Peppercorn Street (24 page)

‘That must have been terrifying.’

‘Yes. But the lady opposite came out with pepper spray and he backed off.’

There was a knock on her door and because she had people with her, she didn’t hesitate to open it. Kieran was standing there. ‘Come in and meet Miss Parfitt and Mr Shackleton, who’ve brought me house-warming presents.’

‘I gather you’ve been helping protect this lass,’ Dan said. ‘It’s a scandal what that fellow is doing.’

‘He’ll make a mistake. So far he can claim he’s acting on behalf of her parents, but we’re building up evidence. There’s someone at the council involved, a so-called social worker.’

‘Not Miss Stevenall?’ Miss Parfitt said.

‘Yes. How do you know her?’

‘She’s trying to have me moved to an old folks’ facility, claiming I’m not in possession of my wits. It can only be because my nephew wants to get his hands on my house. He can’t, though, because I’ve changed my will.’

‘Did you tell him that?’

‘Not yet. I was a bit nervous of doing it while I was alone with him, to be honest.’

‘Would you mind giving me details about what’s been happening to you?’

She looked at her watch. ‘Another time I’d be delighted to, but Dan and I have to go to a computer class now.’

‘And she’s nervous,’ Dan said with a smile.

When they’d gone Kieran said quietly, ‘That was a very fortunate meeting. It’ll help me build up a picture of what’s going on. What I really came to tell you is that someone is coming this afternoon to put the new lock in. You’ll have both a key and a pin number. And that’s for front and back doors, I’m afraid, so you’ll have to take your key with you when you peg out your washing.’

‘It’ll be worth it to feel safe.’

He looked at her with complete understanding. ‘But you still won’t, will you?’

‘No. I know what he’s like. He boasts that he never lets anyone get the better of him.’

‘Give me a few days. We’ll either nab him or drive him away.’

‘If he isn’t caught, I’ll have to leave, because I’ll never feel safe while he’s around in such a powerful position.’

‘That’s one of the reasons I went into investigative journalism: people who abuse power.’

‘And because you like helping people,’ she said softly. ‘Me, Nicole and Paul – anyone you meet who needs help.’

He nodded. She was very perceptive for someone so young. ‘Yep. And my second piece of information is that I’ll be out tomorrow. It’s Nicole’s husband’s funeral.’

‘I’ll be at college.’

‘How do you get there?’

‘Walk.’

‘Get a taxi there and back tomorrow.’

‘I can’t afford it.’

‘Let me pay.’ He fumbled in his pocket.

‘I can’t let you do that.’

‘You can. You must. I’ve plenty of money and I don’t want to lose my best tenant.’

She hesitated, then took the money. ‘I’ll pay you back one day.’

‘I’m sure you will, but in the meantime, you’re right about one thing. I am enjoying being able to help people again. Makes me feel more – normal, gives me a purpose in life.’ His smile wasn’t in evidence as he shrugged and limped back downstairs.

She could see pain engraved in the lines of his face, not only physical pain when he moved unwisely, but also emotional pain. Well, his whole life had been taken from him for a while. She knew about that, had had counselling about it at
Just Girls
. But she’d also heard him lately whistling and humming as he pottered around the place – and seen the way he looked at Nicole. No hiding that look. He really fancied her, might even be in love.

But Nicole had only just lost a husband, hadn’t even buried him yet.

Life was so much more complicated than Janey had believed a year ago – and yet, that year had not only brought her pain but deep satisfaction at coping on her own, joy at having a baby to love, and since she’d moved to Peppercorn Street, the pleasure of making new friends. She smiled, as she added mentally,
friends of all ages
. Before
Millie she’d not have been capable of that, wouldn’t have thought of older people as friends.

She felt as if something was growing inside her, something warm and strong and hopeful. If she could just hang on to that, perhaps she could move on to better things.

Sitting in front of a computer, Winifred listened to the tutor explaining what happened when you switched it on. He’d already shown them a motherboard, the mouse and other bits and pieces, and talked about memory and RAM. She repeated the new words again to be sure of remembering them.

It seemed clear enough so far. She could feel herself relaxing just a little.

‘Now,’ he said, ‘before we do anything else, you need to understand and
believe
that you can’t break a computer by pressing the wrong button or clicking on the wrong part of the screen.’ He smiled round at them. ‘Do you honestly think the college would let you near these computers if you could break them?’

Winifred relaxed still further.

