Jack’s detour to the library meant that he didn’t get back to Maggie until well after lunch. As he pulled into the driveway, he could see that boxes were now stacked higher than the living room windowsill. In the kitchen, most of the pastries had gone. Jack didn’t know what he felt more strongly—guilt or hunger. He was nibbling on a cinnamon swirl when Maggie came into the kitchen carrying a box labeled “Penny’s knick-knacks.”
“Everywhere’s done apart from the stuff we’re still using in here. I’ve taken the bed and wardrobe apart in their room and the bed in your room. I can’t see how your wardrobe comes apart. Did you put it together? I think it’s glued. I’ve still got to box up the bathroom cabinets and I’ve left the shed for you ’cos there’ll be stuff in there that’s too heavy for me. Put the kettle on and I’ll finish the bathroom.”
Maggie put the box down, picked up a smaller empty box and disappeared toward the bathroom. She sounded like nothing was wrong, but Jack knew that this was worse than if she’d been shouting at him.
The drive home was excruciating. Queen were playing again, just loud enough to stifle conversation. Jack knew that staying quiet was making things worse but he didn’t know what to say—certainly not, “My dad’s not Jimmy Nunn after all, Mags. In fact it might turn out to be Harry Rawlins. You know, that notorious old-school gangster?”
He had to have absolute proof before he shared his news with Maggie.
Maggie dropped him off outside the police station, not bothering even to pause the music for a loving “goodbye.” As he got out, Jack turned back to say how sorry he was for leaving her alone all morning with no explanation and no car, but before he could open his mouth, she’d driven off.
Meet me outside the garages.
When Laura got Jack’s text message her heart did an involuntary little flutter and her face flushed. Once she’d actually had a second to think, she realized it was probably work-related, probably something Jack wanted kept from Ridley. She was right.
The bus seats had now all been smuggled back inside the bus, and no one would ever know that the value of this second-hand vehicle had just increased from £3,700 to around £25,003,700.
Angela was very proud of all the wine-fueled hard work they’d put in.
“I can feel it,” Ester complained as she bounced up and down on her seat.
“No one’s going to be bouncing that violently,” Angela pointed out. She was having none of it. “Perhaps the lumps you can feel is the cellulite in your arse.”
“Talking of cellulite,” Ester continued, “I hear Connie’s put on a pound or two. Where is the old slapper?”
“Connie’s sorting out her B&B. She’ll be back the day after tomorrow.” Angela changed the subject. “Where are you staying, Ester? You’ve not used your own name, have you?”
“You don’t have to worry about anything I do, Angela darling,” Ester replied loftily. “I was outsmarting the Filth before you were a twitch in your daddy’s underpants.”
Angela was tempted to point out that for someone skilled in outsmarting the Filth, Ester had spent a lot of her adult life behind bars, but it wasn’t worth it. She behaved as long as she thought she had the upper hand. And behave was all Angela actually needed her to do.
“So, what’s the cover story for four middle-aged women heading to Europe in a 25-seater coach?”
“There’ll be Rob and my kids as well,” said Angela. “So I imagine we’ll look like friends going on holiday, if you can manage to smile.”
In fact Julia was also planning to bring three kids from the home, but they would keep that quiet until the final second before they were due to leave, so that Ester had no option but to accept it. Sam, Darren and Suzie were unrelated orphans who would never in a million years be successfully fostered—they were too damaged for ordinary people to love. They were exactly the sort of kids Dolly would have wholeheartedly embraced if The Grange had ever been successfully transformed into a children’s home. Julia adored each one of them. They were very difficult in their own ways but the rewards, when they came, were heart-warming. She wouldn’t dream of leaving them behind.
Laura thanked the custody sergeant as he let Jack into Audrey’s cell.
“Five minutes, Jack, OK?”
Inside, Jack handed Audrey a cup of coffee she hadn’t asked for, which confused her, until she glanced to the top right-hand corner of her cell, at the CCTV camera pointing down at her. Her blood ran cold and the penny dropped: Jack didn’t have a legitimate reason for being in her cell. He was covering his back so this little visit wouldn’t come back and bite him in the arse. Their conversation would appear cordial to anyone watching, but even Audrey, who wasn’t the sharpest tool in the box, could see that the man standing in front of her now wasn’t the same kind man who’d earlier plied her with coffee and biscuits.
“Tell me about Harry Rawlins.” Jack’s tone was calm but cold.
“I never met the man,” Audrey said. “I know he was a big noise back in the day. I mean, he even put the willies up the Fishers and no one did that.”
“I don’t understand what you want me to say,” she whined. “I never met him, like I said.”
“You lived in his world, Audrey, so tell me about him.”
Audrey shuffled on her thin, plastic-covered mattress.
“Well, he lived out in Potter’s Bar. Married to Dolly—you know that bit. No kids. I don’t know much about him. I didn’t live in his world at all, DC Warr, I only skirted round it.”
“DC Warr?” Jack knew he had Audrey on the back foot. She was uneasy and she was scared, and she was compliant.
“He was like a myth, you know?” she went on. “My Shirl told me she’d met him once and I was properly worried. I didn’t want her near him. We was the sort of people that Harry Rawlins would use up and spit out. I mean, those poor men who got blown up in the armed raid were meant to be his friends and he left them behind quick enough. Just imagine what he’d do to someone he didn’t care about. I’m really sorry, I’m just guessing what you might want to hear. I don’t know him.”
In the short silence that followed, Laura, listening from outside, racked her brains trying to think how Harry Rawlins might be linked to their current investigation. But then Jack had followed the Fishers as a lead when no one else made a connection, so perhaps Harry Rawlins was integral in some way.
“What family does Harry have?” Jack kept his voice monotone.
“I don’t know anything about Harry’s family,” insisted Audrey.
Jack moved to lean on the wall near the foot of her bed.
“You do know,” he continued coldly. “Think about it and you’ll remember. Harry Rawlins must have had family. Cousins, nephews. He’d have had a crew that he always used. Who hung around in that group?” Audrey’s gormless face was starting to annoy him. “Think, Audrey!”
“I dunno. I’m sorry that I don’t, but I don’t.”
Laura heard a movement from inside the cell and before she’d made a conscious decision, she had opened the door. Jack was now standing next to Audrey and she was leaning away from him.
Laura spoke quickly. “We’re done.”
Jack walked off, leaving Laura to thank the custody sergeant for his discretion. When she caught him up, she had to physically grab his arm to make him stop and listen to her.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with you, Jack, but . . . Look, I’m on your side but this isn’t you. You’re acting like you have another agenda that you’re not telling anyone about. You can talk to me, you know.”
“I’m really sorry, Laura. I just spent yesterday clearing Dad’s cottage ready for sale and . . .”
Jack dipped his head in shame. He was actually using his dying dad as a lie to explain away his unprofessional behavior. Laura interpreted the head-dip as sadness and put her hand on his shoulder.
“Go home,” she said. “I’ll cover for you with Ridley.”
Jack put his hand on top of hers and stroked his thumb back and forth. He looked into her dark blue eyes and told her how grateful he was. He couldn’t find the will to care about her feelings at all. All he wanted was to find out whether Harry Rawlins was his dad and if those fucking Grange women had committed the biggest train robbery in living memory.
Knowing these two things would make everything fall into place. Then, for the first time in his life, maybe he’d feel whole.