That'll Be the Day (2007) (52 page)

Lynda started restlessly roaming about the room, rubbing her arms as if she were cold, and Jake tried to stop her, to calm her down. ‘There is no other way, not since we can’t find Mam, and she seems to have vanished off the face of the earth. But if Ewan really does have her locked up somewhere, what choice do we have but to obey him?’

‘She can’t have vanished completely. She must be somewhere. We have to find her.’ A feverish brightness came into Lynda’s hazel eyes then she took Jake completely by surprise as she spun around and headed for the door. ‘And I’m going to find her. I must, I must!’

Lynda ran out of the house and was knocking on their neighbour’s door before Jake had time to gather his wits and run after her.

She ran from door to door, hammering on each with her fists, screaming and yelling at the top of her voice, ‘Where’s Mam? Where’s me mam? Has anybody seen Betty? Somebody must know where she is. Tell me where she is, you have to help us. You have to help . . .’
 

Jake did his best to stop her but she was like a wild thing, racing up and down the street like someone demented, knocking over dustbins, flinging open the boots of parked cars, pushing over stacked market stalls with twice her usual strength as she shouted and screamed for Betty.

‘
Mam, Mam, where are you
?’

Jake froze, feeling utterly useless, paralysed by panic, and nobody else tried to stop her. The folk of Champion Street emerged from their houses blinking in the lamplight, curious to know what was going on. When they realised it was Lynda Hemley and that she’d completely flipped, and who could wonder at it if she was in the throes of a complete break-down, poor lass, they shook their heads in dismay.

They stood and watched in sympathetic silence as her father came running from the Dog and Duck to gather her in his arms, doing his best to hush the girl and calm her down. Even then she didn’t stop screaming, the sound of her frantic terror echoing down the quiet street as Ewan half dragged and half carried her back home, chilling the souls of all those who witnessed the scene.

As Winnie Holmes said to Big Molly, ‘By heck, but she’s lucky to have found her dad. The poor lass is certainly in need of one now that she’s lost her mam.’

Terry went round first thing the next morning to see how she was, bravely risking Ewan’s ire by knocking on the door since she wasn’t at the flower stall as usual. He hadn’t seen Lynda properly since before Christmas. It was almost as if she were deliberately avoiding him, and he worried that what had once seemed so good between them, could have soured yet again. He wasn’t allowed to see her, of course, Jake coming to tell him she was resting.

‘Well, just tell her I called, will you, Jake? I miss her. Tell Lynda I was worried about her.’

‘Aye,’ Jake said, glancing back over his shoulder into the silent house. ‘We all are.’

Terry said, ‘I knew she was upset over losing her mam, but I hadn’t realised quite how badly it had affected her. But then is it any wonder? It must have been dreadful for the poor woman to end her days by falling in the canal when she can’t even walk properly on dry land. It must be hard for Lynda to live with that fact.’

‘She didn’t drown,’ Jake snapped. ‘We’ve no proof, so don’t you go saying she did.’

‘Oh, sorry!’

A voice from inside the house called out for him to shut the flaming door, he was causing a draught. Jake jumped and began to do so, but just as it was about to close he stuck his head into the crack and fiercely whispered, ‘
Tell Leo Catlow to watch out on Friday
!’ Then Terry was left staring at the door panel, wondering what that had been all about.

As he walked away he looked for Lynda at her bedroom window, and there she was, quietly weeping into the lace curtain, her pale face blotched with the flush of tears. He waved and blew her a kiss, hoping she’d wave back and for a moment thought she was about to raise the sash window, but then he saw her turn quickly away before vanishing altogether.

Terry was hurt that she could care so little that she didn’t even want to speak to him. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked sorrowfully away, but couldn’t resist keep glancing anxiously back, hoping she’d reappear. She didn’t, and his earlier worry had now grown to a deep anxiety.

What had Jake meant by that warning? What was it Leo Catlow had to watch out for exactly, and why on Friday? Why had Jake insisted that Betty hadn’t drowned when it was quite plain to all that she must have done. Why had Lynda lost her head in that way last night, which was so unlike her, and why didn’t she at least look pleased to see him this morning? It was all very strange.

It then occurred to him that she might not have been alone in her bedroom; that someone, her father perhaps, might have come in and prevented her from acknowledging him, might almost be holding her there against her will.

And what if Ewan Hemley was planning a job, and Jake was involved?

My God, now it all began to make sense.

Back on the market Terry went straight to his father and begged an hour or two off work. His next port of call would be Leo Catlow in the hope that he might be able to make some sense out of Jake’s gibberish. Whatever was wrong, Terry was determined to get to the bottom of it.
 

Friday night found Lynda standing shivering in a corner of Catlow’s yard down by the docks wondering if she would even live through this night. It was black dark, the moon covered by a blanket of cloud and she could hear nothing but the faint strains of Radio Caroline coming from the office. The docks themselves were silent, with not even the familiar whirr and grind of machinery to distract her.

Ewan had made it plain what she must do.
 

‘Don’t worry, no need to make up any tale about what you’re doing there in the middle of the bleeding night. He’s expecting you. The night-watchman’s palm has been well greased to look the other way while we get on with the job, and you’re a part of that payment. You’re the bit extra to keep him sweet, and since you’re an attractive woman see that you make it worth his while. We don’t want no repercussions, no mouthing off afterwards to the police because you didn’t deliver. Understand?’

Lynda had listened in silence, understanding only too clearly, but not even commenting on what kind of father sold his daughter to a perfect stranger for the sake of a few televisions and radios.

Now that the moment had actually arrived she felt a numbness creep over her. What did it matter? What did anything matter any more? For all she knew this might all be a waste of time and her mother already dead, but until she had proof of that she had to go along with Ewan’s plan.
 

