Angela arrived at Mike’s home with the children at three o’clock, blithely unaware of the drama that was to take place that evening. Mike opened the door, immediately handing her the keys, saying he had to leave but would be back that evening. He didn’t touch her, even when she tried to reach for his hand. “Just settle the kids in, I’ll be back later.”
She closed the front door, and went straight to the wall socket receiver as Dolly had instructed her. The girls were already playing with Mike’s sons’ toys and Angela had a good nose around before she started to cook spaghetti for them. They had been scared of moving to yet another home but felt better when they all called Dolly and said hello to her and were told they would see her the following day.
Mike headed for the manor in a hired car. He had plenty of time so he drove carefully, making sure never to exceed the speed limit. The last thing he wanted was anyone to remember him so he didn’t even stop at a petrol station.
The women checked and double-checked everything on their lists. Julia went over the cladding and the bags, and the big machine for clearing up leaves. She tested the engine, the suction hose and the long trail of flex ending at the socket in the stables. The machine would be used to hoover up the money and they had already tested it to be certain that the suction was strong enough. Julia then went on to check the lime pit. It was ready for the mailbags to be hurled into; the lime would eat away at the thick canvas, and again it had been tried and tested. The corrugated-iron slats were standing by in position, the builder’s skip was in place and already attached to the truck so it could be towed across the pit opening.
With a dog’s lead, Gloria and Ester headed for the bridge, looking like innocent walkers, calling out for the fictional lost dog. They returned to the house, mission accomplished. Each reported to Dolly and she ticked the jobs as they were done while Gloria collected the shotguns and cleaned and polished them.
Gloves, hats and boots were laid out in the kitchen. Norma’s police cape and hat were in readiness for Julia. The hours ticked by slowly. Eventually dusk came, and Dolly asked if anyone felt hungry. Nobody did.
Mike parked the car and eased the old rowing boat silently into the water. He was wearing a black polo-necked sweater, black ski pants and sneakers, and a black woolen hat. He had a fishing rod and a bag with him, nothing else. He rowed across the lake to the opposite side. The lake was black, the bridge in darkness, lit only by the flash of the signals as a train passed across and on into the distance. He tied up the boat alongside the small wooden jetty and crossed to the anchored speedboat. He pulled back the canopy and climbed inside, checking the ignition and wiring. That accomplished, he went into the woods and searched for the lights. His gloves were sodden but he didn’t remove them. He had to pull away the bracken and twigs hiding the gear before carrying each item to the end of the jetty, where he set up the high-powered spotlight. The silence was unnerving, nothing moved and the lake remained still and dark. He could not risk testing the spotlight, just hoped to God it would work. If it didn’t, there was nothing he could do about it.
By nine thirty, the women were anxiously waiting for the signal to begin. They didn’t speak but the atmosphere was very tense. Connie kept clearing her throat until Gloria said she should have a drink of water as it was getting on her nerves.
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s all right, love. Just a sip, mind—remember what I said about you drinking.” Dolly was reading a magazine.
“I hope we can trust him,” Ester said for the umpteenth time. Dolly ignored her but she wasn’t really seeing any of the magazine pages of knit-yourself-a-bolero or the new-fashion beachwear either. She knew Mike had a hell of a lot to lose: two kids, a wife and a future, to put it plainly, but she didn’t bother saying anything to Ester. She’d said it before and knew it was just Ester’s nerves talking.
Gloria crossed and uncrossed her legs, just as she had been doing for the last half-hour. They were almost at breaking point.
“Time to get dressed,” Julia said, walking out. Connie sprang up and Dolly tossed aside the magazine.
“We’ve got a while yet, Connie, just relax.”
Julia pulled on her boots, put on a thick sweater over her shirt and began to do up the big rain cape. Like an omen, there was a sudden roll of thunder.
“Oh shit,” Ester said, running to the window. “That’s all we need.”
“Never mind the rain,” Dolly said calmly. “If it’s raining the cops won’t hang around.”
“If there’s a storm the horses will freak,” Julia said as she picked up Norma’s police hat. “If the thunder makes them edgy, pull the reins in tight,” she said, putting on the hat and turning to the kitchen door.
