Widows 2

Chapter Two

José Camarana’s ranch was just as Bella had described it: fantastic. Linda was in one of the guest bedrooms — very tasteful, with antique furniture — lying in a large double bed with a massive carved headboard, the drapes on the bed matching the curtains and the ice-blue carpet. Outside the window was the stable yard.

Sighing, she pushed away the large tray with the embroidered napkin and the lace-trimmed tray cloth. The perfectly scrambled eggs, toast and coffee turned her stomach. She picked up a hand mirror and stared at her face. She looked like a prizefighter after a particularly bruising bout. The stitches across her face were clean, but still crusted. Her right eye was all the colors of the rainbow, and her lips were still swollen. She put the mirror down and lay back.

Since she’d been at José’s ranch, all she could think of was that she’d told Harry Rawlins where the money was. She’d betrayed them all. She wasn’t that concerned about Dolly; it was just the fact that she had told him. She knew if she hadn’t told him he’d have killed her, but that didn’t make her feel any less guilty.

She’d told him.

She heard the clatter of horse’s hooves outside. Slipping back the covers, she got out of bed and pulled the curtains aside. José Camarana, riding a black stallion, clattered into the yard. He wore a pale lemon cashmere sweater, riding jodhpurs and shiny brown boots. He really was one of the most handsome men Linda had ever seen and she couldn’t help but stare at him. He got off the horse and flipped the reins to a boy already running from the stables. Then her heart jumped. Following behind him through the stable yard gates was a police car. A police officer with an awful lot of gold stripes on his uniform got out and started chatting with José in a friendly manner. They laughed together with their backs to Linda’s window, then José turned, pointing in Linda’s direction up to the window, and indicated that they should enter the house.

As Linda darted back from the window, Bella walked in.

‘Look, I’ve got ’em, two tickets—’

Linda motioned for her to be quiet and come to the window. Bella looked down in to the yard.

‘It’s the police, Bella! What do you think they want?’

Bella shrugged. ‘I don’t know, Linda.’ She went back to her bag that she’d left on the dressing table. ‘I’ve got two open tickets — we can go as soon as you’re fit.’ Seeing the tray, she sighed. ‘You’ve not touched your food again, Linda.’

Linda still stood at the window. ‘I’m not hungry.’ She was twisting her hands round each other.

Bella was beginning to get irritated. The last five days hadn’t exactly been easy. Doctors had come and gone, and a nurse had been in attendance for two days, at José’s insistence, but he couldn’t understand why they wanted no police involvement. Their villa, after all, had been broken into, and Linda had very nearly been killed. But Bella had eventually convinced him that the best way to deal with the trauma was to try and forget all about it. Linda was in one piece, and that was all that mattered. They had collected all their belongings from the villa and returned to the ranch, and that was that.

‘Do you think José’s telling them something? I mean, what are we going to do, Bella?’

‘What would he be telling them, Linda?’

Linda looked pensive. ‘Well... he has been asking questions, Bella.’

Bella stiffened. ‘What d’you mean? What sort of questions? Has he been asking about me?’

‘No, nothing like that,’ Linda said quickly. ‘About the taxi driver... He wants to know what happened that night!’

Suddenly Bella seemed close to tears. ‘I don’t want to lose him, Linda. I’ve never met anybody like him, and I love him.’

Linda could feel her own tears welling up. ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Bella.’ Then a thought suddenly occurred to her. ‘Do you think Dolly’s got the cable by now?’

Bella zipped up her bag. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Did you send a cable to Shirley?’

‘Yes, I sent a cable to Shirley.’

Bella just wanted to be out of the room now. Linda’s nerves and constant questions — it was all getting too much.

As she opened the door, Linda said, ‘Do you think Dolly would have been able to get to our money, Bella?’

‘I don’t know, Linda. You keep asking me and I keep telling you: I don’t know. All I do know is I sent a cable to the clinic where I think Dolly may be.’

‘But did you send one to the house as well?’

Bella was ready to blow her top. ‘Linda, I don’t know whether Dolly is at the house. She was going to sell the house. Which is why I sent a cable to the clinic. And before you ask, I’ve sent one to Shirley in Los Angeles at the hotel she was going to stay at, but I don’t know if they’ve got them!’

Linda started to cry, the tears streaming down her face. ‘Maybe we’re... all right... Maybe Rawlins is... still in Rio.’

‘And maybe he isn’t. For gawd’s sake, stop crying.’

Linda sniffed. ‘I can’t help it. It’s all my fault. I told him the money’s at the convent. I’m ruining everything!’ She stopped suddenly in mid-flow. ‘Do you think Dolly will be all right, Bella?’

‘Well,’ said Bella nastily, ‘we just have to hope to God he hasn’t got to her, don’t we? If he did that to you, just think what he’d do to Dolly.’

A knock on the door, and they both froze.

‘It’s José,’ came a voice from the corridor. ‘May I come in?’

Bella picked up Linda’s breakfast tray.

‘Of course, it’s open, José,’ she called. She flicked a warning look to Linda as he entered. He smiled warmly and bowed toward Bella. Linda picked up some tissues and loudly blew her nose.

‘How’s our invalid today?’ He looked at the tray. ‘What’s this? You don’t like Anna’s cooking?’

Linda muttered that it was fine, but she just wasn’t hungry. That secret look flashed between José and Bella as José sat on the bed.

‘I have some news for you.’

Bella smiled brightly. ‘Oh, yes?’

‘Yes,’ said José. ‘The taxi at your villa — my chauffeur was able to make out most of the number plate. The police are sure they will be able to trace the driver.’

Bella tensed up. ‘I thought we’d agreed we didn’t want to take it any further?’

José got up, touching her lightly on the shoulder. He caught sight of the two plane tickets on the dressing table and picked them up. ‘What are these? Two tickets?’

‘Oh, I just hadn’t got round to telling you yet, darling,’ Bella said lightly.

He placed the two tickets very carefully back on the dressing table. ‘I see.’ With a thoughtful incline of his head, he walked to the door. ‘Excuse me.’ His manners remained impeccable, but there was no disguising the iciness in his tone.

The door closed softly behind him.

‘You’ll have to tell him, Bella.’

Bella banged the breakfast tray down and turned furiously to Linda. ‘Tell him what? We’re running back to England because we’re scared stiff Harry Rawlins is gonna nick our money?’

‘I didn’t mean that. You know I didn’t mean that!’

‘Then what did you mean?’ Watching Linda squirming, tears in her eyes, Bella thought that sometimes she could really hate her. ‘Well, come on, Linda. What? You want me to tell him about the raid?’

Linda shook her head.

‘Oh, that’s it. You want me to tell him about me. You want me to tell him what I was. He’s asked me to marry him, Linda! You think he would have done that if he knew what I was? A tart?’

Linda began weeping. ‘I didn’t mean that. I...’

José had no intention of eavesdropping, but when he heard Bella’s voice raised in anger, he couldn’t help it. He stopped and listened. What he heard was the voice of a stranger — coarse and grating — not the Bella he’d come to know at all. As he listened it grew even louder.

‘I’m telling you, Linda, he’s not going to find out about me. I’m not gonna lose him, not for you, not for Dolly, not for anybody! I don’t give a shit about the money. This is what I’m gonna do, Linda. And stop crying for Chrissake! I’m gonna tell him that we’re gonna go back because you wanna see your mother.’

José moved closer to the door, straining to hear every word. Linda murmured something about not having a mother, then he stepped back sharply as Bella’s voice screamed out, ‘Well, you bloody got one now, you stupid bitch!’

As shocked as he was bewildered, José decided that he had heard enough and quickly walked back to his room. Pausing in the doorway, he saw Bella emerging from Linda’s room, her face set in an ugly grimace. He closed the door.

Shirley Miller’s mother, Audrey, had a new live-in lover — one Raymond Bates. Five foot six, Ray was a rotund little man with strange, dark tufted hair all over his chest and sticking up on top of his head. But despite his odd looks, Ray was her man and she loved him. Most importantly, he was straight — he had his own business, a garage — and that made Audrey happier than she’d been in years. Which was why she felt a little nervous when she saw the cable lying on the mat. Cables rarely meant good news. She opened it and walked into the kitchen.

‘Our Shirley’s comin’ home.’

Ray looked up with a grin. ‘All right, is she?’

Audrey sat down at the table. ‘Well, that’s my holiday up the spout. I’ve really been looking forward to it. “Come to Los Angeles,” she said. I’ve only just gone out and got all that gear, all them summer clothes, and now...’ Her mouth began to tremble. ‘I’m not goin’ now, am I?’

Ray reached over, gave her hand a squeeze and picked up the cable. ‘What’s she comin’ home for? You think she knows about us?’

Audrey took out a crumpled bit of tissue and dabbed at her eyes. ‘Oh, yes, I’m sure she’s heard about us. Headlines in the News of the World, we are!’ Her expression turned serious. ‘Something’s wrong, Ray, I know it. I mean, why did she call us up one minute and say, “Come out, have a holiday,” say she’s sending me money, then I get a cable next minute says she’s comin’ home?’

Ray put the cable down. ‘Well, we’re gonna find out, aren’t we? What about you fryin’ us up another slice of that bacon?’

Audrey blew her nose. ‘Oh, Ray, love, you’ll have to fry it up yourself. I’m gonna have to lie down, I don’t feel too good!’ Audrey didn’t know what the matter was with her lately. She kept feeling sick all the time.

Ray went and picked up the frying pan. ‘It’s all right, darlin’,’ he said with a wink. ‘I tell you what, one day I’ll take you to Disneyland!’

Audrey gave him a sad smile and went to bed.

Dolly arrived at the clinic. The reception was all very tasteful — soft music playing, potted plants — but the soothing décor didn’t make Dolly feel any less nervous as she walked up to the desk, carrying her overnight bag with everything in it, even the dark glasses. The receptionist smiled at her.

‘It’s... er... Mrs. Rawlins. I’m, um, Mr. Jarrow’s patient.’ Dolly could hardly speak.

The receptionist did her best to calm her. ‘Ah, yes, we’re expecting you. Good morning, Mrs. Rawlins. Now, you’re going to be in—’ she turned the pages of her ledger — ‘room 4E. I’ll just call for a nurse to take you through. I’m sure you’ll really love this room; it looks over the gardens. Oh, Mrs. Rawlins...’ She reached beneath the desk and brought out an envelope. ‘This arrived for you two days ago.’

Dolly was taken aback. Mail? There shouldn’t be any mail for her — nobody even knew she was here. Dolly’s hand was shaking as she ripped open the envelope and read the cable inside. The receptionist was poised, pen in hand.

‘I don’t appear to have a forwarding address for you, Mrs. Rawlins. Would you...’ She stopped when she saw how shaken Dolly looked. ‘Are you all right, Mrs. Rawlins? Not bad news, I hope?’

