The Shadows in the Street (10 page)

Judith sighed and refilled her glass. ‘Richard decided he would like us to fly to California soon after Christmas, hire a camper van and tour in it.’

‘A
camper van
? Dad? I’m surprised he even knows what a camper van is.’

‘Apparently he read an article about them, did some research on the Internet and discovered that they are large and extremely comfortable.’

‘They are, we had one when we were in Australia. But why on earth should he want you to do that when you can fly and stay in hotels. Much more your scene I’d have thought.’

‘Being pensioners.’

‘I didn’t mean that and you know it. But if you don’t like the idea, say so.’

‘I don’t mind the idea of a camper van in the least, I think it would be rather fun. What I do mind is travelling round the States in one for a whole year.’

Cat felt as if she were standing on a ledge overhanging some sort of precipice and that ledge had suddenly started to move beneath her feet.

‘A year?’

‘Which of course we cannot possibly do. There is no way we could leave you and the children except for a short holiday. A year’s out of the question. You rely on us and so you should.’

‘Judith …’

‘I mean it.’

‘I confess I’m not sure if I could cope. You do such a lot for us.’

‘Not a lot but I think what we do is pretty vital.’

‘It is. Believe me. But Dad disagrees, I suppose.’

‘He’ll come round, but in the meantime, he’s gone off to bed to read P.G. Wodehouse which, as you know, is his customary defence against the world.’

‘God, I feel guilty.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. Tell me more about the cathedral. I love tales of internecine strife.’

Cat laughed. ‘But it is grim,’ she said, ‘grim and not funny. A lot of people are being walked over. It isn’t just hurt pride or jostling for position, Judith, it goes a lot deeper than that. I don’t know how anyone can be so insensitive and it’s odd because when you meet Stephen Webber you don’t get that feeling at all – he seems very kind, quite gentle, he listens. Unlike his wife. But I hate to see David Lester so upset. It’s affecting the music. It was quite noticeable tonight.’

‘The Dean isn’t trying to close down St Michael’s Singers surely?’

‘No, no, he can’t do that – we’re not part of the cathedral organisation. I don’t think he much cares for what we sing but that’s his problem. I dare say he thinks it’s elitist and not relevant. But no, it’s the cathedral music he wants to change, and most of the services. He’s riding roughshod over everyone.’

‘Can he?’

‘Pretty much. It is the Dean
and
Chapter, of course, and there are still several from the old regime who are fighting all the way. But there are others – Canon Hurley for instance – he came with Stephen Webber, they’ve worked together before …’ Cat got up and wandered restlessly round the kitchen. ‘I suppose some of this is just me, isn’t it? I can’t bear anything else to change, especially not something so important. The cathedral is my shelter – it’s a rock, it’s there. If that goes then anything can.’

‘I remember feeling like that. Just after Don died they changed the time of the nine o’clock news to ten and it was as if the ground was shifting under my feet. Sounds ridiculous now but that was how I felt, needing the television news to be where it always had been. Bereavement makes you very insecure.’

‘I have to sort out what is important from what isn’t, though. If things change at St Michael’s, I need to decide which I care about enough to fight for and which to let go.’

‘Priorities, yes.’

Cat went and put her arms round Judith’s shoulders, ‘It’s this sort of thing, you see? You help me sort things out. If you went away for a year …’

‘Yes, darling, I do know. Well, it’s fine because we’re not going.’

‘But Dad …’

‘You leave Richard to me.’

As she got ready for bed, Cat realised that it was true, she could leave her father to Judith. It was one thing she no longer had to worry about and it was a change she welcomed.

She lay awake, listening to the wind in the trees, wanting to still her angry thoughts about the cathedral and her anxious thoughts about Sam and the new worry, that her father was thinking of going away for a year, and was unable to quieten any of them. She felt as if she were entirely alone and fighting a long, exhausting war of attrition. It was a long time before she slept.

