The Driver (2 page)

Joe glanced at his watch. ‘Well, it was nice meeting you but I’d best get this lot upstairs before the van gets here.’

‘Sorry, didn’t mean to hold you up.’ Smiling, Cheryl walked backwards towards the door as he summoned the lift. ‘Hope you like the flat, and you know where I am if you need any cleaning stuff. Oh, and I’m Cheryl, by the way.’

‘Joe,’ he said, waving as the lift opened behind him.

Cheryl wasn’t the only woman on the block to have noticed the arrival of the handsome newcomer. Molly Partridge had been tracking his every move from the vantage point of her tiny balcony up on the fourth floor. Sheltered from the rain by the umbrella her son had tied to the washing line as a sun-shield on one of his rare visits that summer, she’d sipped at her tea and watched him through her compact binoculars.

He was a bonny one, all right, with his sparkly eyes and cheeky Jack-the-lad smile. And he had a fabulous backside – all nice and firm like her Archie’s had been when they were courting. Forty-odd years they’d had together, and she hadn’t half missed the sex when he’d gone and died on her. Not that she was supposed to remember stuff like that at her age but, hell’s bells, she wasn’t in her coffin yet. Although some of the youngsters around here seemed to think she
should
be and made no bones about telling her so.

When the young man finished what he was doing, Molly popped the binoculars back into the hanging basket and pushed the cat off her knee. Shuffling inside with the arthritic creature weaving stiffly around her ankles she brewed herself a fresh cuppa, then went to get washed.

It was brunch and bingo down at the centre today and she wasn’t looking forward to it. The old biddies bored her and the young carers irritated the hell out of her with their patronising baby talk. But the nosy buggers would only come and bang the door down if she didn’t show her face, sure they were going to find her lying face down in a pool of her own piss.

Or, rather,
hoping
that was how they’d find her, if it was that Ruth who came, because
she
’d have her pockets filled and the bank account emptied before she bothered calling the doctor, her.

Eeh, there was no dignity in death these days.

Carl Finch woke with a start when his girlfriend elbowed him in the ribs. ‘Fuck was that for?’ he demanded, giving her a dirty look.

‘I heard a noise,’ she hissed, pushing him towards the edge of the bed.

‘What time is it?’

‘They’re at the
door
, Carl! What difference does it make what time it is?’

Knowing that she wouldn’t quit bugging him until he’d checked it out, Carl shoved the quilt off and reached for his baseball bat. He couldn’t blame her for panicking after those guys had booted the door in a few weeks back and ripped him off for two ounces of weed and near enough a grand in cash –
and
given him a good going-over while they were at it. But the bastards wouldn’t be catching him out like that again.

Morning glory leading the way, he padded quietly out into the hall and pressed his eye up against the spyhole. The door of the flat directly opposite was standing open and he could see a stack of boxes lined up in the hallway. Jumping when a man suddenly came into view carrying a load of bin bags, he smacked his knee on the door frame. Gritting his teeth in pain, he threw the bat down angrily and hopped back to the bedroom.

‘Who was it?’ Mel was sitting bolt upright in the bed, chewing on her nails.

‘No one,’ he snapped, climbing in and rolling over to nurse his knee in peace.

‘Can’t be no one,’ she argued, prodding him in the back. ‘You sure they weren’t hiding?’

Carl squirmed in disgust at the little wet spot her chewed fingertip left on his skin. ‘It’s just someone moving into Cynthia’s old place.’

‘Someone’s moving into Cynthia’s? Who? What do they look like? Have they got kids?
Carl
 . . . ?’

‘How am
I
supposed to know? It’s just some random bloke –
okay
?’

‘Anyone we know?’ Mel persisted. ‘Is he from round here?’

‘For Christ’s sake, go and ask him if you’re that interested!’ Carl yelled, losing patience as the pain throbbed. ‘And quit eating yourself ’cos you’re making me fuckin’ heave!’

Joe had heard the noises behind the facing door and guessed that someone was checking him out. Conscious that he was disturbing people, he tiptoed the rest of his stuff in, glad that the lift was right beside his door so he didn’t have too far to drag the bigger boxes.

The short hallway was crammed once it was all in and he couldn’t close the door. Figuring that it would be easier to take the stuff out here and put it where he wanted it instead of clogging the other rooms up with packaging, he knelt down and started peeling the tape off the boxes.

