The Whiskerly Sisters (32 page)

She prayed Des would fall into her trap.

As the email traffic passed back and forth between them, she had printed off a copy of each of their messages, thus owning the entire transcript of their internet history. She planned to post a copy to the Fraud Squad when the time was right and to advise DesperDates of her suspicions. She didn’t think it would take Des long to withdraw some of the cash she knew was sitting in the account waiting for him, but she had decided that patience was indeed a virtue at this stage of the game and would give Des all the time he needed to enter further into her web.

Switching off her computer, she left her office, flipping off the light and closing the door. Tripping breezily down the stairs, she entered her living room where Celia was in the process of opening up a bottle of champagne to toast another potentially successful venture. With her friend’s help, she had even managed to attach a pdf copy of the cream and gold business card that signalled the work of the Whiskerly Sisters.

Accepting a glass of bubbly from Celia and a round of applause from her friends, Jax settled herself down in her favourite armchair. Idly, she wondered how the ignorant owner of the bank account she had mailed to Des would feel when he discovered the loss of his savings. What the hell – the bastard had it coming! She didn’t reflect on the hoped for outcome for very long. She had much more important things on her mind. To her complete surprise and utter delight, Intellygent had finally stepped up to the plate and asked her out to dinner the following Saturday. Full of mischief, she brought up the next crucial item on the Whiskerly agenda. What did the girls think she should wear when she met her man – the Red Riding Hood outfit or the Snow White suit?

Woohoo! The burden of choice.

A
s she sat and waited for Callum to read the letter she had handed to him, Izza watched the world buzz around her. Business people in smart suits, carrying briefcases or laptop bags, and with the inevitable mobile phone pressed to their ears, moved purposefully by; excited young children with bright, eager faces scampered past often followed by harassed, anxious looking parents, overloaded with cases but intent on shepherding their flocks safely to their end destination; love-struck couples, arm in arm and eye to eye, floated by lost in a world of their own; other couples, past the first flush of romance, ambled past; some hand in hand in close conversation, others worlds apart and with nothing to say to each other – so many different people coming together with the same purpose in mind. Izza watched and wondered about their stories. All these people with so many different places to go and things to do, but she knew none of them.

She glanced down at the crumpled paper in Callum’s hands. Cheap, lined paper littered with the scrawl of worthless, trite words. A letter from Tony.

He needed to see her, it began. He had tried to call. Why was she blocking him? Could she unblock him cos he needed to talk to her? He had changed. He hadn’t meant to hurt her. Christ, how many times did he have to repeat it? The stupid bitch in the front seat of his car had meant nothing to him. It was a one off. He thought they were on a break so it wasn’t as if he had been unfaithful or anything. Could she please just talk to him? At least be friends. That’s all he wanted. He would wait for her at the usual place every night this week. Please come. It was important to him. He wouldn’t touch her. He just needed someone to talk to. That’s all. Why was she avoiding him? Why was she doing this to him? What was with the agg?

Had she heard he’d lost his job? Not his fault of course. He’d only been helping out some woman with a failed satnav who had got herself lost. Was it his fault that, for the five minutes his back had been turned, someone had done some criminal damage on one of the posh cars in the car park? It wasn’t true that he’d been flirting with the old cow as his manager tried to make out. He’d simply tried to help her. They’d worked out how to get to her destination using the map in her car. It had been a bit of PR for fuck’s sake. She was a classy mare so she might join the golf club any day. What was he supposed to have done? Ignored her, told her to bugger off ‘cos he had a car park to watch? Yeah right. Of course, he hadn’t meant to go for his boss and threaten to punch his lights out. The bastard had provoked him. It wasn’t fair. He’d done nothing wrong and now he was out of work and broke.

Yeah broke. Had she heard? Someone had got into his private savings account and stolen over £5K! A legacy from an aunt. He had been meaning to tell her about it, but she’d blocked him? He was going to use it to pay her back for the car, but that was fucked now. Some arsehole had got wind of his account and cleaned him right out. How the fuck they had got into his account he didn’t know. Done online apparently. It was being looked into of course, but he had no protection and the manager had said the right access details had been used. How the fuck had anyone got hold of his password and log in details? The bastards at the building society were trying to make out that it was some kind of fraud on his part. WTF was that all about?

So now he was right up against it. He’d do anything to get her back. He realised he’d been a bit of a tosser before and he was sorry, right. Could she please just meet him tonight at the usual place? Please! He was begging, right! He’d changed. Honest! He would never hit her again. He’d never meant to hit her in the first place; it was just that she pressed all his buttons. And he would never ever ask her for money again only just this once if she could bring a pony with her, he swore he’d never ask again. Never ever, just this one time. He was desperate.

Besides, he wouldn’t be where he was right now if she hadn’t dumped him. He’d found he couldn’t live without her and his life had just gone from bad to worse since they’d split up so please, please could they just meet up again tonight at the usual place. Just as friends if that’s all she wanted. Just please come.

