Sweetie (21 page)

Lizzie kissed her grand-daughter’s head. ‘You’re a brave girl, Maria. Mummy’s here now. I’ll see you later.’ She made her way over to the door and in a no-nonsense fashion whispered to her daughter, ‘I’ve got things to do, Mary. I’ll call Monica and ’ave her come and sit with ya.’

With that she was off down the corridor and heading towards the hospital exit.

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Chapter Thirteen

Grace had taken to grinding her teeth at night and woke every morning with aching jaws. The murders and assaults were always uppermost in her mind and as she slowly tortured herself, trying to find answers, she got little or no sleep. Now she fished around in the medicine drawer for soluble Disprin with baby Luke on one hip and Adam tugging at her dressing gown, saying he was hungry. It was a good sign. He had been off his food since the attack but was finally beginning to get his appetite back.

Usually John brought her a cup of tea before he left for work, but he must have gone at the crack of dawn to try and get as much done as he could in the morning, so that he could leave for home early. There had been no tea in the caddy and Adam had tried to help himself to cereal, only to knock the box of Rice Krispies all over the floor. Grace was treading on them, grinding them into the floor under her tired feet.

Her thoughts returned to her troubling dreams which had been filled with horrendous visions where she couldn’t prevent what was happening to the children, and all she could hear were the echoes of 205

their screams. Tiredness making her snappy, she shouted at Adam to wait in the front room while she tidied up the kitchen floor and sorted out a tin of stewed apple for the baby. This was very out of character for her. She was usually calm and con -

sidered in her dealings with her children, but the endless sleepless nights had robbed her of her patience.

Adam slunk away, looking tearful, and Grace’s irritation was replaced by a wave of guilt. With her head spinning, she prayed silently for God to give her strength as the two Disprin dissolved in a glass. She knocked back the cloudy mixture then put the baby in his highchair while she opened the tin for his breakfast.

‘Mummy, the telly’s broke!’ Adam called from the living room, and Grace bit back a scream. It was obviously going to be one of those mornings.

She went in to see what was up. With a watery smile, she said softly, ‘It’s all right, babe, it’s just not plugged in. Hang on a sec.’

Grace bent over the telly, knocking the aerial off the top. Christ, she wished John was here! The others were all going to arrive in a few minutes and she was still in her dressing gown, feeling like she couldn’t cope and looking like something the cat had dragged in.

‘Half-nine at your place,’ Lizzie had stated, with -

out asking if it suited her. If the circumstances had 206

been different she might have told Lizzie to shove it, but in the wake of the news of the attack on Maria she had just nodded in agreement, too down and miserable to argue.

The doorbell rang as Grace found something on the telly for Adam to watch. Through the window she could see her sister standing on the doorstep. She opened the door to find Gillian looking bright as a button, in full make-up and wearing a sundress and a pair of cork wedges, brand new by the looks of it.

‘Christ, look at the state of you!’ Gillian said, walking into the hallway and dropping her bags on the floor.

‘I overslept.’

‘Right, I’ll get the kettle on,’ said Gillian, as she went into the kitchen. ‘Oh, my God! What’s happened in here then? It looks like World War III.’

‘Adam tried to help himself to breakfast and had an accident.’ Grace pushed the hair out of her face, feeling clammy.

‘Go upstairs and sort yourself out, I’ll clear this lot up.’

‘But the kids haven’t had their breakfast yet, Gill.’

‘I’ll do that, you go and get some clothes on.’

Grace didn’t need telling twice and gratefully went into the bathroom where she ran a cool shower for herself and stepped under it.

As the water poured over her, her mind returned once again to recent events. Over and over she traced 207

the web of her suspicions and fears. Darkness filled her waking moments as well as her nightmares.

Downstairs she could hear the doorbell ring again and the sound of Potty’s voice drifting upward.

Grace could do without this. She was sorry for what had happened to Maria, desperately sorry, and as for poor Wayne . . . well, Sue’s agony didn’t bear thinking about. But she wouldn’t stand for another vigilante attack, not after the one they’d got so horribly wrong. She knew what was coming, knew from the commanding tone of Lizzie’s voice that she wanted action once more, and Grace realised she was expected to go along with things, no matter what her scruples.

