‘I know it was well paid, but –’
‘And now you’ve fucked it up.’
I feel a rising sense of indignation. ‘No, I didn’t. Two, possibly three of my predecessors were murdered in that job.’
He sighs. His eyes are baggy and bloodshot. ‘We’ve talked about this.’
I tell him about finding Jemima’s passport hidden at Kathryn’s gallery.
He shrugs, unconcerned. ‘There could be many explanations.’ He slumps onto the sofa. He looks exhausted. ‘I’ve got a lot on my plate. I don’t need this.’
I sit beside him. He smells of stale smoke. ‘I’m sorry. I’ll sort something out. But can I stay just for a bit?’
‘You’re twenty years old. I can’t keep babysitting you.’
‘You’re not.’
‘I’ve been working all hours, putting in nights down at the factory. And you can’t even keep a job for five minutes.’
I hang my head in shame. Since Mum died I’ve just floundered. ‘I’ve saved up money at Elspeth’s. I can pay you rent.’
‘The flat is too small.’
‘Just for a few nights. I might go back to Bristol.’
He turns to look at me, his blue eyes intense. ‘I thought you got on with that Elspeth.’
‘I did. I think she liked me.’
His face brightens. ‘Then she’ll forgive you leaving. I think you should go back.’
‘But –’
‘You’re being ridiculous. An old woman can’t harm you. What do you expect her to do? Stab you in the night with her knitting needles?’
‘Well, no, but –’
‘And, okay, the daughter sounds a bit odd, but she doesn’t live there. Just be aware, that’s all. Don’t let her lure you onto the bridge like you reckon she did with the others.’
‘But Courtney thinks –’
‘Who the fuck is Courtney?’
‘She’s Una’s best friend. She was the one who told me I should be careful, that I should –’
He stands up, his face red and more animated than I’ve seen it since I arrived. ‘I don’t believe this. You’ve been listening to conspiracy theories. That’s messed up.’ His expression softens. ‘This was a good job. You had a beautiful place to live and a great wage. The old woman sounds loaded. If you’d played your cards right you could have been left a fair wedge in her will.’
‘What? Is this just about money to you?’
He sighs. ‘It’s always about money.’
‘Is that why you have a bag of it in the airing cupboard?’
His face darkens. ‘Have you been nosing about my flat?’
‘No. I turned the heating on when I got here and found it.’
‘I do a bit of cash-in-hand work. I’ve not had time to go to the bank.’ The explanation slips off his lips smoothly, but I don’t buy it. He’s been acting shifty for months, when I think of it. Ever since I came back from travelling.
He lowers his voice. ‘I’m just looking out for you. That’s what Mum would want. You need that job. Do you want to do what I do, huh? Lugging washing-machines around all day at that factory? You had a cushy number.’
Maybe he’s right. Maybe I let Courtney drag me into the drama of it all when really there was no basis for me to suspect I was in any danger. The only thing linking Kathryn with Jemima is that passport – and there could be any number of logical explanations as to why she had it. And she hid it because she knew it looked suspicious.
I lean back against the worn sofa. ‘Okay. I’ll ring Elspeth in the morning. Beg for my job back.’
He beams at me, his whole face brightening. ‘That’s great. You’ve made the right decision. I’m going to pop out and get us some beers to celebrate.’
41
The Cuckoo, 1988
Viola still hated Katy, that much was obvious. Since Mittens had gone missing Katy had given up trying to form some kind of friendship with her, and as the years passed she realized they would never be close, that Viola would never be the sister she so desperately wanted. Katy had been with the McKenzies for five years now and she finally felt more secure, less scared that they would send her back to the home. And even though Viola was still nasty and cold towards her it was as though she’d got bored of the pranks. Most of the time she treated Katy to a contemptuous silence.
That was until she met Danny O’Connor.
He was a Gypsy. A Traveller. She was never quite sure what to call them. All she knew was that he hung around with the group of people who parked their caravans on someone else’s land until they were told to move on. Katy had seen him lurking around the newsagent’s on the corner, usually with a mangy dog in tow. He looked out of place on the clean, wide streets of Clifton. But he was handsome – even Katy, at sixteen, could see that – with his long dark hair, olive skin and sparkly blue eyes. Although she daren’t even contemplate having a boyfriend. Elspeth was dead against it and it had been drilled into Viola and herself that she wouldn’t stand for them bringing boys home. That they had to have left school before they even thought about a serious relationship, and even then it had to be with the ‘right kind of boy’。 Katy knew that the ‘right kind’ meant someone who’d gone to a good school, and was from a ‘nice family’。 Not some Gypsy boy of no fixed abode.