Widows

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.