Somewhere to Hide (The Estate, Book 1) (24 page)

Face.

Arm.

Speech.

Time to call 999.

Rose was having a stroke.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

It had been five days since Rose had been admitted to the City Hospital. Cathy walked slowly along the vast maze of corridors heading for the stroke ward, thinking of the job satisfaction in knowing that you had helped someone live out their last moments in peace. And not all of them died, she admonished herself. Mentally, she prayed Rose wasn’t going to be one of those statistics yet.

Careful to protect the flowers she’d brought from the shop in the foyer, she pushed open the door to the ward. Rose had been moved to a side room shortly after her arrival. She lay tucked up in the bed, her eyes closed and her mouth covered in an oxygen mask. Cathy gently ran her fingers over her friend’s hands. Every vein was covered in pinpricks, mottled blue and purple bruises forming.

She’d been surprised to see the room free of visitors when she’d arrived. She’d expected at least one of Rose’s three daughters to be sitting by the side of her bed. They were never usually far away.

 ‘Rose?’ Cathy spoke in a whisper, even though there was no one around to listen to her. ‘Can you hear me? The girls send their love. Rose? Please do something to tell me that you’re still with us.’

But Rose never moved, never acknowledged she knew she was there. Cathy wondered if the stress of attending Cheryl’s funeral had contributed in any way. She hoped not.

She stared through the partially opened window in front of her and wondered if she’d been wrong not to tell Rose about Simon. Heaven knows she’d been desperate for someone to talk to. Perhaps it would have gone some way towards easing her pain. But how could Rose stay impartial when she had children of her own? She wouldn’t have understood the reasoning behind what Cathy had done. No, she shook her head, she had been right not to burden her.

For the remainder of her visit, she recollected as many anecdotes as she could. She tried her best to smile but all the time she felt her happy face slipping. Finally she let go of Rose’s hand, placed it underneath the sheet and tucked the blanket around her. With great care, Cathy bent down to kiss her forehead.

‘I’m going to miss you so much, Rose, you old doll,’ she said, tears streaming down her face.

‘You must have heard the kettle boiling,’ Cathy said to Andy as she opened the front door to him later that afternoon. He followed her through into the kitchen.

‘Sorry I couldn’t ring after I got your message. I’ve been busy on a bit of business,’ he explained as he sat down at the table. ‘Still trying to get my mitts into that bloody thieving Mick Wilkinson but the bastard, as always, is evading me. How’s Rose?’

‘It’s not looking good at all.’

Cathy didn’t want to think about Rose dying, even though she realised it might not be long now. Instead, she retrieved her diary from the drawer and showed Andy the hand-delivered notes.

‘It does seem a bit suspect,’ he said after studying them. ‘They’re obviously from the same person: they all have a threatening tone to them. Even so, we have no proof unless there are fingerprints that we could match up to our database.’

‘It’s him.’

‘The ex-husband?’

Cathy slid a mug of tea across the table and sat down opposite him. ‘I think so. But what about you?’

Andy nodded. ‘It’s more than likely. You don’t think they’re for either of the other girls? Jess or Becky?’

‘No. I think what needs to be said to them would be said direct.’

‘You mean with a punch and a slap rather than a grown-up taunt.’

Cathy grinned. ‘Precisely.’

Andy read the notes again, spreading them out on the table. ‘Do you want me to warn him off?’ he asked.

‘Will it work?’

‘I can’t be certain of it.’ He held up a hand for silence as a voice came through over his radio but then continued to drink his tea when he realised it wasn’t for him. ‘But sometimes it does the trick. I’ll mention harassment warnings to see if he gets the message. Most of the time they do.’

‘Thanks.’ Cathy felt her shoulders relaxing as her problem was shared. ‘Will you keep it to yourself, though?’

Andy raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

‘I haven’t said anything to Liz.’

‘Ah.’

