Survivor: Only the strongest will remain standing . . . Page 9

  ‘It’s not always easy. You can’t blame yourself.’

  ‘I should have… I don’t know. I should have done something. She must have been in a right state to… and now poor Lolly’s left without a mum. It’s all too sad. I hope you find some family for her.’

  ‘I hope so too.’ Stanley took one of his business cards out of his wallet and laid it on the table. ‘Thanks for your time. If you think of anything else, give me a call.’

  ‘I will.’

  Stanley left the café, not entirely sure if he had learned anything useful. Still, the Billy Martin angle could be worth pursuing. If he could be found, the fellow might be able to provide some information about Angela. To this end, he walked back to the Hope and Anchor, looking for Pym.

  There was no sign of him – the stool by the counter was empty – and so he crossed the road to the Fox. Pym wasn’t there either. Stanley bought a pint and settled down to wait. He took out his notebook and wrote the name Billy Martin at the top of an empty page. It seemed doubtful that this bloke was the cause of all Angela’s problems but he had been, perhaps, the straw that broke the camel’s back.

  When, after an hour, Pym still hadn’t shown up, Stanley gave up and set off for the high street. It was time for another word with Brenda Cecil.

  10

  At five o’clock, as soon as the shop closed, Brenda thrust an envelope into Lolly’s hand and said, ‘Take this down to the Fox and give it to Joe Quinn or Terry. No one else, right? And don’t open it. I’ll know if you do.’

  Lolly was glad of the errand. She was glad of anything that got her out of the house, away from the Cecils and especially FJ. He made it his life’s work to inflict pain on her; he bit, pinched and kicked and tried to get her into trouble at every opportunity. ‘Lolly did it,’ was his favourite mantra. And of course Brenda usually believed him.

  She had been quick to learn that Brenda Cecil wasn’t the type of woman who did anything out of the goodness of her heart. In exchange for her keep, Lolly was kept busy with chores, with washing-up, dusting, even polishing the silver from the pawnbroker’s.

  It was a warm Friday, one of those late reminders of summer, and as she walked towards the pub she could feel the last of the sun on her shoulders. When she got to Connolly’s she glanced through the window. Inside there were lots of older kids from school, drinking Coke and fooling around. By chance her gaze alighted on a pair sitting at the back and she gave a start. It was Jude with a girl called Tracy Kitts.

  Tracy was one of Amy Wiltshire’s friends, although she wasn’t as pretty or as popular. Her red-gold hair was cut into a swinging bob which swayed as she moved her head. Lolly could tell from the way they were leaning in towards each other, smiling and laughing, that they were a couple. His hand touched Tracy’s for a moment as he whispered in her ear. Lolly felt a stirring in her chest. Although she couldn’t pin down the exact feeling – it was a swirling combination of envy and resentment – she was aware of tears pricking her eyes.

  It was only as she kept on watching that she became aware of something else. Jude’s attention wasn’t completely held by his new girlfriend; he kept glancing over to the next table where Amy was holding court. They were quick, fleeting glances but she could read the expression on his face; it was the same adoring look as when he was watching Lauren Bacall on screen.

  Perhaps Jude sensed he was being scrutinised because he suddenly turned towards the window. Lolly froze, a red flush covering her cheeks. She waited for him to wave, to acknowledge her, but he did nothing. A few seconds passed. He’d seen her – she knew he had – but couldn’t even spare a nod. Instead he abruptly turned back and continued talking to Tracy.

  Lolly hurried on, feeling her knees beginning to shake. She wished now that she’d never looked into the café in the first place. Seeing Jude again reminded her of how much she missed him – but what was the point of missing someone who didn’t want to know you? He had made his feelings crystal clear. She was someone to be ignored, thrust aside, now that he was moving in the cool kids’ circle.

  By the time she reached the Fox the car park was already half full and people were streaming into the pub. Friday was pay day, the end of the working week, a time to relax and splash the cash. Lolly wasn’t old enough to go inside and so she went around the side and knocked on the door by the place where the beer crates were stacked.

  A blonde woman answered the door and looked down at her. ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Is Terry Street here, please?’

  ‘He’s busy. What do you want?’

  Lolly held up Brenda’s envelope. ‘I’ve got a message for him.’

  ‘Give it here,’ she said, reaching out. ‘I’ll pass it on.’

  Lolly took a step back, knowing that Brenda would do her nut if she gave the note to someone else. ‘I can’t. I’ve got to give it to Terry.’

  ‘Suit yourself,’ the blonde said huffily. ‘You’ll just have to wait, then, won’t you?’

