“But you told me to teach her a lesson,” he whined. His clothes were torn and dirty from his work in the factory and the officer sneered.
“I told you to give her a seeing to. Little bitch wouldn't give me a freebie, I didn't tell you to rape her.”
“Yeah, but she was asking for it. See what the slut was wearing.”
PC Tate drove a fist into his stomach and stared at him. “I've had a fucking hard time covering this one up,” he spat. “You're lucky half of the Met aren't looking for you. We got a fucking good description, now lose the trainers and stop fucking about and just do what I tell you to, unless you don't want to run the crack market in this town?”
“I know we are supposed to be going slowly and all that, but please Grace. Come and live with me for awhile. At least until you got yourself sorted.”
Grace huffed at him. “Please Terry, I don't need this,” she murmured and he nodded. It had been two days since the body had been found by her, but he was getting worried. She seemed unable to think about anything other than Sandy and he certainly didn't want her living here on her own.
“I know. Which is why I am concerned about you. It's a small village. Well away from the hustle of London. Come back and I'll sleep on the sofa while you are there. Please. I'll only worry about you. Come after the funeral.”
Grace wiped a tear from her eyes and glanced over at the envelope on her desk with Sandy's scrawling writing. She thought about what she told her, “don't push him away,” and then looked up at him.
“OK. But I don't know what I will do for work.”
“There is a strip club in Stoke. I'm sure you'll find something to keep you occupied. Or don't work. It's not as though I will need the money,” he told her. “Just come. Please, Grace. Just come back to Cheshire with me.”
“I'm leaving,” Grace admitted and passed Ethel the cat. “He needs a home and we can't take him.”
Ethel smiled and looked at the purring animal in her hands. “You sure, love. Won't your partner want to keep it?”
Terry was busy loading the last of the bags in his car and was waiting for his girlfriend to join him. It had taken many weeks, but she was finally his. She was worth fighting for, he thought, as she was unique.
“No. There is no space. And he is a London cat.”
The woman smiled and stroked the animal. She had a nervous look on her face as if she wanted to say something but didn't quite know how to broach it.
“I'm sorry to hear of your friend,” she said eventually and Grace nodded. She hadn't stop thinking of Sandy and wished that she was coming with her, and wiped her eyes.
“Yes. It was… awful. Police don't care,” Grace muttered. “Bastards.”
Ethel nodded. “They are that.”
“You ready?” Terry asked, interrupting the subdued conversation, and Grace left Ethel and Terry to give the flat one last look, and to lay a small bouquet of flowers in the bathroom. She knew they would be gone as soon as the cleaners came in, but she couldn't leave the flat without signifying Sandy's presence somehow.
“Yes,” she murmured as she returned to the daylight. “Let's just get out of here.”