She closed her eyes and allowed the water to run over her face, lost in that moment. Noise filtered up the stairs and she knew she would not be able to indulge herself much longer. She covered herself with an expensive white bath sheet, sat on the towel box and gazed out of the open frosted window.

Grace had popped round to Sue’s the previous day, to drop TJ off, and found Lizzie there with murder in her eyes. Sue sat silently at her kitchen table while Lizzie assured her, ‘We’re gonna sort this, Sue, we really are.’

Another ring of the doorbell and more voices; she’d have to get dressed and go downstairs, she couldn’t hide up here all day. Grace slipped into a simple sundress and combed her wet hair. She looked 208

into the mirror then at her make-up bag but thought, Sod it, I’m not in the mood. She underestimated her own natural beauty. With fresh skin and dark hair drying in the heat, the others were still no match for her.

In the kitchen Gillian, Nanny Parks and Potty were drinking tea and smoking. Gillian had a fag in one hand and a spoon for feeding the baby in the other. Grace didn’t bother with the niceties but angrily opened the back door. ‘Can you at least let some air in if you’re going to smoke around the baby?’ The other three looked at each other and raised their eyebrows.

‘She didn’t sleep well last night, did you, Sis?’

Gillian offered by way of explanation, and glanced at her sister.

‘Who can in this bloody heat?’ asked Grace.

‘Morning, Mum. Morning, Potty.’ She scooped the baby out of the highchair and stood with him by the back door to get some fresh air. ‘God, those fucking cancer sticks will put you all in an early grave!’

‘I got a job, Grace, at the hospital. Head of Housekeeping said I could cover Mary’s shifts while she is off, and do general holiday and sickness cover until a permanent job comes up. I gotta alternate between Queen’s and Bonner Road Chest Hospital, but they’re minutes away from other each so it’s great.’

Potty looked pleased with herself, like a child 209

asking a parent to admire their painting. She was wearing a clean cheesecloth shirt and denim shorts, her hair tied up in a bushy ponytail.

‘You lot will all be in Bonner Road if you keep lighting up, one after the other,’ said Grace sar

-

castically, then added, ‘Anyway, I’m pleased for you, love, I really am. How’s Lucy?’

Potty shifted uneasily in her chair and twisted a lock of curly hair around her finger. ‘Not bad. She was as high as a kite last week, despite that bloody Kelly and all her shenanigans, but when we heard about Maria it knocked the wind out of her sails.

Even getting her picture in the paper didn’t lift her spirits. She was quite low yesterday, took herself off to bed early – unheard of – you know what a cow she is about bed-time usually.

‘Anyway, I did my first shift yesterday and they’re a nice bunch of girls to work with. The money will come in handy and you get to see all sorts of comings and goings in a hospital, you really do. Some of those doctors are really dishy!’

Grace smiled to herself. Good for you, Potty, she thought. Find yourself a nice boyfriend and get shot of that useless lump you’re married to.

‘Did you see Mary?’ Nanny Parks asked.

‘Maria’s on a different ward to the one I’ve been cleaning, I’ve been up in the baby unit on the top floor. Got a baby in there with mumps . . . fuck me, his little balls are huge, and he’s very sickly.

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Everyone’s talking about Maria, though, you can imagine. Old Bill in and out all day.

‘I did see Mary briefly, to get her keys so I could go round to the flat and collect some of her clothes and toiletries she’ll need while she’s staying with Maria. I put a few bits in the fridge and opened the windows to let some air in.’

A loud clunking sound approached and they all turned to the door to see Adam dragging his Fisher Price garage along the floor until he came to rest by Nanny Parks. ‘See my garage, Nanny? It’s got a lift.’

‘Ooohh, isn’t that lovely?’ cooed Iris. ‘How many cars have you got, darlin’?’

‘A red one, a blue one and a fire engine.’ Adam demonstrated the wind-up lift which took cars to the top floor then ejected them to slide down the ramp.

For a few moments the women looked on smiling, lost in his touching innocence, marvelling at his recovery. Every time he successfully got a car to slide down the ramp, the women all gave a big clap and called him a clever boy. He was smiling broadly, revelling in all the love and attention, when the doorbell rang again. Grace moved to put baby Luke on the living-room floor and gave him a large plastic Tupperware shape ball to play with. With a furrowed brow he tried to put the square piece in the round hole and she moved over to the kitchen counter to top up her cup of coffee.

