Widows

Chapter 10

Boxer was sitting at Dolly’s newly cleaned dining table stuffing eggs and bacon down his face as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks. He wiped a slice of bread round the plate, put it in his mouth and slurped on his tea to wash it down before sitting back and pushing the plate forward.

Dolly came into the kitchen carrying a couple of old suit jackets belonging to Harry. ‘Stand up,’ she ordered. Boxer jumped to his feet, expecting to be ordered back to work. When he saw Dolly holding up one of Harry’s jackets for him to slip his arms into, he was almost overwhelmed and, just for a second, he choked back the tears.

Dolly put the jacket on him, instinctively brushing his shoulders and pulling the back straight — just as she’d done a thousand times for Harry. Boxer was about the same build as Harry, but his belly was bigger and the jacket looked a little tight. He thought he looked a million dollars though.

‘Eh, pure wool, very nice, very nice indeed,’ he said to Dolly as he brushed his hands up and down the material.

Dolly’s face was expressionless as she looked at Boxer wearing her dead husband’s expensive clothes. ‘There’s a couple of shirts and two pairs of trousers as well if you want them,’ she said, as if it didn’t matter either way to her.

Boxer paused. ‘I’ll treasure them,’ he said clumsily.

‘I’m sorry I can’t give you his best things, Boxer.’

Harry’s best clothes were impossible to part with right now and were hanging in his wardrobe, all freshly washed and ironed. Dolly had even polished Harry’s shoes and they too were in his wardrobe, as though he was simply away on business.

Emotions close to the surface, Dolly put the kettle on and brewed another pot of tea to regain control of herself so that she could do what she needed to do. While Boxer had been gobbling down his makeshift dinner, Dolly had been tidying the nursery. Tony Fisher had thrown the baby clothes around the small blue room and then trodden mud all over them. The cot was upside down, the tiny newborn nappies were ripped apart and the photos were smashed. There was no reason for most of the destruction; it was an act of pure evil and the thought of the Fishers taking over Harry’s patch made Dolly’s blood boil. As she’d stood in the nursery, she’d decided two things.

First, she was going to pack up everything in the nursery and give it to the convent this afternoon, for the underprivileged and orphaned babies and children to get some use out of. After her son was stillborn, Dolly had received great comfort from her religion. The convent doors were always open to her and she could come and go as she pleased, day or night. Some weeks, she was there every day. Her visits got fewer and fewer as her pain subsided, but by then she’d got to love the simplicity of it all in comparison to her hectic life with Harry. She’d spent hours painting and drawing and playing games with the children; all they wanted from her was love and she had so very much of that to give. And, in return, the children loved Dolly. In those initial months after losing the baby, Dolly would have fallen into a deep depression without her friends at the convent; she owed them so much and they never asked anything of her in return. So now, she’d pack up the nursery and take it all to them this afternoon when she did her weekly visit, to help the living instead of commemorating the dead. This would be closure and would allow her to move forward unhindered. Dolly kept only one toy from her son’s nursery — a small white poodle.

The second thing Dolly had decided was to implement her plan for getting the Fishers off her back.

Boxer sat at the kitchen table admiring his new jacket and waiting for his top up of tea. Dolly brought the pot to the table and poured two cups. As Boxer spooned three heaps of sugar into his mug, Dolly decided he was ready to hear what she had been up all night rehearsing.

‘I’ve got something to tell you, Boxer. It’s about the ledgers. You see, I lied to you. I do know where they are.’

Boxer looked dumbstruck.

‘The thing is,’ Dolly continued, feigning concern for this stupid lump of a man in her kitchen. ‘The thing is... Harry told me before he died that you’re named in the ledgers along with a long list of others. It could get you into a lot of trouble — even banged up if the Old Bill gets hold of them.’

Boxer felt a chill run down his spine. Lost for words, all he could manage was to let Dolly talk.

‘I worked out that Harry must have used four men in the robbery, one up front, three at the back. It’s the only thing that makes sense. I know it; the coppers know it.’ Dolly knew she didn’t need to explain her reasoning any further for Boxer. ‘Three are dead, but the fourth man is still out there somewhere. I think he’s either got the ledgers or he knows where they are.’ Dolly paused to take a slow sip of tea and leave Boxer’s little brain to think of the right question to ask. She didn’t want to tell him everything in one go, in case that might start to sound planned. Eventually, Boxer spoke.

‘Who do you think this fourth man is, Dolly?’

Dolly hesitated, pretending to be thinking hard about her next sentence. ‘You mustn’t tell no one, Boxer. If I tell you, it’s got to stay between us. You hear me? It could be very dangerous for you to know what I know.’

‘I swear it. You can trust me.’

‘The fourth man, the man that escaped from the robbery... was my Harry.’

Again, Dolly paused to allow Boxer to register what she was saying. It was incredibly important that he believed her. ‘He’s not dead, Boxer. I buried another member of the gang, genuinely thinking it was Harry, but I now know that it wasn’t.’

‘How... how can you know?’ Boxer asked, visibly shaking.