‘I don’t want to worry her,’ Cathy spoke out defensively. ‘She’s trying to forget him and move on, not be reminded of his every move.’

Andy nodded. ‘No, I’m with you on that one. If we can sort it out without her knowing, then it will be better all round.’ He pointed to the notes. ‘Keep these safe for now and leave it with me. I’ll see what my wonderful persuasive tactics can do.’

‘I want you to do something for me,’ Danny Bradley said as he tucked his shirt back into his trousers.

Becky rearranged her skirt and climbed back into the front of his car. She pulled down the visor and applied a generous layer of strawberry burst. The sickly scent invaded the small space but it didn’t make it smell any better.

Since Jess was now seeing Mickey Grainger three nights a week, Becky had become a regular in the back of Danny’s car. After her talk with Cathy, she’d stopped sleeping around but Danny seemed to always be available when she was tired of waiting for Jess. And Austin Forrester had gone slightly off radar. Twice Danny had picked her up on her way to the shops and both times Austin hadn’t been around.

Danny watched her for a moment before he spoke. ‘You like sex, right?’

Becky rolled her eyes. ‘That’s so obvious,’ she fibbed. She didn’t so much like the sex, as the attention that it gave her but he didn’t need to know that.

‘I’m doing a job tonight and I need to make sure the security guard is… kept busy.’

Becky flicked her eyes to his. ‘You are joking.’

‘Nope.’

‘You want me to have sex with a security guard?’

‘No… yes… no… well, actually whatever it takes for me to get in and out unnoticed.’

‘Get stuffed!’ Becky folded her arms and turned away. ‘I’m nobody’s whore.’

‘You’re a whore when you want to be,’ Danny smirked. ‘Austin’s told me how you’ve been giving him the come on.’

‘I have not!’ Becky turned back so quickly that she cricked her neck. She rubbed at it angrily.

‘All right, keep your hair on.’ Danny lit a cigarette. ‘I just need you to flirt with him really. There’s money in it for you, if you do.’

‘How much?’

‘Twenty quid.’

‘I’m doing nowt for a twenty.’

‘Thirty then?’

Becky paused. ‘How come you’re not including your new best friend, Austin?’

‘That’s none of your business.’

‘It is if you want me to do a job for you.’

Danny exhaled loudly. Becky wafted her hand in front of her face as the smoke engulfed her.

‘All I need you to do is keep the guy on the gate busy, long enough for me to get in and give you a signal when I’m out.’

‘What are you going in after?’

‘Someone’s given me a tip off that there’s money to be had. If you can keep the guard sweet once I’m in, it’ll be a doddle. Then do the same while I get out again.’

‘I don’t know, Dan.’

Danny leaned across and pulled her top down lower to show a little more cleavage. ‘Use these,’ he said. ‘Shove them in his face and he’ll probably come in his pants.’

Becky had huge doubts of that working. ‘What if he’s old and manky?’ she asked.

‘Then use your mouth.’ Danny sniggered snidely. ‘You’re good at one thing. I’ll give you that much.’

‘I am not going down on some old man just so you can rob somewhere!’

‘Fifty quid?’

‘Not for a hundred!’ Becky opened the car door and scrambled out.

‘Becks!’ Danny shouted after her. ‘Come back!’

‘Piss off and do your own dirty work,’ she yelled before disappearing through an alley and back into the estate.

Hidden behind a row of industrial bins a few yards away, Austin watched the drama unfold. It had been a good idea to steal a car and follow them tonight: he’d sensed something was going down with Danny. Danny had been way too preoccupied that afternoon. Four times they’d driven past Cookson’s Factory. On the third, Austin had asked Danny if he had anything planned. But Danny had flatly denied it.

He grinned when he saw the indignant look on Becky’s face as she marched off. He was looking forward to getting to know her better. By now, he could tell that she was the trusting sort, very much what he had in mind to occupy his time while he waited.

