On Saturday morning Mavis was cleaning the kitchen, getting the chores out of the way before taking the children for a picnic. The sun was shining and it made her hope for a real Indian summer. Now they were closer to Peckham Rye Common and the park beyond they could easily carry their hamper over to the big stretch of grass, and the boys could take a football. Jenny was bringing Greg over to join them, and as Lily wanted to go to the hairdresser’s to get her roots done, she was only too glad to let Bobby come along too.
The doorbell went and Mavis assumed it would be Jenny. Humming to herself, Mavis ran down the stairs and flung open the door but it wasn’t Jenny on the doorstep. Instead it was two uniformed policemen.
‘Mrs Pugh?’ the shorter one asked.
Mavis wanted to reply ‘not for much longer’ but stopped herself. She hoped nothing had happened to Jenny and Greg on their way over. ‘Yes,’ she said hesitantly, her voice faltering. ‘What is it? Is somebody hurt?’
‘Just routine, ma’am,’ the taller one answered. ‘May we come in?’
Lily came down the corridor to see what was going on. ‘Is everything all right?’ she asked worriedly.
‘Yes, this is just routine, ma’am,’ was said again.
‘Then you’d better come through,’ said Lily, leading the way.
‘And you are …?’ the short one asked when they reached Lily’s kitchen.
‘This is my mother,’ said Mavis, growing increasingly worried. ‘Please, can you tell us what this is about?’
‘Mrs Culling, is that right? That saves us some time then as we want to talk to you too.’
‘About what?’
The tall one leant against the countertop and took a moment to get out his notebook. ‘We’re making enquiries about the holiday you just took in Torquay,’ he began, turning to look at Mavis. ‘We understand that while you were there, your husband died, Mrs Pugh.’
‘Yes, but we were separated. We didn’t even know he was there, did we, Mum? We only went there because our friends knew a good B and B.’
‘The bloody man buggered off and left her and the kids without two pennies to rub together,’ Lily said angrily. ‘He’s no loss.’
The short policeman leant forward with interest. ‘Is that right, Mrs Culling?’
Mavis put out her arm to restrain Lily. ‘Mum,’ she warned in a low voice. ‘That’s all water under the bridge.’ She turned back to the short policeman. ‘It’s sad that Alec died but we’d had no contact for two years.’
The tall officer checked his notebook. ‘We understand that you are now engaged to be married, Mrs Pugh.’
Mavis was startled but managed to answer. ‘Well, yes.’
‘And that your fiancé, Thomas Wilson, was also on holiday with you in Devon.’
‘Yes, that’s right.’
‘Now hold on. What’s this all about?’ Lily demanded.
‘There’s no need to get overexcited, Mrs Culling,’ the short officer said firmly. ‘We are simply making preliminary enquiries. What we need to establish is exactly when you learnt Mr Pugh was in Torquay.’
Mavis thought back to when Tommy had come to break the news to her. He had seen Alec in Devon but hadn’t told her, and some instinct told her not to pass on that bit of information. Anyway the policeman had only asked when they had learned he was there, not when anyone else had found out. ‘Not until we got back,’ she said. ‘I saw his photo in the paper. The Daily Mail, I think it was.’
‘We had no bleeding idea he was just down the road,’ Lily agreed. ‘I’m glad we didn’t know. He used to beat Mavis and the children and it would have ruined the kids’ holiday if they’d seen him.’
The tall policeman shut his notebook. ‘Very well, Mrs Pugh, Mrs Culling. We may have more questions for you at a later date. However, we can also inform you that your fiancé, Thomas Wilson, was arrested this morning.’
Mavis gasped and put her hands to her face. ‘Arrested? Why?’
‘For the suspected murder of Charles Collier, otherwise known as Alec Pugh.’
Pete stared at the envelope in his hands as he sat in the café, his tea growing cold in front of him. His hands shook. The letter of final notice from the bank had arrived that morning and he could no longer delay the inevitable. He’d been kidding himself that if he kept his fingers crossed a miracle would happen but it wasn’t to be. The bank wanted their money back and they wanted it now. He knew he didn’t have it.
He’d been first up at home and had checked the post, as he had done every day since they’d got back from holiday. Thank God Lily was too busy getting Bobby ready for the picnic and going on about having her roots done. He’d told her he had something to sort out at work and left early, and had come round to the café near the market to read the details of the letter. He didn’t want to risk a repeat of the other day, with Mavis or Lily catching sight of it.
‘Do you want a top-up?’ asked the waitress. ‘A drop of hot?’
‘Nah, I’m all right.’
‘Do you fancy something to eat; a fry-up?’
Pete shook his head, the thought of food turning his stomach. ‘No thanks. I had something earlier,’ he replied with a forced smile.
The waitress moved off as a group of shoppers arrived, struggling with heavy bags of fruit and veg. Pete slumped in relief. He didn’t want to be disturbed. He had to think hard. He’d kept going by robbing Peter to pay Paul, but now he’d been caught out. He hadn’t been able to drum up anything extra over the past weeks. His last hope had been that the council bigwig had returned to London by the time they all got back, but there was still no word. He had to face it: the major project wasn’t happening. Or, if it did, it would be too late for him. He’d be bankrupt before it began and if he wasn’t careful they’d all be homeless as well.
Pete began to run through his dwindling list of remaining options. No other bank would touch him – they’d see he was a bad risk, and he had no remaining family to ask for help. He prided himself on principle never to ask friends for a loan, and when it came down to it most of his mates didn’t have much in the bank at the best of times. Pete thought hard. What about Tommy? He’d said that he was doing well and that there had been a flood of enquiries just before they’d left for their trip, and he’d even done some business while they were in Devon. That must mean he was pretty successful.
With a small groan of anguish, Pete slumped over the table. He hated to do this, to ask Tommy for a loan, but he had no choice. It had to be done and he’d have to swallow what was left of his pride and go cap-in-hand to the younger man. At least Tommy was practically family now, and what were families for if not to help one another out in times of need.
That thought made Pete feel slightly better and, abandoning his cold tea untouched, he set off before he lost his nerve.