‘Because I’ve seen him alive. Harry’s hiding from everyone right now, but he wants you back on his payroll, just like old times.’

Boxer automatically sat bolt upright, like an army private who’d just been told he’s been selected for a secret mission. The fear on his face was replaced by an uncontrollably broad smile. He’s so easy to lie to, Dolly thought, it almost seems cruel.

‘Now this is what you’ve got to do. You’re to keep an eye on the Fishers for him. Stay safe, though, Boxer, Harry doesn’t want you taking any risks for him. You’ll be his eyes and ears until he’s ready to come back and take over again. You’ll report to me and I’ll report to Harry. No one can know he’s alive, Boxer... you promise me?’

Boxer slapped his thigh and roared with laughter, ‘I promise, Dolly! Old Harry, what a brilliant man, he bloody escaped. He played a bleedin’ blinder.’ He shook his head repeatedly. ‘What a turn up for the books!’

Dolly gripped his hand and Boxer focused intently on her again. ‘Get it all out of your system here, Boxer, because once you leave this house, you got to keep your mouth shut. I need you to be on my side. On Harry’s side.’

Boxer squeezed Dolly’s hand back so hard, she nearly cried out in pain. He looked her square in the eyes and spoke with total sincerity. ‘I’ve always been on your and Harry’s side, you know that. On my life, Dolly, I won’t repeat a word of this to anyone.’

‘Inside jacket pocket,’ Dolly whispered.

Boxer reached inside the pocket of the jacket he’d been given and pulled out an envelope.

‘Two hundred from Harry. That’s just for starters.’

Boxer didn’t open the envelope; he didn’t need to. If Dolly said there was two hundred in there, then there was. ‘Back on the payroll,’ he whispered.

Dolly watched Boxer swagger down the driveway. He looked full of himself as he straightened his new jacket and nodded to the detectives still parked along the road.

Back in her much cleaner and tidier lounge, Dolly slumped on her torn sofa, where she was quickly joined by Wolf. ‘Hello, darlin’,’ she said, stroking his belly as he rolled over for her. She rested her head back and took a moment to contemplate where she had got to.

Dolly speculated that it’d be no more than two days before Boxer blurted the news that Harry was alive to someone. Especially if the tempting money in his pocket meant that he ended up off the wagon and down the local pub. Once the rumor was out there, the Fishers would know soon enough and that should, she hoped, keep them hyper-cautious and away from her and the other widows for fear of reprisals.

‘So much still to do, my love,’ she said to Wolf. She patted him, got up and went over to her writing desk.

Taking out her diary, Dolly began to make more encrypted notes. She needed to go back to the bank and check the ledgers again. She now needed a fourth person for her own robbery and she hoped that there’d be a name in the ledgers of someone she could trust completely — although it would be tricky if the fourth person was a man, she knew that much, as she’d not only have to convince them to join her but also to take orders from her. The second thing on her list was to try and find the actual man who got away from Harry’s failed bank robbery. If the Fishers found him first, they’d know she lied about Harry being alive and come after her. She hoped and prayed that whoever it was had gone abroad and had no plans to return. And lastly, she had to let Shirley and Linda know what she’d said to Boxer. They needed to be right up to speed with all her plans, so they could stay alert and stay safe.

Dolly looked across at Wolf, who had bedded down into a tear in the sofa and was snuggling into the stuffing inside. There was still so much to do to make this house back into a home — but it would keep. The main thing to do right now was keep her appointment at the convent so that the watching detectives wouldn’t get suspicious. She’d become very adept at losing her tail, but she knew that she must also be very careful to allow the police to follow her unhindered if she was to convince them that life was going on as normal. It made it difficult to fit everything in, but somehow the excitement of it all was giving her extra energy — she was daring to feel alive again. She turned and smiled at the photos of Harry and herself that Boxer had replaced along the mantelpiece, all in exactly the right date order. She almost felt Harry with her now and, as she shut her eyes to see him more clearly, her body ached to hold him.

She thought back to two nights before the raid. Harry had come into the bedroom and she knew intuitively that something was very wrong. She could always tell when he had done a bad business deal, or worse, when he was intending to take a big risk. He prowled round the house, in and out of rooms, sitting, getting up again, making coffee and checking his watch. Dolly was wise enough to keep quiet and not ask questions; he would tell her what was on his mind if and when he was ready.

Harry had not made love to her for months, but on that last night when he slipped into bed beside her, he’d been lustfully insistent and passionately rough with her — she hadn’t minded; she adored the touch of him, the smell of him, the power of him.

Afterward, she had held him in her arms like a baby. Then he got up and went into the spare room and she had lain there awake for hours, smiling. Even after twenty years he could make her whole body shudder inside. She was as proud of his tight muscular frame as he was. There was not an inch of fat on him. She’d take furtive looks at him when he showered or shaved, watching his muscles tense and relax.

As Dolly daydreamed, she was grateful for that last night they shared together. It was all that mattered amid the frenetic nature of her life since his death. They’d loved each other so much and, as she recalled all those times he had glanced at his beloved wristwatch, the pain flooded over her again. Harry had woken early the next morning, brought her a cup of tea and gently woken her with a kiss to her sleeping lips.