  The door closed and Lolly wandered over to the low wall where she sat down. She could have asked to see Joe Quinn instead but he scared her too much. Anyway, if Terry was busy, Joe would be too. She waited impatiently, tapping her feet on the concrete as she watched the cars go by on Station Road.

  Lolly tried her best not to think about Jude, but of course he was all she could think about. Now he had a girlfriend, she was surplus to requirements. No, it was worse than that: he was embarrassed by her. All those afternoons they’d spent together counted for nothing. What she’d valued was his kindness, the fact that he was different to other boys, but it turned out he was just the same.

  The minutes passed by slowly: five, ten, fifteen. She didn’t have a watch but she could see the clock on the side of the station tower. What if the woman didn’t tell Terry she was waiting? She could be here for hours. And Brenda would get the hump if she was late back, thinking she’d done it deliberately.

  Lolly felt in her pocket to make sure the envelope was still there. Her fingers touched on something small and metal. Drawing it out, she saw the cap she’d saved from the Fanta bottle Jude had drunk from. She put it in her palm and stared at it for a while. What was she keeping it for? In a fit of pique she hurled it across the car park and watched as it arced through the air, landed and rolled under the back wheels of an old blue van.

  Lolly looked up at the clock again. It had been almost twenty minutes now. She was on the point of going to the main entrance of the Fox and trying to get Terry’s attention from there when the side door opened and he finally came out. She jumped to her feet as he strolled over to her, hands in his pockets. As usual he was dressed in a smart dark suit and a shirt so white it almost gleamed.

  ‘Hey,’ he said. ‘Sorry about that.’

  Lolly shrugged as though twenty minutes was neither here nor there. ‘It’s okay.’

  ‘A bit of business. It dragged on longer than I thought it would.’

  Lolly, who didn’t know what to say to that, simply held out the envelope. ‘It’s from Brenda.’

  ‘Ta,’ he said. He tore the envelope open, pulled out the note and read it. He glanced over at her. ‘Tell her Tuesday. Probably.’

  ‘Probably Tuesday,’ she repeated dutifully.

  He held up the note. ‘You could have given it to Yvonne. Save you waiting. She’d have passed on the message.’

  Lolly shook her head. ‘Brenda said it had to be you or Joe.’

  Terry gave her a long scrutinising look as if he had something on his mind. ‘Lolly, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘I thought so. How are you doing?’ he asked. ‘I was sorry to hear about your mum.’

  ‘I’m okay.’

  ‘You like it at Brenda’s? Is it all right there?’

  ‘It’s okay.’

  ‘When I was a kid, she used to scare the shit out of me.’

  Lolly’s eyes widened with surprise. She couldn’t imagine Terry being scared of a woman, even one as big as Brenda.

  T
erry grinned. ‘But don’t tell her I said that.’

  ‘I won’t. I swear.’

  ‘I believe you. You strike me as the kind of girl who can be trusted.’ He reached into his pocket, took out a handful of change and gave her half a crown. ‘Here’s something for your trouble.’

  For Lolly this was an unexpected bonus. She was used to running errands for Brenda but had never been tipped before. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Actually, I could do with someone reliable. You know your way round Kellston, don’t you? How do you fancy earning a bit of extra cash?’

  ‘What would I have to do?’

  ‘Deliver a few messages to people. Nothing complicated. What do you reckon? You could start tomorrow if you like.’

  Lolly did like. She couldn’t think of anything better than earning money of her own. She could get flowers for her mother’s grave and, if she saved up, she might even be able to buy a headstone eventually. ‘Yeah, sure, I can do that.’

  ‘Right, good, let’s say about twelve o’clock, then. Meet me round the back of the Hope. Oh, and one more thing. It might be better if we keep this between the two of us. Our little secret, yeah? Can you keep a secret?’

  Lolly nodded. ‘I won’t tell anyone.’

  ‘See you tomorrow, then.’

  Lolly watched as Terry went back into the pub, pleased by this unexpected turn of events. Now all she had to do was to find a way of escaping from Brenda’s clutches tomorrow. The thought of Brenda reminded her of the time and the trouble she was likely to be in. She walked quickly across the car park. As she passed the blue van she glanced down at the discarded Fanta cap lying beside the back wheel. Just leave it there, she told herself. It doesn’t matter. You don’t want it. But somehow it looked sad lying there on its own so she stopped, bent down and picked it up. Some things, she decided, were just too hard to throw away.

  Lolly waited for a gap in the traffic before sprinting across the road, up the high street, down the alley and through the yard. Breathless, she rushed into the kitchen.

  ‘Sorry I’m late. I had to wait. Terry was —’

  Lolly stopped dead in her tracks, surprised to find a stranger sitting at the table. The man was middle-aged with a long hangdog sort of face and pouches under his eyes.

