found three people sitting on chairs. ‘You look like a doctor’s waiting room,’ he told them. ‘Eve says Kate has to start cooking immediately, if
not sooner.’

Eddie left them where they were. After ascending two flights of stairs, he looked at the attics. This place was clearly a brothel, and his betters would want him to report it as such, but he
couldn’t and wouldn’t. His brief was to search for three lads, not to comment on design and decor. After walking down the attic stairs, he poked about on the first floor. He discovered
no runaways, but found plenty of hasty concealment of bed covers and other items.

A ground-floor walkabout disclosed nothing until he came across girls at the sitting room end of the kitchen. Kate was cooking. ‘I’ll do you a butty, lad. Brown sauce or
red?’

‘Just as it comes, thanks; no sauce,’ he replied.

The rest of the level failed to reveal any boys. He returned to the kitchen and rattled the door to the cellar, which was locked. ‘Where’s the key?’ he asked Kate.

‘Bloody hell,’ she exclaimed. ‘You’re not going down there in that suit, are you? You’ll be as black as a burnt pot, because it’s full of coal. We
haven’t used much with it being summer, and we’ve got immersion heaters for water.’

He shrugged. ‘I suppose you’re right. The wife would kill me, because this is my wedding suit.’ He stood still for a moment. ‘I can’t guarantee that I’ll be
your only visitor, Kate.’

‘I know. I’ll tell Eve. Thanks for trying, though.’ At the other side of the locked door, two boys breathed again. Ian would come for them today, wouldn’t he? They were
covered in coal dust, running out of crisps, chocolate and water, and they ached after sitting and lying on a hard, flagged floor. They crept away and placed themselves behind a mountain of coal.
If he didn’t arrive soon, they would escape through the grille.

Neil Carson wasn’t completely sure what to do with himself, though he was contemplating a solution of sorts. For the first time in his life, he was living in squalor. He
hadn’t minded so much when Angela had been available, because he’d had a kind of compensation in his visits to the farm, but the farm was closed, and he had few distractions. Was it
time to go back? Not back home, but should he start clearing the streets again? Was Jesus on his side, anyway? There’d been no second appearance, no encouragement, no praise, no criticism. He
was confused, and confusion was not something he had experienced until lately. Life had been mapped out, predictable, clean and easy.

‘I only managed to shift one,’ he whispered. ‘I have to make sure I don’t make a mistake again.’ He could seldom get Dolly Pearson out of his thoughts. The woman
had dressed crazily, but that had been her only sin. A way to make amends was open to Neil, because Joseph Turton, another postal worker and Neil’s closest friend, was looking after his
elderly mother and needed assistance. The house was shabby but clean, and Neil could move in at any time and help to take care of the old lady. So far, Joseph was the only person at work allowed to
know that Neil had separated from Laura.

He sat down on his one greasy chair and looked round the cramped, smelly room. It was horrible. At Joseph’s house, Neil could have a clean bedroom and a shared kitchen. The bathroom was
downstairs, since the house had just two bedrooms, and the front parlour had been made over for Mrs Turton, who could no longer manage stairs. There was a kitchen that doubled as the living room,
and it adjoined a small scullery, with the bathroom tacked on as an afterthought. No rent would be required. The only payment expected would be sitting with Mrs Turton and buying some food.
‘I’ll do it,’ he said quietly. It would keep him busy and off the streets for a while.

Having returned to the marital home just once in the middle of the night, Neil had taken his bike from the rear yard, but he would need help to move that and all his other belongings. Joseph had
a van, so that was going to be useful. ‘I’ll ride the bike while he carries all my stuff,’ he whispered into the oxygen-starved bedsit. With its window nailed shut, the room
hadn’t had a change of air in God alone knew how long.

He closed his eyes. Perhaps looking after Joseph’s mum might go some way to atoning for the murder of Dolly Pearson. The woman had cared for an ancient mother for eight hours every day, so
here was a chance of penance. Joseph had promised to keep the secret about the failure of Neil’s marriage, and Joseph was a Catholic, so he could be trusted. Yes, the move must be made,
because this dump wasn’t fit for pigs.

He pulled on a sweater and went for a bike ride. With autumn on its way, the evenings had cooled somewhat . . .

On that same autumn evening, Barbara Schofield learned several things. First, she knew a man she liked – or liked a man she knew, which fact was something of a
revelation. Gordy Hourigan, failed jockey and successful trainer, was showing signs of being very much her cup of tea, and he needed no sugar.