‘Goodbye, sweetheart,’ he’d said. ‘I’ll see you later.’

But there had been no ‘later.’ Harry never came home and the filth still refused to give her his beloved watch back.

Linda stood at the open doors of the mechanic’s garage in the mews. She’d seen enough Italian men to know that the young kid in filthy grease and oil-covered overalls was not Carlos, Gino’s mate from the pub. The kid puffed out his chest to try and impress her; her dismissive look quickly told him that she was way out of his league. ‘Carlos! There’s some bird here to see ya!’ he shouted and then he went back to polishing a nice-looking Jaguar.

Carlos was in the small Portakabin office on the phone to Arnie Fisher, arranging the pickup of his Jag. He looked out the window but didn’t recognize Linda and, placing his hand over the mouthpiece, shouted that he would be out in a minute.

Watching Carlos out of the corner of her eye, Linda liked what she saw as he ran his hand through his thick black curly hair and ruffled it up. He wore an old brown boiler suit open almost to his waist and as he turned, still talking on the phone, Linda got a full look at him. She took in every detail. He was a dish with big dark eyes, a great body and a stubbly, unshaven face. There was something very rugged and very sexy about him. Before he had even spoken to her, Linda had decided she’d have him.

When Carlos eventually came out, Linda introduced herself as Miss Linda Pirelli and, flirting outrageously, she asked him if he’d take a look at her new Capri.

‘Sorry, love.’ Carlos was dismissive. ‘We only do company cars or regular standing customer’s motors.’ Brushing her aside, he got onto an inspection trolley and, lying on his back, wheeled himself under the ramped-up Jag to give it a last once-over.

Linda moved closer and squatted down, making sure her skirt was now up over her knees; she knew Carlos could see between her legs, which she parted slowly. ‘Look Carlos,’ she said, ‘truth is, I want to learn more about motors and how to service them so I can do me own. I’ll pay you to teach me...’

Carlos could see her red panties as he wheeled himself out from under the car. He lay on the trolley and looked up at her. She was a bit tarty, pushy even, but there was something about her he quite liked. Before he knew what he was doing he heard himself telling her to get in the Jag while he took it for a test run. He lowered the ramp and as Linda got in the passenger seat, she grinned. He couldn’t help smiling back — she was a right cheeky little cow!

Linda sat with her safety belt on, but Carlos didn’t bother with his as he flung the car round the M4 at high speed. She knew he was trying to scare her, but it took more than a 120 miles an hour to do that, and he was clearly a good driver.

Carlos kept brushing her thigh when he changed gear, and she made no effort to move her leg. He wasn’t all that tall compared to Joe, who was six foot three. Carlos, she reckoned, was about five nine, but he was a looker and seemed really nice. She also liked the faint smell of whatever cologne he had on, and as he leaned toward her on a sharp bend she could smell it even more... yes, she would definitely try it on with this one!

Returning to the garage, Carlos found himself taking the Capri out for a road check and then teaching Linda how to do a basic service on it. He told her she’d got a good buy and it only needed a slight bit of work. There was a hole in the radiator, which he repaired there and then. He also cleaned up the spark plugs, points, air filter and rotor arm, explaining what was what and letting Linda do some of the work herself.

All the time she was at his elbow, getting covered in oil. She made him laugh because she was intent on learning as much as possible in the one hour he’d decided to give her. She even insisted on going under the ramp with him on the trolley. He couldn’t quite make her out. He knew she was coming on strong, but at the same time she seemed genuinely interested in the Capri engine.

Four hours later they were still there, with the Capri’s engine, as Carlos said, ‘purring like a kitten.’ As Carlos rubbed his hands with degreaser and wiped them on a rag, he could see Linda’s legs still sticking out from beneath the Capri. She had a tidy set of pins. Her skirt was tucked into her knickers, which looked like red satin, and she wore no stockings. As she eased herself out he looked down, legs either side of her. Linda looked up, past his impressive crotch, and straight into his deep brown eyes. ‘What do I owe you?’ she asked.

‘You mean cash or something else?’ They both laughed and Carlos helped her to her feet.

This time Linda drove and it was Carlos’s turn to be the passenger. As the Capri sped over the flyover toward White City, he kept his eye on the radiator temperature gauge, then as Linda changed into top gear he gave her the nod to put her foot down. The car roared forward increasing speed rapidly — ninety-five, one hundred, one hundred and ten... Linda flicked him a look, but he was more intent now on looking at her legs than the speedometer.

Linda wished she had made some effort to tidy the flat. While Carlos was in the bathroom, she slipped into the bedroom and cleared up her dirty washing, before shaking the duvet straight on the bed. She pulled the bedroom curtains closed then went into the small lounge and poured two large brandies. She took one to the bathroom, where Carlos was shirtless having a shave using Joe’s razor. He had a gorgeous, well-defined body and Linda deliberately brushed against him as she placed the glass down on the sink. He didn’t react or say anything and, feeling miffed, she walked out.