Either way, Ewan had succeeded in destroying their happiness, and his ex-wife. He’d implicated Jake already in his illegal activities, and now it was her turn. He’d used every method at his disposal: bullying, kidnap, threats and blackmail to get what he wanted, even drowned their lovely Queenie, and Lynda guessed he’d stop at nothing now, not even murder to get his hands on this rich consignment of goods.

He’d told them a dozen times how the load was worth a small fortune, but he’d also added that this was just the beginning, that he was moving up into a new league, leaving the petty stuff behind him and working with the big boys now.

‘How can I lose with my family behind me?’ He meant that there would be no one to grass on him, as Betty had done all those years before.

Lynda could see her brother chewing on his finger nails as he sat waiting in the van, knew that Ewan and a couple of his cronies were tucked away in the back of it. There were other members of this make-shift gang in a second van at the other end of the yard, waiting only for her to walk into that office. This would be the signal for them to drive quietly along the wharf, break into the warehouse and start shifting the electrical goods.

‘Easy as taking sweets from a baby,’ Ewan had told her.

Lynda straightened the short, too-tight skirt she’d been instructed to wear for the occasion, and, turning her back on the van, walked towards the office. The crack of light under the door grew brighter as she approached, the strains of
What Do You Want To Make Those Eyes At Me For?
playing on Radio Caroline rising to an ear-splitting crescendo, in competition with the hammering of her heart.

She’d vomited up the supper Ewan had made her eat, but was well beyond fear now. Her limbs weren’t even shaking and her hand was rock steady as she turned the door handle.

And there he was, the night-watchman she was supposed to entertain, standing before her like a huge lump of blubber, piggy eyes bright with desire in a round, shiny face as he wiped sweaty hands on the back of his trousers. He flapped at her to come in, pushing the door shut behind her and quickly shooting home the bolt.

The sound snapped in her head like the shutting of a trap but somehow Lynda managed to smile up at him, perhaps hoping to charm this fat man into not hurting her. He put out one hand and squeezed her breast, quite hard, and with a jolt of shock Lynda recognised her mistake. She’d secretly hoped that she could talk him out of it, now she saw no chance of that. He’d no doubt been looking forward to this moment all day, and could hardly contain his excitement. One hand was in his trouser pocket, fiddling with something.

‘Do you want a drink?’ He drew out a whisky bottle, from which he’d obviously already drunk half. Lynda shook her head.

He took a long swig himself, licked his fat lips then swiped one podgy hand across his slobbering mouth, small beady eyes boring into her with lascivious greed. ‘Get on with it then.’

‘What?’ She was startled by his directness, though what exactly she’d expected, Lynda wasn’t sure.

‘Strip off! I want me money’s worth. I want to see the merchandise before I taste it.’

Oh God, this was going to be a thousand times worse than she’d imagined! Lynda felt drained, incapable of reaction or running away, even had there been anywhere to run to. It was as if she were standing outside herself watching what was going on from a great distance as she went through the motions of taking off her jacket, folding it with painstaking care upon a nearby desk. Next she unbuttoned her blouse, let it slip from her shoulders and folded that in the same punctilious way.

She heard him give a low groan as his salacious gaze fastened hungrily upon her breasts, daintily clad in a pretty, lace-trimmed bra.

Lynda hesitated, unwilling to go any further, but again he flapped a hand frantically at her, urging her on and this time her fingers did start to tremble as she reached for the button on her skirt. The horror of her situation was beginning to slowly dawn on her, fear rising like bile in her throat.

Jake and Ewan and the rest of their motley crew must surely have reached the warehouse by this time. How long would it take them to load up the gear? Not that this had any bearing on her own part in the performance, Lynda bitterly reminded herself. She’d been ordered to give satisfaction so that there’d be no come-backs.

Their own getaway in the van driven by Jake had been carefully planned but her own was a much more hazy affair, apparently depending on how long it took her to ‘do the business’. Lynda had been instructed to ‘slip away into the darkness’ when the job was done.

But Ewan had promised that when this night was over her mother could well make a miraculous return. Lynda could only pray that this was true.

The fat man was fiddling with his trousers, had them unbuttoned and was growing increasingly impatient with Lynda’s own fumbling attempts to remove the skirt. He seemed to be panting for breath and, reaching out, made a grab for her, causing Lynda to cry out in alarm.

The next moment she was being pushed down on to the office floor, her legs being dragged apart as panic swelled and bloomed inside her, paralysing her with fear as she wondered frantically if she would survive this, or if the fat man’s enormous weight would crush her. And then all hell broke loose.

The air was suddenly filled with the sound of police whistles, the roar of engines and car tyres screeching to a halt. An inner door burst open and amazingly there was Leo Catlow, half a dozen pairs of hands dragging the heap of blubber off her, and her own darling Terry gathering her into his arms telling her to stop crying because everything was going to be fine now.

Even Constable Nuttall was grinning at her saying she was perfectly safe, that he hadn’t let her down this time.

Chapter Fifty-Two

One morning at the snack bar Judy was surprised to see Sam walk in. He marched right over to the counter, ignoring an old lady ordering a cup of tea and a sausage roll. ‘You have to come home. The children need you.’

Judy stared at him, stunned. ‘I don’t think this is the time or place to go over all of that again, Sam.’

‘I mean, it’s an emergency. The kids haven’t been well and now my mother has the ‘flu an’ all, so you’ll have to come home to look after them all. They’re on the mend but still not fit to return to school yet. You’ll have to come at once.’

Judy was already untying her apron and reaching for her coat. Turning to her employer she gave an apologetic smile. ‘Sorry, but you heard what my husband said. I’ll have to go.’

‘Don’t expect me to keep the job open for you!’ he shouted as Judy followed Sam out of the snack bar.