“Where are you going?” Ester said sharply.
“Just to take a leak,” Julia said, slipping out.
“You’ve already been,” Ester said, following.
“Let her go,” Dolly said quietly.
Ester drew Dolly aside.
She whispered, “She’ll be snorting coke.”
“I know, but if she needs it to straighten out, then let her do it.” Dolly ignored the other women’s gasps, and looked out of the window. “It’s coming down hard. The ground will be slippery.”
“Oh Christ,” Connie said, panting with nerves.
Dolly opened a bottle of Scotch and got down some mugs. “For those that need a bit of Dutch courage.”
Upstairs Julia knocked back half a tumbler of vodka and then snorted two thick lines of coke, the last of it, but, then, this might be her last night. She stared at her reflection in the dressing-table mirror. She looked huge in the big cape and boots, and she put on the hat, pulling it down low over her face, tucking in her hair. She had a black scarf round her neck, and she practiced pulling it over her face. She looked at her reflection for a long time and then held out her hand in front of her. It was steady. She smiled. “Okay, you can do this.”
Julia returned as the women were pulling on their boots. No one spoke. She walked through the kitchen and a roll of thunder heralded her opening the back door. They could see the rain coming down in sheets outside.
“Well, take care. Hold the reins in tight, let them know who’s boss, especially over the jumps.”
They all nodded, and Ester reached up to kiss her. “Take care, Julia, for Chrissakes. Take care on that live rail.”
Julia smiled. “It’s Helen that’s got to take care. I don’t want her thrown up into a tree, do I?”
Connie moaned softly. She was chalk-white but at least she’d stopped coughing. One good belt of Scotch had stopped that.
“See you later.” Julia went into the stable to saddle up Helen. She was the only one not to have her hoofs clad as Julia would not be riding on the road. She was to head to the far side of the bridge over the fields. They all had their coats on when they heard Julia moving out. The clock said ten thirty.
Mike blew into his gloves. His hands were freezing and he was already sodden through from the downpour. A bolt of lightning lit up the bridge and lake for a second and he just hoped to God it had not lit him. There was still no sign of a living soul.
The convoy was halfway to its destination. The heavy rain did nothing to slow it down and the armored security wagon was sandwiched between two police cars as it continued toward the station.
Colin was at the wheel, maintaining radio contact between all three vehicles. The empty mail train had left Marylebone Station. The carriage to be used for the collection of the mailbags was at the center of the four-carriage train. It looked like an ordinary passenger train except for the blacked-out windows. The three guards sat inside playing cards, a good hour to go before they had to pick up the money bags. “I’ll be glad when tonight’s over. I hope to God they don’t make this a regular thing, I hate getting home this late. Anyone know the next route they’re gonna take?” one of the guards asked.
“No one does.”
“Bloody train’s clapped out. You’d think carrying this much dough they’d have some kind of high-powered armor-plated job, wouldn’t you?”
The rain splattered onto the carriage windows. “Your deal, mate, and let’s hope this doesn’t turn into a fuckin’ storm, we’ll be soaked.”
“I won’t. I’m staying here. Let the security blokes carry the gear in. Right, aces wild, this one’s dealer’s choice.”
His two friends groaned as they heard an ominous distant roll of thunder.
Julia moved slowly across the field, concerned to see the thick mud forming in some of the ditches. She opened two gates in readiness, pulling them out of old tractor ruts where they were stuck. She checked the time; the gates had already delayed her by three or four minutes and she’d have to get a move on. Julia urged the horse on through the darkness. She had a long ride ahead to get back to the far end of the bridge, right round the far side of the lake and then up a dangerous high bank to take Helen onto a narrow ledge before moving down onto the line itself. The route didn’t worry her—she’d been doing it for weeks—but she felt uneasy about the heavy rain. The steep bank was slippery and Helen could stumble or, worse, she might inadvertently hit the high-voltage cable.
The women parked the Mini in a narrow field-gateway. They kept to the grass verge as they headed toward the stables, passing two small cottages. Lights were on in both and they moved silently in single file: Dolly, Gloria, Ester and, coming up at the rear, Connie.