Dolly hurriedly stuffed the cable in her pocket and picked up her bag. ‘You’ve had this how long? This cable?’

‘Two days, Mrs. Rawlins. You see, we had no forwarding address.’

Dolly was already on her way to the exit.

‘Please give Mr. Jarrow my apologies, I’m afraid I have to... I’m so sorry.’ And she was gone.

Harry was standing on the brow of a hill, looking down in to an orange grove. In a clearing he could see Tony leaning against his taxi, arguing with Jimmy, who was holding a handkerchief to his bleeding nose. The men were shouting at each other, but Harry couldn’t hear what they were saying.

He watched Jimmy turn on his heel and walk up the hill toward him. ‘He’s a cocky son of a bitch,’ Jimmy muttered as he reached Harry. ‘He’s only gone and butted me. Did you see ’im? He butted me one in the face!’

Harry’s mouth tightened. ‘Did you get the cash?’

Jimmy patted his bulging pockets. ‘There’s two grand. He said it’s all that’s left. He spent the rest. He’s also panicking. The police have been round asking questions, and his girl—’

Harry cut him off. ‘He tell them anything?’

Jimmy shrugged. He looked down at the taxi, then back to Harry. ‘What do you want me to do?’

Harry put his hand out. ‘Give me a coupla hundred.’

Jimmy fished a bundle of banknotes out of his pocket. Harry grabbed them and set off down the hill. Tony watched him approach, opened the door and got inside. Harry climbed in beside him.

‘He got no right to do that to me — you owed me, you know?’

Harry gave him an ice-cold stare. ‘I hear the police have been asking you questions. That right, Tony?’

‘Yeah. They been to see my girl, too, and I don’ like it!’

‘Nor do I.’ Harry smiled nastily. ‘So I think you better take a trip, clear off for a few days.’

‘What do you think I am?’

Harry moved fast, reaching over and gripping Tony’s balls hard before he knew what was happening. Tony was in instant agony.

‘You want to hang on to these, you better do as I say, all right?’ Harry snarled.

Tony could only nod.

Harry let go. ‘Here, enjoy yourself!’ He tucked some notes into Tony’s shirt pocket. As he got out of the car, he turned and leaned in close. ‘I don’t wanna see you round for a while, all right?’

Tony hunched over the steering wheel, his face a grimace of pain. Harry slammed the door and walked back up the hill. Jimmy met him on the path and they both watched as the taxi screeched off, raising a cloud of dust in its wake.

‘You shouldn’t have let him go, Harry.’

Harry shrugged. ‘We got enough money to fix me a passport?’

Jimmy nodded. ‘Yeah, I think so.’ He dabbed at his nose, and Harry could smell blood alongside the usual reek of sweat.

‘I need it quick. I’m leaving tonight.’ Harry started down the hill.

Jimmy hurried after him. ‘Maybe we could talk about that bit of business now? D’you wanna take a look at it?’

Harry just wanted to be rid of him. ‘Yeah, yeah, I’ll take a look at it for you.’

Jimmy was all over him. ‘That’s great!’

Harry snapped, ‘Don’t they sell deodorant round here, Jimmy? You stink!’ He stalked off, leaving a crestfallen Jimmy literally stewing in his own juice.

Dolly drove to the convent and parked in the courtyard. Fortunately it was lunchtime, and she was able to get to the lockers, rip off the posters and remove the bags without being seen. They were so heavy, she had to take them to the car one at a time. Just as she closed the boot on the last one, the Mother Superior appeared at her side, as if out of nowhere.

She smiled. ‘Mrs. Rawlins...’

Startled, Dolly whipped round.

‘How nice to have you back.’ The Mother Superior smiled graciously. ‘I hope you enjoyed your holiday.’

Dolly was desperate to get out. Suddenly she spotted a strap from one of the rucksacks sticking out of the boot. The Mother Superior watched as Dolly opened the boot and tucked it back in.

‘I was, er, just collecting a few belongings from the lockers...’ She desperately tried to think of an explanation. ‘For the Brownies.’

‘Oh, then you’ll be seeing Mrs. Gregory.’

Dolly stopped. ‘I’m sorry, who?’

‘Mrs. Gregory — Brown Owl.’

‘Oh... yes,’ Dolly stammered. ‘Yes, of course. I’m collecting these for Mrs. Gregory. I... I really must go.’

The Mother Superior watched Dolly’s little green Fiesta drive out of the main gates, then walked slowly back to the main door.

Strange woman, Mrs. Rawlins, she thought to herself, always seeming to be in a rush. But a good woman, she was sure; a very good woman.

Jimmy’s kitchen was littered with empty beer cans and dirty dishes as usual. Harry ripped the top off a beer can and took a deep pull while Jimmy leafed through an old copy of Vogue magazine Maria had brought back from the hotel where she worked as a cleaner. Harry wanted to get back to London as soon as possible, and the waiting was making him edgy.

Jimmy pushed the magazine over to Harry. ‘Here, Harry, take a look at this.’

Harry looked at the centerfold spread in front of him. Photographed on black velvet were rows and rows of the most exquisite rubies, diamonds and emeralds — necklaces, earrings, tiaras, rings. As Jimmy leaned over him, Harry again caught the stench of his BO.

‘I talked it over with Micky Tesco while he was stayin’ here. You know Micky, don’t you, Harry?’

Harry lit a cigarette with a bored expression and shook his head. He looked at his watch.

‘You sure this passport’s on its way?’

‘Yeah, the guy says he’ll ring soon’s it’s ready.’ Jimmy leaned closer. ‘Look at these babies, Harry. You know how much this lot’s worth? Eight million. That’s eight million quid’s worth right there. Turn over the page.’

Harry looked at his watch again as he flipped the page.

‘Look, Harry, I promise you, you’ll be on the plane. But you just look at the blurb down the side of the picture, there. Look what it says.’

Harry read it. It was advertising a forthcoming charity fashion show being put on at Amanda’s nightclub in three weeks’ time, and all the jewelry on display was lent by Asprey, Garrard, Nijinsky — you name it.

Harry frowned. So what?

Jimmy rummaged through a drawer and came back with a stack of photographs. He grinned at Harry.

‘Micky Tesco, he’s a sharp one. You sure you never heard of him?’

Harry sighed. ‘I told you, I don’t know Micky Tesco.’

‘He was on an embassy job. He’s a clever lad.’ Jimmy riffled through the photographs until he found the one he wanted, and placed it down proudly in front of Harry. It showed Jimmy with his arm round a tall, blond, handsome young man with a mean expression on his face.

Harry gave it a bored look.

‘You see, you gotta have a crack team, Harry. For eight million, it’d be worth forking out a bit for the best.’ He shoved the magazine under Harry’s nose. ‘All those little jewels will be on loan for the night. Look at ’em!’ He picked up the photograph of Micky. ‘He’s a good-looking feller, isn’t he? And he’s sharp, he’s very sharp, Harry.’ He shrugged. ‘But he’s young. He needs the right man with him — someone with your experience, someone who knows the ropes.’ Jimmy was still going on about it when the phone rang.

Harry jerked his head for Jimmy to answer.

As he picked up the phone, Jimmy was saying, ‘I’d go over there myself, Harry, I’d pull it myself, but if I set one foot in London you know what’s gonna happen to me.’

Harry knew only too well. Jimmy’s past history was well known in the business. Jimmy’d always been a loser — he’d pulled that job at the airport, was picked up for it and did eight years. The stash he’d had from it he’d left with his wife, Myra — £22,000. But Myra’s visits had soon stopped, and when poor old Jimmy got out of the nick there was no Myra, and no money. It turned out Myra had been having an affair with one of his closest mates. He had gone off to find him, his wife and his money. He never found his wife or his money, but he found the bloke, and he hit him a little bit too hard. He’d been on the run for two months when Harry had fronted him the money to get out of the country, and Jimmy had been in Rio ever since. Harry watched Jimmy talking on the phone and shook his head sadly. Poor Jimmy, always a loser, and now here he was, living in this shithole, still hustling, still after the big one.

‘Passport’s ready,’ Jimmy announced, putting the phone down. ‘You wanna come along with me and pick it up?’

Harry shook his head. ‘I’ll take a shower, get myself together.’

‘OK by me, Harry. I’ll be about half an hour.’ Halfway out of the door he grinned, paused and pointed a finger at the magazine spread. ‘Whaddya think, Harry? You could set it up, easy. It just needs somebody like you, Harry, to get things organized. It’ll be like taking jam from a baby. Just look at them!’

Harry shook his head. ‘It’s not for me, Jimmy. Better shift yourself, I wanna get that plane.’

Jimmy’s face fell. He opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, then just shrugged and walked out.

Harry lit a cigarette and pulled the magazine toward him. He looked at the picture of the gems for a moment, flicked through the rest of the magazine, then picked up the photograph of Micky Tesco. The blond, blue-eyed boy was tanned and fit, reminding him of himself when he was young. He threw the photograph down and went into the bathroom.

Dolly stood outside Mrs. Gregory’s house, carrying a large bouquet of daffodils. She rang the doorbell, stepped back and looked up. After a minute, she rang the bell again, and eventually a middle-aged woman opened the door.

Dolly smiled sweetly. ‘Mrs. Gregory? I’m from the convent. Mrs. Rawlins. I don’t believe we’ve met. Oh, these are for you.’

Dolly handed over the flowers and hovered on the doorstep, waiting to be asked in. ‘I’ve got a few things from the convent in the car. I wondered would it be possible to have the drill hall keys?’

Mrs. Gregory opened the door wide and gestured for Dolly to come in. In the lounge a very old lady was sitting by an electric fire, wrapped in blankets.

‘Mummy, this is Mrs... I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.’

‘Mrs. Rawlins, from the convent.’ Dolly smiled.

‘Mummy, this is Mrs. Rawlins from the convent,’ Mrs. Gregory repeated in a slightly louder voice. She turned to Dolly. ‘Do sit down — I won’t be a moment.’

Sitting in the worn armchair, Dolly smiled at the little old lady, who didn’t seem to be aware that anybody had entered the room, or that anything was going on around her at all. The room smelt of damp, polish and urine.

‘It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?’ Dolly said brightly.

No reaction whatsoever. When Mrs. Gregory eventually came back she was carrying a large bunch of keys.

‘I’m so sorry to keep you waiting. I will need these returned. Will you need them for very long?’

Dolly shook her head, smiling. ‘I just want to store a few things and I’ll bring them straight back to you.’

Mrs. Gregory fiddled with the keys and removed two large ones from the ring. ‘This one’s for the main door of the drill hall and this one is for the inner door. The vicar had a separate set, but, um, I think he lost them some time ago, so these are the only keys now. I’d be most grateful if you’d return them as soon as possible.’

‘Oh, I will,’ said Dolly. ‘I most definitely will.’

