Tarnished (43 page)

She watched, holding her breath as Wayne jiggled something in the main lock. He stopped and looked puzzled, then called over the white guy, who moved the handle and opened the door with a jolt that suggested it gave way far more easily than he was expecting.

As the door swung fully open, the two men frowned at each other.

‘They’ve gone inside,’ Peg whispered to Parker, stepping away from the periscope.

‘Shit.’ Parker leaned in, breathing on his hands and rubbing them together to warm them. Peg took hold of Loz, whose eyes were wide open now, like a scared rabbit.

‘Don’t worry, Loz, it’s going to be all right.’ Peg winced at how unconvincing she sounded.

‘The fat boys are out again,’ Parker hissed from the periscope. ‘And they’re having a bit of a ding-dong,’ he went on. ‘Some sort of argy bargy. White guy’s looking all around him. Looking this way. Shit. That Wayne’s coming down the drive towards us. Hold your breath, girls. Kill the light Peg, love.’

Peg was sure that anyone out in the drive would be able hear her heart, so loudly was it pounding against her ribs. In the darkness, she could make out the white of Parker’s eye as he held it to the patch of daylight let in by the periscope. Then it was gone, as he put his hand over the eyepiece.

They held their breath as Wayne’s footsteps passed Parker’s garage, on their way to the end of the block. Then, after a moment’s silence, they heard him speak.

‘No one down here, mate,’ he said, the sound of his voice conjuring instantly for Peg the image of the back of his head, seen from her position on the rear seat of The Car. ‘She’s just disappeared.’

His footsteps passed back along the alley then retreated towards the van and the garage.

Parker cautiously uncovered the periscope and put his eye up to it again.

‘That Wayne’s on the blower,’ he whispered. ‘Now he’s telling the white guy something. They look pretty fucked off. Someone’s been giving them a bit of a shitting-off on that phone. They’re moving pretty nippy now. Ah, Whitey’s got that canister and he’s spilling it all round the garage, going inside with it, splashing it all up the walls.

‘Wayne’s gone in the back of the van, rummage, rummage, rummage. And he’s out again. And he’s got some sort of box he’s taking in there now.

‘He’s out now and he’s got his phone in his hand again. Nope, it’s some sort of remote control or something. Fucking shite. I should know what the fuck that is – hold on! Whitey’s closing the garage door. Fuck!’

‘What?’ Peg said.

‘He’s only setting fire to the fucking building,’ Parker went on. In the reflected daylight of the periscope, Peg could see the muscles twitching in his wasted cheek. ‘He’s running back to join the black guy in the van. Now they’re reversing, right past us. Getting out of it pretty sharpish.’ Parker turned, swivelling the tube one hundred and eighty degrees as he did so. ‘No, they’ve stopped at the end of the lane. Oh fuck. I know what – GET DOWN GIRLS,’ he yelled suddenly, turning to them. ‘Under the table.’ His drawn features, side-lit by the periscope, showed energy, authority and just a tiny trace of excitement. Twenty years dropped from his face as a forgotten part of him stepped back into focus.

Peg dragged Loz to the shelter of the table and threw herself on top of her.

‘DOWN!’ Parker shouted – to himself, essentially, because he was the last man standing. As he hit the garage floor, an almighty explosion shook the concrete beneath them, shuddering and clattering the many metal contents of Parker’s garage like some sort of anarchic percussion section. Peg felt her eardrums strain with the wave of pressure that followed.

For a while, there was nothing but jangling and dust and whiteness. It was as if everything had gone into slow motion. Peg was just thinking about tentatively creeping out from under the table when a series of smaller explosions further shook the ground and she redoubled her grasp on Loz, who was shivering like a chick fallen from its nest.

‘Everyone all right?’ Parker asked, once the last blast had faded. Or at least, that’s what Peg thought he said, through the ringing in her ears.

She sounded her assent.

Parker moved back to the periscope. ‘All clear.’ He helped Peg get Loz out from under the table. ‘They won’t be back in a hurry, I reckon.’

He hauled open his garage door and, supporting Loz between them, they stumbled out into the smoke-filled air, blinking in the greyish light.

Except for a pile of blackened smouldering rubble, there was nothing left of the garage where Loz had been held prisoner. The wall to the side of it had also been completely demolished, as had five neighbouring units.

‘If we hadn’t got Loz out of there . . .’ Peg said, a fist drawn tight inside her.