They saw no one: there was only one street-light to worry them, almost directly outside the cottages. They carried the cladding and saddlebags between them, Gloria, Ester and Dolly with the shotguns. They found the stable key and unlocked the main doors. By torchlight they began to clad the horses’ hoofs in the thick sacking bags. It was eleven fifteen; they had three quarters of an hour before the train was due.
When the horses were ready, they rode out one by one, the rain still pelting down. They hoped the sacking would give them some more grip in the mud.
Dolly was first out. She walked her horse down the lane, then made for the woods. It was inky black and not a light could be seen until she broke from the cover of the trees and headed toward the railway line below. She had to cross a small bridge about half a mile from the signal box. She winced as the horse’s hoofs thudded on the wooden-planked bridge. She held the reins tightly, keeping to the narrow grass verge, and started to make her way along the side of the tracks. She slipped off the horse and tied him up securely. She began to be glad of the rain as it was really pelting down and would keep potential busybodies indoors. Dolly squeezed under the protective wired fence, already cut in readiness, and moved inch by inch toward the station car park. Above was the signal box, lit up, with Jim inside. Dolly crept beneath it, taking out the wire-clippers and the razor-sharp hatchet. Now she would have to wait and hope to God nobody walked by the slip road and saw her horse tethered there. In the practice runs no one had ever passed even close to it, but maybe tonight would be the night. Half an hour suddenly seemed like a very long time.
Connie and Gloria, using a different route to Julia, also rode to the far side of the bridge. The horses slithered a little in the mud but, on the whole, were steady as they galloped. They had one riderless horse, Ester’s, as she had already gone to her designated position, on the other side of the bridge. Once there, with the shotgun ready and loaded, she was to wait for the train. They were going to blow it halfway across the bridge, further down the track, the old railway sign Ester’s only protection if too much Semtex was used. She prayed that Gloria now knew the right amount.
Dolly could hear the distant rumble of the train. It was still so far down the tracks she couldn’t see it but she tensed up in anticipation, praying that the others were in their positions and ready.
Connie and Gloria tied up the three horses. They were a bit frisky, not liking the heavy rain. Connie followed Gloria as they passed the jetty and Mike appeared. He did no more than look toward them, signal, and start to move to the end of the jetty. He then crouched low, waiting. There was still about twenty minutes to go before the train was due at the station.
Gloria and Connie moved to the end of the bridge, along the railway line, in the opposite direction from Ester. Gloria motioned to Connie to remain behind as she bent low and, keeping pressed to the small parapet at the edge of the rail, checked that the wires and the plastic-covered packages were all intact. She worked quickly and only hesitated once as she double-checked the live and earthed wires. She had gone over it so many times she now closed her eyes tight and swore. “Please, dear God, have I got it right? Red into the right socket, blue into the left and the earth between them?” She pictured the neat drawings Mike had made that Dolly had told her to burn, wishing she still had them.
“You can do it blindfolded. Come on, gel, don’t lose your bottle now.”
Gloria inched her way back toward Connie, who was holding her shotgun. She whispered, “Can you see him? Is he in position?”
Connie screwed up her eyes to peer over the bridge and looked twenty-five feet down. It was pitch black. “I can see something at the end of the jetty.”
Gloria nodded. They were under strict instructions not to speak, not to say one word throughout the robbery. She could just make out the outline of the tethered horses by the trees.
Julia had a tough time riding Helen down the steep bank. The horse didn’t like it one bit and kicked out with her back hoofs as Julia held on like grim death. She gritted her teeth as they slid further toward the track. Helen tossed and jerked her head but they were on the narrow edge before the line itself so Julia eased Helen forward, one hoof at a time, onto the center plank. Either side were the live cables but there was an eight-inch-high border and she began to move Helen slowly down the precarious narrow plank. Patted and encouraged, she was as dainty as a ballerina as they got closer and closer to the spot Julia had rehearsed for stopping the train. Now came the really dangerous move: she had to turn Helen to stand sideways on, blocking the entire rail. A roll of thunder made her freeze as Helen tossed her head. Not liking the narrow ledge, the horse lifted one foreleg and almost came down on the cable but Julia shouted sharply. “Still,” a police command, and the wonderful old horse froze her position. Julia waited for her to settle before turning her and moving slowly sideways again.