Second, she cared on some deep level about the three poor lads who had run away from school. School was where kids were looked after and educated; it certainly wasn’t a place in which
children might be used as punch bags or worse. Another surprise was the fact that posh didn’t mean snobby, because Mr Lippy Macey had a wicked sense of humour. The nickname Lippy had arrived
in infancy; according to his deceased parents, he had begun talking at the age of two and had never stopped since. ‘That’s why I hover on the brink of politics,’ he explained to
Babs and Gordy. ‘The council chamber’s the only place where I don’t get ordered to pipe down. Oh, and I learned the hard way that I must always allow my wife to have the last
word. That’s diplomacy covered. Now, about these boys . . .’

Babs grinned at Gordy, who grinned back at her. ‘One of the lads is called Phil,’ she told the two men. ‘I wonder if he’s lippy, too? Mind, Ian Foster seems to be the
boss.’ She stared hard at the gentleman known as Lippy. Under the thick mop of white hair, mischief danced in clear blue eyes. ‘I don’t know much about education,’ she said,
‘but I do know Ian’s clever. He might be what they call university material. And he’s the angriest of the three. Poor John has a stammer, so it can be hard to tell, though he
manages better when he’s not upset or worried. Ian says John reads a lot, so he could be another bright button.’ She paused. ‘What?’

‘Have you ever considered a future in politics?’ Lippy asked.

She shrugged. ‘I’m Labour.’

‘As am I.’

She glared at him. ‘You? Lippy Labour? Owner of racehorses and a mansion off Scarisbrick Road?’

Lippy chortled. ‘It’s pronounced Scaresbrick,’ he said. ‘The i is silent, which is more than you are, madam.’

Babs squared her shoulders. ‘We’ve three young lads shut down a bloody coal hole,’ she pronounced, ‘while we’re stood here like him outside
Lewis’s—’

‘Who is naked,’ Lippy interjected.

‘Please yourself,’ she snapped, ‘but I’m keeping my clothes on.’

Gordy shook his head. ‘No sense of fun whatsoever,’ he grumbled.

She kicked him none too gently.

‘She’s right.’ Lippy had returned to Mr Macey mode. ‘Let’s hope Ian made it into the cellar to pick up the other two. You say he’ll be at the end of a dirt
track near the A580?’

Babs shrugged. It was all a bit complicated, and she couldn’t guarantee anything. ‘They’ll all be there,’ she said uncertainly. ‘Ian will have got them out after
the sun went down if he couldn’t go to the cellar in daylight. He said on the phone he would fetch John and Phil at some stage, but it might be after dark. I can’t say any more than
that, because I don’t know any more. We’d better go.’

The horsebox idea had been dropped; if the boys stank, they stank. Anyone who worked with horses knew how to cope with malodorous moments, so the boys’ temporary divorce from soap and
water would probably be no big deal. Instead of a horsebox, Mr Macey had brought a VW camper van with plenty of seating, much of which might soon wear a coating of coal dust, so sheets had been
spread over upholstery.

‘Right, we’d better go,’ Gordy said. Being a short man might be useful if the worst came to the worst and someone had to search a coal cellar. ‘Have you got food,
Babs?’

She held up her basket. ‘Pasties, butties and cakes,’ she replied. ‘They’re going to need strength if they’re planning to face the music.’

Lippy winked at her. ‘Worry not, because they can stand behind me and my lawyers.’

The details could wait, Babs decided as they drove towards the main route between Southport and Liverpool. Before anything could happen, they needed to find Ian, Phil and John. She crossed her
fingers – the boys had better be there.

Sisters Helen and Mary hugged each other in a corridor of Magdalene House. On their way to Benediction, they stole a few moments to celebrate the capture of Albert
Shuttleworth, one of the biggest distributors of drugs on both sides of the River Mersey and throughout the north-west. ‘You were close to the wind this time,’ Helen whispered.
‘You’ve been taking too many risks, Sister Mary Veronica. One of these days, you’ll—‘

‘I know, I know, Sister Helen Veronica. You’re beginning to sound like my mother, God rest the poor woman. I’ve even carried packets of cocaine to those lower down the animal
chain. Speaking of which, we both have to continue watching Lime Street for such creatures. London or Manchester dealers might try to cash in now that the boss has gone.’