Linda downed her drink in one go then poured herself another shot. She wasn’t sure what to do next, as she’d given him every come on possible and, so far, he hadn’t shown any signs of wanting to rip her clothes off. She heard a sound and, turning round, saw Carlos in his briefs, leaning against the frame of the lounge door holding his brandy. He was even better looking than she had first thought. As he raised his glass and drank the brandy down, Linda could hear the bath running. God, he was certainly making himself at home! Without a word, he poured himself another brandy before heading back to the bathroom.

Linda kept Carlos waiting for a moment and then followed him. He was standing looking at some bath salts.

‘Which do you like? This one or this?’

Linda shrugged. She didn’t really give a shit about bath salts if she was being perfectly honest. He chose the salts he liked best, tipped them into the bath, and then moved closer to her.

‘You wanna sleep with me or not?’ she said petulantly. Carlos said nothing, but began to unbutton her blouse.

At last, she thought, and pulled him closer while trying to wriggle out of her skirt. God, she had the hots for him! She started to back out of the bathroom, pulling him with her, but he didn’t follow. Then, without a word, he suddenly picked her up and dropped her straight in the bath, fully clothed. He laughed, then whisked off his briefs and, as he stepped into the bath with her, Linda could see a thin white line from where he must have worn bikini brief swimming trunks. He was beautiful.

DCI Resnick was on his way to the Sunshine Bread Company with Andrews and Fuller. They were following up on a lead that might mean they’d finally traced the bread truck used in the raid. Resnick was looking serious and focused now that they had something solid to work on. Gone was his self-defensive bravado and, for the first time, Fuller could see glimpses of the copper beneath the obsessed wreck of a man. But he still hated the obnoxious, fat bastard.

Fuller was driving the unmarked CID car like a maiden aunt. Resnick’s impatience finally got the better of him. ‘Put your bloody foot down, Fuller, for God’s sake!’ he shouted. ‘Give it the lights and sirens! We’re after the biggest criminal gang in London here, not going on a fucking picnic!’

At the bread company, a uniformed PC was standing on guard next to the suspect truck. Wally Titherington from forensics was already working on the inside of the vehicle, dusting for fingerprints, and one of his colleagues was taping the seats for fibers. Wally looked up as Resnick approached. ‘Looks like he thinks he’s in a Sam Peckinpah movie.’

‘Right!’ Resnick barked at the Sunshine Bread Company manager. ‘I need an office to use as an interview room.’

The manager was clearly put out. ‘How long is this disruption going on for?’ he complained. ‘Who exactly do you want to interview?’

‘Every driver, every mechanic, every company worker and visitor using this yard, including you. Everyone who has ever come into contact with that bread truck. DC Andrews here will take everyone’s fingerprints for elimination purposes.’ Resnick stalked off.

Fuller stepped forward as the manager’s face started to turn bright pink. ‘This is a very important case, sir, and we’re grateful for your help. The sooner we get set up, the sooner we’ll be out of your hair.’

Resnick looked round the ladies’ cloakroom, hands on hips, and took an enormous drag of his cigarette. He tried to make light of the fact that he’d not been given an office as requested. ‘If we’re lucky, we’ll still be here when they change out of their overalls at home time, eh, Andrews? You might even get to see your first lady.’

Andrews was keeping very quiet; the black fingerprint ink was already all over his shirt sleeves.

‘Look at you!’ Resnick snarled. ‘How the hell do you manage to get dressed in the morning? You do know how to take fingerprints, don’t you?’

‘Yes, sir,’ Andrews whimpered.

‘I’m only checking because you sure as hell don’t know how to follow an old lady walking a poodle!’ Resnick stepped close to Andrews and the smell of the fat man’s BO almost made him gag. ‘Front desk got a call from a pensioner saying that two young hooligans had thrown burgers and milkshakes into her front garden.’ Andrews squirmed. ‘One more incident like that and you’ll pounding the beat in hobnails. Got it?’

‘Got it, sir.’ Andrews said, trying not to breathe in.

Once Resnick had walked away, Fuller gave Andrews a reassuring nod of the head. They both knew Resnick was picking on the easiest target because he was embarrassed at being given the ladies’ cloakroom as an interview space.

Dolly’s taxi waited while she went down to Linda’s basement flat. She kept her finger on the doorbell until she saw the front bedroom curtain flick aside and Linda peer out.

Inside the bedroom, Linda’s head was in an instant spin of panic at the sight of Dolly. She looked at Carlos’s beautiful and sweaty body, and felt like an underage kid caught by her mum. ‘You gotta keep quiet,’ she whispered as she grabbed the top bedsheet and wrapped it round herself.

Dolly didn’t even wait for Linda to open the front door fully before she stepped in.

‘Why the hell don’t you answer your phone?’ Dolly demanded. ‘Get dressed. I need an urgent meeting with you and Shirley at the lock-up right now.’

There was the sound of movement from the bedroom and Dolly froze and stared at the closed bedroom door. She glared at Linda in shock and anger. Shock at the thought of Linda being with another man so soon after the death of Joe, and anger at the terrifying thought that stupid, gobby, drunken Linda’s pillow talk could easily include details of their upcoming robbery.

