‘Hey, I looked. But all I saw was the same old shit going on that used to happen way back.’
‘Yeah, and I’ve apologised for that. But I’ve still got a right to my opinion.’
‘Even if you’re wrong?’
‘In
your
opinion.’
‘There’s no point having this conversation,’ Leanne said flatly. ‘Yeah, I’ve changed, but my life’s better for it. I’ve got my own place, and a man who loves me, while you’re all still living at home with your mummies and daddies.’
‘And you’re not?’ Zak gave her an incredulous look. ‘Come off it, Lee, the dude might as well be your dad.’
‘Oh, what, because he’s older than me?’
‘No, because
he
’s the one who’s paid for all the shit you’ve been bragging about tonight.’
‘I do my share.’
‘Cleaning up now and then, and opening your legs,’ Zak said scathingly. ‘Who you trying to kid?’
‘It’s an equal relationship, actually,’ Leanne spat, resenting the way he was trying to cheapen what she had with Terry.
‘If you say so,’ Zak replied without conviction. ‘But don’t be knocking me and the crew, ’cos at least we’ve earned everything we’ve got.’
‘You call mugging people
earning
?’ Leanne sniped. ‘Do me a favour.’
Genuine anger flashing in his eyes now, Zak said, ‘We’ve never mugged anyone in our fucking lives, and you know it. I can’t believe you even said that.’
‘Oh, really,’ Leanne snorted. ‘So, where did you get the money to pay for all the flash gear?’
‘From working,’ Zak told her bluntly. ‘We’ve all been grafting our bollocks off since we left school, while you’ve been playing queen of the castle and taking handouts from your old man. So who’s the grown-ups now? Us, or you?’
Leanne could feel the heat burning her cheeks, but there was no point trying to defend herself because Zak wouldn’t understand what she had with Terry. It wasn’t about who earned what, it was about just being together.
And she wished she was with him right now, because he was worth ten of Zak. But she couldn’t go to him in this state. She’d have to go home and sleep off the booze and the weed before she could face him again.
Stopping when they reached the mouth of the subway, Zak watched as she carried on walking.
‘This isn’t over,’ he called after her. ‘We had something, and I’ll be seeing you again. Believe.’
Ignoring him, Leanne kept on going.
6
Connor slept right through the night and late into the next morning. Waking up, he was thrilled to find his dad asleep in the chair beside the bed. But the thrill only lasted as long as it took for his dad to wake up and start throwing questions at him.
Did Nicky go out to get the money for the electric?
What time was that, and when did she get back?
How did the fire start?
Were you alone, or was Nicky back by then?
Did she start it?
Did she have someone else in the house and
they
started it?
Who threw the brick through the window?
On and on they came. And Connor couldn’t answer a single one of them, because they all led to Nicky being to blame for the fire. So he just lay there, tears streaming down his cheeks, praying for the torture to end.
At his wits end when the doctor came by later that day, Terry said, ‘What’s wrong with him? I’ve been talking to him for hours, but he hasn’t said a single word. He just lies there staring at me, like he’s terrified of me, or something.’
Reiterating what he’d already told him several times over, that it was just the shock and that Connor would speak when he was good and ready, the doctor said, ‘But, in the meantime, I’d strongly advise you not to push him too hard. Not only because it’s probably quite painful for him, right now, but also because it might cause irreparable damage to his vocal cords.’
Which left Terry feeling like an absolute shit for how hard he’d
already
pushed him.
Still, at least if Connor couldn’t talk, he couldn’t start asking for his sister, which was a relief.
Or for Sue.
And Terry was absolutely fuming with her. It was Sunday, and Connor had been here since Friday, but she still hadn’t turned up. And what kind of a bitch was she, that she could waltz off and leave her kids alone in the house for a whole weekend? And she
must
have heard about the fire by now. It had made the front page of yesterday’s
Evening News
, and Terry had even caught a glimpse of it on the local TV news last night, so surely Sue must know something.
