Family Drama 4 E-Book Bundle - Leah Fleming

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foot hard on the accelerator.

      ‘For fuck’s sake,’ Dick yelled, ‘give me a chance to shut the back doors!’

      Kevin slowed almost imperceptibly before turning a corner, his ears peeled for the sound of police sirens. Dick managed to pull the doors closed, and soon they were streets away.

      ‘Slow down, you stupid bastard! You’re drawing attention to us,’ Nobby shouted.

      ‘Watch your mouth,’ Kevin spat, his eyes now flicking to the back of the van and to Dick Smedley. ‘So much for the alarm being a fucking doddle! Christ, it serves me right for getting mixed up with amateurs.’

      Nobby’s voice was dangerously low: ‘We ain’t amateurs. It was just bad luck. Now find somewhere to dump this van, and soon.’

      Kevin turned left towards the industrial arches under Clapham Junction station. In the pitch-darkness his headlights pierced the gloom and, parking in front of the first unit, he scrambled out of the van.

      ‘Come on, this’ll do. We can make our way home through the backstreets.’

      The three men walked quickly, constantly looking behind them and relieved when they reached Battersea High Street.

      ‘That was a bloody fiasco,’ Kevin said, breaking the silence.

      ‘I’ll admit it was a cock-up, but we got clean away.’

      ‘Yeah, but empty-handed.’

      ‘There’s always another job, and we’ll make better plans next time.’

      ‘Next time! You must be kidding!’

      Nobby shrugged. ‘You’ll be looking for easy money again soon, and I’ll be in touch.’

      ‘Don’t bother,’ Kevin spat as he marched away.

      Trevor Bardington still couldn’t sleep. Standing in the darkness of his room, he looked out of the window on to the three young men below him in the street. He recognised his landlord, Nobby Clark, and though the men seemed to be arguing, he wasn’t interested. His appetite was rising again, and try as he might he couldn’t fight it. How many times had he moved? How many different areas had he lived in? He’d lost count. So far he’d been lucky, very lucky, and had never been caught.

      He turned away from the window and threw himself onto his bed. Once he had seen that face it was impossible to get it out of his mind – impossible to fight the desire. Now, as he had done so many times in the past, he began to plan.

      Other than the young girl downstairs, this place was ideal, and if he used drugs again, there would be no noise. Of course, the time and place would be crucial, and it wouldn’t be easy. His brain turned. There had to be a way, there was always a way, and as an idea began to form, Trevor Bardington smiled. He’d love it, he knew he would. They all did, despite their protests.

       Chapter Twelve

      When Pearl awoke on Monday morning, she knuckled her eyes before climbing tiredly out of bed. She hadn’t slept well. Trevor Bardington had started pacing again and it had been after one in the morning before he’d stopped.

      Why did he spend hours walking back and forth across his room? Was he an insomniac? God, she hoped not. If she got a good night’s sleep, getting up at five forty-five in the morning wasn’t a problem, but if the noise continued it would be impossible.

      She’d have to wait and see, but if the worst came to the worst, perhaps she could ask Nobby Clark for a different room. There were two empty, one on this landing and one above. She didn’t fancy being on the same floor as Mr Bardington, but the one further along on this level would be fine and not directly underneath the man. The only downside was that it looked over the rear of the building, with nothing but a yard and the back of a factory wall in view. With this room she enjoyed being able to look on to the High Street, seeing the hustle and bustle of the market. Tired of drawing faces, she had begun to sketch the scene. Of course, she still craved colour. How else could she bring the pictures alive? The colourful stalls with their brightly striped awnings, the fruit and vegetables piled high, the crowds bustling, red-faced from the heat. They needed colour, and she just had to buy some paint.

      The breakfast rush was in full swing and, though tired from lack of sleep, Pearl was doing her best to keep an eye on Alice. So far she hadn’t cleared any of Pearl’s tables, but as they were so busy it was impossible to watch her all the time.

      Frank Hanwell came in, his son, Eric, with him, and Pearl smiled as she went to serve them.

      ‘Hello, and what can I get you?’

      ‘My usual, and beans on toast for Eric.’

      The boy grinned at Pearl and once again she was captivated by his face. If he’d been a girl, Eric would have been described as beautiful. Somehow, handsome didn’t fit, and seemed an inadequate description. With lovely emerald-green eyes, slightly slanted like a cat’s, flawless skin, with a dash of freckles, he had to Pearl, perfect features.

      She grinned back at him. ‘One slice of toast, or two?’

      ‘Two, please, miss. I’m helping my dad on his stall today.’

      ‘Are you? That’s nice.’

      ‘Lucy’s a bit under the weather, and school doesn’t start again until September,’ Frank said by way of explanation. ‘I don’t know about help, though. Somehow I think Eric might be more of a hindrance.’ He leaned forward, the sting taken out of his words as he ruffled the boy’s dark hair.

      Pearl wrote out the order and hurried to the kitchen, her tables now full, but as she returned to the dining room she was just in time to see a couple of her customer’s leaving. Alice left what she was doing and hurried to clear their table. Pearl kept her head low, but was watching from under her lashes when she saw Alice slip something into her apron pocket.

      As if suddenly aware that she was being observed, Alice’s head spun around. Their eyes locked, but it was Alice who looked away first, her face slightly flushed as she picked up the rest of the plates, brushing past her to the kitchen.

      Pearl waited until Alice returned to the dining room, surreptitiously watching her movements. Alice passed the counter, but didn’t put any money into the jar, and Pearl was sure then that Alice was taking her tips. But what could she do? She was too scared to confront Alice, and anyway, she’d deny it. Yet how could she offer proof?

      ‘What’s up, Pearl?’ Derek Lewis called.

      She went to his table, her mind still turning. If someone else saw what Alice was up to, there was no way the girl could deny it. ‘Derek, can I talk to you later?’

      He frowned. ‘You’re not going to tell me you can’t see me tonight, are you?’

      ‘No, of course not. It’s just something I may need a bit of help with.’

      ‘Oh, right. Well, anything I can do, you only have to say the word.’

      ‘Thanks, Derek.’

      The rest of the day seemed to drag by. Pearl kept an eye on Alice, but she kept to her own tables. Then, at three fifteen, near the end of her shift, Kevin came down from the upstairs flat. He walked towards her, but instead of a threatening look, he was smiling.

      ‘Hello, love, how are you doing?’

      Pearl stared at him in confusion. He had issued veiled threats at the boxing match, but now he was being pleasant. ‘I … I’m fine thanks.’

      ‘How’s it going with Derek?’

      ‘Er … we’re still good friends.’

      ‘If you were my girl, we’d be more than friends by now.’

      ‘Kevin!’

      They

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