‘You got someone in there?’ Dolly whispered through gritted teeth.

Linda had no choice. ‘He’s no one, Dolly. He’s a mechanic helping with the new car, that’s all.’

Dolly gripped Linda’s wrist hard, pulled her closer and whispered in her ear. ‘Did he see me? Did he bloody see me, you stupid slut?’ Dolly twisted and tightened her grip, shaking with anger. ‘You got five minutes. I’ll be in the taxi.’ Then Dolly was gone, slamming the door behind her.

Feeling grubby and ashamed, Linda cried as she got dressed.

‘What’s wrong?’ Carlos asked, trying to comfort her. ‘Who was it?’ he demanded. ‘Who’s frightened you? I can help.’

‘I ain’t frightened!’ Linda screeched, pushing him away. ‘And it’s none of your business who it was. Just leave, I’ve got to go. I’ve got to go now.’

‘You’ve got a boyfriend,’ Carlos concluded angrily. ‘You’re teaching him a lesson by sleeping with me, aren’t you?’ The hurt look on Linda’s face told him that he was wrong and he apologized as he got dressed, but it was too little, too late.

Linda, with tears in her eyes, held fifty quid out for him to take. ‘Thanks for helping with the car. You can go now.’

‘Linda. Linda, please. I didn’t mean it. I don’t want your money.’ Carlos closed Linda’s fingers round the money, held her gently and apologized again.

Linda looked into his eyes as she kissed him hard. ‘I really do have to go. Let yourself out.’ Linda was out the door before she’d finished talking.

As Carlos finished dressing, he noticed a face-down photo frame on the bedside table and picked it up. Carlos didn’t recognize Joe Pirelli, but this man was clearly important to Linda. Maybe she has got a boyfriend, or a husband, he thought to himself. Unnerved at the thought, he replaced the photo and was on his way out when he stopped and looked down at the phone in the hallway. He picked up a pen and made a note of the phone number on the back of his hand.

He’d ask Gino a little more about Linda.

Dolly sat hunched up in the corner of the taxi, looking out of the window. She didn’t speak a single word to Linda all the way to the lock-up.

Linda was in turmoil, every emotion written on her face like a petulant child who knows she’s done something wrong. What the hell is it to do with her? Linda thought to herself. If I want a screw, I’ll bloody well have one and it’s no business of Dolly’s. But at the same time, she felt incredibly guilty. Linda struggled in silence, but then realized that she actually felt an overriding feeling of what she could only describe as happiness. She really liked Carlos and, as she crossed her legs away from Dolly, she could feel that she was still wet inside from him. She glanced sideways at Dolly. When was the last time you got your rocks off? she wondered. It must have been at least twenty years ago. What had a stud like Harry Rawlins ever seen in Dolly? He was good looking for an old bloke, though he could be a mean bastard at times. She decided right there and then that she wasn’t going to take any more verbal insults or physical outbursts from Dolly about Carlos or about anything else. She’d give as good as she got from now on... she just wished she didn’t feel so bloody guilty.

In the lock-up, Shirley sensed the heavy tension. Linda was unusually silent, sitting with her head bent, foot twitching and a sulky look on her face. She hadn’t said a word to Dolly and Dolly was definitely giving her the silent treatment.

Shirley decided to break the ice. She was wearing one of the jumpsuits Dolly had instructed her to buy for the raid, so she paraded up and down as though she was on a catwalk, ‘They were on offer,’ Shirley said with a beaming smile. ‘And I got us all some lovely plimsolls, really comfy for running in.’

‘Oh, I been looking for some just like that,’ said Linda. Dolly sniffed.

‘And I got three ski masks, just like you asked.’ Shirley searched among the shopping bags. ‘One black, one blue and one red, so we know whose is whose. I got red for you Linda, on account of your black hair.’

‘Thanks, Shirl. That’ll be great for winter in the arcade. It gets bloody freezing in that booth when the door’s open.’

Dolly looked from Linda to Shirley. She couldn’t quite believe how stupid these two were. ‘Red?! What kind of armed robbers wear red ski masks? And that overall you’ve got on is far too small.’

‘It fits perfect.’ Shirley turned round with the black ski mask in her hand and smoothed the tight jumpsuit fabric over her slim figure.

‘Overalls, I said! Big, dirty, baggy overalls. We’re supposed to be men. I can see every curve, and look at your bloody ankles.’

Shirley had been told on many occasions that her ankles were one of her best features. ‘What’s wrong with them?’ she whined, looking down at her feet.

‘I can see them for a start!’ Dolly barked back. ‘You’ve even done alterations on that suit to show off your bust and put extra bloody zips everywhere. What are they for? Your lippy? I told you... plain black overalls, at least three to four sizes too big, as we have to pad ’em out. We’ve got to be wearing our own clothes underneath and be able to slip the overalls off real quick. These suits are useless, absolutely useless.’

Shirley knew she’d done wrong, just as Linda knew she’d done wrong, but whereas Linda chose to sulk defiantly, Shirley instantly tried to make amends. She held up the large black ski mask she’d bought and pulled it down over her face. ‘Look, Dolly! What do you think of this? It’s black and it’s big enough to cover our hair.’