Or maybe that was precisely why she hadn’t come back yet, because she was scared of facing up to the consequences of neglecting the kids. Either way, she’d blown it this time. And she’d better hope that the police got to her before Terry did, because he was already struggling to keep the image of himself strangling the life out of her at bay.
As it happened, Sue hadn’t seen or heard a thing. Having sneaked past the hotel’s reception desk on Friday night, she and Julie had been holed up in the men’s suite for the entire weekend, too busy partying to bother with the TV or newspapers.
She had thought about the kids, of course; suffering little pangs of guilt every time she tucked into the fantastic food the men had ordered up from room service, or when she’d been watching cable films on the massive flat-screen TV that Connor would have
died
for. But Julie had quickly nipped that in the bud, reminding her that the kids had plenty of food in the freezer, and a fiver for the electric so Connor could watch TV all day and night if he wanted to. So, conceding that they must be okay or Nicky would have rung by now, Sue had put them out of her mind and got on with enjoying herself.
And she was surprised to say that she actually
had
enjoyed herself – for a change. Chris might not have been the best-looking of blokes, but he’d made up for it in sweetness; running around after her like she was a princess while she lazed about on the bed, refilling her glass every time she emptied it, and telling her not to worry about the cost of anything because they would claim it all back as company expenses.
All in all, a nice, generous, reasonable-in-bed-despite-his-looks kind of man – whom Sue had absolutely no intention of seeing again, despite having promised to meet up with him next time he came to Manchester.
Sweet as he was, she’d realised that she wasn’t ready to get into anything serious. Not yet; maybe not ever. It wasn’t fair to the kids. Not after Terry had already hurt them so badly.
Making her way home that evening, blissfully unaware of what was waiting for her, Sue was praying that Nicky would have already put Connor to bed so that she could slope off to her own without a fuss. She’d missed her kids but she was too tired to pay them the attention they deserved tonight, so she thought she’d pick them up after school tomorrow instead; treat them to a McDonald’s with the money that Chris had slipped her before she left the hotel, and maybe throw in a trip to the bowling alley afterwards. Or the pictures. Or both.
Smiling at the thought of the delight on their faces when she sprang her surprise on them tomorrow, Sue gazed dreamily out of the window as the taxi cruised along the road, her gaze dancing over the familiar outlines of the houses they were passing. It was only seven o’clock but it was already pitch dark, and the condensation on the window was distorting the view. So when she saw the gap in the skyline where her roof was supposed to be, she had to look twice.
Already fumbling with the door handle when the driver slowed to a stop at the kerb, Sue almost fell out of the car.
‘My house!’ she gasped. ‘What’s happened to my house?’
‘What about my fare?’ the cabbie called out as she staggered towards the gate. ‘Oi, lady! You owe me seven quid.’
Sue gaped back at him in disbelief. Her house had been destroyed, and all he could think about was his
fare
. What a heartless, heartless bastard!
But when she opened her mouth to say that to him, the only sound that came out was a long, drawn-out, wounded-animal scream.
Cursing under his breath, the driver rammed his foot down on the accelerator and tore away from the kerb. Sod the fare. He wasn’t hanging about for some nosy do-gooder to come out and accuse him of rape – which was exactly what had happened to one of the other drivers recently. And he was fucked if he’d be picking up any more lone female fares from now on. Not a chance!
Back on the pavement, Sue had no idea that the scream was coming from her mouth. She didn’t even register the sharp sting of the first slap across her cheek. But the second slap was much harder, jarring her enough to make her inhale sharply.
‘Are you all right?’ Pauline asked, her hands shaking wildly as she held onto Sue’s arms – as much to steady herself as to prevent Sue from lashing out in retaliation.
Gaping back at her, Sue opened and closed her mouth, but nothing came out.
By now, several of the neighbours had come out to see what was going on. Aware that one of them might say something stupid and tip Sue over the edge, Pauline jerked her head at John who was still hanging back by their own gate.
‘Don’t just stand there. Help me get her inside.’
‘Inside where?’ he asked stupidly.
‘Where do you bloody think?’ she snapped, shaking her head in despair when he finally got moving.