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‘That’ll be Lizzie,’ said Nanny Parks, jumping up to answer the door.

‘Oh, goody, can’t wait,’ said Grace as she took another glug of coffee.

‘Try and keep a civil tongue in your head, young lady,’ Nanny Parks warned her daughter. ‘She’s shattered after what happened to Maria.’

From the kitchen Grace could hear them talking in whispers by the front door. She knew her mum was right and she knew she was being ratty, but she felt so irritable and tired, and the Disprin hadn’t worked.

Her head was still thumping. A minute later they came into the kitchen where Gillian jumped up and offered Lizzie her seat.

She doesn’t look shattered, thought Grace, she’s loving this. For a few minutes they exchanged desultory small talk about the heat and the flies and having to pour Jeyes Fluid down the drains to keep the smell away, then Lizzie launched into her tale of woe. It was all ‘my Maria this’ and

‘my Maria that’. Like you give a shit, thought Grace.

‘And I’ve had a long chat with Sue,’ Lizzie carried on. ‘She won’t be coming today as she’s got a lot on, getting ready for the funeral tomorrow, but she agrees.’

Agrees with what? thought Grace. She sensed what was coming and dreaded it.

‘Anyway, I’ve just come from the police station 212

and that Woodhouse bloke isn’t even there. I wanted to get as much information as I could before seeing you all. He’s supposed to be in charge of this case, and the desk sergeant tells me he’s over near the City, somewhere around Shoreditch, dealing with an armed robbery. Fucking disgrace!’ Lizzie thundered.

‘No wonder people have to sort things out for themselves round here.’

Grace bit her tongue. The others were hanging on Lizzie’s every word, nodding eagerly and agreeing with her.

‘Well, at least we know who it is now,’ said Lizzie with finality. The others all nodded. They must be privy to some information that had been kept from Grace.

‘Who?’ she asked.

‘George,’ said Gillian, looking at her sister sheepishly.

‘George who?’ Grace didn’t have a clue.

‘The caretaker. Slimy George, the kids all call him.’ Lizzie looked Grace right in the eye, challenging her to disagree.

‘How can you be so sure?’ She tried to keep her voice level but anger was rising inside her.

‘It all adds up, doesn’t it? Gotta be a local, gotta be someone the kids know, gotta be someone who knows the area.’ Lizzie paused. ‘Any chance of a cup of tea, Grace?’

She filled the kettle and flicked the switch before 213

saying, ‘But that could be anyone really, how do you know it’s him?’

‘It’s not just that, Grace,’ said Potty. ‘That Kelly who found Wayne told my Lucy that George was hanging around outside Sue’s the morning Wayne went missing.’

‘So?’ Grace spooned three spoons of loose tea into the pot and reached for the glass bottle of Camp coffee for herself.

‘Well, he told Terry Williams that he’d been in the betting office all day, but obviously he couldn’t have been if that Kelly and her mates saw him. And another thing,’ Lizzie added triumphantly, ‘he didn’t turn up for crib at the Birdcage on Monday night, and according to Harry he never misses it.’

‘And that’s your evidence! Kelly and the other girls told me they’d seen Harry the Horse too. Are you gonna sort him out as well? For God’s sake, you can’t just decide someone’s guilty. You have to have proof.’

‘Grace!’ Nanny Parks shot her daughter a murderous look.

Gillian intervened then, trying to play peacemaker.

‘There’s more. It’s all sorts of things . . . like the smell, for a start. Both Lucy and Maria mentioned the smell of this bloke. Fags and drink and sweat and a kind of chemical smell, like the stuff they use on the floors at school. And he’s a big bloke, a heavy bloke. They both said he weighed a ton. George is a big bloke, you can’t deny that.’

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Grace quickly replied, ‘So is Harry, and if we’re talking big men, so is your bloody Michael, Potty!’

She just stared at Grace with her mouth open, shocked at the very idea that someone might accuse Michael of trying to harm his step-daughter. Grace reacted to that look. ‘I’m sorry, Potty, but can’t you see how hysterical all this is getting?’

Gillian tried some logical persuasion then. ‘Look, you’ve got to remember that George is a bit of a weirdo, a real loner. I mean, nobody I know has ever been in his house and he must have lived around here for, well, nigh on thirty years. Has anyone ever seen that wife he had? Rumour has it she just disappeared, and her elderly mum too.’