Widows

When she arrived, Charlie was hovering round the entrance, staring out along the road at the ambulance and police cars parked up by the alleyway to the Sports Club.

‘You should have been here earlier,’ Charlie said excitedly, not taking his eyes off the commotion.

‘I am ’effing early!’

‘No, no, I don’t mean for your shift. I mean you missed it. All the “blues and twos,” you know.’ Charlie had heard this expression on the telly and had no idea what it actually meant.

‘Can’t be arsed with other people’s problems, Charlie,’ Linda replied as she headed for the cash booth.

‘Can you be arsed with Tony Fisher?’ Linda turned and stared at Charlie’s worried face. ‘He popped in and asked if you was here.’

‘When?’ Linda asked, trying to sound as if Tony Fisher visiting her was a perfectly normal thing to happen.

‘Just after you knocked off last night.’

Linda walked back to Charlie, who was now, once again, more interested in the activity up the road. Linda kept her casual tone, ‘What did he say?’

‘I told you, he asked if you was here.’

‘And you said...?’

‘What do you think I said? I said “no,” cos you wasn’t.’ Linda remained silent, trying to work out what she should do. ‘I’d have said you wasn’t even if you was. Tony flamin’ Fisher, Linda! What’s going on?’

‘He fancies me, Charlie. Can you blame him?’ Linda walked away quickly before Charlie could ask anything else.

She sat in the cash booth, pretending to count the change into money bags, but she was making a terrible job of it. All she was really doing was making little stacks; she had no clue how much was in each. When Charlie came over and said he was going to pop up the road and take a closer look at what was going on, Linda jumped out of her skin and knocked all the coins onto the floor.

Ten minutes passed and Charlie hadn’t returned; Linda suspected he’d gone for a pint. But suddenly he was running through the arcade toward her. She’d never seen him run, not with his bad leg, but now he was doing a dead sprint and looked all flushed.

‘Boxer... it’s Boxer Davis!’ Charlie was panting for breath as he pressed his face against the glass of the cash booth. ‘Someone done the poor bastard in — he’s like a minute steak, I’ve bleedin’ never seen anythin’ like it — blood up the walls, blood everywhere... They found him in the back alley of the Sports Club under some rubbish, stiff as a board, and I heard the ambulance guy tell a copper he reckoned Boxer had been there all night and all day.’ Charlie was painting hard to get his breath back, the glass steaming up more and more with every exhale.

Linda just stared. As the news sank in, her body went cold and she could feel the blood drain from her face. ‘Boxer? Are you sure?’ Linda realized she didn’t need to ask — she knew how good Charlie was with gossip.

‘Course I’m sure,’ Charlie said, looking up at Linda. ‘He was over the road last night with his chips. I thought he must be back in the big time as he was lookin’ real good, dressed in a smart suit and—’ Charlie suddenly looked worried.

‘What?’ Linda whispered, not really wanting to know. ‘And what, Charlie?’

‘He was asking about you.’

‘What... what was he asking?’

‘Nothing really, he saw you and asked if you was Joe Pirelli’s missus.’

Without another word, Linda left the booth and went to the exit doors. She stood with the rest of the gawping spectators and looked up to where the ambulance was parked on the pavement. People around her were speculating. Perhaps the dead bloke had crossed a pimp or a dealer? Shagged the wrong bloke’s wife — or just been in the wrong alley at the wrong time? All bollocks. If only they knew.

Charlie appeared behind Linda. ‘Why are Boxer Davis and Tony Fisher both asking after you on the same day?’ he asked. ‘You’re not mixing with that lot, are you?’

‘That lot? Don’t pretend you know who “that lot” are.’ Linda snapped. She was being horrible to him but, right now, she had to be horrible to someone and he was closest. ‘I’m going back to work. You stand here for as long you like getting your kicks from someone else’s misery. Cos as long as Boxer’s lying dead just up there, you ain’t the saddest bastard in the street, are you, Charlie?’

‘He ain’t dead...’ Charlie mumbled as Linda stormed off. She paused and turned back.

‘What?’

‘He ain’t dead. He looks like a minute steak, but he ain’t dead.’

Back in the cash booth, Linda felt sick. Tony Fisher turning up at the arcade out of the blue was one thing, but Boxer showing his face on the same night asking questions about her was too much to cope with. And now he was fighting for his life in a rat-infested alley. Linda was terrified — there was no one to talk to here, no one who’d understand. All she wanted to do was get to Dolly, Bella and Shirley and warn them about... what? Linda had no idea what it all meant, but she’d never felt so out of her depth in her entire life.