Had she heard that some fucking blonde police bitch had been round to his flat on a tip off? They’d found some stuff at the back of his wardrobe. How the fuck had that got there? She knew he wasn’t into drugs; she knew he didn’t deal. Anyway, they’d shoved him in a cell and questioned him for ages and now he was on a charge. Could she come to court with him and tell them that he didn’t deal? Ok, he used a bit, but nothing heavy. She knew that. For fuck’s sake, he was scared. He needed her to stand by him. Please would she meet him? He had no one else. She was his world. He loved her. This time it would be different.

Please don’t let me down.

Callum finished reading the letter and passed it back to her in silence, but she shook her head. Smiling, he reached out for her hand and squeezed it across the top of the table. He got up to buy them both a coke. With Izza watching, Callum crumpled up the letter and dropped it into the closest bin. Alone at the table, Izza reflected on Tony’s current situation. At the back of her mind, she wondered if she had let things go too far. She had not intended for him to lose his job, but the Whiskerlies had been delighted to discover that Tony worked as the car park attendant at the golf club where Fat Taff’s sting had taken place. It meant that they could try for a double whammy and hit him at the same time. They had hoped he would get a ticking off for spending too much time flirting with Charley, but his temper had intervened and he had ended up being sacked. Izza was fully aware of the theft from his Building Society since her mother had given his account details to the internet fraudster she had been baiting. During the course of their relationship, Tony had been careless enough to give Izza his access details. He must have forgotten since, after their break-up, he’d never bothered to change them but, even then, her mother hadn’t finished with her abusive ex-boyfriend.

It had not been difficult to plant drugs in his flat since Izza still had her own key. She had to admit that, when her mother proposed the idea, she had been stunned to find that Charley knew just who to contact to get the stuff. It cost Jax a pretty penny, but she considered it money well spent. Tiff gladly followed through by tipping one of her colleagues the wink. A visit had been paid and enough drugs found to convince the lead officer that Tony could be a dealer. It was only then that mother and daughter finally agreed enough was enough.

She was brought back to the present by a touch on her shoulder. Callum was back with their drinks. They began to discuss happier things; future things and then, all too soon, her boyfriend checked his watch. He smiled at her as he stood up, lifting her bag onto his shoulder effortlessly. Izza grinned. She could watch him do that forever! It was time to go. They walked together towards the queue. That was as far as he was allowed to go. He took her into his arms, kissed her, whispered that he would miss her and walked away quickly, but not before she saw the moisture in his eyes. Soppy sod!

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tiffany and Charley walking towards her, talking animatedly. She grinned at her friends, who nodded despairingly in the direction of the far wall of the crowded room to where an enamoured couple were kissing as if their lives depended on it. Izza’s eyes flicked towards them. The enmeshed eight-limbed creature began to unfold itself and reshape into two distinct human forms. She smiled at the smaller of the two, the female, caught her eye and signalled the time. The woman glanced at the screen in front of her, smoothing her hair as she did so. The man beside her moved in for another fervent embrace.

Who’d have believed it? A few short months ago, Izza would have been horrified; disgraced even at the sight of her own mother snogging in public, but now she simply felt delighted for her, glad that she had found someone who loved her. Her mother’s affair with Peter had begun several months ago over the internet. After a wealth of e.traffic, they had finally screwed up the courage to meet. Neither of them had looked back. The encounter had soon turned to romance and, from there, had quickly flourished into a sizzling affair, fulfilling yet surprising both of them.

Who knew what her mother’s future held? Who could say what her own future held, wondered Izza, watching Jax? Whatever, they were both happier than they had been in ages. Even better, they had a fortnight’s holiday in front of them. Fourteen days of togetherness, giggles, over indulgence and insobriety. Not to mention travel, culture, sun and uniforms.

Well, they would, she mused, if only her mother could tear herself away from Peter, or Intellygent, as he had been known on DesperDates, and get her flaming arse into the departure lounge.

W
hen he thought back about it afterwards, it seemed to Sly that he spent the first two weeks after Ali’s death on automatic pilot. He could barely remember the funeral other than that the church had been filled with both people and flowers. He knew he’d stood up and read something, but couldn’t remember what; he knew he’d stood for a long time shaking hands outside the church, but he couldn’t remember who with. He must have guided himself and his parents through the whole terrible business, but he couldn’t remember how.

What he could remember was the huge feeling of relief when it was over; when the last sandwich had been thrown in the bin, the last left-over drink had been thrown down the sink and the last guest – well – he hadn’t exactly thrown anyone out of the door. It was simply that he couldn’t have cared less if people stayed or left even though all of them were Ali’s friends and in such huge numbers, crowding the tiny house in which his parents lived. He doubted that more than a handful of folk would have turned up if it had been his funeral, but it hadn’t been.
More’s the pity,
he thought to himself morosely.

Instead, it had to have been Ali’s. Generous, thoughtful, loving Ali, who had never harmed anyone in his entire life and had been such a force for good in the world. If there was a God, then Sly felt that He needed shaking all the way down to his sodding heavenly sandals. Of all the people in the world, why did He have to pick on his little monster?