‘Nah.’ Parker shook his head. ‘Like I said. If they wanted her dead, she would’ve been dead when we found her.’

Peg shuddered.

‘They were here to bundle her out and destroy the evidence. And they’re in trouble now they’ve lost our girly here. They’re going to want to find her.’

He looked around and sniffed the air. Then something inside him turned over, switching him into another mode. ‘Look. I don’t want to seem like a selfish fucker or nothing, but I don’t plan on being here when the filth turn up, which they will in about four minutes.’

He darted inside his garage and came out with a rucksack. ‘I always keep this packed ready in case of emergencies and I reckon this situation qualifies. You coming, girls? You don’t have to. You can stay if you want. Give statements and all that shit. I’m out of here, though.’

Peg looked at Loz, shaking her head.

‘Bunga . . .’ she mumbled.

‘What?’ Peg said.

‘Doll’s . . . book . . .’ Loz had become agitated again, and was trying to pull Peg away. ‘Quick.’

Of course. The bungalow. The last place Raymond would think of looking for Loz. The place where Peg would find the answers.

Jean knew exactly what Raymond had done and to whom, she was sure of it. And she was now prepared to use anything to get the truth out of her – truth she finally realised she badly needed.

‘I need to talk to my aunt,’ she said to Parker. ‘Will you help me get Loz back to my nan’s bungalow?’

Without a second’s hesitation, Parker nodded.

To the din of fast-approaching sirens, he helped Peg support Loz away from the garages. At the side of the buildings, he lifted aside some brambles to reveal a hidden footpath that led them to the other side of the boarded-up demolition site.

As they worked their way up to London Bridge, the worm burrowed its way out of Peg’s memory. But the piece of truth it held in its sharp little mouth was too horrific for her even to start to examine.

She did know, however, that it was her fault.

As much as it was her fault that Loz nearly died in that lock-up, it was also down to her that poor Anna Thurlow had ended up there too . . .

Forty-Four

The long walk to the station helped Loz come back into focus, although she still had difficulty forming words.

By getting her to nod or shake her head, Peg and Parker learned that it had indeed been Raymond who had abducted her. Using the keys Peg had left on the bungalow occasional table, he had let himself into the flat.

‘And he knocked you down, drugged you and took you to the garage,’ Peg said.

Loz shook her head. ‘First . . . first, he . . .’

‘What did he do? What did that bastard do to you?’ Peg said.

‘No – no. He – he was trying to show me . . .’ Loz said, shaking her head as if trying to force her eyes to focus.

‘What?’

‘Wh-what she did . . .’

‘Who?’

Loz just shook her head and looked away. ‘We’ve got to find the books,’ she said. Even though her eyes were loose in her head, for one split second she looked Peg in the eye with a lucidity that shot a cold, leaden feeling through her.

‘What books?’

Peg looked at Loz, but her eyes had rolled away again, and she had lost track of what she was saying.

‘What is it?’ Parker asked, watching what was going on between them.

Peg shook her head. ‘I can’t say. I need to speak to my aunt.’

Parker shrugged and scratched his wispy stubble. ‘Suit yourselves,’ he said. ‘But I’m sticking with you. For one thing, sleeping beauty here might need a bit of extra support.’ He nodded at Loz. ‘And what if your old man or his charming fucking mates turn up? What then? You might be grateful of an old squaddie. Besides, I’ve got nowhere else to go till all the hoo-ha dies down.’

So they made their way out to Tankerton like a band of grubby post-apocalyptic survivors, two Tank Girls – one who looked to any casual observer as if she had taken too much of something – and one raddled Mad Max. Despite the crowded, standing-room-only train out of Victoria, no one took the empty seat next to Parker.

‘You two’d better go and wait in Nan’s,’ Peg said to Loz and Parker as they approached the bungalow. ‘It’s best Jean doesn’t know you’re with me. Silence when we go in. She’s got the place bugged.’

‘I’ll stay outside a bit,’ Parker said. ‘Just keep my eye out while you’re in with your aunt. Just in case. Make sure she’s warm,’ he added, as Peg took Loz from him and led her through the back door to Doll’s lounge, where she quietly settled her on the settee, swaddling her in one of Doll’s crocheted blankets.

‘Time to turn Aunty Jean’s weapons back on her,’ she whispered to Loz. She got hold of the intercom and fiddled with the buttons until she could hear the rise and fall of Jean’s anti-bedsore air-bed.

