After that first chance meeting, days and nights of illicit passionate sex followed, mostly in cheap hotels, the back of a car, woodland — in fact anywhere they were unlikely to be caught. No matter where or when Trudie was with Harry, she was always putty in his hands.
She remembered Harry’s face that one special afternoon in a grubby hotel when she told him she was having his baby. At first, he’d doubted her and asked if it could be Jimmy’s child. She assured him it wasn’t: she and Jimmy had not had sex for over a month. Harry had held her close. He’d hugged and kissed her and then he’d rested his head on her stomach. Trudie couldn’t see his face, but she knew his eyes were wet.
After the child was born, Harry had sat in his car at the hospital, waiting for Jimmy to leave. When he did, Harry snuck up to the maternity ward. He was quiet, almost as if there was something about the maternity ward that disturbed him, and she could see the adoration in Harry’s eyes — the boy that Dolly could never give him. But he never said it out loud.
Harry had held the baby close and kissed its soft silky head, but then the smile turned to a scowl and his eyes had narrowed to a glare of distrust.
‘Why was Jimmy here if it can’t possibly be his?’ Harry had asked.
‘I lied to him,’ Trudie explained. ‘All the way through the pregnancy I lied about how far gone I was. I swear to you Harry, on my life, he’s your baby...’
Harry had settled down, but she’d never forgotten the look of evil as he stroked the baby’s head. ‘If I ever find out you lied to me,’ he’d whispered, ‘you’ll regret it.’
Trudie snapped out of her daydream as soon as Harry pulled her down onto the bed and slid his hand inside her dressing gown and onto her breast. He pulled her on top of him and slipped the dressing gown over her shoulders so she was naked. When Harry wanted sex, his smile altered his whole face, softening his eyes. She found it hard to believe this was the same man who, no more than two minutes ago, had frightened her and whacked Eddie.
Harry sat up and started kissing her neck and moved down slowly to her breasts. Wrapping her legs round his waist, she squeezed him tight as her body started to tingle and quiver. None of the men she’d ever had sex with had been able to make her feel the floods of erotic sensation that Harry did. He laid her gently onto her back and began kissing every inch of her body. The weeks of being closeted up with him since his ‘death’ had made no difference to how much she wanted him. All he had ever had to do was touch her and she needed him inside her. When Harry made love to her, he never spoke a word. He didn’t need to, because the sex was that good — but she so wished that once, just once, he would tell her that he loved her.
Chapter 33
Once at the convent, Dolly had to work fast in the empty classroom. The children would be coming back from lunch in a few minutes. She was relieved to see that the brightly colored floor-to-ceiling lockers, which she had bought as a gift for the convent, were now in place and being used. All except the top ones, which were far too high for the children to put their coats and play equipment in. This was where the money from the robbery would live until Dolly was ready to collect. She couldn’t think of a better guardian than the Mother Superior.
On her way to the convent, Dolly had taken a diversion to the lock-up. It was a risk, but she needed somewhere to count the money into four equal amounts and fill four identical bags. Dolly had taken a small amount of cash from each of the bags to create a fifth, smaller share — their spending money for the next few weeks.
As she hefted the four bags into four of the lockers, the sweat poured from her forehead and stung her eyes. Each locker had its own key: one for herself and one each for Bella, Linda and Shirley. Once the lockers were secure and the keys were safely in Dolly’s pocket, she set to, pasting the back of a series of large nursery posters. Once they were stuck across the doors, no one would know there were any lockers up there at all.
With one more poster to stick in place, Dolly heard the bell ring to indicate lunch was over. She quickly dunked a brush in one of the glue pots she had lined up on the trestle table and smeared the paste over the back of ‘Little Miss Muffet.’
‘Hello, Mrs. Rawlins, not gone on holiday yet?’ Sister Teresa bustled in. She seemed surprised.
Dolly accidently knocked a brush off the table and bent over to pick it up. ‘Flying off in a day or so,’ she said cheerfully. ‘I just thought I’d decorate the lockers with some nursery rhyme posters before I go...’ Dolly noticed the fifth, smaller bag on the floor. It was open and the stacks of bank notes could be seen on the top of it. ‘Oh, God...’ she muttered, slightly louder than she’d intended.
‘Can I help you with anything?’ Sister Teresa asked.
Dolly flipped the bag shut and stood up. ‘I’ve just got this last poster to stick up, and then we’re done.’ Once Dolly had finished, Sister Teresa helped her stick the final poster in place and they both stood back to admire Dolly’s handiwork.
‘They are fabulous, Mrs. Rawlins. It’s so kind of you — they’ll definitely help the children learn their nursery rhymes,’ said Sister Teresa.
Dolly smiled to herself. Perfect, she thought. Not one keyhole or join could be seen in the top row. It didn’t look as if there were any lockers there.
The classroom filled with laughing, chattering children. One child, a particularly lovely little girl called Isabelle, wrapped herself round Dolly’s leg, as she always did. Isabelle never said much but her unconditional affection now reminded Dolly a little of Wolf. She’d miss these children — and the unquestioning generosity of the nuns themselves.
Dolly spent the afternoon doing ABCs with Isabelle and the other children, reveling in this particular classroom session: it would be her last one ever. She had loved her time working at the convent — it was so pure, uncomplicated and enjoyable. All the children wanted from Dolly was her time, and this was something she willingly gave. She’d certainly miss the simple certainty of convent life.
At four thirty, Dolly left the convent and headed straight for the nearest travel agent. There, she booked a first-class ticket to Rio leaving the following morning. When asked if she’d like a return ticket, Dolly said that she wasn’t sure how long she’d be staying so she would make any return arrangements from Rio. Then Dolly drove a mile down the road to another travel agent, where she pretended to be Mrs. Shirley Miller and booked an economy class ticket for Rio on the same flight.
Resnick had been at home all day, sitting down one minute, getting up the next, pacing round the living room and chain smoking as he waited impatiently for the call from DCI Saunders. The living room ashtray was full, but he still forced his cigarette butt into it before lighting another.
He looked at his watch. It was now 6 p.m. and he could smell the liver and bacon Kathleen was cooking for dinner. The phone rang once and he snatched it up, but it was just Kathleen’s bridge partner, Margaret.
‘Sorry, Margaret,’ Resnick said quickly. ‘Kathleen’s not in. And I’m going to have to cut you short as I’m waiting for a very important phone call.’
Kathleen appeared behind Resnick and took the phone from him. He gave her a disapproving look, which she ignored.
‘Don’t talk for long,’ he said.