Taking an arm each, they guided Sue up the path and into their house, closing the door firmly on the prying eyes. Ushering her into an armchair, Pauline hurried into the kitchen to make her a cup of sweet tea.
The heat of the living room enveloped Sue like an electric blanket, but did little to stop the shivering. Vaguely wondering why this house was so much warmer than her own, in which you had to have the fire on full blast and be sitting on top of it to get the benefit, she gazed numbly around. In all the time she’d lived next door to Pauline, she’d never actually been inside her house before, and yet it looked exactly as she’d imagined it would: a fussy old people’s nest, crammed with grossly outdated furniture and bursting with old-fashioned ornaments. And they had radiators, she noticed, a flicker of confusion crossing her brow. How come they had radiators when no one else on the estate did?
‘Here you go,’ Pauline said, bustling back in a couple of minutes later with a steaming cup in her hands. ‘You drink that. It’ll make you feel better.’
‘The kids,’ Sue murmured, her hands shaking violently as she reached for the cup. ‘Where are my kids?’
‘They’re safe,’ Pauline lied, casting a surreptitious glance at John to warn him not to contradict her. ‘Connor breathed in a bit of smoke so they had to take him off to the hospital, but he’s doing all right.’
‘And N-Nicky?’
Casting another quick glance at John, Pauline gave Sue a small, tight smile. ‘She’s fine, pet, don’t you worry about her. Now, drink up, there’s a good girl.’
Sipping at the hot liquid, Sue burst into tears as the relief of knowing that her kids were safe overwhelmed her – not to mention the guilt that she hadn’t been here to prevent whatever had happened from happening in the first place.
Snatching the cup away from her before she spilled it all over herself and the carpet, Pauline placed it on the table and squatted down beside her – wincing as her knees and hips cracked simultaneously. She’d have a hell of a time getting up again, but sometimes you just had to forget about your own troubles and concentrate on helping someone else.
‘There, there,’ she crooned, holding Sue’s icy hands in hers. ‘You get it all out. It’s been a big shock for you, I know. But everything’s going to be all right, you’ll see.’
‘What happened?’ Sue sobbed. ‘I need to know what happened.’
‘There was a fire,’ Pauline explained. ‘But let’s not talk about it now, eh? Let’s just get you settled down.’
‘
No . . .
’ Sue moaned, shaking her head from side to side as the tears streamed through her make-up. ‘No, no,
nooo . . .
’
Edging towards the fire, John stuck his hands deep into his pockets and watched in uncomfortable silence as his wife ministered to the neighbour. He didn’t know what else to do. Hysterical women had never been his strong point.
Looking up as Sue continued to bawl, Pauline caught his eye and mouthed, ‘What should we do?’
Shrugging, in a
what-you-asking-me-for
gesture, he said, ‘Whatever you think best, love.’
Tutting softly, Pauline bit her lip. Then, jabbing a finger towards the dresser against the far wall, she said, ‘Get that policewoman’s card out of the tin.’
Finding the card after rooting through the rest of the rubbish that Pauline kept in the old biscuit tin, John held it out to her. Rolling his eyes when she flapped her hand at him dismissively, he wandered off into the kitchen to make the call, muttering under his breath.
Jay was becomingly increasingly frustrated in her efforts to find Nicky Day. Everywhere she turned, she seemed to hit the same brick wall. She’d spoken to everybody on the Fitton estate several times over by now, and to the teachers at Nicky’s school, and even to her doctor to see if he thought that she was depressed or suicidal. But everybody had said the same thing: that Nicky was a quiet girl who adored her brother, and that she definitely would have been at home with him if she was supposed to be. And yet she definitely
hadn’t
been there by the time the fire crew arrived.
Desperate for some kind of breakthrough, Jay was spending every waking moment on this case, visiting police stations and hospitals across Manchester, looking at girls who fitted Nicky’s description who’d been brought in.
On the way to see one such girl – who had been arrested for shoplifting over in Longsight – when John Wilson’s call came through, she told Ann to turn the car around and put her foot down.