She smiled, chuckled, then gazed into the fire. ‘They got nothin’ on him. He wasn’t even outside when them raids was done. They should check their bleedin’ records — he was in the Scrubs.’
Harry patted her hand. She was still a game old bird. He straightened up, handed her the money and told her to tuck it away safe.
‘Have to put it up me drawers, round here. The break-ins... If they know my Gordon’s not here, they’ll try it.’
Harry saw on the mantelshelf the faded picture of himself and Gordon, no more than sixteen, seventeen years of age. It had pride of place, the two boys clutching their cheap fishing rods and smiling into the camera.
‘How’s that wife o’ yours?’
‘Fine,’ Harry muttered.
She sucked in her breath, looking at him. ‘Wish my Gordon could find a good ’un, settle down. Never mind me, it’s a wife he wants.’
Harry patted her hand, kissed the top of her head and told her not to bother showing him out. As he reached the door, he said, ‘When you see him, tell him he’ll be all right, understand? I’ll send his wages on, right?’
‘That’s good of you, son. You’ve always been a good’un.’
Harry gave her a warm smile. ‘Do you mind if I make a call from your phone in the hall before I go?’
‘No, love, you go ahead.’
Harry closed the door quietly and crossed to an old beige colored telephone on a small hall table. He scrunched his eyes. He had always had a phenomenal memory, ever since he was a boy. He could remember the number, but not the code. So he dialed the operator and asked what numbers he should call for Devon. The operator asked if he would like to be put through. Quick as a flash he was able to give Vera Stanley’s phone number. He had to wait as it rang numerous times before it was picked up.
‘Yes?’
‘Is this Vera Stanley?’ Harry asked.
‘Yes, it is.’ Vera didn’t recognize the voice, she wondered if it was the landlord as they were behind on rent, but then it didn’t sound like him.
‘Who is this?’ she asked.
‘I’m a close friend of your sister, Trudie,’ Harry said.
‘She’s not here. I don’t know where she is. Who’s speaking?’
‘Just an old friend wondering if she and the baby are all right.’
‘She called not long ago.’
‘Do you know where she is?’
‘No, I don’t. She woke us up in the middle of the night.’
Harry hesitated. ‘Sorry to trouble you.’ He hung up.
Late as it was, there were two little kids, no more than four or five years old, playing on the curb when he got to his car.
One looked up. ‘Eh, give us a fag, mister?’
Harry laughed at him, at his dirty little face, lips turned down, a scowling pug.
‘Fuck you, then...’
Dolly had finally calmed Bella down. She sat with the now dry-eyed Shirley on the sofa. Shirley had seemed more upset by the fact that Micky Tesco had used her and she had been stupid enough to let him than by the fact that she was going to be smack bang in the middle of a robbery.
Dolly had grilled Shirley about the party at Arnie Fisher’s club. It looked like Harry was still working in the same old way. She perked up when Shirley mentioned she’d seen Jackie Rawlins there: very interesting. She’d forgotten all about Jackie. Shirley couldn’t really remember who else she’d met, so they moved from the party on to the raid, and the biggest question of alclass="underline" whether Shirley should still take part in the fashion show.
‘If I don’t, it’ll look suspicious. I’ve got to do it.’
They mulled it over. Dolly even wondered whether Marion Gordon had been paid off by Micky. Shirley could feel the tears coming again. Oh, God, was that all set up too? Had he even arranged that? She started to cry, mostly for her own foolishness. Well, if Marion had been paid by Micky then she didn’t want anything to do with her. Her dreams of a professional modeling career were crumbling to dust in front of her eyes. Right from the beginning she had just been the girl on the inside. Even making love to her had been part of the scheme.
‘You make damned sure you get the police on to them, Dolly. I hate him.’ The tears had stopped and now anger had given her a harder edge. She seemed to gather strength as she went over all the information Micky had pumped out of her. ‘The finale — that’s the only point when we have all the gems on, every single one of them. And then there’s a blackout.’ She paused, remembering how Micky had made her go over the blackout sequence, apparently fascinated by exactly what they were doing.
She straightened. ‘I reckon that’s when they’ll do it, Dolly, right at the end of the show, about 10:15.’
Dolly nodded. It all made sense. So now they began to formulate their own plan of action. If Harry and his team weren’t going to pull the raid until ten or 10:15, that gave them time to keep a watch on them at the lock-up, and as soon as they moved out, they could put in a call to the police.
Bella was now on her feet. ‘We give them the names we’ve got so far, the registration numbers of the vans, the bike, everything. But they’ve got to be picked up when they’re just about to do it. If we tip off the cops too soon, they might blow it. But we must give them enough time to stake out the club.’ She turned to Shirley. ‘Are you going to be able to cope? You know, rehearsing, dressing, acting normal, knowing what’s about to happen?’
‘Don’t worry about me,’ Shirley assured her, her face set. ‘Just make sure you and Dolly do your bit. We can’t make any mistakes this time.’
The three women sat at the table, and Dolly explained everything they’d gleaned from the plans in the lock-up. The most important thing was the bike rider, whose passenger would actually take the jewels from round the girls’ necks, put them into the saddlebag, then return with the driver to the lock-up.
‘What part is Harry playing? What’s he doing?’ Shirley asked.
Bella and Dolly looked at each other. That was the one thing they didn’t know yet.
Shirley put her head in her hands, sighing. ‘Once he’s caught, though, then it’ll be all over, won’t it?’
‘And then your money will get sorted,’ Dolly assured her. ‘Listen, I’ve got enough cash of my own to cover it. I’ll be your fence. I give you my word, on Monday we’ll be finished with Harry, you’ll have straight money and you can do whatever you want.’
Chapter Six
When Dolly arrived at Shirley’s at 7:30 in the morning, she found her sitting in her dressing gown, sipping coffee and staring through the window at the drizzle outside.
‘Couldn’t sleep, Dolly,’ she said, her face pale and drawn.
Bella joined them, dressed in trousers and a sweater, like Dolly. They were ready to take up their position at the lock-up.
‘Come on, Dolly, we need to be there in good time. We can’t risk being seen,’ Bella said. She seemed agitated.
‘You’ll get the police there on time, won’t you?’ Shirley asked.
Dolly nodded. She patted Shirley’s shoulder. She could feel her shaking beneath the thin dressing gown.
‘’Course we will,’ Dolly answered. ‘Now you take care, love. Just do everything like you rehearsed, then we’ll see you back here. And don’t worry!’
Shirley managed a wobbly smile. Don’t worry! That was almost funny.
Bella and Dolly left, giving Shirley one final thumbs-up. As the front door closed behind them, Shirley raised the coffee cup to her lips. Her hand was shaking so much she was afraid she was going to drop it. She started to retch and ran to the sink, then stood there, heaving, waiting for the nausea to pass. She really didn’t know if she was going to make it through the day.