Tara (80 page)

'They found thousands of pounds in Duke's car,' Queenie said, her blue eyes alight with laughter. 'It was a good job he didn't leave his car around 'ome. He'd have got back and found the wheels gone, never mind the money. It come from the club, of course! He was about to run out on the rest of them, they reckon! 'E left the club soon after George rang Needles, seems like he could've listened on the phone.'

'Did they find Frank, the one who ran away?' Tara asked.

'Yeah, they pulled him walking along a country lane, only about half a mile from the house,' George said. 'He's bin squealing like a pig outside the slaughter house. 'E told 'em there'd been six small runs before. Mostly Duke came down to fetch it. Then up at the club they'd arrange a private poker game, the dealers from all over the country would come and buy the stuff. Last night the police watched the club, 'oping to get leads on these dealers.'

Tara clamped her hand over her mouth. 'I'd forgotten. I got a list of telephone numbers from the club. I left it in my rucksack out in the grounds of the house.'

'You can tell 'em later,' George assured her, clearing a space on the table as the landlady brought Tara's breakfast. 'Now eat that all up, you look scrawny!'

'Have the police pulled Josh?' she asked in a low voice, aware now that the other guests were spinning out their breakfasts purposely.

'He's gone to ground.' George shook his head. 'At least, that's what they said last night. It was on the news yesterday, the papers are probably full of it this morning, so it won't be long before someone spots him.'

Tara ate her breakfast with relish. All day yesterday people had offered her food, but she hadn't been able to eat it. But now, after eight hours of sleep and hearing Harry was better, she felt like a new person.

The surgical ward was full of sunshine. It danced on the shiny floor, illuminating the many vases of flowers.

A nurse had shaved Harry. He grinned broadly as Tara came into the ward, and tried to sit up.

'Down,' she said, slapping his wrist. 'You've made a remarkable recovery! Or were you only playing dead?'

'I kept my eyes shut so no-one would shoot me, then I got to like it that way,' he said teasingly. 'Now kiss me so I can find out if all parts of me are working.'

Tara was aware of the other men in the ward watching, but she bent down to kiss him regardless.

'It's working,' Harry whispered. 'It twitched in recognition of your touch. One more and it might stand to attention.'

'There's not a great deal wrong with you.' Tara laughed, pulling up a chair. She took his hands in hers and looked at him. He was so handsome her stomach churned. Even the pale green hospital pyjamas with 'Folkestone General' stamped on the breast pocket gave him an air of a wounded hero.

'Seriously, though, how's your leg?' she asked.

'It hurts, but not as bad as you would expect.' He smirked. 'I dreamed they were amputating it because I'd got gangrene, so when I woke to find it still there, I was over the moon. I don't even care if they've left a bloomin' great hole.'

'I thought you were going to die,' she admitted softly. 'All the time while Joe shot Duke, then I shot Joe, you never moved, moaned or anything.'

'You were something else,' he said, a look of wonder in his eyes. 'You kept your head, you took command. I just wish I'd been fully conscious all the time, what a story to tell our children!'

Tara blushed and giggled.
'Just
you watch how you treat me from now on,' she said. 'I might crash you over the head with a frying pan, or run you down with a lawn mower.'

Harry's grin faded, a thoughtful look taking its place.

'It's like a new start.' He took her hand in both of his, wanting to tell her what was in his heart. 'When they shot me and threw me back in the cellar I knew they were going to kill me eventually. That kind of cleared my brain, made me see what was important. I made a deal with Him.' Harry rolled his eyes heavenwards. 'I promised if He'd find a way of saving me I'd reform. A clean life, one where I did some good, not just making money. When you turned up I thought to myself that the message was "Sorry, no deals, but here's a last minute consolation." Then you vanished with Carl and I thought they'd killed you. I wanted to die then, Tara. I wasn't even scared any more, because I knew life without you wasn't worth anything.'

'Oh, Harry.' She reached forward and stroked his long hair away from his face. 'None of it matters now. We're safe. We can start all over again.'

'It was all fuzzy somehow, but I can still see you in that dark passageway, commanding them to get into the cellar.' He gave a tremulous smile. 'I wanted to help, but I couldn't. I thought they would grab you, but then you shot Carl. You were incredible!'