Austin had seen enough of Danny’s attitude with Becky over the past week to know that he only saw her as a quick shag whenever he fancied getting his leg over. He hated how Danny made a fool of her, one put down after another when she wasn’t around. She was a sweet girl really. She could do far better than hang around with that prick.

As Becky made her way home, Austin watched Danny roll a balaclava over his face and, with a quick glimpse around to check the coast was clear, sling a rucksack over the fencing away from the main gate and climb over after it.

Austin threw his cigarette to the ground, stubbed it out with his heel and followed him. When he got to the fencing, he pulled himself up and jumped to the other side. Grinning, he followed after Danny. What a stupid bastard he was. He’d handed things to him on a plate.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

As usual when Cathy had things on her mind, she found herself up early, sitting in the kitchen drinking tea while everyone in the house slept around her. Despite wanting to think about a certain good-looking, dark-haired man who kept trying to invade her thoughts, she couldn’t get the image of Rose out of her head. She pictured her wasting away in that hospital bed. Every now and then her face morphed to that of Rich’s, even though, strangely, he had been nowhere near a hospital when he’d died.

Cathy didn’t want her friend to leave her but she knew that time was running out for Rose. She would miss her knock on the door, followed by a smile and a jokey remark. She’d miss chaperoning her – her own personal taxi service, Rose used to tell everyone – to the shops, into town, luncheon clubs, bingo, to the cemetery once a week.

It felt as though she’d always been there for her. Most of the time, Cathy was okay to carry everyone else’s problems around like a packed-to-the-brim-holdall but sometimes she needed to unpack her own worries. Who was she going to turn to when Rose had gone?

Along with that, the house was going to be so different after today when Liz and Chloe moved out. She was going to miss Chloe belting around as only an eight-year-old can do and asking for bunches in her hair as ‘Cathy doesn’t pull as much as Mum.’ Yet she couldn’t tell anyone that. Liz had made a momentous step towards gaining her independence. Who was she to come over all self-pitying and sulky because she was going to be left alone again?

It was then that she thought of Matt. Cathy really liked him and she knew the feeling was mutual, but was that all there was to it? And as much as she didn’t want to make a fool of herself, she also didn’t want to think of anyone taking Rich’s place. Rich hadn’t left her for someone else. He’d died. Of course he’d want her to move on and stop being lonely but she couldn’t. Not yet anyway. Gently, she pushed Matt to the back of her mind again. It was the only space she could muster for him right now. Because at the forefront of it was Simon.

‘Morning,’ said Liz as she came into the kitchen. ‘I can’t believe it will be my last one waking up here.’

‘Morning, traitor.’ Cathy smiled as she pulled out a chair for her to sit on.

‘Have you been up long?’

‘I couldn’t sleep.’

‘Thinking about Rose?’

‘Among other things. I didn’t expect you to be up yet, though.’

Liz yawned and stretched her arms above her head. ‘Chloe kept me awake for most of it. She’s as excited as if it was Christmas Day. Now she’s fast asleep and
I
am wide awake.’

‘And are you all set?’

‘I’m still scared to death about it,’ Liz admitted candidly. Then she came across all shy, blushing as she spoke. ‘Talking to you is like having my own personal counsellor. You’re like my fairy godmother really. Even after knowing you for such a short space of time, I’m going to miss you so much.’

Cathy was touched. ‘I’m not far away and always at the end of the phone.’

‘At least I have Chloe on side. She’s been an angel, as usual. I don’t know what I did to deserve such a good little girl.’

Cathy smiled at the memory of Chloe when she’d first seen the flat. She hadn’t taken any notice of the peeling wallpaper, the smelly kitchen cupboards, the overgrown jungle of a garden, the rubbish that had to be removed before they could move in. Even having her own bedroom again had been second best. The main thing that had swung it for Chloe was that her best friend, Emily, lived three doors away.

‘I know,’ Liz agreed. ‘She can’t decide where to put her bed in her new room. That was mainly why she couldn’t sleep last night.’