Hearing a shuffling sound behind him a few minutes later, he snapped his head around. A middle-aged man wearing a tartan dressing gown and slippers and holding a steaming cup was staring in at him from the corridor outside.

‘Tea,’ the man said by way of explanation. Thought you could probably use one.’

Standing up, Joe dusted his hands on his jeans. ‘Cheers, mate. That’s really decent of you.’

‘My pleasure.’ The man turned the cup around and passed it to him. ‘I take it you’re the new tenant?’

‘Yeah.’ Joe extended his hand. ‘Joe.’

‘Phillip Kettler,’ the man replied formally. ‘I live next door. Thirty years now,’ he added, as if for some reason he thought that Joe would be interested.

‘That’s a long time,’ Joe said, taking a sip of the tea. It was weak and had no sugar in it – just the way he hated it.

‘Boy to man,’ Kettler affirmed proudly. ‘Lived here with my dad until he passed on last year, but now it’s just me. Not like it used to be, though.’

‘No?’ Joe peered at him questioningly over the rim of the cup.

‘Used to be a lot of families,’ Kettler told him, flicking a furtive glance along the landing before adding, ‘but it’s mainly singles now. Lot of
foreigners
.’

‘I see,’ Joe murmured non-committally. Then, deliberately changing the subject: ‘Any good pubs round here?’

Pursing his lips thoughtfully, Kettler said, ‘Well, I don’t personally drink, but Dad used to quite like The Crown. I wouldn’t recommend any of the others, though. Too many of
them
.’

Joe didn’t even need to guess what he meant by that.

Un-fucking-believable,
he thought in disgust.
Talk about laying your cards out from the off
!

He forced himself to finish the tea and handed the cup back, eager to get rid of the man before anyone saw them talking and assumed they were friends. Then, stepping forward so that Kettler had no choice but to back up, he said, ‘Best get on. Removals van should be here in a minute.’

Still hovering, Kettler said, ‘Oh, right. I see. Well, give me a knock if you need any help. That’s me.’ He waved his hand to indicate the door to the left. ‘Just come round when you’re ready.’

‘Will do,’ Joe lied, wishing that Kettler would just piss off and stop staring at him like that. It was starting to creep him out.

‘Any time,’ Kettler persisted. ‘Any time at all. I’m always available.’

Joe’s mobile began to ring. Mentally thanking whoever it was for rescuing him, he glanced at the name on the screen and smiled. ‘Talk of the devil, that’s them now,’ he said, back-kicking an obstructing box up the hall and closing the door in Kettler’s face.

Rushing back into his own flat, Kettler put the empty cup down and snatched up a glass. Pressing it carefully up against the dividing wall, he held his breath and listened.

‘Not yet,’ Joe was saying, his voice just about audible. ‘But I’ve not long got here so you’re going to have to give me a bit of time to suss out what’s what.’ Laughing at something the other person must have said, he said, ‘Yeah, will do. Talk to you later.’

Frowning when his new neighbour stopped talking and started whistling, Kettler put the glass down and reached for his notepad. Flipping it open at a fresh page, he jotted down the date and time. Then:

New resident Number 312: Joe – no surname given. White. Approx 25–30. Occupation – not yet known, if any. To be watched.

Cheryl set off to take Frankie to the playgroup at nine. Tilting the pram back to pull it over the doorstep, she looked round to see who was coming out when the lift clanked to a noisy halt behind her. Seeing Molly struggling to get her walking frame over the lip where it hadn’t stopped quite level with the floor she closed her door and went to help her.

‘You are a good girl,’ Molly puffed, clutching at the door to haul her overweight body out into the corridor. ‘I don’t know how many times I’ve reported this to the council but they never do nothing about it. Be the flaming death of me, it will.’

‘They’re terrible, aren’t they,’ Cheryl agreed, going back for the pram to walk outside with her. ‘I’ve been telling them about the rats for ages but they’ve still not put traps down. It’s them idiots from upstairs chucking their rubbish down that’s doing it, but—’

‘I’m off to the centre for my weekly bingo fix,’ Molly cut her off. ‘Hope in hell’s chance of winning but they put a nice spread on, you’ve got to give them that. And it doesn’t cost me anything, so I can’t complain.’

Oh, sorry, was I boring you?
Cheryl thought.

‘That’s nice,’ she said, pushing the pram out into the rain and holding the door.