'Put it aside, Harry?' She pleaded with him, seeing his distress.

'No, you don't understand.' He held her hands tightly. 'I took it as a sign, Tara, the deal was struck. I told myself I would never go back to the club. Not ever.'

'You'll have to, until you can sell it.'

He shook his head. 'Tony and Needles can run it for now,' he said. 'I'll keep the building, offer someone the club on a lease for a few years. All that land on the river is going to be worth a fortune in a year or two. If I just hang on and wait our fortune will be made.'

'Our?'

'You haven't forgotten our promise, have you?' he said, reaching out and caressing her face. 'We must get married the moment I get out of here. Let's go and live on the farm?'

Tara heard his words and she knew it was what she wanted. But he'd been through a terrible trauma and maybe in a couple of weeks things would look different.

'We'll talk about that when you're well again. George and Queenie want to come in now, shall I get them?'

'Just as long as you don't use it as an excuse to slide off somewhere.' He grinned. 'One more kiss before you get them?'

Tara bounded along Pembridge Road, a huge bunch of flowers in one hand, a carrier bag of food in the other.

Tomorrow Needles was going to collect Harry and bring him home to her flat. Amy and Greg wanted him brought down to Somerset, Queenie and George wanted him with them. But they'd both had too much of people asking questions and fussing round them. They wanted to be alone.

George and Queenie had come back to London three days ago with the intention of selling the business and going into retirement. Tara had come back a day early just to give the flat a good clean and stock up the cupboards.

Once she knew Harry was getting better, being in Folkestone was like a holiday. She had taken walks down along the front, sunbathed on the beach between hospital visits and read magazines.

Frank had been transferred from Folkestone to a prison hospital, but in fact his wound was only superficial. For Carl it had been touch and go, and it would be some time before he was well enough to stand trial. But Micky was still free. Although the police knew there had been a fourth man at the house, so far they had been unable to find him. Josh hadn't been found either, but rumour had it he'd skipped the country.

Each day in Folkestone she expected to hear the police had discovered Joe Spikes was in fact Bill Mac-Donald. Time and again she was tempted to blurt it out to Harry or George, yet somehow she had managed to keep quiet. Yet at night it plagued her, she would lie awake imagining scenarios in which the police came to her with her father's fingerprints. What would she do? Make out she hadn't known? Cry and tell them what a brute her father had been?

Tara stopped short by her flat and frowned. The curtains were closed and she was sure she'd left them open that day she ran in and got changed before going down to Hythe.

'Maybe I pulled them over?' She frowned, trying hard to remember. 'You must have done.' She shrugged her shoulders and dug her key out of her bag. 'You didn't remember telling the police where you'd left the rucksack, either, but
you had.'

A
pile of letters was waiting for her on the hall table. She picked them up, opened her own front door and walked in, kicking the door shut behind her as she leafed through her mail.

She sensed someone was there a second before she actually saw him. A faint smell of sweat and cigarettes hung in the air.

'Who is it?' A cold chill ran down her spine and her heart began to race.

'It's only me!'

Wheeling round at Josh's voice she saw him curled up on the floor trying to conceal himself in the space between a large chest of drawers and the window. She felt hatred rather than fear.

'What are you doing here?' She sprang forward, dragging him out by the shoulders.

'Don't hit me!' He covered his head with his hands and in that second hate turned to mere revulsion.

His face was ghostly white, his hair stood on end and his expression was one of pure terror.

'I hadn't got anywhere else to go,' he said in a low voice. 'I needed time to think things out and you'd left a spare key at work.'

Tara looked at him and slowly shook her head. All these years she'd admired him, thought he was courageous, clever and so very special. But now he was just a frightened kid who knew he deserved punishment but hadn't got enough guts to step forward and take it.

'I'm amazed at your cheek,' she snapped. 'You plotted against Harry, you would gladly have seen me killed. You betrayed me in a thousand different ways, then you come here! I'm phoning the police now!'

'Don't, please don't,' he begged her. 'Later maybe, when we've talked, but not yet.'

'Give me one good reason why I should even share the same air as you?'

