She's Out (35 page)

Sandy, the stable girl, led them all into the field connected to the stables and they proceeded to learn how to trot with gritted teeth and loud moans.

Julia remained at the house with the children, cooking breakfast and taking them on a ramble around the grounds. They were shrieking with excitement when she brought out Helen of Troy and they
each had a turn at being led round the yard. None of them had been in the country before or ridden a horse, and their excitement touched Julia. As a child she had wanted for nothing, she even had
her own pony, and it made her realize just how wonderful a place the manor could be for kids like Kathleen’s.

There was a lot more they needed to sort out but no one seemed inclined to open up the subject. It was obvious to everyone that the riding was a fiasco, the reality of the robbery far removed.
Yet it hung in the air, unspoken, and as Dolly seemed disinclined to discuss it, no one else did.

It was early afternoon by the time everyone had cleaned themselves up, and the washing machine creaked under the weight of all their dirty clothes. The boots were lined up and the little girls
given the task of cleaning them for fifty pence a pair. Dirtier than ever, polishing away, Sheena seemed to have a considerable amount of boot polish round her mouth but, seeing they were happy,
Dolly said nothing and called all the women into the office.

They stood around, waiting, as Dolly closed the door and crossed to her desk. She picked up a small black notebook and sat down. ‘Right, it’s obvious we’re gonna need two
lessons a day.’ She jotted down the costs and they all exchanged glances. ‘In the meantime, we’ll just carry on as if we’re progressing, even if we don’t seem to
be.’

Gloria leaned on the desk. ‘I got to be honest, Doll, I’m not cut out for this riding business. It’s me size, you see. Being small I can’t get me legs round the
horse.’

Ester snorted. ‘Get them round that Eddie, though.’

‘Chance’d be a fine thing. I’ve not had ’em round a male for a lot longer than you!’

Dolly was irritated. ‘Shut up. Now we ride twice a day, two hours a session, and that’s final. You get a small horse.’

Gloria pulled a face and sat in a winged chair. ‘You’re payin’.’

‘Yeah, I am paying for everything, so shut up and listen, all of you.’

Dolly had that edge to her, flicking through the book, jotting down expenses. Julia stood by the window. ‘The builder was here, Dolly. You know he’s got a delivery of bathroom
equipment arriving and he’s a bit sore. He could start causing trouble.’

Dolly moistened her lips. ‘Yes, I know. We’ll start with him.’

Dolly pointed at Connie and told her to keep Big John happy, to see him as much as possible and give him five grand that evening.

Gloria swung her legs. ‘All right for some. I wouldn’t mind keeping him happy – got a nice arse.’

No one paid her any attention; they were listening to Dolly as she described the old cesspit half a mile from the house. ‘I need to get it cleared, see how deep it is, so this afternoon,
Gloria and Julia, that’s your job.’

‘Oh, great! I just got meself cleaned up,’ moaned Gloria, but again she was ignored.

‘Connie, when you see the builder, I want you to order via his firm, without him knowing, about twenty kilo-bags of lime.’

‘Why? What do we need them for?’ Connie asked.

‘To fill the pit,’ Dolly said patiently.

She jabbed a finger at Ester. ‘You have an assignment. I want you to find out just how tough it is to unhitch a train carriage.’

‘Oh, sure,’ Ester said, smiling as if it was as simple as buying groceries.

‘I’m serious. The mail carriage is in the centre of the train, it’s an ordinary carriage. I want to know how you can unhitch it.’

‘How the fuck do I find that out?’

‘You’ve got a big mouth, Ester. Use it. Off the top of my head you can go to the railway museums, chat up a guard,
not
at the local station – any way you think –
but I need to know how hard it is to unhitch, if it’s done manually or—’

‘Fine, I’ll do it,’ Ester interrupted.

Dolly ticked her memo in the notebook, turning a page. ‘Tonight, Connie, you go and see your boyfriend in the signal box. This time you find out the layout, how many alarms there are, how
long it takes to get the law to the station.’

‘You must be joking,’ stuttered Connie.

‘No, love, I’m not. We have to know exactly what goes down when that mail train arrives, what he does, what—’

Connie broke in, ‘How do I do that?’

‘Find a way, love.’

‘Well, one minute you’re telling me to be with the builder, then the signalbox guy. I can’t do both of them.’