‘Don’t like the look of that,’ Molly muttered as she stopped in the middle of the doorway and peered out. ‘It’ll proper mess me hair up, that.’

Wishing that she’d either hurry up and come out or go back in, Cheryl smiled when she caught a glimpse of Joe sheltering in the bin cupboard beside the door.

‘Not lost your keys already, have you?’ she called.

Leaning forward, Joe shook his head and blew on his icy hands. ‘Nah. Still waiting for the van. Should have been here ages ago, but that’s what you get for doing it on the cheap, eh?’

‘Who’s that?’ Clanging her walker against the door, Molly craned her neck to have a nosy.

‘New neighbour,’ Cheryl told her, introducing them as Joe leaned further out of his hole. ‘Joe, this is Molly. Molly, Joe.’

‘Ooh, hello, handsome,’ Molly cooed, holding out her hand. ‘Come here and let me get a better look at you.’

Joe gave Cheryl a hooded look as he approached, unsure whether the old lady was expecting him to kiss her hand or shake it. He opted for the shake.

‘I’m eighty-seven,’ Molly informed him flirtatiously. ‘But how old would you have
thought
I was if I hadn’t told you, eh?’

A little alarmed by the drawn-on eyebrows and poppy-red lipstick, Joe shrugged. ‘I’m, er, not sure.
Sixty?
’

‘You fibber!’ Cackling with delight, Molly gave him a playful slap on the shoulder.

Exchanging an amused look with Joe, Cheryl said, ‘Well, that’s her day made. You’ll have a friend for life now.’

A car turned into the parking lot just then. Spotting who was at the wheel as it pulled into a space, Molly nudged Cheryl and nodded towards it. Glancing over, the smile slid from Cheryl’s lips when she saw that it was Shay and his tart of a girlfriend.

‘I’m off,’ she muttered, stamping down on the pram brake to release it. ‘See you later, Molly. Bye, Joe.’

She started to walk away but it was too late. Shay was already out of the car and striding towards her, the girl tottering along behind on clippety heels.

‘What you playing at?’ Shay demanded. ‘It’s pouring down and you’ve got my son outside without a cover. Are you off your head, or what?’

Cheryl gritted her teeth and her eyes flashed with anger when Shay’s girlfriend squatted down to coo at Frankie. Jerking the pram away, she said, ‘I was about to put it over,
actually
.’ Then, yanking the plastic cover down, she stalked away with her nose in the air.

‘See what happens if he gets a cold!’ Shay yelled after her. Sucking his teeth when she ignored him, he shouldered past Joe and pushed his girl in through the door.

Joe gave Molly a questioning look. ‘What was all that about?’

‘He’s Cheryl’s ex,’ she explained in a whisper. ‘She caught him having it away with the other one a few months back and kicked him out, so he upped and moved in with her.’

‘
Here?
’ Joe grimaced. ‘Bit cold, isn’t it?’

‘As ice,’ Molly agreed. ‘And now poor Cheryl’s got to put up with them swanning about like love’s young dream. Hardly ever visits his lad, neither,’ she added disapprovingly. ‘Unless you count the times he has a barney with
her
.’ She jerked her head back to indicate that she was referring to the new one. ‘Scuttles round fast enough then, all right. But I doubt he sees the lad while he’s there – if you know what I mean.’

Joe shook his head. He didn’t even know Cheryl but already he felt sorry for her.

‘Ooh, here’s my ride,’ said Molly, waving when she spotted the minibus turning in off the road. ‘Give us a hand, would you, luvvie?’

Joe helped her aboard and waved her off. But just as he was about to head back into the shelter of the bin cupboard the removals van turned up.

‘What time do you call this?’ he demanded, looking pointedly at his watch as he strode towards it.

‘Sorry, cocker, I ’ad a flat,’ the driver lied, wiping bacon-butty crumbs and ketchup off his chin. ‘You’ll have to guide us while I back it up to the door. Someone’s nicked me mirror.’

‘At the café?’ Joe asked. Shaking his head when the man gave him a blank look, he said, ‘Forget it. Just hurry up. I’ve got things to do.’

3

Up on the fourth floor Katya stepped wearily down off the chair she had been standing on. She’d been watching the man who had smiled at them earlier, wondering what he, the girl with the pram and the old lady had been talking about. It was impossible to hear any of their words from up here, but whatever it had been about she envied them their freedom to chat so easily. It had been a long time since
she
had been free to talk to a stranger without it involving money or swear words.