Mike brought the boat further round. He had the spotlight switch in his hand. He could see none of the women, but knew they must be in position because the horses were tethered.
The lead police patrol car pulled into the station forecourt, and an attendant switched on the exterior lights. The platform was lit up in readiness as the train approached, the level-crossing gates clanging shut. The rear police patrol car remained just behind the security van as the guards waited for the go-ahead to begin moving the money bags onto the train. The rain was bucketing down. Two officers had not got their raincoats with them so they took shelter under the platform awning.
Jim, his hut lit up, watched the train hiss to a halt. He gave the thumbs-up to the driver who waved from the train cabin. He did not get out, simply waited in his cabin for the signal to move on.
The guards opened the central carriage, carrying clipboards and documents. Two guards from the security wagon approached and checked their documents with the other guards and, as the police formed a protective line either side of them, they opened the wagon and began to carry the bags aboard the train. They moved fast, expertly, calling the identity number as each bag went aboard. It took no more than ten minutes for the train to be loaded. As the carriage doors closed, the security guards returned to their empty wagon and the police didn’t hang about either. They waited only for the signal from the signal box, and the engine hissed and began to move down the tracks, across the closed level crossing and onto the bridge.
Dolly saw the security wagon move back the way it had come and then the two patrol cars draw away from the station. She was willing them to move off, out of sight, one hand on the electric power switch for the signal box, the other clenched around the hatchet for the alarm wires. She knew exactly which ones they were because this moment, like the entire raid, had been rehearsed over and over again. The mains box opened and closed four times. But when that power went out in the box, the moment of panic for Jim was only going to last a second or two before he hit that separate linked alarm switch. If that went off, the two cop cars could turn back within minutes and they’d have major problems. She had to pull the main switch and slash the wires within seconds of each other.
The train passed, one carriage, a second, then the mail carriage, and the last one, and she said to herself, “Now, now, now.”
The lights switched from red to off—perfect. The signal box went completely dark. Jim didn’t panic, went toward the emergency generator but, as he was about to switch it on, he heard something from beneath him. He couldn’t tell what it was, his eyes still unaccustomed to the dark.
Dolly slashed down with the hatchet. The wires frayed and two or three remained intact. She slashed again and then pocketed the hatchet before clipping at the cables. One sprang away, then the second. She had four more to go as Jim began to panic. Dolly quickly put the live wires against the generator sides. If Jim tried to switch on up in the box he’d get quite a shock—not enough to kill him but enough to stop him trying it again in a hurry.
Dolly ran under the fence, and was almost at her horse when she froze. Jim was hurtling down the signal-box steps, having almost been thrown across the signal box when he tried the emergency generator. He leaped down the steps, still semi-shocked, and fell to the ground. He moaned, clutching his ankle, rolling in the grit of the signal-box forecourt. He couldn’t hear Dolly, let alone see her, as she mounted her horse and headed toward the bridge, the train moving slowly up ahead. But her horse was nowhere near as well trained as Julia’s—he was nervous and skittish and no matter how much she pressed him forward, he refused to go any faster.
The guards aboard the mail carriage had no idea anything was wrong at the station. They could see nothing through the blacked-out windows. The bridge crossing was always slow, but they were moving and would soon pick up speed as usual, so there was no reason to be concerned.
The train driver didn’t look back. He was used to the bridge crossing and could do it blindfolded. In fact, he looked over to the lake a moment before the flashlight swung from side to side twenty yards up ahead of him indicating for him to stop. He put his hand up to shield his eyes from the bright light. He began to brake in plenty of time, moving almost at a snail’s pace as he leaned out of his cab. All he could see was a police officer standing sideways across the track.
“You fucking crazy?” he screamed. Now he rammed on the brakes but they were traveling so slowly it didn’t jolt or jar the rear carriages. The train just slowly eased to a halt. He assumed something had fallen across the tracks. The interphone rang from the center carriage. He picked it up. “There’s a problem on the line, let me get back to you.”