‘Yes, you can,’ Dolly snapped, and then looked at them all. ‘You have to do just what I tell you or this is finished before it’s started. I don’t want any
arguments.’

‘Can we ask what you’re doing?’ Ester leaned forward.

Dolly closed her book and stood up. ‘I’m going to London so I’ll need the car. I don’t want the kids left alone so one of you bath them, feed them and put them to bed. I
might be late.’

She walked out and they watched her go, no one saying a word until the door latched. ‘She’s nuts, you do know that, don’t you?’ Ester said angrily.

‘But you’re still here,’ remarked Julia tartly.

‘Yeah, but not for long if she carries on like this. We got a right to know what she’s doing.’

Gloria cranked herself out of the chair. ‘Well, like she’s always saying, she’s paying out so let’s get on with it. I mean, I’ll do your job if you wanna do the
cesspit.’

Ester was no way going to dig shit. She was still in agony from the ride. ‘I can’t. I’m still injured.’

‘Well, then, we just do what Hitler says,’ Gloria mused.

Connie said, ‘Okay, but I’ll never get that information, you know. I’m not supposed to even be in the signal box.’

‘Take him a bottle of wine,’ Julia said, and stroked Connie’s shoulder. ‘One for the builder as well.’ Connie shrugged her away.

‘Right, let’s get on with it,’ Julia said, and one by one they went to do their allocated jobs.

Angela left the hospital, caught a bus and then made her way down the lane to the manor. No one was in sight so she pushed open the front door.

‘Hello? Anyone home?’

Ester appeared on the stairs and glared at her. ‘Just stay put, no need to come in.’

‘I’ve come for my gear.’

Ester disappeared along the landing. The three girls peeped out from the kitchen. Angela looked at them, then up the stairs.

‘They’re Kathleen O’Reilly’s kids,’ Ester called down.

Angela smiled. ‘Hello.’

‘Hello,’ said Sheena.

‘How ya all doing?’

Before they could reply, Ester returned with a suitcase which she hurled down the stairs. ‘There’s your gear. Piss off and don’t come back.’

Angela was near to tears as she picked up her case. ‘I got no money.’

‘My heart bleeds. Go on, get out.’

Angela walked back down the drive, dragging the suitcase, sniffing back the tears. She didn’t see Gloria and Julia way in the distance, digging and clearing the cesspit. Both wore thick
scarves round their faces as the stench was disgusting. They heaved bucketload after bucket-load, chucking it into a wheelbarrow.

‘This is making me sick,’ said Gloria and retched.

Julia heaved up the wheelbarrow. ‘Keep at it. We’ve only cleared a quarter of it.’

‘It’s not on, you know. This could give us a disease, it’s disgusting. I mean, this is – this is old shit, you know that, don’t you?’

Julia paid no attention as she wheeled the stinking, thick, gooey mud over to a pile of rubbish, smouldering with old bits of furniture and junk. She tipped out the barrow and stood back from
the thick black smoke. She turned back as Gloria peered down into the pit.

‘Now what? I can’t reach in any further with the bucket,’ she yelled.

‘We’ll have to get into it,’ Julia said.

‘I’m not gettin’ in there,’ shrieked Gloria.

‘Well, one of us has to. We’ll toss for it.’ Julia picked up a rake and asked whether Gloria wanted the rake or flat side. Gloria bellowed she wanted the rake side. Julia
tossed the rake into the air and it came down flat side.

‘You bloody did that on purpose,’ Gloria yelled. She looked down into the pit again and back to Julia. ‘I got an idea. Why don’t we get the kids to do it?’

Julia gave her a hard push. ‘No way. Just get on with it, Gloria. Sooner it’s done the better.’

Connie breezed into Big John’s yard. He was sitting on the steps of his small hut and looked up and waved.

‘Hi, how are you?’ She beamed as she crossed to him.

He lowered his eyes. ‘Look, Connie, this has got nothing to do with you but that Mrs Rawlins is making me bankrupt.’

Connie sat next to him and passed over the envelope. ‘Here you go, and there’s more coming in a day or two.’

John opened the envelope and then stood up. ‘I’d better go and split this between the men.’

‘Oh, right now?’

He looked down into her upturned face. ‘I got to. When they finish the job they’re on, they’ll be on their way. If you want that roof done at the manor, I got to pay
them.’

‘How long will you be?’

