Harry didn’t turn. ‘Where’s Trudie? And the kid?’
‘Little bitch did a moonlight, didn’t she, with some bloke. Owed rent, milk bill... You a friend of hers? She owes me rent, you know!’
He pushed past her to the door. She followed him, and then stopped.
‘Hey, you, just a minute — how d’you get in?’ But Rawlins was already running down the stairs. The landlady looked over the banisters. ‘Dirty, filthy little slut,’ she muttered to herself.
Dolly poured a cup of tea and took it to Bella. They were all at Linda’s flat — Dolly, Linda, Bella and Shirley. Bella was in a terrible state, almost hysterical.
Dolly quietly asked her again. ‘You sure? You’re sure it was Harry?’
Bella knocked the cup of tea out of Dolly’s hand. ‘How many bastards are lookin’ for you, Dolly? He said your name — it was you he was asking for, over and over as he hit her, he kept on asking for you!’
‘Did he think Carla was you?’ Linda asked in a frightened voice.
Bella turned on her. ‘Course he bloody did! I’m black, she’s black — we all look alike in the dark, you stupid bitch!’ Bella leaned forward to slap her, but Dolly caught her hand.
‘Now just take it easy, Bella. Pull yourself together!’
Bella jerked her hand away. ‘What’s she asking me stupid questions for, Dolly? It was Harry, I’m telling you. It was Harry Rawlins!’
Shirley was on her knees, mopping up the spilled tea. Dolly picked up the cup and the broken saucer.
‘Well, we know one thing: the money’s safe.’
There was no reaction. No whoops of joy.
‘But we still can’t exchange it yet,’ Dolly explained. ‘We’ve got to find someone we trust to handle it.’ She glanced at Shirley, who was still mopping up the tea. Her skirt was badly stained. ‘You all right, darlin’?’ Dolly asked.
‘Yeah.’ Shirley turned to Bella. ‘That was stupid!’
Dolly went into the kitchen. She could hear the two of them arguing. It was all so stupid, all their bickering, but she knew it was because they were frightened. She sighed and went back in.
‘I think it would be for the best if we all stayed together from now on. Shirley, your place is big enough. Maybe we should all stay there.’
Shirley frowned. ‘Why my place?’
Suddenly, Bella screamed. Dolly almost jumped out of her skin. They all stared at Bella.
‘My diamonds, the earring — I’ve lost it!’
‘What does it look like?’ Linda asked.
‘Like the other one, you stupid bitch!’ Then she turned to Shirley. ‘If we’re all gonna be stayin’ with you, darlin’, you better keep her outta my sight!’
Shirley looked at Dolly pleadingly. ‘I’ve only just got rid of me brother, Dolly. I was looking forward to some peace and quiet.’
Sister Teresa stood on top of a ladder, filling the lockers with hymn books. As she worked, the Mother Superior entered the room.
‘Did Mrs. Rawlins leave anything behind when she took her rucksacks, Sister?’
‘No, Mother Superior. I checked and they were all empty.’ Sister Teresa looked down. She gasped when she saw a man standing by the door. Harry waited patiently.
The Mother Superior turned to the man, smiling sweetly. ‘I’m sorry, Mr. Smith, I’m afraid you must have been mistaken. The lockers, as you just heard, were empty.’
Harry parked outside his old home. The ‘For Sale’ sign had ‘Sold’ stamped across it. The doors were shuttered and the windows barred. Harry walked up the garden path, wondering how many times he’d done it over the years. He also wondered why he was walking up the path now. He stood at the front door, but didn’t get out his key, knowing the locks would have been changed months before.
A shiny BMW pulled up near the gate and he could see his lawyer, Sutcliffe, behind the wheel, staring at him as if he’d just seen some kind of apparition. Harry walked round the car, opened the passenger door and got in.
All Sutcliffe could say was, ‘Christ almighty, Harry...’ He gazed at him, shaking his head.
Eventually, Harry said, ‘Look, it’s me, Barry, all right? Take a good look. Wanna touch me?’
Sutcliffe’s mouth went dry. He kept licking his lips. He didn’t know where or how to begin.
Harry decided he’d better get on with it. ‘She sell the house?’
Sutcliffe nodded, loosening his tie. Harry kept staring toward the house. He was miles away, thinking about other times, long gone.
‘It’s not the only thing she sold, Harry.’ Sutcliffe shook his head in exasperation. ‘You should have told me, Harry. Dear God, why didn’t you call me, let me know what the hell was going on? I thought you were dead, Harry. You should have let me know!’
Harry didn’t reply. He couldn’t drag his eyes away from the house. When he finally spoke, his voice seemed strange, strained. ‘Got a cigarette, Barry?’
Sutcliffe rummaged round in his pockets, then opened the glove compartment and brought out a packet of cigarettes. His hand was shaking. Harry took one, and Sutcliffe searched his pockets again for his lighter. He flicked it and flicked it, but it wouldn’t light, his fingers were trembling so much. Harry took it from him, lit his cigarette and took a deep drag.
‘Right, Barry, you’d better give it to me straight. What’s been going on?’
Barry told him everything, leaving nothing out, but he wasn’t sure if Harry was really listening. He made no reaction, just continued to smoke, flicking the ash into the ashtray. Sutcliffe continued, blow after blow after blow. It was like a judge giving a death sentence, and still Harry said nothing. Finally he stubbed the cigarette out slowly in the ashtray.
‘I’m sorry, Harry, but there was nothing I could do. You were dead, she had a Certificate of Probate, she had a right...’
Harry turned and studied him, and to Sutcliffe it was almost as if Harry was freezing him with his eyes.
‘Is there anything left?’
Sutcliffe could feel his left leg shaking; he couldn’t stop it jigging up and down.
‘I’m sorry, Harry, there’s nothing, absolutely nothing.’ He reached for his briefcase and took out some documents. ‘Just a couple of leaseholds on those warehouses down by the station — you know, the lock-ups — but you’ve only got a couple of months to go on the leases.’ For a moment he thought he saw the flicker of a smile cross Harry’s face.
Harry took the leases, not bothering to look at them, and stuffed them into his coat pocket.
Sutcliffe heard himself saying, ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Harry, but you should have told me. If only you’d let me know.’
Harry opened the car door. ‘Yeah, my own fault, Barry. Thanks for coming anyway.’
Sutcliffe let out a long breath. He’d thought that maybe Harry would kill him, rough him up a bit at least, but he’d taken it all so calmly. His wife had cleaned him out. She’d taken over every single bank account, every single property. She’d sold — lock, stock and barrel — the little empire that Harry had taken twenty years to build up, and all he had said was: ‘Thanks for coming.’ Sutcliffe waited for the other shoe to drop, for something else to happen, but it didn’t. Harry stepped out of the car, slammed the door behind him and pulled up the collar of his coat. It started to rain. Sutcliffe watched Harry getting into an old, beat-up Jag. In a strange way, he felt sorry for him.
Sutcliffe started the car, but thought he’d better wait for Harry to go first, just in case. You never knew, with that kind of man, when they might turn. He might feel sorry for him, but that didn’t mean he trusted him. The Jag coughed into life, the engine sounding as if it needed a good tune. Harry gave a brief nod in his direction and drove off.
Time to take a holiday, Sutcliffe decided. Get away from it all. As he started thinking about where he would go, he didn’t notice the Rover pulling out and starting to follow the Jaguar.