He was still holding the phone as Julia carefully began to edge closer. He leaned even further out. “You’re taking one hell of a bloody risk—there are live cables under you,” he shouted.
Still she waited. Then she switched on the flashlight again, shining it at the driver’s face as she eased the horse onto the narrow verge, moving away from the rail tracks, backing Helen precariously along the stone-flagged parapet toward safety.
“What the hell is going on?” the driver yelled again. The guards were now lifting up the blinds on the covered windows. The train had been stationary for one and a half minutes.
Julia was within six feet of sanctuary when she turned the flashlight on once, twice, three times and Gloria pressed down the detonator. They were only a fraction off-target, but nevertheless the explosion ripped through the second carriage instead of where it was meant to—between the second and the mail carriage. She swore as the carriages rocked and shuddered and the railway line buckled under the impact. Next she crawled to the second detonator and thumped it down. This time it was almost right on its marker as the rear carriage broke loose. The explosion was terrifyingly loud, echoing across the water, glass and metal splintering. There was hardly a window left intact. Inside the guards were stunned, having been thrown across the floor.
Gloria had used too much Semtex and now there was a dangerous hole in the bridge itself. But as they moved frantically on to the next stage of the operation, they didn’t realize the imminent danger. Amid the chaos, Julia could hear Dolly’s calm voice in her mind: “Soon as you get away from the track, you chuck this into the main front carriage, as close to the driver as possible. It’ll scramble any calls he tries to make from the train to the next station. It won’t give us long but it’ll be long enough.” Another of Ashley Brent’s little toys.
Julia galloped to her next position, then collected Dolly’s horse and began to drag it toward the others down below by the lake. Dolly was on foot and running toward the center of the bridge.
Ester rammed her shotgun through the carriage’s broken window. The men inside still lay sprawled on the floor as two more shotguns appeared through the windows on the other side. Dolly was the one to give the order and she screamed it: “Open the doors! Out!”
Mike switched on the spotlight, turning the powerful beam a fraction to aim directly at the center carriage. He had seen the train moving off and hoped the driver’s phone would be scrambled. Then he jumped into the speedboat and, with the rowing boat trailing behind, headed at top speed for the bridge. He cut the engines as he came directly in line with the spotlight. It covered the doors of the train and the path down to the rowing boat.
The dazed guards came out one by one. Dolly took up her position, screaming orders as she pointed the shotgun at them. “Lie down, face down!”
Suddenly she saw, to her horror, that the mail carriage was creaking and groaning toward the hole in the bridge. It was going to go over the side.
The guards lay down beside the track, as, unaware of the danger, Connie and Gloria went aboard. Ester walked round to the open doors. The sacks were passed out and dropped into the rowing boat, easily picked out by the beam of the spotlight. Inch by inch, the carriage kept moving closer to the hole as they worked frantically. Below, Mike stacked the bags in the boat, communicating with the women through gestures without saying a word. Dolly stood over the men, who lay face down without moving, listening to the bags crashing down and the awful sound of the carriage as it ground toward the hole.
The guards were helpless to do anything and, if they moved so much as a muscle, they felt a hard dig in the middle of their backs. The women, their faces covered by ski masks, worked on, lifting, passing, dropping the mailbags, the danger now obvious, the carriage continuing to inch closer to disaster.
Jim had limped to the nearest house and called the police. He was almost incoherent, repeating over and over the words “police” and “train” and “bombs.” They would be there in four minutes.
Ester was the first to leave. She ran down to the horses and loosened the reins of her own mount, dragging him toward the water. Julia was already waiting, looking with desperation toward the bridge. Then the spotlight cut out, the batteries overloaded, leaving the bridge in darkness. “Jesus, God, they’re gonna go down with the bloody carriage. It’ll hit the rowing boat.”
“Get out, move it,” muttered Ester.
Gloria was next to leave, and the carriage suddenly shot forward by three feet, so that it hung like a seesaw over the bridge. Mike started the speedboat. He didn’t care if they lost one or two bags—he wasn’t going to risk being under the bridge any longer. He opened the throttle and powered back to the jetty. The next stage was hurling the bags out of the boat and into the saddlebags on the waiting horses. Mike began helping Ester and Julia. They turned and saw a mass of bricks and twisted metal about to crash from the bridge. Connie, still inside the carriage, whipped round to see Dolly waving frantically for her to get out, but she froze as the creaking grew louder and louder.