‘Ten minutes.’

She got up and slipped her arms around him. ‘Then I’ll wait, but only ten minutes, and we can have a . . .’ She kissed him and he gasped for breath when he broke away from her.
‘Don’t be long,’ she whispered, biting his ear.

He blushed, glancing towards the gates then back to the small wooden makeshift hut. ‘You know, anyone can walk in here, Connie.’

She giggled. ‘Exciting, isn’t it? Besides, you can lock the main gates, can’t you? But I think it’s better if they’re open and we screw knowing somebody’ll
walk in any minute. And look, I brought us a bottle of wine.’

He was all over the place, kissing her, groping her beautiful breasts, and then he ran like hell to his truck. He shouted back that he would be no more than ten minutes.

Connie started to undo her buttons and he could hardly put the key into the ignition. She was still standing there on the steps of his hut, blouse open, as he clipped the gatepost in his haste
to get out. She didn’t even wait for the tail end of the van to disappear before she shot into the hut and began to sift through all his papers and order forms. She found a trade supplier and
ordered the bags of lime to be delivered directly to the manor for a cash payment. She gave John’s firm’s reference and as soon as she replaced the receiver she hurried out, picking up
her bag with the bottle of wine. Next stop, the signal box.

Mike had just finished his lunch and was about to go back to the station when the call came. He was eager not to let Susan answer it in case it was Angela again. They almost
collided in the hall, they were both so desperate to reach the telephone.

Mike snatched it up. Susan stood with her hands on her hips.

‘Hello, is that Mike?’

‘Yes, it’s me.’ He knew who it was – he recognized the voice.

‘Who is it?’ Susan said petulantly.

‘It’s my governor.’ He glared at her so hard that she turned away and stomped into the kitchen.

‘What do you want?’ he said quietly, afraid Susan would be listening.

‘Need to see you, love, it’s urgent. I’ll be at the Pen and Whistle pub in the saloon bar, six thirty.’

‘I can’t – I can’t see you.’

‘I think you can, Mike. Six thirty, you be there. It’s the pub on the corner by your mother’s flat.’

Mike was about to speak when the line went dead. He stood there, holding the receiver, and then dialled his station. He was put through to the incident room and told them he was not feeling too
well so he would be in a bit late. Then he looked towards the kitchen. He was sure that Susan was listening. All his anger and frustration surged against her as he dropped the phone back down.

Ester, being lazy, called a number of railway museums but was not getting the information she needed. She then tried another tactic by saying she was making a documentary film
for the BBC and could she speak to anyone working at the museum who could assist her. She was given various numbers to call for permission to interview railway technicians. However, permission was
not granted by British Rail, so she was now contacting the private railways, saying the BBC documentary had full backing of the transport ministry, who were co-financing the film. She looked at the
list of essential items listed by Dolly: size and weight of the train compartments, couplings and sidings. Underlined was how long it would take to unhitch one carriage from another. No way was it
going to be easy.

Big John had only been gone twelve and a half minutes, during which he had flung the money at his labourers and driven straight back to his yard. He ran a comb through his
hair, wished he’d got a spot of cologne and locked the big double gates before he ran to his hut. The door was closed and he threw it open, beaming.

Connie had left, no note, nothing. She’d even, he noticed, taken the bottle of wine with her.

Still carrying her suitcase, Angela walked along the road towards Mike’s house. It was growing dark and it had taken her hours to hitch a ride from the manor. She saw
Mike’s car parked outside his house and was in two minds whether or not to go and ring his front doorbell. She wanted to confront him, tell him about the baby, but the nearer she got the more
her confidence dwindled. She sat on a wall, wondering if he would come out. She didn’t want to see his wife.

Mike and Susan were having one hell of a row. She was demanding to know about Angela, about the phone calls, and he was refusing to answer. ‘You stay out all night, you come and go and
don’t speak to me. How do you expect me to feel?’

Mike clenched his fists. ‘Susan, I’ve told you, there is nothing –
nothing
between me and this girl.’

‘Then why does she keep calling you? Why was that Mrs Rawlins round here? Is it true that she’s pregnant?’

‘Leave it alone, Susan. I mean it. Just shut up about it. You’re driving me nuts.’

‘And
you’re
driving
me
nuts,’ she said in a fury, watching as he grabbed his coat. ‘Where are you going?’