Now she saw Celia’s tougher side. Celia’s face hardened when she saw Dolly standing there. She stubbed out her cigarette in the Capstan ashtray and hissed out a stream of smoke, while giving Dolly a look.
‘Give us a fucking mo, will you, Doll?’ she snapped. ‘Clear off for a second, OK? And stick the bloody wood in the hole.’
Surprised, Dolly backed out of the kitchen and closed the door. She went through to the empty front room. Her mother had a front room a bit like this, the best furnished room in the house but mostly unused.
Dolly sat on a plush sofa and thought of Mum. That fucking front room at home had never been used, to be honest. For years Mum hadn’t behaved as a true mother should. Mum had just sat in the kitchen and stared at the floor, and let Dolly be picked on by her dad. Her heart twisted with sadness as she thought of little Sand, and Nige and Dick, and quiet, obedient Sarah, and wondered what was happening with them these days.
Suddenly, the door opened and Celia stood there.
‘There you are! He’s gone now, you can come in the kitchen, all right?’
Celia led the way into the kitchen and Dolly followed. Celia started putting used cups in the sink and getting out fresh ones. She put the kettle on to boil. Then she turned and smiled at Dolly.
‘That was Billy,’ she said. ‘Sorry, did I snap at you? Only he’s very important, Billy.’
Dolly was bewildered by this statement. The long-faced git looked like an idiot, how could he be important?
While the kettle boiled, Celia leaned back against the worktop, folded her arms and looked at Dolly. ‘We pay up to the Delaneys, Dolly. Do you understand what that means?’
Dolly shook her head.
‘It means they take a slice off the top of what I bring into the house with my girls and Darren,’ said Celia. ‘And in return, they keep me and my lot safe.’
‘Billy works for them, does he?’ asked Dolly.
‘Billy? Nah.’ Celia spooned tea into the pot and poured the water on. ‘Billy works for the Carter boys, but Billy’s been coming round here ever since he was little and Billy don’t break his habits. Of course, there’s bad blood between the Carters and the Delaneys, and it’s getting worse all the time, but Tory Delaney says it’s OK, so everyone makes an exception for Billy. He’s a bit simple, poor duck. There but for the grace of God go all of us, that’s what I say.’
Celia came and sat down at the table.
‘So what you going to do now you’re all better?’ she asked.
Ah. So now she was going to be put back out on to the streets. Dolly wasn’t that surprised, not really. Celia had been good, keeping her here for so long. She couldn’t expect it to last forever.
Dolly opened her mouth to speak, but Celia said: ‘Of course you can stay here if you want. You’re very welcome, I’m sure. And you needn’t worry. I run a respectable household. I won’t allow anyone under sixteen to get fucked in it.’
Dolly didn’t know what to say. She was floored – not for the first time – by Celia’s weird mix of no-bullshit earthiness and pristine elegance.
‘You can help out around the place, if you’d like to. Clean up, you know. Earn a bit of pin money that way, how about that?’
Dolly swallowed hard. She was touched. No one in her own family had ever been so kind to her as Celia was.
‘I’d like to stay, and help out,’ she said.
Celia tucked a fag into the ivory holder. She lit it, then gave Dolly a squinting grin through the smoke. ‘Bloody good show,’ she said. ‘Let’s drink to it.’
37
London, June 1994
Annie was down the cop shop first thing Thursday morning, pushing her way through the sorry remnants of the night before: the drinkers, the prossies, the dazed druggies. When she got to the counter, she asked for Hunter.
‘He’s not in,’ said the sergeant behind the desk, swatting away a drunken man’s hand from his pen and pad. Wafts of unwashed flesh, vomit and hard liquor were coming off the man in great crashing waves.
‘Will he be in soon then?’ Annie was trying to hold her breath and talk at the same time.
The sergeant shrugged. A woman passed by Annie. She was plain as a pikestaff, with scraped-back honey-brown hair, no make-up, a mouth as thin and hard as a steel clamp. She wore a cheap-looking navy suit made for comfort, not elegance. The sergeant lifted the flap in the counter for the woman and she was just about to go through it when Annie stopped her with a hand on her arm.
‘DS Duggan?’ she said. It was Hunter’s sidekick, Annie knew it. She remembered her from when it had all blown up with Rufus Delaney.
‘Something I can help you with?’ asked DS Duggan, drawing to one side, well away from the stinking drunk. The desk sergeant sighed and dropped the flap.
‘I’m looking for DCI Hunter.’
‘He’s out.’
‘I know. But you’ll do,’ said Annie.
‘In what way?’
‘In the way that you can tell me how it’s going with the investigation into the death of my friend.’
Sandra Duggan’s thin lips drew into a straight line. ‘You’re talking about a police investigation, Mrs Carter. We don’t discuss such things with members of the general public, I’m afraid. If we have questions to ask you, we’ll be in touch.’
‘No.’ Annie was shaking her head. ‘You see, I have questions for you. I want to know if you’ve got anyone for this yet. Any suspects. Anything.’
Duggan stared steadily at Annie. ‘I think we just covered that,’ she said, and went to turn away, toward the desk.
‘Whoa.’ Annie caught her arm again.
‘Take your hand off me,’ said Duggan.
Annie did. Her hand lingered on the fabric. First impressions had been right. Those threads were cheap and nasty.
‘Look. Any information would be welcome,’ said Annie, lowering her voice so that none of the other people in the front office could hear her. ‘It would be received confidentially, of course. No questions asked and nothing ever said about it. And there would be payment.’
The thin mouth opened in a soundless O of surprise. Then a small laugh escaped Duggan as she stared at Annie.
‘Are you trying to bribe an officer of the law?’ she asked.
Annie stared back, hard-eyed. ‘Perish the thought,’ she said.
‘Only if you are, I have to say that’s a very serious matter.’
Annie nodded slowly. ‘Understood,’ she said. Well, it had been worth a try.
‘If there’s nothing else…?’
‘No. Nothing at all.’
Annie walked out of the cop shop and into a dazzling sunny morning. For the moment, she was at a loss. Jackie – hopefully – was on the case, doing what she wanted. Hunter was off doing something, she didn’t know what. Maybe things were moving, but it didn’t feel like it. She wished he’d get his finger out of his arse and do something positive about finding Dolly’s killer, before she went shrieking mad with frustration.
And it was then, right then, that she saw a familiar and very welcome sight. A face she knew. A friend.