'I never wanted you hurt,' he said, and his big dark eyes turned to liquid. 'Please believe that, Tara. I just put up the initial stake for a plan that looked like it would make me a quarter of a million. I needed it to pull the business back together.'

'Don't lie to me on top of everything else,' Tara said scornfully. Josh was shaking from head to foot, his clothes were crumpled and he had thick stubble on his chin. 'You wanted to get Harry out the way, that was as important as the money: You watched me breaking my heart because he'd gone, you took me out for the day and tried to make love to me, all the time knowing he was going to be killed!'

His guilt showed clearly in his eyes. 'I'm so ashamed of myself.' He clutched his arms tighter round his knees. 'But I love you, Tara. I wanted to keep you beside me.'

'Don't you know anything, you stupid jerk?' she exploded. 'I always cared about you. There have been times when I thought you were the one for me. Even if I'd married Harry I expect I'd have carried on working for you.' She went over to her phone and picked it up.

'Please, Tara,' he whispered. 'Just let me explain to you first?'

She hesitated, looking back at him. She could see he wasn't dangerous, and perhaps she needed to hear his side of the story.

'OK, get on with it. I'll give you ten minutes.'

'You didn't know.' Josh wrung his hands together. 'I've been sliding into trouble for some time. The only way I could save my business was by investing in this gang so I could get enough cash to revamp the shops. I was desperate. It wasn't me who suggested taking over Harry's club, or kidnapping him, that was all dreamed up by Duke and Joe Spikes.'

Just the mention of that name made Tara uneasy. Did Josh know Joe's true identity?

'Look, Josh.' She put her shopping down on the table. 'I'll make us a cup of tea but don't take that as a sign of weakness. I'm not going to harbour a wanted man.'

'Fair enough.' His face relaxed a little.

'For God's sake, go and have a bath,' she said. "This room stinks, and most of it's coming from you.'

'I didn't dare run the water.' He looked boyishly apologetic, but he picked up a small holdall and slunk into the bathroom.

Tara winced when she saw her small kitchen. Flies buzzed around dirty plates, all the mugs had been used and just left. The bin was overflowing with empty tins and the cooker top was filthy. She filled the sink with hot, soapy water, pushed the dirty dishes into it, then went to open the curtains and windows. She made a pot of tea, and was putting it on the table when Josh came back in, smelling of Camay soap and cleanshaven, tidy again in grey needlecord trousers and a pale blue shirt.

'That's better,' she said approvingly. 'I always find you can handle anything after a bath and a change.'

'So you say it wasn't your idea to kidnap Harry?'

'No. Well, partly. I mean they had it all worked out, but I told them bits and pieces to help. See I financed it, but I wasn't part of the gang.'

'Was it Wainwright who made the calls?'

He nodded.

'So you struck a deal with him right back when the other business happened?'

'Not exactly. I just kept a contact number in case. He didn't know what was going on. I just fed him the information about Harry and what to say. It was just an acting job and a chance for revenge as far as he was concerned.'

'How could you?' Tara shook her head in total bewilderment.

'Can I have a bit of time before you grass me up?' he asked, his eyes like a spaniel's.

'I'm not grassing you up.' She beckoned for him to sit on the settee opposite her. 'You can give yourself up, or continue to run, whichever you like. Just as long as you don't come near me.'

'I can't bear the thought of prison,' he said, sipping his tea.

'You might not get prison.'

'Pigs might fly,' he said gloomily.

'Don't be such a weed!' she snapped at him. 'Give yourself up! Talk to a lawyer and he'll get you bail. Then you can sort something out about the business. Has it occurred to you the girls at the shops are waiting to be told what's happening? You owe it to them to make an effort.'

'What for? I haven't got the money to pull things together, it won't be long before I go bust. So what's the point?'

'I don't believe things are that bad.' Tara wanted to slap his face he was being so pathetic. "There are assets out there, your house, cars and the leases on the shops, not to mention stock which could be sold off.'

He closed his eyes and lay back on the settee. 'I'm going to come clean with you,' he said in a small voice. 'I'm burnt out, Tara. What little talent I had I've used up. I've been doing drugs for so long my life revolves round them. These days it's as much as I can do to shave myself, let alone organise a business.'