Dolly ripped the ski mask from Shirley’s head, taking a lump of hair with it. ‘The eye holes are too big and I don’t want ones with a mouth hole. I can see your lipstick and your spray tan.’

Shirley looked at the floor. She knew that everything Dolly said was right, but she’d spent two days schlepping everywhere for this gear, all the way to Harlow, Windsor, even up the M1. Shirley took off the jumpsuit... Twenty-five quid down the drain, she thought. Well, seventy-five counting all three.

Throughout Dolly’s tirade, Linda had been standing in the kitchen doorway chewing her nails. Although Shirley’s shopping trip had clearly been a stupid waste of time, it was Linda who had put Dolly in a foul mood in the first place, and she did feel guilty. Not guilty enough to take any of the heat off Shirley, but even so. She decided she’d make some tea.

Seeing she’d hurt Shirley, Dolly decided to backtrack. ‘If you sew up the mouth hole completely and the eye holes a little bit, it’ll be fine, Shirley. Dye the other ones black and we’ve got ourselves the first bit of our outfit. But the jumpsuits are no good, I’m afraid. We need overalls, like I said. Once you’ve bought the right ones, cut the labels out and burn them so they can’t be traced after we dump them.’

Shirley knew this was Dolly’s way of apologizing. ‘What about the plimsolls?’ she asked.

‘Dye them black and they’ll do fine.’ Dolly lit a cigarette. ‘Come and sit down, both of you. I didn’t ask you here to talk about jumpsuits and plimsolls.’ As Dolly finished speaking, the kettle clicked off and Linda went to fill the teapot. ‘Leave it!’ Dolly bellowed.

In her rush to join Shirley and Dolly seated on the crates, Linda tripped over Wolf and kicked his backside to move him out of her way. Dolly gave her a nasty look and called Wolf over to sit next to her. She opened her bag and pulled out her notebook.

‘We got problems,’ Dolly started. ‘I’ll go through ’em one at a time, but most important, I’ve been thinking about what I read in the ledgers and I reckon Harry used four men in the raid, not three.’

‘Four?’ Linda repeated. She and Shirley looked confused.

‘Four men and one of them got away. Leaving Joe, Terry and Harry to fend for themselves.’ Linda and Shirley were riveted by what Dolly was telling them. She continued. ‘This fourth man must have been called in from the outside, to drive. He must have driven the truck up front. Now there’s been nothing about him in the papers, nothing at all. That means the law either haven’t figured it out yet, which I doubt, or they’re after him.’

‘They won’t be the only ones!’ Linda shouted, leaping to her feet, red-faced with anger. ‘The bastard!’

‘Linda,’ Dolly said gently, trying to calm things down again.

‘No! I’ve got a right to speak. If he left my Joe burning to death... if he could have saved them and didn’t, I’ll kill him, Dolly, I swear I will.’

Again, Dolly tried to calm Linda. She was a hothead, after all, simply reacting in the only way she knew how.

Linda was having none of it. ‘I’ll kill him! You might not care about your man, Dolly Rawlins, but—’

Dolly was on her feet and at Linda so fast she didn’t even get to finish her sentence. The heavy slap to the side of her face knocked her sideways.

‘Don’t you ever suggest I don’t care!’ Dolly growled. ‘I saw how much you cared this afternoon, so stop with the hysterics, sit down and shut up!’

Linda slowly sat back down, holding her stinging cheek and trying to keep back the tears of grief, pain and embarrassment.

Shirley was frozen to the spot, trembling. God, Dolly has a temper! She’d never seen her fly off the handle like that before and could hardly believe it. And here was Dolly, sitting back smoking and checking over her notes as if nothing had happened.

From beneath her mop of black hair, Linda quietly spoke, ‘Why is it I’m always in the wrong?’ she asked in a trembling voice.

Dolly took a huge drag of her cigarette before replying. ‘Because you’re twenty-six and I’m forty-six and I’m the one paying the bills.’ She looked at Shirley, who was white-faced with shock. ‘Finish off making the tea, would you, Shirl?’ she asked. Shirley went off to the kitchen without a word.

Dolly looked at Linda’s red cheek, where her four finger marks were clearly visible. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I shouldn’t have done that.’ Linda got up and moved away from Dolly before she said something they’d all regret. Dolly didn’t care about Linda’s mood and continued as though her brief apology had solved all their problems. ‘You know what this means, though, don’t you? It means we’ll have to get someone else in.’

‘Not a man,’ Shirley piped up from the kitchen. ‘If we bring a fella in, half of London will know what we’re up to.’

‘Preferably not a man, no. There’s no one in the ledgers I know well enough to trust, so I’ll have to think on it. But we might need to put the date of the job back to give us time to find the right woman.’

‘Jesus Christ,’ Linda said impatiently. ‘If all we need is another woman, I’ll find one.’

‘I’ll find her,’ Dolly said defiantly. There was no way anyone else was going to make a choice as important as that.

‘You’re the boss.’ Linda sneered.