Mrs. Gregory leaned in closer to Dolly and whispered, ‘My mother’s totally senile now, I’m afraid. It’s so sad — she really doesn’t know what’s what. Her only joy in life used to be the Brownies; it was the only time she could get out of the house. You know I’m the Brown Owl...’

‘Yes, the Mother Superior said.’

‘Would you have a cup of tea?’

Dolly was worried about leaving the rucksacks in the car. ‘No, really... I ought be going as soon as I’ve put these bits and pieces in the drill hall. But thank you so much for your help.’

A look of real sadness spread over Mrs. Gregory’s face. Dolly realized how desperate for company she must be. The woman was probably her own age, and yet she seemed so old, so tired and worn.

After a moment, she said, ‘Actually, a cup of tea would be very nice.’

José entered the bedroom and shut the door quietly. The bathroom door was open and he could see Bella’s outline in the shower. She continued soaping herself, unaware of his presence. He turned away. Seeing the light on the side of the telephone was blinking, he picked it up as Bella stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel round herself.

‘I didn’t hear you come in.’

‘Oh, I am so sorry.’ He gestured that he was on the phone, then spoke rapidly in Spanish, or was it Portuguese? Bella could never understand.

‘Sim, sim, não obrigado, sim.’

Replacing the phone, he looked at Bella. She gave him a half smile and walked back to the bathroom. Following her, José leaned against the bathroom door. The en suite bathroom was enormous, with a huge sunken bath, sauna, Jacuzzi, shower, and thick-piled carpet. Bella could feel his eyes on her as she studied her face in the mirror.

‘Everything all right?’

He walked away from her into the bedroom. Bella knew something was wrong. She wrapped the towel tighter round her and followed him into the bedroom. He was slowly unbuttoning his shirt. He nodded toward the phone.

‘That was my friend, from this morning, you remember? The police?’

Bella bit her lip.

‘They found the taxi.’

She swallowed, trying to keep her voice normal. ‘I’ll tell Linda when she wakes up.’

José didn’t take his eyes off her, and Bella knew he was watching her every move. She sat on the stool in front of the dressing table, picked up a brush and looked at him in the mirror.

Slowly, José continued to unbutton his shirt. ‘Leenda is sleeping?’

‘Yes.’

‘They have the taxi, but not the driver. He appears to be missing.’ He stared hard at Bella and she met his eyes in the mirror. ‘But then, I don’t think you wanted him found, am I right?’

Bella put down the hairbrush and turned to face him. ‘It’s not that. It’s just that I think Linda’s been through enough.’ She stood up and moved sexily toward him, deciding to turn on the charm. ‘I’d like her to stay, but she won’t be persuaded. She wants to go back home, to see her mother.’

José knew she was lying. He sat down on the bed and kicked off one of his shoes. She touched his shoulder, but he shrugged her off.

‘Are you all right?’

He kicked off the other shoe. ‘I’m fine.’ He stood up and pulled down the zip of his trousers.

Bella reached out a hand to touch him. He stepped back. Then he suddenly reached forward and pulled the towel away from her. She stood, naked, in front of him. He looked her up and down, examining every inch of her body with a cold expression. She put her hands over her breasts.

‘Don’t... don’t do that...’

He flung the towel to the floor. ‘I wasn’t aware I was doing anything.’ He stepped out of his trousers and folded them neatly, all the time watching her with that icy look in his eyes.

She bent to pick up the towel and wrapped it round herself again.

‘Don’t you like me looking at you?’ he sneered.

Bella was starting to feel scared. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. She moved closer to him. ‘You know I do. I love you, you know that.’

Still he stared at her; his face was hard, not the gentle, loving José she knew.

‘Oh, you love me, do you? Because I’m rich?’

Bella gave a short laugh. ‘No!’

He reached for her left hand, the one with the diamond ring. ‘When are you coming back?’

Bella took that as a cue. She wrapped her arms round his neck and pulled him toward the bed. ‘I don’t want to go, and I don’t want to leave you.’

He allowed himself to be pulled onto the bed, and she lay on top of him, kissed his chest, his neck. ‘Mmm, I love you, I love every inch of you. I could eat you alive...’

He lay unmoving, not responding to her.

She leaned on an elbow and stared into his face. ‘I’m gonna make love to you, gonna give you something to remember me by while I’m gone.’

Then she kissed him again, licking round his ear, nibbling the lobe. Slowly she moved her hand down his body. Suddenly he pushed her, hard, and she fell to the floor. He stood up and walked into the bathroom. Bella remained in a heap on the floor, a trembling hand held to her mouth. He came back, wrapping a dressing gown round him, looking at her as if she was filth.

‘Take your friend, your cases and get out tonight.’

She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. ‘Has... Has Linda been talking about me?’

‘Please, just leave, both of you — and for God’s sake put something on.’

Bella slowly picked herself up and wrapped the towel round her.

‘Is that all you’re going to say? Just like that?’ She went to take his arm, but he jerked it away, still looking at her as if she was a piece of dirt.

His voice was very quiet, and full of pain. ‘I wanted you for my wife.’ For a moment his expression softened, and he looked almost bewildered. Then as quickly as it had gone, the hardness returned. ‘You... you don’t belong here anymore. I want you to go.’

‘What did she tell you?’ Bella almost screamed, her pain making her voice sound angry and spiteful. ‘What did she tell you?’

He said nothing, just looked at her with that stony gaze.

She spat out, ‘I don’t belong to anyone!’

He shrugged and walked into the bathroom. ‘Then you won’t mind leaving, will you?’ he said over his shoulder, and closed the door in her face.

Bella banged on the door. ‘Is that it? Is that all you’ve got to say?’

His answer was the loud click of the key turning in the lock.

Jimmy Glazier’s bathroom was very different from José Camarana’s — peeling paint, broken tiles, cracked loo seat, and a rusty shower with pink curtains half hanging off. Harry stood under the cold spray, having given up trying to get the water even a little warm. He swished the curtain back and it almost fell off its rail, as Jimmy banged on the door and pushed it open.

‘Right, my old son, one-a passaporta, an-a one-a ticket. Get a move on if you wanna make that plane!’

Harry waved for him to pass a towel. Jimmy glanced admiringly at Harry’s physique. He was still fit and muscular — very different from the flabby, paunchy Jimmy. He handed Harry the towel, then looked away, a bit embarrassed.

Harry wrapped the towel round his hips, picked up a razor and jerked his head toward the tub. ‘Ever taken a shower, Jimmy? Maybe ’bout time you tried one.’

Jimmy laughed. ‘Eh, do me a favor, they got nasty little thingies in the water here.’

Harry smiled and began to shave.

Jimmy walked into the scruffy kitchen. Maria was ironing Harry’s suit with a sullen expression on her face. The magazine was gone. He went into Harry’s bedroom and started poking round. He was just about to have a look in the holdall when Harry came in behind him.

‘Where’s that magazine?’ Jimmy asked.

Harry smiled again. ‘I’m gonna need something to read on the plane, aren’t I?’

Jimmy beamed. ‘So that means you’re interested, then?’

Harry shrugged. ‘Maybe. Tell you what, get hold of Tesco and tell him to pick me up at the airport. See if he can find me a place to stay an’ all.’

Jimmy couldn’t contain his excitement.

‘Right away, Harry. Anything you say, Harry.’

‘Good lad,’ Harry said. ‘And tell that wife of yours to get a move on with the suit.’

Jimmy scuttled off, almost bowing as he went. Maria was just putting the finishing touches to the suit when he went up behind her, put his arms round her and gave her a hug, singing, ‘We’re in the money, we’re in the money...’

She turned round with a smile — the first Jimmy had seen in weeks — to put her arms around him and he squeezed her harder. This is more like it, he thought. Then he caught sight of the iron over her shoulder and smelt burning.

‘Christ almighty, you stupid bitch! Now look what you’ve done!’

Dolly had to bend almost double to drag the rucksacks beneath the drill hall stage. The place was filthy with dust and grime, there were heaps of music stands, old curtains, bits of scenery, musical instruments, clowns’ costumes — anything and everything had been stashed beneath the stage for what looked like the last two hundred years. Dolly was covered in dust, two nails broken. She had just managed to push the third rucksack to the very back, and was heaping boxes and old curtains round it, when she heard the sound of clumping feet — not just one set of feet, but a whole horde of them — thudding across the stage above her head.

She heard a voice say, ‘Right, everybody, come along now, line up. Quietly, please!’

Oh, God, she thought. Now what?

The scoutmaster bellowed and screamed orders as more feet thudded across the stage, and as every little foot banged down, showers of dust fell on Dolly’s head and all over her clothes, and she thought, Christ, how long am I going to have to stay here?

Then a whistle blew, followed by a strange bellowing and screeching, as if a load of farm animals had just been let out onto the stage, and she realized what she was in for — a band rehearsal. Dolly remained crouched uncomfortably in the darkness as the boys struck up a discordant rendering of ‘When the Saints Go Marching In.’

Bella marched into Linda’s room and banged the cases down. She ripped the bedclothes off and Linda shot up, a frightened look on her face.

‘Well, you won, Linda. Don’t know what you told him about me, but he’s kicking us out. So get up — now!’ She picked something up from the table. ‘This your passport?’

‘Wh-what’s going on?’ Linda was still dopey from sleep.

Bella started searching through the drawers. ‘We’re leaving now, so get moving!’ Bella put Linda’s passport in her own bag, along with the tickets, then flung open the fitted wardrobes, took out Linda’s case and began throwing clothes into it.

Linda scrambled out of bed. ‘What’s happened, Bella?’

‘The police think they’ve found him.’

Linda grabbed her arm. ‘Rawlins? They’ve got Rawlins?’

Bella shrugged her off. ‘No, you idiot, the taxi driver. Now get dressed! The plane leaves in three-quarters of an hour; we’ll just make it if you bloody move yourself.’

Linda stumbled round the room, not sure where to start, what to do next.

Bella turned on her and grabbed her wrist viciously. ‘I tell you, Linda, if Harry Rawlins has laid so much as a finger on my money, I’ll kill ’im, so help me God I’ll kill ’im!’

Linda whimpered. She’d never seen Bella so angry, her face contorted with rage. Bella let go of Linda’s wrist, picked up her two suitcases and kicked her way out of the door. As she bumped her way awkwardly down the stairs, José emerged from his room, dressed formally in an elegant suit.

He leaned over the banister. ‘I’ve arranged for the car.’

Bella didn’t even turn. ‘That won’t be necessary, I’ll call a taxi.’

As she reached the bottom of the stairs, José’s chauffeur opened the front door, and at a nod from José, picked up Bella’s cases. She turned and began to walk back up the stairs. Midway she stopped, twisting the diamond ring off her finger.

Without looking at José, she said, ‘I almost forgot, you’ll want this back.’

He walked down to meet her. ‘Keep it,’ he said quietly.

‘Fair enough. I’m usually paid cash, but this will do nicely.’ She brushed past him without meeting his eyes.

