Jayne was in her car, watching, waiting, parked across the road from the council offices.
Most people had a lunch break and the day was warming up, so Jayne expected Leoni to go for a walk.
She’d been there for a couple of hours. The offices were in a row of seventies concrete squashed between Victorian millstone, a modernisation that aged the most quickly of all. The interior was dim, smoked glass preventing her from getting a good view inside. The main door had opened occasionally, but if Leoni was at work, she was either staying at her desk or else she had copped for the late lunch.
Jayne was unsure if she’d recognise Leoni, the photograph she’d seen in Wakefield was from when she was a teenager, but she needn’t have worried. She knew it was Leoni as soon as she emerged; even though her hair had changed from the dyed black Jayne in the photograph to blonde and scraped back, she bore a strong resemblance to her mother. Or at least how Sarah might have looked had she not been derailed by drink and boredom.
Leoni headed towards the main street in the town centre, now pedestrianised, so Jayne had to get out of her car to follow. Leoni was wearing a long jacket, her hands jammed into its pockets, and almost seemed to shrink in the crowd.
Jayne kept a discreet distance, but Leoni was enjoying her leisurely stroll away from the office and it was hard to maintain a slow pace.
There was a department store on the main street and Leoni was headed right for it, so Jayne decided that the sudden crowd of people enabled her to get closer. She was almost on Leoni’s shoulder by the time they reached the store, and Leoni held the door open for her as she went in. There was no look of recognition, no anger at being followed. Just a woman buying her lunch, not paying attention to her surroundings.
Leoni went to the food aisle and picked up a meal deal, couscous and salad.
There was only one way out of the shop, so Jayne went back outside to wait. There was a bench in the middle of the precinct, next to a stone planter. The drinkers would take it over later, but for now it was filled with lunch-break people, enjoying their sandwiches in the sun. Winter was tough and bleak in Highford, so people grabbed at whatever sun appeared, with men in tracksuit bottoms and nothing on top, drinking from lager cans, their bodies lean and ripped.
Jayne was about to head over to them when she felt a hand on her shoulder.
She jumped back, surprised. When she turned, she gasped.
It was Porter.
He started pulling her towards an alley that ran between two shops.
Jayne tried to push him away, but his grip was strong. ‘What the hell are you doing?’
‘Just get in here. Don’t make a scene.’
She yanked her arm away and pushed him in the chest. People stopped to watch. ‘Why are you here?’
‘Quick, in there, before she sees me,’ he hissed. ‘We need to talk.’
‘There’s no debate,’ Jayne said, remembering the threat she’d made to Porter the night before when she’d called him. ‘Rodney is talking and telling everything.’
‘Please, out of sight. She can’t see me.’
Jayne considered him, wary, but there was something in his eyes that was more plea than threat. She looked towards the department store. Leoni was at the till, fishing in her purse for some money. ‘You better make this quick.’
She went into the alley but told Porter to go further in, so that she’d be able to run to the street if he turned nasty. Once they were out of sight, she said, ‘Are you ready to talk?’
‘I’ve come a long way and dreaded this moment for a long time. Let’s at least have lunch.’