Fifteen

Leslie Blade slowed as he turned onto Wharf Lane. Sometimes the girls were along here, sometimes by the row of boarded-up shops further on, and he could park on the service road. It was a dismal end of the town, bought up by a developer who had gone bankrupt. There was not much chance of anyone starting a business here now, bringing in work, so the shops would stay as they were, the bookies, the hairdresser’s, the launderette, the corner stores, the butcher’s, all closed and covered in posters and graffiti. Even the charity shop had gone. He was later than usual. His mother had gone into hospital overnight for a check on her pacemaker, and travelling to Bevham and back to see her after work meant that he did not begin to prepare the food until gone ten o’clock. He had almost lost heart and stayed at home in front of the fire instead. But he had bought the food, the bread was fresh, and besides, they would miss him, it was not a night for the Reachout van and the weather had turned colder. The girls needed him.

The wind whipped bits of paper and empty plastic bags down the road ahead but he thought he could see a figure near the empty shops as he slowed.

The next minute, a blue light came flashing into view and the police car pulled in front of him, siren wailing.

‘Excuse me, sir, would you just get out of the car for me?’

‘I haven’t been drinking, officer, I assure you, I don’t take alcohol at all.’

‘Just get out of the car, if you wouldn’t mind, sir.’

Leslie got out.

‘Thank you.’

‘As I say, I haven’t had any alcohol, I don’t drink.’

‘Can you tell me what you’re doing here?’

‘Doing? I was driving along the road.’

‘You weren’t driving in a normal fashion, were you? You were driving slowly along this side … Another way of describing it is “kerb-crawling”.’

‘I was going to park over there as it happens. By the empty shops.’

‘Why would you want to do that, sir? Got some business there?’

‘I’d like you to tell me why I am being questioned. I’m not aware of having committed any offence.’

‘Kerb-crawling is an offence, sir. Are you aware of that? Are you also aware that young women work as prostitutes in this area?’

‘I know that.’

‘Oh, you know?’

‘I know because I come here to visit them. Ask any of them. I come out to bring them a hot drink and some food. I don’t know if you are aware, officer, that these girls are on the streets night after night, in the cold, in the dark, on their own, and that nobody gives a damn about it. I bring them something to eat. If you would like to open the bag on the back seat of the car you’ll find it.’

Now the other one was out and walking slowly round Leslie’s car, examining the wheels, the doors, the bumpers.

‘Go on, please … open the back door and look in the carrier bag and if any of the girls are about, they know me, they’ll vouch for me.’

But the road was deserted.

The PC took out the carrier bag and opened it, nodded to the other.

‘Right, sir, well, I’ve only your word for it that you were taking this to give to the girls or anyone else, but if that is the case, I’d advise you against doing so.’

‘What on earth for? What harm am I doing? Ask them. They’re glad enough of it. I look out for them, which is more than the police do, if I may say so. Look …’

A car had come down the road on the other side and slowed down. Seeing the police car, the driver barely stopped to let the girl out onto the path and was away, tyres screaming.

‘Abi,’ Leslie Blade shouted across the road. ‘Abi.’

Abi Righton stopped dead.

‘Abi, over here, please, come over.’

She walked at an angle across the road, keeping her eye on the police.

‘All right, love, not a problem, you haven’t anything to worry about. Just a word if you don’t mind.’

Abi shrugged, kept her distance.

‘He wants you to say you know me, and –’

‘Thank you, but if you’d just leave it to me, sir. Can I have your name first please, miss?’

Abi hesitated.

‘Like I said, there’s no problem far as you’re concerned.’

‘OK. Abi. Abi Righton.’

‘Address?’

‘Do I have to?’

‘No, but it’d make me happier.’

‘11c Barter Road.’

Leslie tried to catch her eye but Abi stared at a spot beyond the car.

‘I’d like you to tell me if you recognise this man, please.’

‘Yeah. I recognise him. What’s he done?’

‘Can you give me his name?’

‘You arrested him then?’