  ‘About time too,’ Brenda said. ‘This is Mr Parrish. He’s come to have a word with you.’

  11

  Even though Stanley had seen the photograph, he was still disappointed by meeting Lolita Bruce in the flesh. She was a small skinny kid, pale and awkward. There was nothing, not the slightest hint of Mal or Esther about her. Of course he had expected this, prepared himself for it, but in the back of his mind there had always been the hope of a miracle.

  ‘Hello,’ he said. ‘It’s nice to meet you at last.’

  The kid stared silently back at him, her mouth still open from when she’d stopped mid-sentence. It gave her a stupid, gawping kind of look and he wondered if there was something wrong with her. Maybe, like her mother, she wasn’t quite right in the head.

  ‘Well, say hello, then,’ Brenda ordered. ‘Don’t just stand there.’

  ‘Hello,’ Lolly said obediently.

  Stanley smiled, hoping to put her at ease. He spoke slowly and clearly in case she had difficulty in understanding ‘I think Mrs Cecil – Brenda – has explained, that I’m trying to track down some family for you. Maybe you can help. Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?’

  ‘You’re wasting your time,’ Brenda said before Lolly had a chance to answer. ‘She don’t know nothin’. I’ve already asked.’

  Stanley extended his smile to include Brenda Cecil. ‘Yes, I understand, but the memory’s a strange thing. Sometimes there can be information buried deep down, things that need a bit of a nudge to bring them to the surface again.’

  Brenda rolled her eyes as if to suggest he was talking ten types of nonsense. ‘Well, you go right ahead, do as you like, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. She talks about as much sense as that mother of hers.’

  ‘Perhaps if I could have a few minutes alone with Lolly?’

  ‘No, I don’t think that’s a good idea. She’s just a kid. I reckon someone should be here with her.’

  Stanley suspected that the girl wouldn’t speak openly in front of her guardian. He also didn’t want Brenda interrupting every thirty seconds – she was the sort of woman who liked the sound of her own voice and wasn’t likely to keep her mouth shut for long. ‘I’m afraid Mr Fury insists that I talk to her in private. But if you don’t think it’s appropriate… well, maybe it’s better if we leave things for now.’

  ‘Leave things?’ Brenda snapped. ‘Things have been left long enough, ain’t they?’

  Stanley gave a mild shrug of his shoulders. ‘If it was down to me, Mrs Cecil, I’d be more than happy for us all to sit down together, but I can’t go against Mr Fury’s wishes. I’m sorry, but that’s just the way it is.’

  ‘So you want to throw me out of my own kitchen,’ Brenda said indignantly. ‘How am I supposed to get the tea made? I’ve a family to feed, you know.’

  ‘No one’s throwing you out of anywhere. Perhaps we could go through to the living room if it wouldn’t inconvenience you too much?’

  ‘Or the yard,’ Lolly said suddenly. ‘We could go out there.’

  Stanley, pleased with this suggestion, quickly rose to his feet. ‘Yes, indeed, the yard would be fine.’

  Brenda glanced from one to the other, her mouth in a tight straight line. For a moment she looked as though she was going to object again but instead she flapped a hand. ‘Oh, do as you like. It don’t make no difference to me.’

  Stanley followed Lolly outside. She went to the far end, out of earshot of Brenda, and sat down on one of two metal barrels that had been left by the gate. He perched on the other one, wondering if his first impression of the girl had been wrong. She was, perhaps, smarter than she looked.

  ‘You must be tired of answering questions,’ he said. ‘I’ll try not to keep you too long.’

  ‘Are you from the Social?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So who’s Mr Fury?’

  Stanley didn’t want to say too much. ‘He’s the man who employed me to try and find your family.’

  ‘Why would he do that?’ she asked.

  ‘It doesn’t really matter. What’s important is —’

  ‘Is he my dad?’

  Stanley hesitated, not wanting to lie but not willing to tell the whole truth either. ‘It’s unlikely. Did you ever hear your mother mention his name?’

  ‘No, only Brenda. She told Freddy that Mum was scared of him, but I never heard her say it. Why would she be scared of him?’

  ‘I’ve no idea,’ Stanley said. ‘He’s a kind, decent man. There’s nothing about him to be scared of.’ And then, before she could ask anything else, he quickly said, ‘So your mother never mentioned any relatives, nothing about her own mum and dad, or any brothers and sisters?’

  Lolly shook her head. ‘She always said it was just the two of us, just me and her.’

  ‘What about a bloke called Billy, Billy Martin?’

  ‘I dunno. She used to talk about a lot of people, mainly the ones who were out to get her. When she was sick, she thought she was being followed.’