Dolly looked at the men, and back to Connie. She reached out and grabbed Connie by the arm, dragging her forward.
“Jump.”
Connie pulled back, stiff with fear, and Dolly had to pull Connie to the edge of the crumbling bridge. Half-holding, half-dragging her, she jumped the twenty-five feet to the water below. The shotgun flew from Dolly’s hand as she hit the water.
Connie surfaced first, gasping and flailing. “I can’t swim!” she spluttered.
Mike had hurled out the last bag, unaware that Dolly and Connie were in the water and in trouble. Connie was dragging Dolly down, clawing and scratching at her in a desperate panic to stay afloat.
Julia lifted the full bags off Helen and climbed back into the saddle. “Just keep moving as planned—Ester, go on! We’ll catch you up.” She kicked the horse’s ribs and set off into the lake, Helen not batting an eyelid as they waded deeper and deeper toward the struggling women. Connie still clung to Dolly, who tried her best to keep them both afloat, while bricks and concrete slabs began to plummet into the water around them. Then suddenly there was Julia, pushing Helen through the water and reaching out her hand, but Dolly could only grab Helen’s tail, with one arm around Connie, as Julia turned in the water and pulled them back to the shore. Gloria and Ester had gone, leaving the tethered horses standing loaded with mailbags.
As they clambered onto the shore, Connie began screaming. Dolly slapped her face hard. “Get out of here! Get on your horse and get out!”
Connie, sobbing and shaking with cold, stumbled to her horse. She could hardly mount but neither Julia nor Dolly paid her any attention as they heaved Julia’s bags onto Helen. They still had a long way to go before they were finished.
Mike left the boat and ran to his car. He tried to stay calm, not allowing himself to put his foot flat to the car floor. If he was caught now, he had two mailbags crammed with money in the boot. He took the route away from the station in the opposite direction from the manor.
Every police force in the county now knew that the mail train had been hit and orders went out to set up roadblocks on all major roads in the area. All vehicles were to be stopped and searched.
So far, though, no police car could get anywhere near the bridge. The guards ran down the sides of the track, their only exit, while the carriage remained precariously balanced. The police who had managed to get to the station tried to question Jim but he broke down, in a state of shock, unable to tell them anything. The three guards were in a similar state as, one by one, they were helped from the bridge. One man was bleeding badly from where the glass in the carriage window had slashed his cheek. An ambulance was on its way.
Mike made it onto the motorway before any roadblocks could be set up, but it was a long drive home and he wasn’t safe yet. He wouldn’t be truly safe until he’d boarded the plane.
The women were almost crying with exhaustion but not one of them flagged. They pushed themselves on. They had galloped across the fields, up through the woods, keeping to cover as much as possible. Then they galloped down from the woods into the manor grounds, slinging their bags down beside the lime pit, which was open and ready.
Julia leapt from Helen in her haste to start ripping open the mailbags. She hurled the money into the skip and threw the bags into the lime pit. Connie rode up, hurled her bags to the ground and, still sodden from the lake, wheeled her horse round and galloped off, passing Dolly, the last to return, just as she started trotting down from the woods.
Julia grabbed Dolly’s bag, ripping it open and throwing the money into the skip, and then, as the pit gurgled and hissed, pressed the empty canvas mailbags down with a rake. Without pausing for breath, she dragged the corrugated iron across the pit, hooked the skip chains to the old truck and began to drag the skip across the pit, over the corrugated iron.
Meanwhile, the rest of the women re-stabled the horses, gathered up the cladding used on their hoofs and took them to the stable yard tip. The horses’ tack was replaced in order. No one spoke—they could hardly draw breath from exhaustion and panic—but they were still following their plans, even down to replacing the stable keys in their hiding place. Then they went to the parked Mini, where Gloria was waiting patiently at the wheel. They almost had to haul Dolly inside she was so tired. But it was not over yet.
