Authors: Maureen Carter
Working Girls (41 page)
“You okay, chuck?” Val asked.
“Bit smoky in here.” They were all looking. She changed the subject. “Another, anyone?”
“My shout,” said Byford. “Same again, Bev?”
Better not. She was sure to regret it. “Large Grouse, guv. Ta.”
The horrific events were beginning to recede. She was moving from ‘Life’s A Bitch And Then You Die’ into ‘All This And Heaven Too’. A touch of the hard stuff always
softened her up. Good job Frankie was about done or she’d be joining her at the mike.
The girls clapped louder than anyone and Smithy’s two-fingered whistle warranted earplugs. Jules shuffled along the bench to make space for Frankie, which had a knock-on effect on Val and
Vince. Bev listened to the chat, lounged back further, lost herself in the amber glow.
“Still with us, our Bev?” Val tapped her knee. “It’s last orders. Want another?”
Better not. “Yeah, why not?”
“Large one, Sarge?” Oz asked.
No way. “You bet.”
She could feel an Indian coming on. She smiled; with Oz around, that wasn’t the best way of putting it.
“What’s tickled you, Bev?” Jules asked.
“Nothing.” She was still grinning.
“This’ll give you a giggle.” Vince reached into a pocket, brought out a neatly folded piece of paper.
“What you got there then, Vince?” she asked.
“Hold on. Just have a listen.” He cleared his throat, lifted a hand for silence.
“There was a young sergeant from Highgate
Who went off one night on a blind date.
She’d been warned by her mummy
Don’t mess with a dummy
And ever since then she’s been celibate.”
When the catcalls eventually died down, Bev pursed her lips. “That is the biggest pile of dog-doo I’ve ever heard. It doesn’t rhyme. It doesn’t scan. It’s not even
funny.”
“Me thinks the lady dith protest too much,” Oz intoned.
“Doth,” she corrected automatically. “Hold on a minute.” She’d heard that somewhere before. She narrowed her eyes, kept them on Oz. “Who did you say wrote
that crap, Vince?”
“Dunno. No name on it.”
She was still glaring at Oz, but the man had no shame. He asked Vince what the prize was.
“What’s it to you, Constable?” she snapped.
“Just wondered,” Oz said.
“Now then, children.” Vince was at his avuncular worst. “The winner gets a balti for two. Jewel in the Crown.”
Bev’s glare was now a glower. “Make that snake in the grass.”
Into the silence, Patty piped up with a timorous, “What’s celibate?”
No one answered. Or if they did, it got lost in the laughter.
Bev still had a smile on her face in the morning. Her memory of the night before was a little hazy. She vaguely recalled the guv leaving the pub with an arm round the doc’s waist. Or it
might have been a dream. Waking in the arms of a celebrated bard was definitely not a dream. He was still here, sleeping like a baby. Though when she considered the potential complications, it
could turn into a nightmare. Bit late now. She snuggled closer. “Celibate,” she whispered, “I don’t think so.”
EPILOGUE
It was no diss any more not to wear black. Kinda lucky, or the girls would be standing there in their undies. As it was, they were lined up like exotically plumed birds on a
clothes line. Bev, who’d dug out a dark suit from the back of the wardrobe, was on the opposite side of the grave. They were soaked. It didn’t always rain at funerals –
Bev’s dad had been buried in a heatwave – but right now it was tipping down.
There’d been just the eight of them in church plus some under-manager from the home. A fatherly vicar had said nice things about a fifteen-year-old prostitute he’d never met.
They’d all sung
The Lord’s My Shepherd
and
Abide With Me.
Now it was nearly over.
The first earth struck the coffin. Bev didn’t see who’d thrown it. Could have been the vicar. Might have been Val. The dull thwack startled her. She stiffened, blinked furiously,
glad then for the stinging downpour.
She tried to stop herself, but her eyes were stripping away the cheap wood. Shell was down there and the fury and sadness were like a knife in her stomach. She felt a gentle squeeze on her hand.
Jules. Words weren’t needed. Couldn’t trust herself to speak anyway. The pressure was there again. She looked down.
The girl was handing her a Kwik Save carrier bag, she leaned close, whispered in Bev’s ear.
“Cassie wants Shell to have it.”
She peered inside. Paddington’s fur was matted now and the peg had come off his duffle coat. Bev nodded. Shell deserved more. They all did.
“We’re off now,” Jules said. “Catch you later.”
She nodded, watched them totter away on their wedgies, wondered who they were waving at. Hoped it wasn’t the vicar. It wasn’t. When she got back to the MG, Vicki Flinn was perched on
the bonnet.
“Wotcha, Bev.”
“Vick.”
Bev made the first move. They stood for a while, arms round each other in the rain. “I tried to find you.”
“I know.” She didn’t want to talk about it. Bev couldn’t leave it alone.
“I heard what Hawes did.”
She shrugged. “Over now, innit?”
“I thought he’d kill you, Vick.”
“He probably would, if it hadn’t been for Lucie.”
“How do you mean?”
“Told him she was his kid, didn’t I?”
Bev couldn’t help looking aghast. “And is she?”
“Could be. Who knows?”