Widows

The doorbell continued to ring. It couldn’t be Tony Fisher, Shirley reasoned. He’d have kicked the door in by now, or at least screamed at her to open it. She tiptoed to the door and asked in a trembling voice: ‘Who is it?’

Linda was oblivious to the hour and Shirley’s nerves. ‘It’s me, you stupid cow! Open up.’

Linda waited impatiently as Shirley undid the numerous locks on the door. It sounded like Fort Knox: bolts, chains, a double or even a triple lock... Linda couldn’t tell how many. When the door eventually opened, she could see the look of relief on Shirley’s face.

‘Bloody hell, Linda, you gave me the fright of my life. What do you want?’

‘I just wanted to talk to you about Dolly,’ said Linda, swaying a bit from the vodka.

She walked into the lounge, leaving Shirley to re-bolt and lock the front door. She was taken aback. Shirley’s flat was like something out of an interior design magazine: soft pale colors everywhere, big thick rugs, classy furniture and a lovely stripped-pine dresser. Linda felt jealous. It must have cost a fortune decorating and furnishing the place: Terry must have made a lot of money doing jobs with her Joe and Harry Rawlins. Joe must have got the same cut as Terry, of course, so why had he spent so little of it on her or their place? It wasn’t that Joe hadn’t been generous with Linda, it was that he’d been a bloody charity to his own family; finding them places to live, flying them over from Italy, paying their rent and giving them handouts all the time. It was also true, Linda acknowledged, that Joe had thrown his money away down the clubs, gambling and buying drinks for all and sundry. And then there were the blonde bimbos she knew he played around with... Linda found herself getting edgy, and angry, as she watched Shirley in her expensive silk nightie fiddle with the central heating dial. None of it was Shirley’s fault, but Linda wasn’t in the mood to be reasonable.

‘What about a drink then?’ Linda asked.

Shirley could tell Linda had already been drinking. Vodka, probably, she thought. The pie-eyed ‘grumpy ferret’ look on her face gave her away. She didn’t have vodka, so she poured Linda a large brandy in one of her best cut-crystal glasses and handed it over.

Linda noted the glass, but didn’t say anything as she swirled the brandy round and round, looking as if she knew what she was doing. She sat on the floor on the thick white rug and leaned against the Heal’s three-seater sofa. Taking a swig of the brandy, she got straight to the point. ‘You think Dolly’s been straight with us, then, or what?’

Shirley stayed near the fireplace. She was tired and she was sick of Linda’s suspicious mind. ‘Of course I think she’s being straight,’ she said sternly.

‘Me and Bella been talkin’—’ Linda began.

‘And drinking,’ Shirley interrupted.

‘Just shut up a minute, will ya? This rumor Dolly started spreadin’ about her old man being alive... and this fourth man, the one that got away. We was thinking, well, what if both them things are true? What if Harry Rawlins is alive and what if he’s the one that got away and left our fellas to burn to death?’

‘Don’t be so bloody stupid!’ Shirley snapped. This had to be the most ridiculous thing Linda had said to date.

‘What if we’re being shipped off to Rio, not knowing where the money is, not knowing where Dolly is? What if this fourth man is still around here, hiding locally, and what if he swans in and takes the lot? What if it’s Harry, and Dolly’s in on it? She loves the man to death, Shirl. She’d do anything for him.’

Shirley tensed up, cheeks flushing. She clenched her hands for control. She’d never heard such ungrateful, spiteful nonsense in all her life. Linda was now up on her feet, bending over, prodding Shirley with her chewed finger. Shirley pushed Linda away from her and stood tall, hands on hips. She didn’t shout. Her voice was calm, but she let Linda have it.

‘You think that woman’s grief wasn’t real? You think that day in the sauna when she came to us with this plan was all part of some bigger picture that doesn’t actually involve us? Harry’s dead! Just like your Joe’s dead and my Terry’s dead. Don’t you dare expect me to believe that her grief ain’t as real as mine. Just because you’ve bounced back, don’t mean we have!’

‘All right, keep your wig on! So, it might not be Harry who walked away — but she could still be having us all on. Why won’t she tell us where she’s stashing the cash, eh?’

‘She’s explained that!’ Shirley’s eyes were wide, her face tight and serious. ‘If you’ve got something to say to Dolly, Linda, say it to her face. You and Bella can think what you like, but I won’t believe she’s playing a double game. She didn’t want to drive the lead truck, but she is. It’s the most dangerous position and she took it because it’s the right thing to do for all of us.’

Linda tried her best to stand her ground. ‘Me and Bella—’