39
Arriving at the club, Emma was dying to find out how the little meeting had gone. She had her money on Paul declaring his undying love and sweeping Kate into his muscly arms, with them both running off into the sunset and living happily ever after: well, something like that. Kate had been supposed to text the minute the meeting was over, so that Emma could find out what had been said, but maybe it was a more serious matter than she had thought, or maybe it hadn’t gone well, as Emma had not heard anything. She wandered around a bit but didn’t spot Kate, maybe Romeo and Juliet were in a cupboard somewhere, having a bit of time out. Emma was early for her shift, so she decided she would grab a quick drink before she started. Plopping herself up on a stool, she asked Jake, the barman she had been working alongside for the past few weeks, who was a seriously funny guy, for an orange juice with lots of ice and gratefully sipped it while she caught up on the gossip of the evening so far. Then she spotted Paul coming towards her with the mother of all frowns etched on his forehead: it was not the look of a happy man. She felt a bit guilty that she was sitting on her butt, even though technically she wouldn’t be paid for her shift for another fifteen minutes. She wondered if he had assumed she was drinking alcohol while she was supposed to be working, and maybe that was why he seemed so hacked off. But as he approached her, she could see that he didn’t even seem to have noticed what she was doing.
“Hey Paul, you okay?” Emma was a little concerned, as she could see Paul was very pissed off, and it was the last thing she had expected. She had thought after seeing Kate, he would be floating around the place, smitten.
“I will be.” Leaning down to her ear, he continued, “Can you let Kate know: next time she decides not to bother turning up for work, a phone call wouldn’t go amiss. I wouldn’t mind, only we’re short staffed as it is, and I’ve been running round like a blue-arsed fly for the last hour.”
Paul was hurt, but he didn’t want to show it, he was trying to play it down, despite his anger bubbling away. He was gutted that Kate hadn’t shown up, and thought that she had guessed what he was going to say to her and had tried to save them both from what would have been an awkward knockback. He was crushed, but he guessed he had his answer. The only time Kate had not turned up for work was when she had been in hospital; she never threw sickies, so he deduced that she wasn’t interested in him.
Emma shifted uncomfortably on her bar stool.
“I don’t understand, Paul,” she said quietly, feeling worried. “She did leave for work. She said that you had asked her to come in a bit earlier, and she left about eight: almost two hours ago.”
Reaching into her pocket, she dialled Kate’s new mobile. Almost whispering now, she looked at him, as she said:
“It’s switched off; she never switches it off.”
All of a sudden, Emma was seriously worried; she had a very bad feeling; something was not right. Kate had left the house hours ago; she wouldn’t disappear like that.
Paul had known Kate long enough to know that it wasn’t in her nature to just let people down; if she said she would be somewhere then she would be, or she would have at least called. He realised that he shouldn’t have been so quick to think that she had stood him up, and maybe he should have called her earlier. Feeling concerned, he decided to phone Billy. Trying to remain calm, he turned back to Emma and said:
“Why don’t you go and see if you can get Jimmy or Eve in, see if they’re both up for an extra shift tonight, their numbers are in the book in my office, it’s double bubble.” Heading outside to have a cigarette, Paul called Billy’s number. Maybe something had happened and Billy was with Kate right now. Hoping that he was right, he waited for Billy to pick up his phone.
Billy was in The Dog, having a few pints to start his night off in the right direction; it was becoming a nightly routine to be out drinking with the lads. The pub was packed, the darts team were all out on the lash after winning a big tournament, and he was hardly able to hear Paul’s voice when he called. Instantly, Billy knew something had happened, he had a sixth sense when it came to Kate, she wasn’t the type to let people down by not turning up for work; besides, she loved it at the club, he didn’t even think that she looked at it as “work”; she enjoyed it so much you would have to drag her away from the place. Feeling sick, he asked everyone he came across if they had seen her but to no avail. He made his way to Goldie’s hoping that she would turn up there, that maybe, just maybe, she had been side-tracked into talking to someone, or knowing her she had helped someone out and been delayed that way. In his heart of hearts, though, as he made his way down the high street to the club, he knew something bad had happened. All this shit with Jay suddenly seemed a bit too clear-cut now.
40
Tanya had organised a cottage for them about a mile out of London, in the middle of nowhere. It was the perfect location. She had booked it over the Internet using false names so that there would be no way of tracing it to them, and they had paid the owners cash. The house was on a couple of acres of land, very conveniently tucked away behind overgrown hedgerows at the top of an old, beaten track. Jay found it hard to believe that the “real world” was going on just an hour or so away, he felt as if he was on the set for Little House on the fucking Prairie or something. All they were missing were chickens.
The cottage was tiny, and cluttered, there were frilly doyleys under most ornaments. He had been amazed that there was a TV set in the lounge; the place looked so old-fashioned he was even more amazed the owners knew televisions had been invented. With just two small bedrooms, a small lounge and kitchenette and a dingy basement, it would serve its purpose. The plan had gone well; very well, in fact, it had been almost too easy. Jay had been more than a little uncertain about the whole thing, but Tanya was adamant that this was the way forward for them both. She was determined to get back at Billy; hell hath no fury, and all that.
Jay had been surprised at Tanya’s level of malice: surprised but definitely impressed. She was a cold-hearted bitch when she wanted to be. The more Jay had thought about it, the more he realised that she was right, though; maybe doing this was the only way to hit Billy-Boy straight in the bollocks.
The plan was simple. They had decided to kidnap Kate, rough her up, frighten the shit out of Billy and bleed cash out of him. Tanya said Billy was good for at least a hundred grand, he wouldn’t gamble with his sister’s life. Besides, he owed Tanya.
Getting Kate to the cottage hadn’t been too much of a problem, much to Jay’s relief. The stupid cow had believed him when he pulled over next to the side of the road where she was walking to work that evening and begged her to listen to him. He had told her that he had problems: real problems. He had put on his best “feel sorry for me” face, and faked tears, swearing that he was getting counselling to sort himself out. He had pleaded with her to spare him a few minutes and told her that he would completely understand her walking away and never seeing him again, but he insisted that she hear him out for one last time first: just a few minutes and he would be gone forever. He had said that he owed it to her after all he had done, he owed her an explanation.
Looking nervously around the now not-so-busy street, hoping there was no one around to see her as she knew they would think she was a complete mug for even contemplating listening to Jay, Kate felt hesitant: should she or not? Seeing that the coast was clear, and thinking it would do no harm other than take up a few moments of her time, she got into the passenger seat. Jay did owe her an explanation, she figured, she had all sorts of questions running about her head and to be honest, some answers would be good: she needed closure, once and for all.