Linda stood on the landing, clutching a beach bag bulging with clothes, along with a suitcase. Bella grabbed the case from her and started back down the stairs. Shaking, Linda held on to the banister. Linda gave José a weak smile, and he gave her his arm to help her down the stairs. When they reached the bottom, Bella yanked Linda roughly out of his grasp.

‘We can manage, thank you!’

Bella marched to the front door, with Linda in tow. Linda tried to speak to José over her shoulder.

‘Thank you for everything, you’ve been—’

Bella turned and gave her an almighty shove from behind. ‘Just get out, Linda.’

She pushed Linda on to the porch, then paused. She could feel José behind her, the force of his gaze. All of a sudden the anger seemed to drain out of her. She turned, tears in her eyes, wanting more than anything for him just to hold her one more time. For a moment she thought he would. He took a step forward. Bella moved toward him. And then he closed the door in her face.

Dolly Rawlins glanced at her watch as she paced up and down the pavement. She had left several messages on Vic Morgan’s answering machine, asking him to be at the office by nine o’clock. It was now nine twenty. She could feel her blood pressure rising.

A car pulled up outside his office building and Morgan got out.

‘You’re late, Mr. Morgan.’

Morgan knew better than to reply, just walked ahead of her into the building and up the stairs. He could feel her fuming behind him as he fiddled with the lock on the door. Finally he opened it, and she marched past him into his office. Determined not to be intimidated, he paused to fiddle with the handle and push in the loose screw, before following her.

Dolly placed a briefcase on his desk. ‘I want you to go to Australia House and get a visa for Trudie Nunn, and a baby. Make it out to be a big emergency. I’ve got two first class plane tickets, so she can have her kid next to her, and I want her on the first plane out of here. There’s ten thousand in cash and she is to go to the Hilton Hotel in Sydney. Are you listening, Mr. Morgan, I want that woman in Australia.’

Morgan hung his coat on a peg. It promptly fell to the floor. He picked it up and replaced it carefully. ‘I’m listening, Mrs. Marsh, go to Australia House and take that case to Mrs. Nunn...’

He looked her up and down. ‘You know you’ve got dust all down your back?’

Dolly brushed at her coat and realized that her hands were still grimy from the drill hall.

‘I need you to do it straight away. I don’t have much time.’ She watched Morgan walk round his desk, pick up his unopened mail and sit down. He seemed in no hurry whatsoever. ‘Mr. Morgan, I want that woman on that plane.’

He looked at her. ‘Why don’t you just slow down a minute, Mrs. Marsh?’

‘I don’t have the time, Mr. Morgan,’ Dolly snapped. ‘And I’m paying you by the hour, in case you’ve forgotten.’

Morgan began to rip open his letters. ‘I haven’t forgotten, Mrs. Marsh.’ He eased his chair over to the computer, turned it on and began to type out a set of figures. ‘May I inquire what’s in the case?’ he asked, without looking up from his typing.

Dolly didn’t answer.

He looked up at her. ‘You have a smudge here.’ He pointed to his cheek.

Dolly took out a handkerchief, spat on it and rubbed her cheek.

Morgan continued to type for a moment. ‘Are you paying Mrs. Nunn off? Is that it?’

Again Dolly ignored his question. She opened her handbag. ‘You’ll want another advance, I suppose?’

Morgan pressed a key and waited. As the paper chugged out of the printer, he tore off a sheet and handed it to her. ‘If you could just pay me what I’m due?’

Dolly glanced at the figures. ‘Fine. Now look, I want you to check her passport’s in order and take her to the airport. Just make sure that she gets on that plane. I’ll settle this when I—’

‘Now, if you don’t mind,’ he said with a firmness she hadn’t heard in his voice before. ‘And that’s the last work I’ll be doing for you, Mrs. Marsh.’

Dolly looked at him in surprise. He seemed deadly serious. Then slowly she started to smile. ‘Oh, I see. That’s how it is. How much do you want?’

‘It’s nothing to do with the money, Mrs. Marsh. I just don’t like being ordered about.’

He looked serious, but Dolly was sure he was just using the fact that the clock was ticking to get a bigger fee.

‘All right, I’ll pay you fifteen pounds an hour.’

He said nothing.

Dolly tapped her fingers on the desk. ‘Twenty. Twenty pounds per hour, but that’s my final offer.’

Morgan stood up, walked round the desk and picked up the briefcase.

‘No, thank you, Mrs. Marsh. And if you haven’t got the cash to pay me now, you can send it on. And don’t forget these.’ He handed her the plane tickets. ‘Good morning, Mrs. Marsh.’ He gestured toward the door.

Dolly remained seated. She really didn’t know what to do now.

‘Is that your final word?’

‘Like I say, Mrs. Marsh, I don’t mind doing the work, but I object to being treated like your skivvy.’

Dolly picked up the case, walked to the door, and then turned back to him. ‘Is it because I’m a woman?’

He shook his head. ‘That is immaterial, Mrs. Marsh. Now, if you’ll excuse me...’

Dolly realized she’d misjudged him. Trying to bully him or offering more money wasn’t going to work. She need to change tack — and quickly.

She dropped the case with a sob. ‘I’m sorry, Mr. Morgan. I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just that I’m...’ Another sob, louder this time. ‘...desperate.’

He sighed. ‘You really want this Trudie girl out of your way, don’t you?’

Quietly, almost in a whisper, Dolly said, ‘Yes, I do.’

‘You must be very fond of your sister.’

A look passed between them that said they both knew it was a lie, but Dolly pretended it hadn’t happened. She said simply, ‘My sister loves her husband, and I’m asking you to help me.’

She was hoping underneath it all, Morgan really was a soft touch. She waited for what seemed like an age while he scrutinized her, seemingly making up his mind. Finally he picked up the briefcase.

‘All right, Mrs. Marsh, you win. My fee stands at the usual rate, all right?’

‘Oh, thank you, thank you,’ she gushed, quickly exiting the office before he could change his mind.

Morgan sat at his desk and shook his head with a wry smile.

‘Women!’

Audrey’s hair was still done up in rollers, but apart from that she was dressed up to the nines. Tea was laid out on the small coffee table, the cushions neatly arranged, a nice bowl of flowers on the sideboard. Ray stood uneasily in front of the mantelpiece, hands stuffed in his pockets, afraid to sit down in case he got a yell from Audrey and had to fluff up the cushions again. For the last half hour she hadn’t been able to sit still, flitting in and out of the lounge like a mad thing while she got herself ready.

The doorbell rang, and Audrey started pulling the Carmen rollers from her hair, shouting, ‘That’s her. Ray, Ray...’

‘Let her in, shall I?’ he asked.

Audrey bustled back into the lounge. ‘You just sit down there. No, not on the cushions, over there, on the edge of the sofa.’ She ran her fingers through her hair and checked herself in the mirror one last time. ‘Right, I’ll let her in, then.’

‘Good idea,’ Ray said calmly. ‘But bear in mind she might think she’s come to the wrong house.’

Audrey started to the door, then turned back to him with a schoolmistress-like tone. ‘Now, you let me do the talking, Ray.’

He smiled and nodded.

As Audrey went to the door, Ray patted his pockets for cigarettes. He was starting to get a bit edgy now. Damn. He opened a cigarette box on the mantelpiece and tinny music started tinkling, while a little ballerina turned round and round, but the box was empty. He could hear Audrey in the hall, shouting and whooping with joy, and another, lower voice laughing along with her. Shirley entered the room first, carrying a vanity case, and clutching several packages under her arm. She saw Ray and stopped in her tracks.

Audrey nudged her further into the room. ‘Go in, go in.’

Shirley and Ray stood looking at each other.

‘Ray, this is Shirley. Shirley, this is Ray, Raymond Bates.’

‘I’ve heard a lot about you, Shirley, love.’ Ray smiled.

Shirley didn’t say anything. She obviously hadn’t heard a word about Ray.

‘I’ll put the kettle on; you must be gasping for a cuppa,’ he said, trying to ease the tension.

‘Come on, love, sit down, sit down,’ Audrey said as he left the room. ‘Ooh, you look lovely. I wanna hear all about your trip.’

Shirley remained standing. ‘Has Dolly Rawlins called?’

Audrey shrugged. ‘Why would she? I thought she was on holiday with you.’

She was starting to worry that something was wrong, but still couldn’t help eyeing the pile of presents. Shirley finally sat down and handed them over. Audrey started ripping off the tissue paper with a lot of oohs and aahs — her favorite perfume, a couple of boxes of chocolates, and then she took out the beautiful silk nightdress.

Ray came back in. ‘Kettle’s on.’ Then he looked at Shirley and back to Audrey.

‘Photos don’t do her justice, Aud.’

Shirley said nothing. Audrey held up the nightdress, trying to cover the embarrassment. ‘Oh Ray, look, it’s silk, isn’t it, Shirley?’

‘You got your fags down ’ere, gel?’ he asked.

Audrey began undoing her second parcel. ‘A dressing gown. Oh, Shirley, you shouldn’t... Look at this!’ She took out a necklace. It was all bananas and cherries in bright plastic. ‘Oh, this is lovely, really lovely. You get this in Los Angeles, did you? Ohh, it’s beautiful!’

Shirley jerked her head toward the door. ‘He seems to be making himself at home. Permanent fixture, is he, Mum?’

Audrey dropped the necklace. ‘Now don’t you start, you only just got ’ere.’

They could hear Ray whistling in the kitchen. He popped his head round the door. ‘I can’t find the fags, Aud.’

Audrey gave him a look. ‘Come and sit down, Ray, and talk to Shirley.’

Ray remained standing in the doorway. ‘Better not sit down,’ he said with an awkward grin, nodding at the cushions. ‘She’ll have a fit if I put a dent in them.’

Shirley took a carton of cigarettes out of her vanity case. She didn’t look at Ray as she started unwrapping them. ‘So, you’re living with my mother, are you?’

Vic Morgan sat in a rickety chair in Trudie Nunn’s scruffy lounge and listened to the baby’s cries coming from the bedroom. The smell of baby sick hung over the room. Toys lay on the floor, dirty crockery on the table. He wondered what on earth Mrs. Marsh’s so-called sister’s husband was doing getting himself involved in this situation.

The baby carried on crying. How long was she going to be in there? He drummed his foot on the floor. It had taken him a while to get her confidence. At first she didn’t want to let him in at all. But then he said that he’d got something for her. He handed her the briefcase and the note, and the plane tickets, and she’d taken them into the bedroom.

He got up and tapped on the bedroom door. ‘Mrs. Nunn, if you wanna get your passport sorted out we really should make a move. Mrs. Nunn?’

There was no reply.

He wandered round the room again. He stared at the photograph of a young, smiling boy on the mantelshelf. He wondered if that was her husband. There must be a Mr. Nunn somewhere round the place.

