‘Isn’t she short with people?’ asked the old woman.
‘I’ve not got much time for her,’ Judith sighed. ‘She’s the one that left her husband for a copper.’
‘Her husband with all the tattoos?’ asked the old woman. ‘Now they reckon he’s with a feller.’
‘Never.’
‘It’s true,’ pitched in Big Sue, who knew everyone because she ran the Christian cafe and craft shop in the precinct. ‘They live together in the flats where the bus driver lives.’
‘That lovely-looking bus driver?’ asked Judith. ‘He’s a smashing lad.’
‘Well, I’m off down to see what’s going on with Nesta,’ Big Sue decided. ‘I’ll go and see Fran. I won’t shirk my public responsibility.’ Big Sue was, in her own way, fond of Nesta, even though she was always coming round after bread in the mornings. She picked her bags up off the counter. ‘Will I see you later then, Judith? Charlotte?’
‘Aye, reckon so,’ said Judith, taking Vince’s eight cans of Red Stripe for him and ringing them in the till. He was looking at the spirits and wondered if a little shop like this would have tequila.
Rose had a marvellous idea.
‘Jane rattles around that empty house of hers like a maniac. She has two spare bedrooms. One’s for Peter when he’s old enough to sleep by himself…’
Ethan eyed her narrowly. He felt married all of a sudden. She went on, ‘You look a nice enough lad, Andrew. I’m sure if I introduced you properly to our Jane…’ Not like this morning, she thought. Poor Jane, virtually chucked out of her own mother’s house. Rose was thinking of ways to make amends. Bring two families together. ‘Jane could do with a few extra bob.’
‘I’m not sure —’
‘How urgently do you need to move?’
‘I don’t want to go back to that bloody shop. Not now that I have to go anyway. It’s like a morgue. I’m staying with a friend at the moment. Vince. Who you met.’
‘Then there’s not a moment to lose. Ethan, grab your coat and brolly. We’re going to Jane’s.’
She gun-barrelled the two of them into a fresh rainstorm, sure that somewhere in it their problems might be resolved.
They would arrive in time to find everyone heading for Fran’s kitchen, already soaked to the skin, kids whingeing in the confusion, and receiving deliberate instructions from the impressive Detective Inspector Collins.
Fran was proud of herself. She had corralled most of Phoenix Court and a few people she knew from nearby streets. She’d even bumped into Jane’s mam and roped her in. Only one or two had refused to come out, or even answer the door. They were the people you’d expect not to want to help. The snobby lot from Sid Chaplin and that Gary. They could do without their help anyway.
Soon she was dealing with a whole kitchen full of familiar faces. At first, with everyone arriving and talking loudly and steamy condensation running down the paintwork in the kitchen and hall from the press of so many damp people and coats, it was like a party. Like the clothes parties and toy parties they used to have, or New Year’s Eve. Sure enough, there was Frank in the corner by the fridge, being Mein Host and drinking a can. He had given one away, which surprised Fran. That Mark Kelly was standing there, drinking a can with him, his tattoos sinister in the gloom.
While they waited for the Inspector to arrive with her notes and instructions, Fran was mentally ticking off her list. Suddenly she was taking this all very seriously. For Nesta’s sake, and also as a kind of charm, warding off fear. If she could get everyone together, here, then it might be all right. The door clattered open and Jane came in with Peter and Vicki. She looked startled to see the room heaving. Almost as if this was her own kitchen. ‘Shall I put the kettle on?’ she mouthed. Fran nodded.
‘Have you seen Liz?’ Fran asked.
Jane shook her head, with her lips pursed as she went to hunt out enough cups. She looked as if it was only to be expected. As if she’d always been right in thinking that Liz was flaky.
‘Here,’ Big Sue weighed in. ‘Let me help.’
Fran counted round the room: There’s me and Frank and our four bairns and Nesta’s two bairns and Tony looking daft, head in his hands and Jane and her bairn and her mam and the old bloke with one leg and his… nephew, did he say? and Big Sue and Charlotte from the bungalow and Mark with tattoos and the bloke he’s got lodging and he’s got his quiet little bairn here her grandma Peggy and her baby, which Big Sue reckons she had when she was sixty and Liz’s lass Penny and a friend of hers and dirty Sheila and Simon but I shouldn’t call them that their bairns little Ian and Claire who hasn’t gone to school for two years because of nerves Judith from the shop, she came straight from work, bless her, and her twins Andrew and Joanne and who’s left?
‘I’ve brought drink,’ Vince had grinned, holding up his carriers.
‘Great,’ Penny said, pulling her DMs on. ‘Bring it with you.’
His head was spinning. ‘Where are we going?’
‘Just over the way. We’ve got to pitch in.’
‘Is this to do with this woman who’s vanished?’
‘Aye,’ she said grimly, locking the door behind her, laces still undone.
Vince followed her over the grass, wondering what he was getting into. He felt stupid, carrying his booze about with him.
When Fran let them in it was to a whole roomful, adults and bairns perched on the tables, on benches, sitting on the carpet. They had to fight for a space. Coming right up behind them were the three women from the shop Vince had seen. They recognised him but he was too busy noticing Andy, sitting beside the taxidermist in the hall doorway.
Fran shouted from the kitchen door, ‘The Inspector’s coming in again. She’s ready now.’
‘If you find