‘You’ve got to stay awake,’ she whispered, settling the box down by Loz. ‘Listen in. Be my witness. Whatever you hear me say, I love you. Remember that.’ She kissed her, then grabbed the bottle of potato wine from the drinks cabinet and let herself out of the back door.

‘Hello!’ she called, as cheerfully as she could.

‘Oh, Meggy. Where did you get to?’ Jean said, as Peg walked into the bedroom. ‘Pass me my ciggies, will you, darling? Ooh, you look a bit rough.’

‘I’ve had a busy day. Didn’t Julie pass the message on?’ Peg said, lighting Jean’s cigarette for her. ‘I decided to go up to London to get some more books and that. As I’m going to be here pretty much permanently.’ She was testing the water, to see what Jean knew about the day’s events.

‘Ah,’ Jean said, relaxing back against her pillow and exhaling. ‘I do like my ciggies. One of the small pleasures left to me. No, the girl didn’t say a thing. I’ll be glad when we can send her packing, won’t you, Meggy?’

‘If you don’t like her, then she has to go, Aunty Jean.’

‘Make us a cuppa, there’s a dear. And some biscuits wouldn’t go amiss.’

Peg rifled in the kitchen cupboards and assembled a large platter of almost all the cakes and biscuits she could find. Putting it on a tray, she added two glasses and the bottle of potato wine, then she steeled herself and took it into the bedroom.

‘Goodness!’ Jean said, rubbing her fat purple hands together. ‘A feast!’

‘I thought we deserved to treat ourselves,’ Peg said. ‘Given everything we’ve gone through over the last few weeks. And I thought it would be nice to drink some of Nan’s wine in memory of her, God rest her soul.’

Jean nodded, her face passing from greedy glee to mournful sadness in a beat.

‘And we also need to celebrate!’ Peg said, unwrapping a Galaxy cake bar and handing it to Jean.

‘Celebrate?’ Jean hungrily pushed the whole thing in her mouth and swallowed it almost in one gulp.

‘Oh yes. I’ve been thinking. About Dad’s plans for your house in Spain,’ she said. ‘It’s all good, Aunty Jean. Have a glass of wine.’

‘Do you think so?’ Jean said, looking delightedly at Peg as she handed her a large glass of the potato wine and a slab of Battenberg. ‘Well, that’s lovely. How exciting!’

‘It is. And I’m very much looking forward to it. But,’ she said, settling down on to the chair by Jean’s bed. ‘Before we do anything else, I need to know the truth, Aunty Jean.’

‘The truth, dear?’ Jean chewed on the cake, looking puzzled. Peg handed her a chocolate digestive.

‘Yes. I want to know why Raymond changed his mind so quickly about you. When I last saw him he was all for putting you in a home.’

Jean narrowed her eyes.

‘What are you playing at, Meggy?’

‘What did you say to him?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Jean drained her glass, folded her arms and looked away. ‘I don’t know nothing about none of it.’

‘But you do, Aunty Jean.’ Peg broke a large Kit Kat into four and laid the fingers out in front of Jean like dog treats. She refilled her aunt’s glass – her own was untouched. ‘If you’re not straight with me, then how can you expect me to look after you in that specially built place in Spain? If you can’t treat me like the family I am, then where do we go? If I’m not on the inside, I’m on the outside.’

Peg leaned in very close, so close she could smell the fear on her aunt.

‘I need to know what’s going on between you and Raymond.’

Jean broke her gaze, and, with surprising agility, reached a cigarette from her pack and lit it. Then she alternately smoked, drank, and ate Kit Kat until cigarette, wine and biscuits were finished.

Then finally she looked at Peg.

‘Are you threatening me?’ she said, wiping a bit of chocolate from the corner of her mouth.

‘Me? No. I’m just asking you to tell me the truth. I also want to know about what happened to Mary Perkins. And what about your fiancé, come to that. Did he really just disappear?’

‘Tony? He deserved everything he got,’ Jean spat.

‘What did you do to him?’

‘What did
I
do to him?’ As slowly as a snail, a smile crept across Jean’s face. She was just about to say something when a movement outside made her look sharply over at the window. ‘What’s going on out there?’

The thought that her father’s men might have turned up made the adrenalin prickle across Peg’s face. She jumped across the room and pulled the nets slightly apart so that only she could see out. But it was only Parker, standing in a studiedly casual way, smoking and watching the road. Sensing the twitch of the curtain, he looked round. With her back to Jean, Peg motioned to him to get out of the way of the window.