Trudie Nunn sat in the bedroom, the open briefcase in front of her. She kept touching the money, not quite believing her eyes. Then she picked up the single sheet of notepaper. It said simply, Trudie, get over to Australia. Sydney. Hilton Hotel. I am waiting. Ask the messenger no questions, just be on that plane. Harry.

Again Trudie touched the money. It was almost as if he was in the room with her.

She whispered over and over to herself, ‘Harry, I’m coming... I’m coming, Harry.’

He hadn’t let her down after all. He’d said he would send for her, and now he had, and nothing was going to stop Trudie from joining him.

Shirley could hear Audrey shouting ‘Ta-ra’ to Ray from the hallway. The front door slammed. The remains of the tea was still on the coffee table. Audrey came back into the room, blabbing on about Shirley’s lovely suitcases in the hall, how she always loved matching suitcases, that it was the height of fashion to have everything matching, that one day she’d always have everything matching — shoes, handbag, luggage, the lot — it showed good taste. On and on she prattled. Shirley waited for her to run out of steam.

Eventually Audrey came out with it. ‘Well, what d’ye think of him? Good-looking, isn’t he?’

Shirley snorted.

‘Well, he might not be your type...’ Audrey said in a hurt voice.

Shirley sighed. ‘No, he isn’t, and you know why? He’s got “small-time villain” stamped right across his forehead, Mum, just like all the others you’ve dragged back ’ere. When will you ever learn?’

‘What about your Terry?’ Audrey snapped back. ‘He wasn’t exactly Prince Charles, was ’e?’

Shirley ignored her. ‘’E’s married, isn’t ’e? You don’t have to tell me — you’ve gone an’ done it again, ’aven’t you?’

Audrey stood up with an angry expression on her face. ‘You watch your mouth, my girl!’

Neither of them said anything for a minute. Audrey busied herself clearing the tea table. Then Shirley picked up the large parcel on the sofa.

‘Can you give this to Greg?’ It was a tracksuit she’d got her brother in Los Angeles.

Audrey didn’t look up. ‘You can give it to Greg yourself — he’s living at your place.’

‘My place? Greg’s living at my place?’

With the cutlery still in her hand, Audrey turned to face her daughter. ‘I don’t know what’s come over you. You’ve changed, you know that? You’ve changed.’

Shirley picked up her vanity bag and walked out, pausing at the door to say, ‘Well, I’m glad one of us has, Mum.’

She slammed the door behind her.

After a moment’s trouble with the sticky door handle, Morgan entered his office and played back the messages on his answering machine. The first call was the mechanic from the garage, regretfully informing him his beloved old Rover needed a lot of work if it was going to pass its MOT. The second call, at 8:30, was from Mrs. Marsh, asking if Trudie Nunn had made the plane. The third call was also from Mrs. Marsh, with the same question only in a slightly tenser tone of voice. Morgan was just about to see if the rest of his messages were from Mrs. Marsh, when he heard the doorknob rattling.

‘Push, Mrs. Marsh!’ he called out.

The door opened and Dolly walked in. ‘How did you know it was me?’

‘She’s on the plane, Mrs. Marsh, with the kid. I have a couple of receipts for you — and a dry-cleaning bill. The little nipper was sick down me twice.’

Dolly smiled. ‘I’m sure that never happened to Humphrey Bogart.’

Morgan laughed. ‘No, and I don’t come when people whistle, either.’ He looked at her. ‘So you just wanted to make sure I’d done my job?’

‘No, not just that.’ She handed him a photograph. ‘This is my sister’s husband. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to bring it to you, but now I want you to keep watching Trudie Nunn’s house to see if he turns up, and, if he does, to follow him and find out where he goes.’

‘Ha-ha!’ said Morgan. He looked at the photograph, then at Dolly. ‘So now you’ve paid off the girlfriend, you think lover-boy will want to find out where she’s gone?’

Dolly nodded.

‘How long do you want me to watch Mrs. Nunn’s place? Couple of days?’

Dolly shrugged.

‘I see, until he shows, right?’

Dolly nodded. ‘I have to go. No, please, don’t get up, I’ll practice with the door myself.’ She wiggled the doorknob once, opened it with a click, and left.

Morgan leaned back in his chair and began whistling between his teeth. He swiveled round and played back the rest of the messages on the answering machine. Nothing important, one Mrs. Windsor wondering if he would call her at his convenience. Then the bleep, bleep of someone hanging up, then another call from Mrs. Marsh, again inquiring if Trudie had made it to the airport. She was certainly very persistent, and determined to get that woman out of England and as far away as possible in Australia. He looked hard at the photograph Mrs. Marsh had given him, then turned the answering machine off.

He tapped the photograph with his finger. Where had he seen this face before? When he suddenly remembered, he shot forward in his chair. Of course, Harry Rawlins.

Morgan picked up the phone, dialed and waited.

‘Detective Inspector Resnick there?’

The reply came back that Resnick was retired.

‘I see. D’you know where I can find him?’

Shirley just about hit the roof when she saw the state of her house. It looked as though it had been used as a Salvation Army doss-house for six months. Every room was a mess, especially the one where there were two rolled-up sleeping bags. Greg had shuffled and sniffed, and said all he was doing was looking after the place. He was going to get it all tidy, he just didn’t know when she was coming home, that’s all.

Shirley had made herself hoarse screaming at him as she marched from room to room, each one more of a tip than the last. ‘I can’t tell you how disgusted I am. You and your lousy friends are nothing but layabouts, lazy, no-good—’

‘All right, all right.’ Greg went and got a duster and some spray polish and started cleaning up in a half-hearted manner.

Shirley opened the fridge. She couldn’t believe the stench — rotting bags of carrots, onions, cabbage, food that must have been left for weeks. She put on a pair of rubber gloves and began chucking them into a black plastic bin bag. She opened the crisper at the bottom of the fridge, which was packed tightly with videotapes. She took a handful out and looked at the labels. Big Boobies and Suspenders, Flesh and Sex of a Superman, Supergirl and Supersex.

Shirley stormed into the hall. ‘Greg, what are these doing in the fridge?’ she yelled. ‘They’re pornographic!’

Greg shrugged and carried on polishing. ‘Nah, they’re educational!’

‘Oh, sure, “Big Boobies and Suspenders”! I’m gonna burn these!’

Greg put his duster down. ‘Aw, leave it out, Shirl, they’re Ray’s.’

Shirley looked at him. ‘Ray? Ray who?’

Greg shrugged. ‘You know, Mum’s boyfriend. They’re his.’

‘Oh, they’re Ray’s, are they? Right, I’m going round there.’

Linda and Bella’s flight from Rio had been an excruciating experience. Bella had refused to speak for most of the journey, and when she did, it was only to bite Linda’s head off. So Linda had tried watching a film, and mercifully had eventually fallen asleep.

Now she was sitting miserably by the luggage turntable, while Bella went off to get a trolley.

Linda’s head was throbbing, her eye hurt, she was feeling nauseous all the time. She watched the suitcases going round and round, then spotted Bella lugging the cases off the turntable. Linda looked round the baggage section — and then gasped. Heading almost directly toward her was Harry Rawlins, carrying a small holdall. He was wearing a creamy linen suit, and had dark glasses on, but Linda was sure it was him. She was frozen with terror, unable to move as he walked within ten feet of her — and straight past, looking neither left nor right, toward the ‘Nothing to Declare’ channel. As he reached it he removed his dark glasses and slipped them into his top pocket. He looked round him, and for a moment Linda was sure he had seen her. She needed to warn Bella.

At that moment, Bella appeared with the trolley, laden with all their cases. Linda jumped up.

‘Bella! Don’t look round, but Harry Rawlins is here — he’s going through Customs!’

‘You’re imagining things, Linda.’ Bella turned and stood with her hands on her hips, scanning the passengers going through Customs. ‘Must have been someone who looks like him. Come on, grab your case and let’s get out of here.’

It was late at night, and on the other side, there were only a handful of people waiting at the arrivals barrier. Leaning casually against the barrier, one man in particular stood out. Blond and handsome, his muscular physique bulging under his fashionable Italian suit, Micky Tesco glanced at the arrivals board, and the flashing light told him that Flight 432 from Rio had landed.

He checked his watch and looked slowly round the terminal. A good-looking red-headed airline stewardess caught his eye and he gave her the once-over, from the top of her head down to the heels of her shoes. She turned toward him, as if she’d felt him looking at her, and smiled. She was fit, all right, and he knew he could pull her, easy. But he turned back to the arrivals gate without returning her smile. He had other fish to fry.

Harry came down the walkway in a scruffy suit and in need of a shave. Micky Tesco did a double-take. No way that tramp could be the man he was waiting to meet — the man, Mr. Harry Rawlins. He looked over toward the lounge, wondering where the redhead had gone to.

At the same time, Harry spotted Micky and made his way over. He sidled up behind him while he was looking the other way and quietly said one word: ‘Tesco.’

Micky jumped round, startled. Rawlins nudged him forward. ‘Keep moving to the end of the barrier. Any minute now, two women, one white and one black, will be coming through Customs. I want you to stay on their arses, find out where they’re staying.’

They spoke for a few more seconds, and then Tesco handed Harry a set of keys, and Harry quickly made his way out of the building.

Tesco walked back to the arrivals gate, just in time to see Linda and Bella emerge from the Customs Hall. Linda was leaning heavily on the trolley. Very pale, she looked as if she might pass out, while Bella just stared dead-eyed, her lips pursed. It was very easy for Tesco to slip quietly behind them and follow them to the exit and out to the taxi rank, neither paying any attention to the blond man sauntering along behind them.

If Dolly Rawlins’ rented flat was threadbare and seedy, it was luxurious in comparison to the flat Micky Tesco had rented for Harry. But at least it had a phone, and the first thing Harry did when he arrived was put in a call to Gordon Murphy.

Gordon Murphy was an old-timer. Quiet, a bit of a loner, he’d spent most of his life in and out of prison, though right now he was living with his mother. He’d worked for Harry for years and Harry knew he could trust him. Gordon had a great respect for Harry and, even if the man called from the grave, Gordon Murphy wasn’t going to ask any questions.

As Harry replaced the receiver, Micky Tesco let himself in. Harry hadn’t realized he had his own set of keys.

‘You could have knocked first,’ he said irritably. ‘How d’you make out, then?’

Micky dropped the keys with a shrug and sat down, putting his feet up on the rickety coffee table, showing off his shiny cowboy boots. Harry didn’t like his manner. A bit too self-assured; a bit too cocky.

Micky took a piece of paper from his jacket pocket and looked at what he’d written: The white chick got dropped off at a basement flat in Kensington. The black girl went on to a place up west, Phoenix House, behind the theater.

Rawlins put his hand out for the scrap of paper. ‘This place is a doss-house. I need groceries, booze, soap — there’s a list on the table there. I also need a motor. You got one lined up for me?’