‘And if you don’t like it, you know what you can do! You can go back to bed with that bit of rough trade. I bet he’s a right keeper and, if he’s not, well, I’m sure there’ll be another one along in a minute.’

Coming out of the kitchen, Shirley had no idea what Dolly meant and certainly wasn’t going to ask. Linda stepped toward Dolly with furious eyes, clearly at breaking point. Shirley stepped quickly in front of her with a cup of tea, forcing Linda to stop dead. Unable to ignore the pleading in Shirley’s eyes, Linda took her tea and moved away from Dolly again. Shirley sat down in between them.

‘You said we had “problems” — plural,’ said Shirley, waving away Dolly’s horrible cigarette smoke.

‘The Fisher brothers are coming on heavy and they’re not going to let up. They’ve already started on me, ripping my place apart and next time it’ll be my face. Then they’ll start on you two.’ It was one thing for the widows to have a go at each other, but the Fishers were a different matter altogether. This news changed everything. Linda could walk away from Dolly if she became too much of a pain and Dolly would let her. Tony Fisher, on the other hand, would tear you apart just for turning your back on him. ‘The Fishers want Harry’s ledgers and they’re not taking no for an answer. This fourth man, whoever he was — well, I don’t think he’ll show his face round here again. I reckon he took off weeks ago.’ Dolly stared at Linda and saw the hatred in her eyes for the coward who left her Joe to die such a slow and painful death. She spoke with total sincerity. ‘We’ll get him, Linda, and he’ll get what’s coming to him, but for the moment it’s good that no one can find him.’

Linda broke the gaze first, looking down at the dirty concrete floor before Dolly could see the tears welling up in her eyes.

‘We’re going to pull a raid and I don’t want any of us getting hurt,’ Dolly went on. ‘We’re not big strong fellas, we’re women. But we’ve got to start thinking like men. Boxer Davis works for the Fishers now and I’ll put money on the fact that he’s round there spilling the beans. And when they hear what he’s got to say, they’ll lay off.’

A self-satisfied smirk came over Dolly’s face and, as they waited for her to speak again, Shirley was suddenly reminded of being back in the sauna and learning about the raid for the first time. Whatever Dolly said next, Shirley knew she’d be stunned by it. She was right.

‘I’ve told Boxer that the fourth man, the one that got away, was Harry. Boxer believes that Harry’s alive and when he tells the Fishers, they’ll believe Harry’s got the ledgers. This is the best way to protect us right now. Harry was the only person round here who could keep the Fishers in check cos of what he had on them, so we need Harry to be alive again.’

‘How can you be sure Boxer will tell them?’ Shirley asked.

‘He’ll talk. He always did, especially with a drink inside him. I gave him one of Harry’s suit jackets and two hundred quid so, drunk or sober, he’ll be feeling invincible.’ Dolly finished her tea and handed her mug to Shirley. ‘I’ll be back in touch as soon as I’ve come up with the other member of the team.’ Dolly opened her handbag, took out a bit of folded paper and handed it to Linda. ‘That’s a safe number for you both to call me on — it’s an unlisted line at the convent I volunteer at. You can leave a message there anytime and they’ll contact me. Memorize it, then burn it.’ Without another word, Dolly scooped up Wolf and left.

Linda looked at the phone number for about ten seconds; then handed it to Shirley. ‘I’ve got no matches left; you’ll have to eat it.’

Shirley looked at the phone number too, then was about to pop the note in her mouth when she caught the look on Linda’s face.

‘Joke! It’s a bleedin’ joke, Shirl.’

Shirley wasn’t in the mood for jokes. Today had been far too stressful.

‘I can’t stand her sometimes,’ Linda whispered.

Shirley’s reply wasn’t as supportive as Linda expected. ‘I think the feeling’s mutual.’

Linda shot Shirley a disdainful look. ‘She’s got no right to talk to us like we’re kids. I think you did really well with those jumpsuits.’

‘I didn’t, Linda! They’re completely wrong and you know it. Dolly was right to be angry.’

‘She’s no right to talk down to us or to slap me around. She’s not the boss.’

‘She is.’ Shirley’s voice was quiet, controlled and deadly serious. ‘If this is really happening... she is the boss.’

Linda was well and truly pissed by ten o’clock, and sat in her booth at the shooting arcade in the West End red light district with a sozzled grin on her face. But no matter how drunk she got, she never gave out the wrong change. Charlie stood by the entrance door and kept looking over nervously at the booth as she took swig after swig from the vodka bottle. He worried that if the boss came in now, and saw Linda pissed and singing at the top of her voice, he’d probably get the sack as well. He sighed and smiled — if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em. He threw the remains of his coffee onto the street, went over to the booth and peered through the glass at Linda. It took her a while to focus her eyes but, when she did, she gave Charlie her broadest smile.

‘Charlie, my old darlin’. How are you?’ Charlie held up his empty mug and flicked his eyes toward her vodka bottle. ‘Bugger off.’ Linda whispered through the gap where she gave people their change. ‘Everyone’ll want some.’ Then she howled laughing. Letting her head flop forward, she started making the odd drunken snorting noise. After a few moments, Charlie could no longer tell if she was laughing or crying. He was just about to ask if she was OK when she flicked her head violently back again. Her eyes were hard now, and she spoke through gritted teeth.