By the end of the class, she had lost her fear and was eager to learn more. They’d played cards on the computer to learn how to handle the mouse. She hadn’t played patience for years, only they called it solitaire now. It was more pleasant to play on the screen than have pieces of card slipping and sliding when you tried to put them in piles.

Hazel linked arms with her as they walked out. ‘There. That wasn’t bad, was it?’

‘It was fascinating.’

From behind them Dan said, ‘Not too bad at all. It’s the Internet I want to know how to use. Janey says you can join groups discussing gardening, rare-seed societies, all sorts of things.’

‘I came here by taxi.’ Hazel pulled out her mobile phone.

‘If you don’t mind a walk, why don’t we go to my house?’ Winifred suggested. ‘Maybe we could buy something for lunch? I’ve got plenty of cake for afters but not much for starters.’

On Wednesday morning Nicole woke early, lying in bed listening. What had woken her? Birdsong, she realised. Some birds were sitting in the tree outside the flats, making a cheerful noise. It was too early for the hum of traffic from High Street, too early to get up really, but she was wide awake, so she went into the kitchen and put the kettle on. Inevitably her thoughts turned to the funeral and she sighed. Hearing someone approach, she turned to smile at her son.

‘Couldn’t you sleep, either?’ Paul asked.

‘No. Did you hear the birds?’

‘Yes. And it’s starting to get light earlier, isn’t it?’ He sat down at the table, legs stretched out, soft brown hair tumbling every which way.

As she set a mug of tea in front of him, he sighed. ‘I’m not looking forward to this afternoon, Mum.’

‘No. I’m absolutely dreading it.’

‘Do you think William will do something to upset it?’

‘Why should he? He got on quite well with your father until recently, when he seemed to hate everyone.’

He shrugged. ‘I just feel – uneasy. I reckon he will do something, and probably something stupid. He’s lost the plot.’

She shivered because she too felt apprehensive. It was sad to feel that your son wasn’t behaving rationally. She kept going over and over her own part in his life. Was it her fault he’d gone off the rails? Had she been a bad mother? She’d tried so hard to be a good one.

Paul took a drink of tea, then set the mug down and stared into it. ‘I wish the funeral was in the morning. I hate hanging around, waiting for it to begin.’

‘Me, too. Do you want a cooked breakfast?’

He shook his head. ‘I’m not really hungry, thanks. I’ll just grab a piece of toast, then I’ll go on my computer.’

That lack of appetite showed how upset he was. Paul usually had an amazing capacity for eating, though he was still thin and leggy, looking as if his hands and feet belonged to someone bigger. He reminded her sometimes of her father, who’d been a gentle giant.

Paul didn’t eat much lunch, either. Nor did she. ‘Time to get ready,’ she said at two o’clock, feeling as if the day had been twenty hours long already.

She hadn’t bought new clothes, wasn’t even dressing in black, just a dark-grey suit with a white blouse. Black didn’t suit her and she wasn’t buying something she’d never wear again for a man who hadn’t been faithful to her. She tied her hair back neatly, put on some lipstick and wiped it off again, because it looked too bright
against her pale face. There, that’d have to do.

When they were both ready, she gave Paul a hug, then held him at arm’s length and smoothed his hair back. ‘We should have got you a haircut.’

‘No one will care.’ He hesitated. ‘Do you think
she
will come?’

‘Bound to. She loved him.’

‘How are you going to introduce her to the rellies?’

Nicole shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I’m not even sure how many of your father’s relatives will be coming. A couple of cousins and that old aunt, maybe. I didn’t ask my family. They didn’t like him, anyway.’

He looked at her sideways. ‘Not even when you first married?’

‘No. And he didn’t like them, either.’

‘Didn’t that worry you?’

‘It should have, but I was madly in love with him then.’ Disillusionment had come later.

She was relieved when the luxury car drew up outside the house and they could leave. ‘Let’s do it!’ Taking a deep breath, she led the way towards the door the driver was holding open for them.

‘We’ll need to stop just down the street to pick up someone else,’ she told him.

Kieran was waiting for them on the pavement outside his building. As he got into the car, Paul moved to sit on one of the fold-down facing seats and Kieran sat beside her. When he took hold of her hand quite openly, she didn’t protest. She shot a quick glance at Paul, who gave her a nod and half-smile, as if to say
Go for it!