Tesco replied sullenly, ‘Yeah, picking one up tomorrow.’

‘What time?’

‘’Bout ten.’

‘Right, see what you can get now, and bring the rest tomorrow.’

Tesco took that as his cue to get up and leave. He made sure Harry could see he was in no hurry. As he got to the door, he said, ‘I’ll be right back then, Harry.’

Harry was already dialing a number. He didn’t look up. ‘Mister Rawlins to you, son.’

Tesco thought he was joking and laughed. But when Harry turned to look at him, he knew he was serious. Tesco nodded and walked out.

Bella had rented her little one-room flat to Carla, a black girl she’d once worked with in a show. They’d become good friends, but Carla wasn’t exactly pleased to see her when Bella arrived. She’d expected to have the flat for at least three months, and now she was going to have to find somewhere else.

‘Sorry, darling,’ Bella said, ‘but that’s just the way life goes.’ Once she saw what a mess the flat was in, however, she eased up a bit. Carla would need some time to clean up. ‘Tell you what, I’ll book into a hotel tonight, but tomorrow... sorry.’

Carla walked Bella to the door and put her arms round her. ‘That’s OK. Things didn’t work out, eh?’

For a moment Bella looked as though she was going to cry. Then she just shrugged. ‘No, no, they didn’t. See you tomorrow then, kid. I’m sorry about this.’

Carla shut the door, leaning on it for a moment. Ohhh, shit. Now what am I gonna do? she thought. She went and picked up an old suitcase and started throwing her clothes into it.

Harry liked the fact that Gordon Murphy didn’t question his miraculous reappearance. Harry was alive, and that’s all that seemed to matter. Murphy was a big man, six foot two, and well-built but still slim-looking. He wore tinted, rimless glasses, which gave him a slightly chilling look. He had brought Harry a bottle of vodka, wrapped in tissue paper.

As he handed it over, he said, ‘I remembered your tipple, Harry. Vodka, that’s right, isn’t it?’

Harry smiled, slapping him on the back. He put the bottle on the coffee table, while Murphy went into the kitchen and found some glasses. Harry poured two large measures, and the two men clinked glasses and took a good belt.

‘Good to see you, Harry.’

Harry patted his arm. ‘I don’t want anyone to know I’m around, yeah?’

‘Sure, Harry.’

Harry knew his secret was safe with Murphy. He refilled their glasses and they both had another drink. Murphy put his glass down.

‘So, you need me to do something for you, Harry?’

‘Yeah, Gordon, I do.’ Harry proceeded to tell Murphy as much as he needed to.

Murphy listened in silence, then said, ‘If these girls know where Dolly is, then I’ll find her.’

Harry smiled. ‘I knew I could rely on you, Gordon.’ He looked embarrassed for a moment. ‘Look, I’m a bit strapped for cash at the moment, but I’ll see you all right in a couple of days.’

Murphy looked into Rawlins’ face, very serious, and said, ‘Have this one on me — for old times’ sake, Harry.’

‘Cheers, Gordon.’

Gordon stood up, and Harry helped him into his coat, noticing how carefully he did up each button before he walked to the door.

‘How’s your mother?’ Harry asked.

Murphy sighed. ‘Not too good. Housebound now, but she’s still a game old bird.’

‘I’ll bet she is.’ Harry smiled.

At the door, Murphy said, ‘I’ll find her for you, Harry, you just leave it with me.’

Harry nodded. He knew that if anybody in London could find his wife, Gordon Murphy would — and no one would ever know about it.

Linda couldn’t get warm. She switched on the electric fire in the lounge, then the one in the bedroom, and she put on the electric blanket before getting into bed, but she still couldn’t get warm. She felt cold and lost, the flat so full of memories of Joe. She got out of bed and went down to the kitchen. The fridge contained half a bottle of rotten, stinking milk. She shut the fridge door and walked out of the basement and up the steps, wearing her dressing gown and fluffy slippers. She pressed the buzzer on the main door for old Mrs. Johnson upstairs. The old lady took her time, and Linda had to ring again. Eventually a feeble little voice asked who it was.

Linda put her mouth close to the intercom. ‘It’s Linda, from downstairs. Can I borrow some milk?’

The buzzer went and Linda slipped into the house, just as Gordon Murphy appeared. He took a quick look at the house, then headed down the basement steps. He rang the bell and waited, pressed again and waited some more. He peered through the window, rang the bell again, then flipped open the letterbox. He stood back and looked the door over — not too hard to break in, he reckoned.

He’d just check the other girl first.

Linda was opening the main door of the house just as Murphy came back up the basement steps. She stepped back sharply, pulling the door almost closed and watching him through the crack. When he was out of sight she scurried down the stairs and in through her own door, her hands shaking so much she could hardly open it. She wanted to call somebody, anybody, but she couldn’t think of anyone, so she made sure the front door was locked and got into bed. She could see her reflection in the mirror. Her face was white, her eye still bruised, and the line from nose to cheek brought back an overpowering memory of how close she had come to being killed.

She lay back on the pillow and the tears came. After a long time, she cried herself to sleep.

Carla had almost finished packing. She had called up all her friends to see if anyone would let her crash the next couple of weeks, but it was always the same — no room at the inn. Everybody knew Carla; she was always looking for a place to stay. Her transistor radio was playing Diana Ross, and Carla hummed along. The doorbell rang.

She yelled, ‘It’s open!’

There was no answer.

‘It’s open!’

She thought maybe it was Bella coming to check up on her. She began folding a dress before placing it in the suitcase.

The door slowly opened, and Gordon Murphy stood there. His voice was very quiet.

‘Just unpacking? Have a good trip, did you?’

Carla almost jumped out of her skin. ‘Who the hell are you?’

Murphy stepped into the flat. ‘I just want to ask you a few questions, darlin’. Tell me what I want to know and you won’t get hurt.’

She just stared at him, terror in her eyes.

‘Where’s Dolly Rawlins?’

‘I... er... who?’ she stammered.

‘Come on, don’t mess me about — Dolly Rawlins,’ he repeated, moving closer.

Carla started backing away. ‘I dunno what you’re talkin’ about.’

Murphy removed his tinted, rimless glasses, putting them very carefully into his jacket pocket.

‘I don’t wanna hurt you, Bella, but I’m not gonna ask you again. Where’s Dolly?’

Carla wanted to tell him that she wasn’t Bella, that she’d never heard of Dolly Rawlins, but she was so scared she couldn’t speak. Murphy picked up a pillow and moved toward her, while Diana Ross kept on singing in the background.

Murphy was a pro. That was one of the things Harry liked about him. Carla didn’t even have time to cry out.

Audrey was sitting in the kitchen in her dressing gown. She felt the way she looked, pale and drawn, and the last thing she wanted to do was have an argument with Shirley, who was standing there with a paper carrier bag full of pornographic videos. Shirley dumped them noisily onto the table.

‘They’re porn, Mum, and they were in my fridge!’

Audrey giggled nervously. ‘How d’you know? Watch them, did you?’

‘Not funny, Mum. Did you have any idea what Greg has been up to in my house? As far as I can see, he’s been running a porn movie rental service. And who do you think gave them to Greg in the first place? None other than your new, oh-so-straight, oh-so-honest, live-in lover-boy, Ray!’

Audrey suddenly came over all dizzy.

Shirley looked at her. ‘You all right, Mum?’

Audrey rubbed her tummy. ‘Yeah, just a bit of wind.’

As if on cue, Ray Bates breezed into the kitchen. ‘Hello, Aud, me old darlin’! Shirley...’ He turned and opened the kitchen door further. ‘Come on in, Micky!’

Micky Tesco followed Ray in. Ray made a great show of introducing Micky to Audrey, and then to Shirley. Micky came out with the usual smooth banter.

‘Oh, you don’t look old enough — daughter? Where they been keepin’ you hidden, then?’

Shirley wasn’t amused and didn’t reply. Audrey filled Micky in about her daughter being in Los Angeles as she got up, put the kettle on and opened the biscuit tin. Tesco was still giving Shirley the once-over.

‘What kind of work d’you do, then?’

Audrey answered for Shirley again. ‘Model. She’s a model. That’s why she’s been in Los Angeles, modeling.’

Ray gave Audrey a pat on the bum. ‘Any chance of a butty, Aud? Fancy a cup of tea, Micky?’

Micky looked at his watch. ‘Another time, Ray. If you just get that log book, I’ll be on my way.’

Ray whispered to Audrey that Micky’d just bought his Jag. ‘Nice bit o’ business.’

Tesco pulled a chair from under the kitchen table and sat down.

‘So what kinda business you in?’ Shirley asked him.

Tesco examined his cowboy boot. ‘Property.’

Shirley wasn’t really listening. She picked up her handbag. ‘So you’ll have a word with Greg about the videos, Mum?’

Ray came back into the kitchen with the log book.

‘Oh, how’s that little skiver, then?’ Not waiting for an answer, he gave Tesco the log book.

Shirley gave Ray another of her cool looks. ‘Greg’s fine. He’s moving back ’ere — if that’s all right with you, Ray?’ she added in a sarcastic tone.

Ray gave Audrey a look, then glanced back at Shirley. It was awkward that she didn’t like him, but right now he didn’t really care. He’d just done a very nice little bit of business. The motor trade wasn’t doin’ all that well, and to get that Jag off his hands was very satisfying.

Tesco carefully went over the log book, then reached in his jacket pocket and handed Ray an envelope. The two men shook hands and Tesco turned to Shirley.

‘You wanna lift anywhere?’

Shirley shook her head. ‘I’ve got my own car, thanks.’

Tesco shrugged and opened the kitchen door for her. Shirley gave a little wave to her mum, completely ignoring Ray, and walked out. Tesco gave Ray a wink and followed her.

As the door closed behind him, Audrey put the teapot on the table. ‘You know, Ray, you should try and fix that boy up with Shirley. He seems very nice, and ever so handsome!’

Ray nodded distractedly. He was too busy counting the money.

Harry didn’t think much of the Jag. He walked round it, kicked the wheels, then got behind the wheel and revved up the engine.

‘How much you lay out for this heap of shit?’

That was the last straw for Tesco. He was still steaming about the list Harry had just handed him, with strict instructions to bring it all back to the flat by three o’clock. The list included shirts from Turnbull & Asser, suits, shoes, socks, underpants — Tesco couldn’t believe it.

‘What the friggin’ hell d’ye think I am? Cash and carry?’

Harry was still revving the engine, watching the blue smoke coming out of the exhaust.

‘Jimmy never said nothin’ about me toggin’ you out!’

Harry switched off the engine. ‘How much have you got to play with, then?’ he asked without even looking at Tesco.

Micky puffed himself up. ‘I got plenty! Nearly eight grand.’

Harry laughed. ‘Eight! You got eight grand? I said to Jimmy, “No cutting corners on this caper.”’ He was fiddling with the dashboard, still not looking at Tesco. ‘You couldn’t organize a raid on a sweetshop for that.’

