Widows

‘Right,’ Dolly said, pointing her finger at Shirley. ‘Get Greg to go to the car park in Covent Garden and get your car. Tell him to park it in Mount Close — that’s the large cul-de-sac off the second street down if you go right out of my driveway. Tell him to leave the driver’s door unlocked, the keys under the seat and to ring here when it’s done.’

Shirley looked doubtful. ‘At 2 a.m., he’ll either be pissed as a fart somewhere or comatose in his bed. If he’s in, I’ll definitely get Mum to wake him. But if he’s out...’

‘Well, let’s hope he’s in bed, then. Tell him, if your car’s gone, if it’s been nicked, then he’ll have to use his imagination and find us something else. But, no matter what, I need a car, any car, parked in that cul-de-sac by 4 a.m. at the very latest. There’ll be a hundred quid in it for him. And get your mum round here as soon as. I’ll give the money to her to pass on to your brother. You got all that?’

‘Got it,’ Shirley confirmed. She got a plate out of the cupboard and picked up the frying pan to dish up her breakfast.

Dolly moved swiftly across the kitchen, got two slices of bread from the bread bin and slammed them down on Shirley’s plate, leaving deep finger marks in the soft white dough. ‘Make a sandwich.’ Dolly glared. ‘Eat as you dial.’

Five minutes later, Dolly lent over the banister and shouted down to Shirley, who appeared from the kitchen, sandwich in hand.

‘The phone just keeps ringing and ringing,’ Shirley reported. ‘I’ll keep trying.’

Five minutes after that, Dolly lent over the banister again. She was holding a pair of scissors.

‘No luck,’ said Shirley. ‘Me brother may be at his girlfriend’s and I haven’t got a number for her, and Mum sometimes wears earplugs at night...’

‘Well, keep bloody trying,’ Dolly said, pointing the scissors at Shirley.

‘You cutting your hair?’ Shirley asked.

‘What?’

‘Like a disguise. I don’t have to cut mine, do I?’

‘Honest to God, Shirley, I don’t know how your brain works sometimes. Would you rather go to prison for life or cut your lovely blonde curls? Choose!’

Shirley stood in the hallway, running her ringers through her hair and mulling over what she might look like with a bob cut. Dolly rolled her eyes.

‘We ain’t cutting our hair! Phone your mum!’

Shirley rang her mum’s house again and, this time, the phone was answered, but there was silence at the other end. ‘Mum, is that you?’ Shirley shouted.

‘Nah, it’s me...’ Greg’s response was slurred. ‘What you doin’ ringing home this time in the morning?’ He’d been drinking and probably been sniffing God knows what as well; but he soon sobered up when Shirley mentioned the hundred pounds.

Shirley shouted up to Dolly. ‘I’m going to get dressed, Dolly. Greg’s doing what you said and Mum’s on her way round.’

Upstairs, Dolly closed her eyes and sighed out of sheer relief. She was in the master bedroom setting light to the last few pages of the ledgers. She’d used the metal bin from Harry’s study. The leather covers wouldn’t burn but, as she watched every page turn to ashes, she cut them up with the scissors.

She’d been in two minds about bringing the ledgers home after her last visit to the bank but she was glad she had, as she’d never have got another chance to collect them. She’d kept the location of the ledgers from the girls for their own protection; after all, what they didn’t know couldn’t hurt them.

Standing at the dressing table, Dolly smiled to herself. She looked at the array of beautiful cosmetics and designer perfumes, and then she swept them all onto the floor with one hard, fast swipe of her arm. She was ready; she felt good.

She glanced down at the ashes in the metal bin. Harry’s only means of protecting himself and blackmailing other villains was gone. One way or another, she’d make sure that word got out.

Taking one last look around the bedroom, her eyes fixed on the bedside cabinet and the photo of her and Harry. She picked it up, placed it face-up on the floor and stamped her foot down hard, gouging and twisting with her heel and grinding the broken glass into the photo. ‘Bastard,’ she muttered through clenched teeth. Then she picked up two suitcases and left her bedroom for the last time.

Dolly carried her suitcases into the lounge and sat down. She picked up her handbag and got out the flight tickets, then she opened one of the suitcases and began to remove some of the men’s clothes packed neatly inside and stack them on the arm of the chair.