Kieran’s hand was warm in hers. A visible sign of
support. She needed all the comfort she could get today. She saw Paul watching them, still with that half-smile and could feel herself blushing. When she looked to the side, Kieran gave her hand a little squeeze and she returned the gesture.

Heaven help her, she was going to her husband’s funeral and thinking about another man. Fate seemed to be giving her a gift, for once, a man who cared about her, was there for her in her time of need, and who got on well with her son.

As the driver opened the door, she moved out into a grey, overcast world, which was in tune with her spirits, just right for the closing scene of a major part of her life.

Kieran wasn’t holding her hand now, but it felt as if he’d left a warm, loving touch behind.

At the crematorium she and Paul greeted the other mourners, not many, just Aunt Megan, two cousins and a man from Sam’s former workplace. Nicole spoke to them briefly, accepting their condolences and introducing Kieran as ‘a friend of the family’. Then there was nothing to do but stand with Paul by her side, waiting for the hearse to arrive.

Then a taxi drew up, from which Tracey descended, covered in black from head to toe, with a veil hanging from a small hat and covering her face to her chin. Kieran moved forward to stand beside Nicole, his expression grimly determined.

The other mourners stared at her, and turned puzzled faces towards Nicole.

‘This is – um, a close friend of Sam’s.’ She stared at them defiantly, daring them to probe further as she saw
comprehension dawn in everyone’s eyes, except for Aunt Megan’s.

‘You’d think
she
was the wife, parading in black like that,’ Paul muttered. ‘She’s pushing her luck. Mum, if you want me to get rid of her—’

‘If I’m all right about her attending, no one else should care.’

‘But
are
you all right?’ Kieran asked quietly from her other side.

Nicole couldn’t lie to him. ‘No. Not really. But I do see that she needs to be here, to say her final farewell. I just wish she was less – ostentatious about her grief.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘Why don’t they get on with it? I hate all this hanging around.’

‘There aren’t many people, are there?’ Paul murmured.

‘No.’

‘Dad didn’t have a lot of friends. It was you who made friends easily.’

What did you reply to that? He was right. Sam had said he didn’t invite people back because he didn’t dare let his guard down with his business colleagues and she’d accepted that. But she wondered now if it had been true. He’d not kept up with his old university friends who weren’t business colleagues either, and if she hadn’t invited his cousins round occasionally, he’d never have made the effort to see them. Unlike her, he hadn’t come from a close, loving family.

She vowed suddenly to get in touch with her own cousins. Strangely, she hadn’t even thought of inviting them today. She’d spent a lot of time with them when she was young, because they all lived near one another, but
contacts had dwindled in the last few years. Well, she’d been juggling a full-time job, raising a family and doing the lion’s share of the housework.

More fool her. She’d let Sam get away with murder.

The hearse arrived and the men wheeled the coffin inside. She and Paul followed it, with the relatives behind them. Tracey, thank goodness, didn’t push forward but walked behind the relatives, weeping noisily into a lace-edged handkerchief.

Kieran came last and Nicole glanced round to see him sitting at the rear of the chapel. He gave her a quick nod. She wished he could have sat beside her, but that would have outraged everyone.

Then the minister began the service. It was short but it brought home to her how final this was and she found herself weeping again. She’d loved Sam so much when they first married and even though they’d been estranged for a long time, the thought of him dying so young made her feel desperately sad.

This time it was her son who held her hand and she clutched it like a lifeline.

William scrounged breakfast from the tins of food his mother had left in the pantry, pulling a face at the sweetness of the tinned pineapple, then slipped out of the house. He went for a walk because there was nothing else he could do at this early hour, but he kept a careful eye on his watch. He’d decided to do it at the exact time the funeral started, but he had an hour or two to go yet.

He wound up by the lake again, because it was as good
as anywhere to hang out. But it was a damp, chill sort of day and he kept shivering. And another spot had popped out on his chin. He fingered it, then forced himself to leave it alone. Spots made you look like a child and he was furious about having so many of them. He didn’t even dare go into the chemist for some stuff to put on this one, not with the police looking for him. He had some old stuff in his bedroom. He’d find it later, before he took care of his grand farewell to his father.

He heard voices in the distance and stood up, wishing it were summer with lots of foliage to hide behind. Two people were coming towards him, so he decided it’d look better to walk along briskly, but when he got to the fence round the edge of this private park, he was back in public territory with the problem of finding somewhere else to hide.

The allotments? Nothing to eat there, no money either, and the old guy had been pretty quick to call the police. In the end William risked going home and hiding in the roof.