Tesco snapped. ‘I don’t see you dippin’ your hand into your pocket, Mister Rawlins. You matched my eight grand yet? How many men we got in yet? Zero! There’s nobody. You an’ me, that’s all there is, an’ all I’m doin’ is schleppin’ round buyin’ you gear!’

Harry finally turned to him. ‘Your eight grand, son, is a piss in the ocean. I’m gonna have to cover you twenty times over. Now, you just get the shoppin’, darlin’, and do what I tell you.’ Harry switched the engine back on and put the car in gear.

Tesco hung on to the window. ‘Hey, just a second, how am I gonna get about? I left my car up at Ray’s...’ He almost fell into the street as Harry drove off. ‘Son of a bitch!’ He screwed up Harry’s list and threw it after the car as it disappeared down the road.

When Bella let herself in to her flat, the first thing she noticed was the radio, lying on its side in the hallway, as if it’d been thrown against the wall. It was still playing. She picked it up and turned it off.

‘Carla?’ she called out. Bella pushed open the bedroom door. The room was a shambles — chairs broken, stuff strewn all over the floor, the whole place smashed up. The bed was piled with sheets, blankets, clothes and suitcases.

At first, Bella didn’t see Carla, just heard a soft mewing, almost like a kitten, and then she realized it was coming from underneath all the debris on the bed. Bella began pulling everything away and found Carla curled up like a baby. She was whimpering. Bella got down on her knees.

‘Baby, oh baby... What happened to you?’

Slowly, Carla turned her face toward Bella. It was black and blue, her lips split open, one eye closed. Her nose was caked with blood that still dripped down her face. As Bella pulled the sheets back, she saw the state of Carla’s body — bruises covered almost every inch of her. But all Carla could whimper was, ‘My face, my face...’

Bella stood in shock for a moment, then went to pick up the phone. It had been torn from the wall. She went back to the bed.

‘Just lie still, baby, I’ll get an ambulance. Please don’t move, darling.’

Carla struggled to talk. ‘Thought I was you... said he wanted...’

Bella was down on her knees again. ‘What? What, darlin’?’

All she could get out was the word ‘Dolly’.

Bella leaned in closer. ‘What about Dolly?’

But all she heard Carla mutter from between her puffy, bruised lips was, ‘My face, my face...’

As Bella stood to go for an ambulance, she caught sight of herself in the broken mirror, and knew that that bruised and beaten face could so easily have been her own.

Harry used his key to enter Trudie Nunn’s flat. And the first thing he noticed was how clean and tidy it was. In the kitchen everything was spotless. When he pushed open the bedroom door, he could see that the bed was stripped. He walked round the flat again to make sure, then kicked over a chair in frustration.

Trudie was gone.

On the floor by the chair he saw a tiny teddy bear. He recognized it as the one his baby had clung to from birth and in a sudden flash he saw the boy, sucking at the toy. He bent to pick it up. It was small enough to fit in the palm of his hand.

The front door suddenly opened and a big, blowsy woman marched in. ‘Flat’s gone, went this morning.’

Harry didn’t turn. ‘Where’s Trudie? And the kid?’

‘Little bitch did a moonlight, didn’t she, with some bloke. Owed rent, milk bill... You a friend of hers? She owes me rent, you know!’

He pushed past her to the door. She followed him, and then stopped.

‘Hey, you, just a minute — how d’you get in?’ But Rawlins was already running down the stairs. The landlady looked over the banisters. ‘Dirty, filthy little slut,’ she muttered to herself.

Dolly poured a cup of tea and took it to Bella. They were all at Linda’s flat — Dolly, Linda, Bella and Shirley. Bella was in a terrible state, almost hysterical.

Dolly quietly asked her again. ‘You sure? You’re sure it was Harry?’

Bella knocked the cup of tea out of Dolly’s hand. ‘How many bastards are lookin’ for you, Dolly? He said your name — it was you he was asking for, over and over as he hit her, he kept on asking for you!’

‘Did he think Carla was you?’ Linda asked in a frightened voice.

Bella turned on her. ‘Course he bloody did! I’m black, she’s black — we all look alike in the dark, you stupid bitch!’ Bella leaned forward to slap her, but Dolly caught her hand.

‘Now just take it easy, Bella. Pull yourself together!’

Bella jerked her hand away. ‘What’s she asking me stupid questions for, Dolly? It was Harry, I’m telling you. It was Harry Rawlins!’

Shirley was on her knees, mopping up the spilled tea. Dolly picked up the cup and the broken saucer.

‘Well, we know one thing: the money’s safe.’

There was no reaction. No whoops of joy.

‘But we still can’t exchange it yet,’ Dolly explained. ‘We’ve got to find someone we trust to handle it.’ She glanced at Shirley, who was still mopping up the tea. Her skirt was badly stained. ‘You all right, darlin’?’ Dolly asked.

‘Yeah.’ Shirley turned to Bella. ‘That was stupid!’

Dolly went into the kitchen. She could hear the two of them arguing. It was all so stupid, all their bickering, but she knew it was because they were frightened. She sighed and went back in.

‘I think it would be for the best if we all stayed together from now on. Shirley, your place is big enough. Maybe we should all stay there.’

Shirley frowned. ‘Why my place?’

Suddenly, Bella screamed. Dolly almost jumped out of her skin. They all stared at Bella.

‘My diamonds, the earring — I’ve lost it!’

‘What does it look like?’ Linda asked.

‘Like the other one, you stupid bitch!’ Then she turned to Shirley. ‘If we’re all gonna be stayin’ with you, darlin’, you better keep her outta my sight!’

Shirley looked at Dolly pleadingly. ‘I’ve only just got rid of me brother, Dolly. I was looking forward to some peace and quiet.’

Sister Teresa stood on top of a ladder, filling the lockers with hymn books. As she worked, the Mother Superior entered the room.

‘Did Mrs. Rawlins leave anything behind when she took her rucksacks, Sister?’

‘No, Mother Superior. I checked and they were all empty.’ Sister Teresa looked down. She gasped when she saw a man standing by the door. Harry waited patiently.

The Mother Superior turned to the man, smiling sweetly. ‘I’m sorry, Mr. Smith, I’m afraid you must have been mistaken. The lockers, as you just heard, were empty.’

Harry parked outside his old home. The ‘For Sale’ sign had ‘Sold’ stamped across it. The doors were shuttered and the windows barred. Harry walked up the garden path, wondering how many times he’d done it over the years. He also wondered why he was walking up the path now. He stood at the front door, but didn’t get out his key, knowing the locks would have been changed months before.

A shiny BMW pulled up near the gate and he could see his lawyer, Sutcliffe, behind the wheel, staring at him as if he’d just seen some kind of apparition. Harry walked round the car, opened the passenger door and got in.

All Sutcliffe could say was, ‘Christ almighty, Harry...’ He gazed at him, shaking his head.

Eventually, Harry said, ‘Look, it’s me, Barry, all right? Take a good look. Wanna touch me?’

Sutcliffe’s mouth went dry. He kept licking his lips. He didn’t know where or how to begin.

Harry decided he’d better get on with it. ‘She sell the house?’

Sutcliffe nodded, loosening his tie. Harry kept staring toward the house. He was miles away, thinking about other times, long gone.

‘It’s not the only thing she sold, Harry.’ Sutcliffe shook his head in exasperation. ‘You should have told me, Harry. Dear God, why didn’t you call me, let me know what the hell was going on? I thought you were dead, Harry. You should have let me know!’

Harry didn’t reply. He couldn’t drag his eyes away from the house. When he finally spoke, his voice seemed strange, strained. ‘Got a cigarette, Barry?’

Sutcliffe rummaged round in his pockets, then opened the glove compartment and brought out a packet of cigarettes. His hand was shaking. Harry took one, and Sutcliffe searched his pockets again for his lighter. He flicked it and flicked it, but it wouldn’t light, his fingers were trembling so much. Harry took it from him, lit his cigarette and took a deep drag.

‘Right, Barry, you’d better give it to me straight. What’s been going on?’

Barry told him everything, leaving nothing out, but he wasn’t sure if Harry was really listening. He made no reaction, just continued to smoke, flicking the ash into the ashtray. Sutcliffe continued, blow after blow after blow. It was like a judge giving a death sentence, and still Harry said nothing. Finally he stubbed the cigarette out slowly in the ashtray.

‘I’m sorry, Harry, but there was nothing I could do. You were dead, she had a Certificate of Probate, she had a right...’

Harry turned and studied him, and to Sutcliffe it was almost as if Harry was freezing him with his eyes.

‘Is there anything left?’

Sutcliffe could feel his left leg shaking; he couldn’t stop it jigging up and down.

‘I’m sorry, Harry, there’s nothing, absolutely nothing.’ He reached for his briefcase and took out some documents. ‘Just a couple of leaseholds on those warehouses down by the station — you know, the lock-ups — but you’ve only got a couple of months to go on the leases.’ For a moment he thought he saw the flicker of a smile cross Harry’s face.

Harry took the leases, not bothering to look at them, and stuffed them into his coat pocket.

Sutcliffe heard himself saying, ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Harry, but you should have told me. If only you’d let me know.’

Harry opened the car door. ‘Yeah, my own fault, Barry. Thanks for coming anyway.’

Sutcliffe let out a long breath. He’d thought that maybe Harry would kill him, rough him up a bit at least, but he’d taken it all so calmly. His wife had cleaned him out. She’d taken over every single bank account, every single property. She’d sold — lock, stock and barrel — the little empire that Harry had taken twenty years to build up, and all he had said was: ‘Thanks for coming.’ Sutcliffe waited for the other shoe to drop, for something else to happen, but it didn’t. Harry stepped out of the car, slammed the door behind him and pulled up the collar of his coat. It started to rain. Sutcliffe watched Harry getting into an old, beat-up Jag. In a strange way, he felt sorry for him.

Sutcliffe started the car, but thought he’d better wait for Harry to go first, just in case. You never knew, with that kind of man, when they might turn. He might feel sorry for him, but that didn’t mean he trusted him. The Jag coughed into life, the engine sounding as if it needed a good tune. Harry gave a brief nod in his direction and drove off.

Time to take a holiday, Sutcliffe decided. Get away from it all. As he started thinking about where he would go, he didn’t notice the Rover pulling out and starting to follow the Jaguar.

Vic Morgan clocked the number of the BMW, jotting it down with his left hand as he steered with his right. He wondered what was going on. First he’d followed Rawlins to Trudie Nunn’s flat, then to a convent, and now to an empty house in Totteridge. He kept his distance, making sure he wasn’t spotted, but Rawlins seemed in no hurry. He drove slowly all the way back to Elgin Mansions.

