Eddie was terrified. Inadvertently, he let out a small giggle. Harry tore across the room, ready to beat him to death. Bill stood up and stepped in between them to catch Harry. With all his might, he pushed the furious man backward.
‘I said not here!’ Bill shouted, hoping to God that Harry would listen. ‘I’m trying to help you, Harry! He might be a useless piece of shit, but this is your home. Your girl and your kid are just through there. If you want him dead, fine, I’ll do it meself when all this is over. When we got the money and Dolly’s got what’s coming to her for making you look like a fool. It’s her you’re angry at, Harry, not him. He’s nothing.’
The red mist faded, Harry slowly calmed down and turned away from Eddie to stop himself losing it again. Bill glanced at Eddie and gave him a small wink. It was like being smiled at by a crocodile before heading in for a swim.
‘We’re going to go back to the house,’ Harry said, ‘and we’re going to tear it apart.’ He snatched up his coat. ‘COME ON!’
From the bedroom, Trudie raced out and grabbed Harry’s arm. ‘Please, Harry! It’s daylight. I’m begging you not to go out. If anyone sees you, that’s it. It’s all over.’
Harry lurched toward Eddie and grabbed his scarf again. Eddie nearly pissed himself on the spot but Harry put the scarf round his own neck, pulling it up to cover his nose and mouth.
For a split second, it had occurred to Bill that he and Eddie might stand up to Harry together: he couldn’t take the two of them on in a fight. The thought was short-lived as he watched a quivering Eddie rub his sore neck and attempt to walk in a straight line, and the two of them followed Harry out of the flat.
Trudie ran to the window just in time to see the three men get into Jimmy’s BMW. As Trudie watched Bill drive off, she noticed a car parked a short distance away pull out at the same time. It stopped and didn’t move off again until another car was sitting between it and the BMW. At the end of the road, the BMW turned left, the car immediately behind it turned right but the suspect car waited for a van to pass and sit behind the BMW before it pulled out, also turning to the left.
Trudie slammed her hands on the window. There was nothing she could do. She didn’t even know where Harry had lived with Dolly.
The baby screamed from the bedroom. Trudie knew exactly how he felt: she too wanted to open up her lungs and let it all out. It was all going horribly wrong. Harry had been so careful for so long, and then Dolly soddin’ Rawlins had to go and do one of his robberies! The stupid cow. The stupid, old, ugly cow!
Trudie raced into the bedroom and shouted, ‘SHUT UP!’ The baby, who was sitting in his playpen, howling for no apparent reason, turned up the volume. Trudie felt as if her world was about to collapse around her and she suddenly snapped and slapped the child hard. Instantly mortified, she picked him up and squeezed him tight. Shaken by the slap, the baby fell silent, while Trudie sobbed her heart out.
Shirley waited nervously at Heathrow as the bus driver lifted the cases from the luggage compartment. Just wait till I see her, she thought angrily to herself. I’ll tell her what I think. And I’ll tell the girls that she left me in the street. Linda will hate her even more when she hears that! She realized that she sounded like a petty, sulky child but, right now, this anger was helping her keep her focus.
She got a trolley, placed the two cases on it and, entering the terminal, checked the illuminated notice board for the Rio flight check-in desk. Pushing her trolley over to the check-in queue, she took some deep breaths and got down to the job of looking over the passengers for an appropriate stooge. ‘Young bloke, very little luggage...’ she repeated to herself. The thought of flirting with a total stranger filled her with dread. She was surprisingly bad at flirting, except with judging panels at beauty competitions. She took a moment to get her head straight and then practiced fluttering her eyelashes.
After about twenty minutes, she began to feel scared. Everyone in the queue so far had big cases — and she hadn’t spotted Dolly anywhere. What if the plan failed at the first hurdle because she couldn’t find a single gullible man traveling light?
Shirley wheeled the trolley up and down, watching and waiting. Fifteen more minutes passed with no one suitable joining the queue. She began to get edgy: she might have to risk taking the case herself and paying for the excess luggage with the cash she’d put into her handbag. She didn’t want to do that as the serial numbers on bank notes could be traced.
Suddenly she saw a likely candidate. A scruffy-looking young man with only a rucksack had joined the end of the queue and was checking over his flight papers. Shirley grabbed her ticket and passport out of her handbag, quickly pushed her way in behind him and clipped his heel with the trolley.
‘Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to bump you. Is this the queue for the Rio flight?’ Pretending to be flustered, she dropped her ticket and passport. He bent to pick them up for her and handed them back. ‘I’ve been such a silly thing,’ Shirley continued, playing the dumb blonde beautifully. ‘I’m a model and I’m doing my very first foreign magazine shoot in Rio. I didn’t realize there was a weight restriction on the luggage and I’ve brought two cases filled with dresses and bikinis. Now I’m worried that I’m way over the allowance and I can’t think what on earth to do because I’ve got no money to pay for extra luggage. I really do need seventeen bikinis though and...’
She didn’t even have to finish her sentence. ‘Why don’t you let me help you out?’ the young man said, and moved to grab Shirley’s own case from the trolley. She put her hand on top of his.
‘The other one’s a little heavier,’ she said, ‘so if you don’t mind...?’
He clearly didn’t mind. He gave her a quick wink and picked up the money case as he shuffled forward.
Feeling very chuffed with herself, Shirley kept up the polite chat as they queued for check in. He smelt of body odor, looked unwashed and unkempt, but his voice suggested that he was well educated, although clearly not very streetwise. She was relieved to watch her new friend, who told her his name was Charles, check in and put the money case on the conveyor belt. The attendant placed a sticky luggage tag around the handle and Shirley watched her hundred grand head for the plane.
When it was Shirley’s turn to check in, she whispered to the lady at the desk, ‘Please can you make sure I’m not sitting near that man?’ The lady glanced at Charles, smiled her understanding and with female solidarity sat Shirley a good ten rows away from him.
Charles hovered around her through passport control and into the departure lounge. He rambled on about how he traveled to different destinations and how he had hitchhiked his way across countries, sightseeing and doing all sorts of jobs to pay his way. His parents were wealthy but he refused to sponge off them and always found the cheapest and most economical ways to travel. Oh, my God! Shirley thought to herself as she sipped the champagne Charles had bought her, he’s so boring! Eventually, she made her excuses and said that she had some important calls to make to her agent prior to boarding.
Shirley looked in every restaurant, burger bar, pub and wine bar — even the bathrooms — but she couldn’t see Dolly anywhere. It was as if Dolly wasn’t taking the flight to Rio at all. Shirley knew she couldn’t turn back, not now the money bag was on the plane: she’d have to go to Rio and tell Bella and Linda that they’d all been stiffed! She took deep breaths as she thought through her plan of action. They’d all have to return to London on the next flight and go to the convent and — oh, God, what if the rest of the money wasn’t there? What if it was never there? What if — Shirley’s head was about to explode when she suddenly saw the one area of the airport she hadn’t searched. And there, in the window of the first class lounge, was Dolly bloody Rawlins, eating her breakfast.