But as he was about to climb over the fence, he had to duck back again because the neighbour was working in her garden, the stupid bitch. She was always fiddling around with plants. Had she nothing better to do?

In the end he went to the clubhouse and hammered on the door. ‘I need somewhere to hide for an hour or two.’

‘You’re supposed to be able to look after yourself.’ Baz stared at him then shrugged. ‘Oh, come in, then. You look frozen. Want a coffee?’

‘Yeah. Thanks.’ He slumped in the main room. No one was around and he’d not really seen it by daylight before. It was shabbier than he remembered. But what did a room
matter? It was the men who counted, men like Baz, who was really well built. William wanted to be exactly like him one day.

‘Need some more stuff?’

William shook his head. ‘Not yet. Thanks.’

Baz looked at his watch. ‘You can stay for two hours, then we have a meeting.’

‘That’s cool. I’ve got something to do this afternoon, anyway.’

‘You’ll go out the back way when you leave?’

‘Yeah. I know.’

Then he was alone. Of all things, he could hear a washing machine running. Surely Baz didn’t do women’s stuff like that? But women weren’t allowed in here, so he supposed someone had to do the washing.

The time passed slowly and Baz didn’t come out to talk to him again till it was time to leave.

Why didn’t he feel more excited about what he was going to do?

Dan and Hazel took Winifred for a short walk because they’d all decided to get a bit fitter.

When they saw the police car parked outside, Winifred hurried forward. ‘Is something wrong?’

‘We’re just checking on the old lady who lives here,’ a female officer said. ‘Her nephew is very worried about her. We haven’t been able to get a reply to our phone calls or to the doorbell, so my colleague has gone round the back to break in.’

‘What?’ Winifred pressed one hand to her chest. ‘Stop him at once! This is
my
house.’

‘I’ll get him.’ The officer ran off round the side of the house.

‘Are you all right, Winifred?’ Dan asked.

‘No, I’m not all right. I’m very angry. What does my nephew think he’s doing?’

‘I’m phoning my daughter.’ Hazel pulled out her phone.

The officers came to join them.

‘The back door was open already,’ the young man said. ‘You should be more careful about locking up, Miss Parfitt.’ He looked at Winifred, who was clutching Hazel’s arm, then at Dan.

‘Hello, Mr S.’ He lowered his voice, ‘Did you find her wandering and bring her home?’

The three older people looked at one another in puzzlement.

‘It’s she who brought us back to lunch,’ Dan said. ‘We’ve been for a walk together.’

Hazel put her mobile away. ‘Dawn’s coming round. She says this has to stop.’ She looked severely at the officers. ‘Someone is harassing my friend. This isn’t the first time there’s been some stupid misunderstanding.’

Winifred pulled herself together. ‘Let’s go inside. It looks bad standing outside here with the police.’

In the hall she stopped in shock. ‘What’s happened here? Someone’s changed all my furniture round.’

She went into the kitchen and found it in chaos, with half-eaten food on plates and a rubbish bin overflowing. She couldn’t speak for shock.

‘You’re not keeping it very tidy, Miss Parfitt,’ the female officer said. ‘Are you finding it too much for you? Your
nephew has apparently been very worried about you for a while now.’

Dan moved forward to stand protectively by her side. ‘That’s rubbish. And as for this—’ he gestured to the messy kitchen, ‘I called for Miss Parfitt this morning at nine o’clock and the kitchen was in apple pie order, not a thing out of place. I saw her lock the back door myself and she’s been with me ever since. We have about twenty other witnesses to prove that, which means someone must have broken in and dumped this stuff here.’

There was dead silence, then, ‘You sure of that, Mr S?’

‘I’d stake my life on it,’ he said grimly. ‘Are you accusing me of not knowing what I saw?’

‘No, of course not. Only … well, it was a council official who called us in.’

Winifred reached out to the table, wanting something to lean on, but it was so dirty she didn’t like to touch it. ‘Who would have made this disgusting mess?’

‘Have you looked upstairs?’ the female officer said.

She shivered. ‘I suppose I’d better.’

‘Wait till my daughter arrives.’ Hazel turned to the officers. ‘Miss Parfitt was right about the rooms near the front door too. I come here to visit her regularly and they aren’t normally set out like that.’

She went to put an arm round Winifred. ‘I don’t think we should say anything more or touch a single thing till Dawn arrives. She’s bringing a friend of hers to help.’