Morgan passed Rawlins as he parked his Jaguar, driving two hundred yards further before he stopped. He got out of the car, keeping his back toward Rawlins, but still able to watch him in the wing mirror. He saw Rawlins enter the mansion block, and gave it a few moments before hurrying after him and pushing open the double doors. The old stone staircase was reasonably clean, but the place had a run-down feel to it. He could hear Rawlins’ footsteps above him as he followed him up the stairs, trying to stay at least one floor below. Eventually he spotted him through the banister railings, letting himself in to one of the flats, then shutting the door behind him.

Morgan jogged up the stairs to the flat, number 44. The name on the doorbell was ‘A. D. Judd’.

Now he had the name and address, Morgan decided he’d done enough work for the day. The question was, how much of this was he going to tell Mrs. Marsh?

The following day, in Morgan’s office, Dolly was twisting the strap of her handbag round and round her hand anxiously.

‘So he’s living at Elgin Mansions, then?’

Morgan shrugged and repeated what he’d seen.

‘I can have the bloke in the BMW checked out. A friend of mine at the Yard, he can—’

Dolly stood up. ‘That won’t be necessary. I know who that was — my... er... sister’s husband’s lawyer.’ She seemed very nervous. She opened her bag and handed him yet another brown envelope. ‘That’s what I owe you to date, plus a bonus. Thank you for everything.’

Morgan held the brown envelope between his fingers. ‘I’m off the job now, am I?’

Dolly was suddenly desperate to get out. ‘Yes, I think you’ve done everything that... Well... I now know where my sister’s husband is, so thank you very much.’

She put out her hand. He could see it was trembling, and there were also red marks from the handbag strap. He shook her hand.

‘Oh, there is just one thing, Mr. Morgan — the photograph.’

Morgan leaned back in his chair. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Mrs. Marsh, I’ve left it in the car. I’m afraid it’s at the garage. If you like—’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said. ‘I’ll, er, call in for it sometime. Thanks again for everything.’

Morgan waited until she was gone, lifted a copy of the Guardian off the desk and stared down at the face of Harry Rawlins. He picked up the photograph, opened his wallet and put it inside.

The bedroom at 44 Elgin Mansions was as seedy as the rest of the apartment. The threadbare curtains were drawn, a couple of hooks hanging loose. No lights.

Harry lay face down on the bed. His coat and crumpled jacket were in a heap on the floor where he’d thrown them. The little teddy bear was peeking out of one of the jacket pockets.

His head buried in the pillow, Harry murmured over and over to himself, ‘Bitch, bitch, bitch...’ He turned over and punched the pillow viciously. His teeth were clenched as he said the word yet again. ‘Bitch.’ And then he lay, stretched across the bed, arms spread wide, and found tears were streaming down his face. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried, and he didn’t want to be doing it now. He tried to stop, but the tears just kept on coming, and eventually he gave in and let the wave of sadness wash over him.

The women were all sitting in Shirley’s lounge, watching her thumb through the phone directory.

‘Here it is, A. D. Judd, 44 Elgin...’

Bella leaned back against the sofa and sniffed, looking at the three of them all staring at the phone book as if it was the Holy Grail.

‘So now what? We know where he is, an’ that he’s got a phone, so what’s the next move? Phone him up for a chat?’

Shirley stubbed out her cigarette, took another one out of the packet and offered it to Dolly.

Dolly’s eyes were already smarting from all the smoke. ‘No, thanks.’

Shirley shrugged and lit up, then blew out a thin stream of smoke, looking thoughtful.

‘We could hire a hitman, have him bumped off,’ Linda suggested.

Bella kicked her and told her to shut up. ‘Why don’t we hire Batman and Robin while we’re at it?’

Linda pouted. ‘It’s not such a stupid idea. I even know someone who’d do it for a grand.’

Dolly massaged her temples. Her head was throbbing, and the arguing was only making it worse.

Shirley took another deep drag of her cigarette. For a non-smoker she was certainly making up for lost time. She blew the smoke out and Dolly wafted it away.

‘Dolly, what if we told the police where he was? D’you think they’d come after us? Dolly?’

Dolly didn’t bother to reply. Sometimes she felt as if she was back at the convent with the kids.

Shirley nudged her.

‘Yes,’ Dolly said, sounding as if she was lecturing a bunch of ten-year-olds. ‘If we tell the police where he is and they pick him up, then he’s going to tell them he had nothing to do with the raid, and even if they don’t believe him, they’re going to have to follow through and pull us in.’

Bella stood up, hands on hips. She hated the way Dolly talked down to them.

‘OK, so what do we do?’

Linda looked at Dolly. ‘Why can’t we just pay him off, get him to leave us alone?’

Dolly gave Linda a look, as if that was too stupid for comment.

‘Hold on, why not?’ Bella said. ‘Unless you’ve got a better idea.’

‘It’s got to be worth thinking about,’ Shirley agreed.

Bella leaned over Dolly. ‘What if we each chip in fifteen grand? That would give Harry sixty thousand. He might go for that.’

Dolly looked at their expectant faces, not believing what she was hearing.

‘You wanna know what he’ll say?’ she said angrily, almost spitting the words out. ‘Sixty grand? Out of seven hundred and fifty? Oh, yes, please!’

Bella’s temper was heating up. She jabbed a finger at Dolly, almost poking her. ‘Give us a bit more credit, can’t you? We wouldn’t just fuckin’ hand it over. As soon as he’s got the cash in his hot little hands, we’d tip off the law. They pick up a supposedly dead man, with sixty grand’s worth of stolen money from the underpass raid—’

‘You think they’d believe he wasn’t in on it himself?’ Shirley chipped in. ‘It would work, Dolly. We could get him put away and out of our hair.’

Dolly felt the pain shooting across her eyes. It was all she could do not to start screaming at them. She clenched her fists and looked each one in the eye.

‘You wanna make a deal with Harry, then you go right ahead. But count me out, you understand? I warn you, he’ll come after you, each one of you — he’ll never let you go.’ Dolly walked stiffly to the door and yanked it open. She was icy calm now, her voice clear and strong. ‘Don’t play games with Harry, I warn you. If you do, you’ll lose.’

The girls braced themselves for the slam of the door, but Dolly closed it quietly. They heard her walking into Shirley’s kitchen. Then the bang came, as she slammed the kitchen door almost off its hinges.

Micky Tesco had so many boxes and packages, he almost dropped the lot as he fiddled with the key to Harry’s flat. Inside, he dumped them on the sofa, before pushing open the door to the kitchen.

‘Harry?’

Tesco looked round. Something was wrong. The place was dark, an empty bottle of vodka lying on its side on the coffee table. He turned the handle of the bedroom door, then thought better and tapped lightly. He waited, then slowly opened the door and looked into the room. A strange muffled sound came from the bed. He closed the door again.

‘Christ, now what?’ he muttered to himself.

Unsure what else to do, Tesco began unwrapping the tissue paper from a stack of shirts, every now and then turning a worried look toward the bedroom. At least that awful sound had stopped now.

Dolly sat in the kitchen with her handkerchief over her mouth so the girls wouldn’t hear her crying. Her face was puffy, her eyes red-rimmed. Linda walked in and Dolly looked away. She didn’t want to be caught crying, not in front of them. Linda sat down, pulling the kitchen chair close so their knees were touching. She was going to pat Dolly’s hand, but instead suddenly put her arms round her and held her tight. At first Dolly stiffened, trying to resist, but then she gave way and held on to Linda too. They stayed like that for only a moment, but it was as if there was now a real bond between them.

Linda broke away first, looking into Dolly’s face. She looked old and worn out, and Linda felt her heart go out to her; sometimes they all forgot that Dolly wasn’t as young as the rest of them.

She touched her cheek. ‘Your eyes are all puffy.’

Dolly managed a wobbly smile and blew her nose, then said something about having to cancel her operation. Her eyes filled with tears again.

‘Nothing worked out, Linda — not the way I thought it would.’

Linda could feel herself wanting to cry with Dolly, but she managed to hold herself back. Instead she hugged her again, and told her not to cry any more.

‘Nobody means to go against you. No one wants to argue. We’re all frightened, Dolly. Bella too. She comes on heavy, but she’s scared. We need you now. We need you more than ever.’

Bella leaned against the kitchen door. She looked hard at Dolly, then at Linda. ‘We’ve decided to put in a call to Harry.’

Linda, holding on to Dolly’s hand, felt her withdraw.

Harry was in the bathroom when the shrill tone of the old black telephone rang out.

Micky Tesco walked out of the kitchen, eating a piece of toast, and picked it up.

Shirley was shaking, and her mouth felt dry. Bella and Linda stood behind her, looking equally nervous. Dolly stood well back at the open door, with her arms folded.

‘He’s coming to the phone,’ Shirley whispered. Suddenly she couldn’t carry it through. She held out the receiver to Dolly, but Dolly shrank away, refusing to come within a foot of the phone. Bella snatched it out of Shirley’s hand.

Tesco looked toward the bathroom, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The bathroom door opened.

‘It’s for you, Harry — said it’s your wife.’

Shaved and showered, immaculate in a new suit and shirt, with his tie hanging round the collar, Harry felt like a new man. His face seemed to have changed; that beaten-down look had gone. Now he looked confident, even arrogant, and couldn’t help a glimmer of a smile as he put out his hand for the phone.

Tesco was taken aback. You never knew where the hell you were with this man. He was like a bloody chameleon.

Harry’s outstretched hand was steady, his voice cold. ‘OK, you can get out.’

Tesco didn’t argue. He felt Harry’s eyes boring into him as he picked up his coat and searched round for his car keys. As he reached the front door he was about to say ‘see you later,’ but Harry had turned his back on him.

Close to the phone was an old gilt-framed mirror. As the door closed behind Tesco, Harry looked at his reflection, smoothed a stray bit of hair behind his ear, then held the phone close to his mouth. He spoke softly, huskily.

‘Hello, Doll, that you?’

Bella felt herself go cold. That voice, calling her ‘Doll.’ Now she knew why Dolly always hated anyone calling her that; it was his name for her, like a pet name.

She swallowed. ‘This isn’t Dolly, this is Bella. She’s here, but... Look, we got a proposition for you. We want to make a deal.’

Behind her, Linda and Shirley, faces tight with worry, almost took a step back, as if they were trying to put more distance between themselves and Harry, while Dolly just stood, clenching and unclenching her hands, her palms slick with sweat.

At the other end of the phone, Harry was smiling and nodding, his voice relaxed and friendly. He said it was a deal. He would do whatever they wanted.

He was about to replace the phone when, as an afterthought, he said, ‘Give Doll my love, won’t you? I’ll wait to hear from her.’

Harry put the phone down and turned back to his reflection in the mirror. His eyes were laughing, his mouth twisted into a strange smile. He began to knot his new silk tie. He was humming a tune and stopped to wonder where he had heard it. Must have been on the radio. ‘We will meet again,’ he sang tunelessly. ‘We will meet again...’ He started to laugh. He was looking forward to it.