‘No, he is not under arrest. Do you know his name?’

‘Leslie. Leslie something. We call him – Les.’

‘Just Les?’

‘Yes.’

‘Know another name?’

‘No.’

‘Can you tell me anything more about him, to corroborate what he’s told us?’

‘I don’t know what he’s told you, do I?’

‘Any idea why he’s here? I gather you see him from time to time out this way.’

‘Oh yeah, he brings us stuff, sandwiches and tea and that.’

‘When you say “us” …’

‘The girls.’

‘Any in particular?’

‘No. Anyone. I got no idea why he does it but he does. Kindness of his heart, I suppose. He doesn’t preach or give us leaflets or anything.’

‘Does he, er, how can I put it, do you
pay
him for the food and so on?’

‘If you mean, is he a punter, then no, he bloody isn’t. He just likes a chat, hangs around a bit, talks to us about stuff.’

‘What sort of stuff?’

Abi shrugged. ‘Anything. What people talk about. Weather and how nobody’s got any money and is the royal family a waste of space and what music do you like. Just stuff.’

‘Right. OK, thanks. I don’t need to keep you. Only I would just say you’d be better off at home, not on the streets, you know.’

‘Better off? How come?’

‘Safer, warmer, out of harm’s way.’

‘Safe enough here. We look out for each other. The Reachout van comes. More than you lot do.’

‘All the same. No life for a young girl, is it, Abi? I’ve a daughter. I wouldn’t want this for her.’

‘No, right, well, let’s hope you don’t get it.’ Abi pushed her hands into her pockets and turned away.

‘I can go as well, I imagine,’ Leslie Blade said.

‘Just a word though, same as to the girl. Might be best if you didn’t hang around here, chatting to them, sandwiches or no.’

‘And why would that be? Am I committing an offence?’

‘No. All the same, better leave it to the authorities – the Reachout van and so on. Better leave it to them.’

‘If there isn’t anything else, officer?’

The policeman shut his notebook. ‘On your way then, sir. Thanks for your cooperation. Drive carefully.’

Leslie drove down the main road for a couple of miles, turned onto the bypass, left it at the roundabout, skirted the Hill, and in less than fifteen minutes was back beside the empty shops. The patrol car had gone and neither Abi nor any of the other girls was on the street. He pulled in and waited a while, then went round the block and down towards the canal. Still no one.

He could hear the cathedral chimes for midnight ringing round the cold and empty streets as he drove away. From the shadows near the towpath the one they called Beanie Man saw him. Watched. Waited.

‘The leccy’s nearly gone,’ Hayley said the second Abi opened the door. ‘You got any change?’

Abi pulled thirty pounds in notes from her miniskirt pocket and went to the cupboard over the sink. The cornflakes packet where she kept pound coins for the meter was empty. The room was cold, all three children asleep together under one duvet on the bed, Hayley with her parka pulled up round her neck huddled into the chair.

‘There was ten quid in here,’ Abi said. ‘Where’s that gone?’

Hayley’s face was pinched, her eyes red.

‘You must have used it.’

Hayley had been biting her nails.

‘I didn’t use it, and nobody else has been in here. Except you.’

Hayley shrugged.

‘OK, I’ll go downstairs, see if they’ve got any change. Only I know you had it and I want it back, right?’

When Abi returned and fed the meter, Hayley was making tea.

‘I had a good idea,’ she said.

‘What, like nicking my leccy money? I’m telling you, I want it back. You work tomorrow and you give it me, right?’

‘No, listen, where I live, the flat below’s gone empty.’

‘So? God, I’m bloody frozen. I’m having a Cuppa Soup. You want one?’

‘We could have it. It’s got two bedrooms, it’s got a separate kitchen. We could have that.’

‘What do you mean, we could have it?’

‘Rent it. You, me, our kids. It’s a whole lot better than here and mine, and we could do it up.’

‘You’re joking, right?’

‘No, I’m not, what would I be joking for? It’s a good idea.’