By the time they returned to the manor, Julia had still not finished. She was hoovering up the money from inside the skip, then emptying it into thick black rubbish bags. Gloria ran from the Mini as the others started lifting the bags and stashing them into the back of the car. They pushed and squashed them inside as bag after bag was tied off and handed over.
Gloria and Connie began a slow, careful walk, eyes to the ground, to look for a single note that might have come loose. They didn’t need any torches now as dawn was breaking. The Mini full up to the roof, Julia and Ester drove out. They knew they could be stopped at any second and neither spoke, their mouths bone dry with nerves. They still had not seen a single police car as they drove round the back of Norma’s cottage to the barn.
Julia forced open the door of the old coal chute, and they dropped the bags down the hole. The other end of the chute was bricked off in the cellar. They had to shove hard to get the door shut again when they’d finished and Julia applied blackened putty where wrenching the door open had left marks on the wall.
Back at the manor, Dolly now joined Connie on her hands and knees searching the ground. The shotguns had been ditched in the lake, the mailbags were hopefully already rotting, but their work was not finished—not until Dolly was satisfied they were in the clear. One note and they’d be screwed. They found four or five but kept on searching as Gloria raked over the deep tracks left by the skip. She brought stones and branches and stamped them down to cover any movement around the pit.
They didn’t stop until Julia and Ester returned. Then they parked the Mini and went into the kitchen. Dolly set light to the black book in front of them and threw the ashes into the waste-disposal unit. All their equipment had already been dumped in the local tip but still they checked that there was no incriminating evidence around the house. It was almost seven o’clock before Dolly ordered them to change and get into their beds. “They’ll be coming and they’ll be around for a long time. We just sit tight, stay calm, and carry on here as if nothing has happened. This is the most difficult part. Any one of you can blow it so it’s up to you all now, and I dunno about you lot but I’m totally knackered.”
She walked slowly up the stairs and they watched her going to her room. No one congratulated anyone. Connie broke down crying and Gloria gave her a squeeze, telling her to hold it together. They then went their separate ways to bed.
Julia hugged her pillow tightly, the exhaustion still held at bay by adrenalin. She watched as Ester lay back on the pillows. “Well, so far, so good. We did it.”
Ester drew up the sheets around her chin and turned away. Julia leaned over her. Ester was crying and Julia kissed her shoulder. She didn’t say anything because she felt like weeping herself.
Connie cried herself to sleep.
Gloria lay wide awake, waiting for the knock on the door. She was still waiting when she fell into a deep sleep of exhaustion like the rest of them.
Dolly, in her room, couldn’t stop smiling. It felt so good—she felt so good. She couldn’t even think of sleeping, one eye on the clock, waiting to hear if Mike had made it home. In the end she felt her eyes drooping and gave in. She slept with her arms clutching her pillow like a lover.
Mike let himself into the house. He emptied the money bags, putting the cash into two big suitcases and covering them with clothes he’d already prepared. He then sat in the dining room, trying to burn the mailbags. It took a long time and a whole packet of firelighters as the canvas was supposed to be fire-resistant. In the end he poured some white spirit on top of them and they finally caught alight. He took the ashes outside and tipped them into the dustbin, then emptied more rubbish over the top.
Angela was fast asleep in his bed. He stood watching her from the doorway. She looked so young and innocent that he couldn’t resist kissing her just one last time. She woke with a start.
“Will you call home and tell Dolly you and the kids are okay? Do it now, so she’s not worried about you.”
She yawned and sat up as he walked to the door. “I’ll get the girls dressed and start breakfast.”
Dolly could hardly raise her head. Her whole body felt bruised as if she’d been in a boxing match. She blinked as the phone interrupted her thoughts and she was relieved to hear Angela’s voice. They were all fine and she’d get the first train back.
“Good.” Dolly leaned back on her pillow. “Get a cab from the station, will you? And some fresh bread from that little corner shop.” She hung up and looked at her bedside clock. Mike was home safe. He’d made it. She closed her eyes, wondering if they all would. Any moment she knew the shout would go up and the manor would be the first place they’d start. “Well, let them come,” she whispered to herself. “We’re ready and waiting.”