Widows

Shirley shrieked her frustration. ‘“Me and Bella! Me and Bella!” You brought Bella in and now you both want to stir up trouble and expect me to take sides with you. Well, I won’t. Dolly hasn’t let us down yet, and I for one don’t believe she will. Not on purpose.’

‘I’m sorry, all right. I’m sorry,’ Linda said, backtracking.

But Shirley wasn’t about to let her get away with it that easily. ‘No, it isn’t all right. You come here in the middle of the night trying to start a mutiny when Dolly’s done nothing but look after us. You’ve never had it so good, Linda! And you didn’t have Tony Fisher onto you. You didn’t have that bastard trying to burn your tits off! You frighten me, Linda, you understand? You frighten me.’

Linda knew she shouldn’t have come. She reached out for the bottle of brandy to settle her nerves.

‘I think you’ve had enough. You should go.’ Shirley said, and snatched the bottle away.

Deflated, hands stuck into her jeans pockets, Linda stood head down like a naughty schoolgirl. Shirley sighed, unscrewed the bottle cap and poured her a small measure. Linda carried the glass over to the sideboard and looked at the row of photographs displayed neatly on it. She sipped her drink and pointed at one.

‘That your mum?’ Linda asked.

Shirley wasn’t remotely in the mood for small talk, but this seemed to be Linda’s attempt at an apology, so she went with it. ‘That’s me brother and that’s me dad,’ she said.

With her back to Shirley, silent tears rolled down Linda’s cheeks. Shirley couldn’t tell Linda was crying until she spoke.

‘My dad walked out when I was three,’ Linda said. ‘Then me mum dumped me in an orphanage and never came back. I don’t remember her now — not even what she looked like.’ She polished off the remainder of the brandy. ‘Nice family,’ she said. ‘You’re lucky, Shirl.’ Suddenly back to her usual grinning self, Linda asked: ‘You got a fella?’

‘Course not,’ Shirley replied, hoping that Linda wasn’t now going to get all slutty and inappropriate like she usually did when she was drunk. But Linda stayed quite ladylike.

‘I’ve got a fella,’ she said. ‘I’m not supposed to be seeing him — Dolly don’t approve. But I like him, Shirl, I really do. He’s gentle. And he’s got prospects, better prospects than Joe ever had. He’s got his own garage. He wants to be a racing driver,’ she added proudly.

‘Oh, my God.’ Shirley’s eyes suddenly widened as if she’d seen a ghost. Falling to her knees, she flung open the bottom door of the sideboard, pulled out a photo album and started frantically flicking through it. ‘It’s got to be him!’ she kept saying. ‘It’s got to be him! There!’ She’d found what she was looking for. Grabbing Linda by the arm, she dragged her down to the floor next to her, pointing at a snapshot of Terry with his arm round a man in white mechanics’ overalls.

‘That’s Jimmy Nunn!’ she said excitedly. ‘He was a racing driver. I reckon he could have been the fourth man, Linda! Terry could have brought him in to the team. That’s why he’s not mentioned in any of Harry’s ledgers — that’s why Dolly can’t find out who he is... he was new.’

‘How can you be sure?’

‘I remember Terry going on about him. How good he was, how no one could catch him. I think he must have driven the lead truck. It makes sense. Why else can’t we find him? He was new.’

Suddenly sober, Linda took the photo from the album. ‘Don’t say anything to Dolly,’ she said. ‘Not till we’re sure. I want to find him, Shirl, please let me find him and then we’ll tell Dolly.’

‘How you going to find him?’ Shirley wasn’t at all convinced, but Linda seemed desperate.

‘Please, Shirl.’ Linda begged again. ‘Let me do this. I’ll do it right, I promise.’

Shirley nodded reluctantly and Linda was out the front door like a shot. Jimmy Nunn... she was determined to find the bastard who’d left their men to die. But, more than that, she was determined to prove to Dolly that she had a brain in her head and that she was part of the team.

Detective Chief Inspector Saunders’s face was expressionless as he listened to Fuller complaining. Occasionally Saunders would look up from the file Fuller had given him, give Fuller a quick nod as though he was still listening, and continue to read.

Fuller was in full flow, keen to get it all off his chest. ‘I don’t want it to seem as though I’m telling tales out of school, sir, but you should know how DI Resnick’s handling this case. And it seems to me, sir, that the Mayfair case needs more officers and I could do some real good there. Instead, I’m sitting outside a dead man’s house and following his wife to the hairdressers or to the convent or when she’s taking her dog walkies. With respect, sir, it’s a waste of resources. And at the weekend... well, it’s costing the service overtime, there’s still nothing to show for it, and it’s impacting team morale.’

As Fuller continued venting his spleen, Saunders wandered to his office door and opened it. Fuller instantly fell silent.