‘You know what, Charlie boy? I fucking love this place. I mean, look at it. There’s underage kids with fake ID being pestered by the local pedo... there’s a drunk kipping on the doorstep... there’s more dealers than druggies... and passing trade is prossies, their pimps and their punters. I’m surrounded by the best of the best. Yeah, I’m really going places, Charlie! Cheers!’ Linda emptied the remaining vodka in one swallow.

As Charlie went back to stand by the entrance door, he saw Bella O’Reilly walk in. Linda was right: the passing trade was prostitutes and their pimps or punters. Bella had brought both. She had beautiful shiny black skin, sultry looks and was dressed to kill in a skin-tight yellow satin top and tight black jeans, a matching jacket slung over one shoulder. Her high heels made her look even taller than her imposing six feet. Bella stopped in the middle of the arcade, surveying the scene, as did her pimp, who hovered a short distance behind her. Oil Head, as he was commonly known, started joking with a couple of Chinese guys while twisting his black Fedora in his hands, his gold rings glinting in the arcade’s flashing lights. Charlie knew he was organizing a drug deal. He’d told Oil Head before about plying his trade in the arcade, but the pimp had just laughed — a sort of grunting nasal laugh, a result of snorting too much cocaine. The problem with Oil Head was you didn’t know if he was laughing with you or at you. He was a nasty bastard who liked roaring around on his Harley Davidson and all his girls were scared shitless of him, all except his number one — Bella O’Reilly.

Bella started swaggering round the machines like a seasoned rock performer working the stage, even stopping to sort out two loud-mouthed youths who gave her the come on. Whatever she said had the desired result. They both looked petrified, apologized profusely and made a hasty exit. Bella saw Linda in the booth and gave her a big smile before coming over. She didn’t need to say excuse me to get past people; they nervously stepped out of her way.

‘Bella!’ Linda screamed from inside the booth. Bella, still walking, did a quick bump-n-grind and then stopped in front of Linda, propping herself up against the glass.

Linda and Bella knew each other from way back. Bella had always been in a class of her own: big enough to take care of herself and scared of no one. Linda, unlike Bella, had never worked for a pimp; she’d been more of a lone amateur who only gave hand or oral relief as opposed to full sex, and well before she met Joe.

‘How can you stand it in here?’ Bella asked.

‘It’s soundproof and the voddy helps,’ Linda joked. ‘I love your hair, Bell.’ Bella’s fabulous hair was now cropped close to her head, in a Grace Jones style. She wore a gold headband which, although it was cheap and sold on the market stalls, looked a million dollars on Bella and made her look like an African princess. ‘What you up to these days?’ Linda asked.

‘Same old, same old. Three spots a night at the “Z-Easy” and anything I can fit in between.’

‘How come you’re back in this neck of the woods?’

‘You know me. I was doing all right, but then I lost my temper one night and beat this geezer up. Foreign bastard he was, couldn’t understand a word he was saying. His hands were everywhere, but he hadn’t paid for everywhere so I told him to leave off. When he didn’t I lamped him one. I pled guilty and Oil Head paid my fine.’

‘So you owe him.’

‘Big time. I’ll pay him off then see what I fancy doing.’ Bella glanced across to Oil Head, who was whispering to one of the Chinese men and pointing toward Bella. ‘Looks like I might have a client.’ Bella’s face became serious and she moved round to the door of the booth. Linda opened it so that they could talk face to face.

‘I heard about Joe and I’m really sorry. He was one of the best and you two were great together, sugar. You need me, a few quid or anything then just ask, I’m gonna move back to my old pad soon so I’ll be close by and visit you more often. For now, I’m at the International.’

‘Thanks, Bella. I appreciate that.’

Oil Head whistled to Bella and she held up her hand. Linda took her gently by the wrist. ‘You off the hard stuff?’

Bella looked embarrassed for a moment. ‘You got the wrong person, darlin’, that was the old man. He did the final OD three months back.’ Then she added, ‘So I know what you’re going through.’ Linda knew that Bella had used heroin in the past and took her denial to mean that she was clean now. She certainly looked clean. In fact, she looked fabulous. Bella gave Linda’s hand one final, comforting squeeze and then left.

Charlie appeared next to Linda. ‘I could give that black chick one,’ he said, scratching his balls and sneakily sniffing his pit. Linda laughed at Charlie’s naivety.

‘She could give you one an’ all, but you wouldn’t get up afterward. You so much as look at her and she’d clip you round the ear.’

‘I wouldn’t dip me wick in her anyway,’ Charlie said defensively. ‘She’d probably give me a dose of the clap.’ As he slunk away, he added, ‘She looks way too much like a fella anyway.’

Linda looked across at Bella as she left with her Chinese punter. From the back, with their overcoats and short black hair, they looked incredibly similar. Linda grinned to herself as she opened the drawer in her desk and got out a new bottle of vodka.