Angle had already been using heroin by the time she disappeared, and the life of an addict was brutish and short. Fry had seen enough of other people’s brothers and sisters to know what happened to them. Fifteen years was a long time in an addict’s life. And if Angle had still been alive, she would have found her by now.
Fry found herself facing a decision that had slipped through the gap in her curtains like the dawn replacing the yellow glare of the streetlights outside her window. She had to accept that Angle was dead. Otherwise there was nowhere for her to go, except into the dark alleyways of obsession.
For the first time in months, Fry spent some time doing her exercises, emptying her mind, searching for the energy that she needed to get her through. She positioned herself on the rug in her bedroom and went through the movements, gradually losing sight of the faded wallpaper and the floor as her eyes looked beyond them and into herself. Finally, she began to feel the first whispers of the physical intensity that would provide her with the strength that she had lost.
It was a start, but not enough. She needed to put all thoughts of Angie out of her mind, and let the knowledge of her sister’s death steal up on her quietly without her noticing. And, perhaps most of all, she needed support in dealing with the Renshaws the kind of support the presence of Gavin Murfin couldn’t give her.
The cats had been hunting during the night. One of them had been eating its catch in the back garden of 8 Welbeck Street. There wasn’t much left of the victim now - only the stomach and intestines, and some other internal organs. They lay on the stone flags, still glistening, dark green and red. And there was something else left, as well - two tiny feet, long and pale, and tipped by white claws. One of the feet was curled into a sort of fist, but the other was stretched out on the ground as it would have been in life. They were the remains of a rat.
214
Ben Cooper looked around the area for signs of a scaly tail, to get an idea of the size of the dead rodent. Cats didn’t normally eat the tail either. They would consume the head and the front feet, but not the back feet, or the stomach, or the tail. If he could find it, the size and thickness of it would give him an indication of whether Randy or Mrs Macavity had caught an adult rat, or a young one freshly out of its nest. Were rats breeding nearby? If so, there would be more remains to come, now that the cats had located their nest.
But there was no sign of a tail on the flags. Cooper shrugged. It was possible some bird had flown away with it, thinking it was a worm. There were magpies in this area - they were frequently mobbed by the smaller birds when they landed in the trees. Magpies were carrion eaters. They also took young songbirds, and even the eggs from other birds’ nests. They were ideal for clearing up the leftovers from other predators.
‘One of you isn’t going to want any breakfast this morning, then?’ he said, as the cats came fussing around his legs.
But he put their bowls down anyway, and they ate as eagerly as always.
Cooper straightened up, and found Angie Fry watching him from the door of the conservatory, with that smile on her face. He felt a surge of unreasonable anger that a private moment was being observed by this unwelcome stranger. Somehow, it seemed to make it worse that this was the first morning he had been able to establish the back yard as his territory. He hadn’t even had time to explore the overgrown garden.
‘You have to leave now/ he said.
‘OK, OK. You said by eight o’clock, and I’m on my way. I just wanted to say thanks before I went.’
Cooper felt himself begin to flush. It was amazing that Angie Fry should have the same casual ability to sway his emotions that her sister did. His annoyance had turned immediately to remorse for being rude.
That’s all right.’
‘I hope you’ll remember, though, what I said last night.’
‘I’ll remember.’
That’s good, Ben.’
He accompanied her to the door of the flat, but she paused on the doorstep.
215
‘I may see you again/ she said.
1 don’t think so.’
Then the door of the other flat opened, and suddenly a dark haired woman stood in the hallway, swaying forward slightly as if she’d been forced to stop suddenly, to avoid humping into him. Another complete stranger to Cooper, she looked to be in her late thirties, and was wearing a black jacket and blue jeans.
‘Oh,’ she said.
Cooper could see an expression of alarm cross her face. He could forgive her if she took him to be a mugger.
‘Hi, I’m your neighbour/ he said. ‘Ben Cooper.’
‘Oh, right.’
She visibly relaxed, and held out a hand. ‘Peggy Check. So you’re the young man downstairs. That’s what Dorothy Shelley calls you.’
Cooper shook her hand. He looked around for Angle, but she’d vanished into the street without a word. He found Peggy smiling broadly at him, as if at some huge joke. She had a smile that transformed her face and brought out a depth of humour in her eyes, and Cooper suddenly felt at ease with her. It made him realize how on edge he’d been for the last few hours, ever since Angie Fry had arrived on his doorstep.
‘Yes, that’s me/ he said. ‘The young man downstairs.’
‘You’re a policeman, right?’
‘Yes.’
‘Dorothy says I’ll be perfectly safe with you around. But it isn’t too dangerous around Edendale, is it?’
Cooper could feel himself relaxing more and more by the second. All the instincts he’d been repressing while talking to Angie were coming to the fore again. He detected a natural warmth that had been uncomfortably missing from his earlier visitor.
‘No, you’ll be fine/ he said. ‘Watch out for the cats, though. They’re killers.’
