Grace's fingers were trembling as she read the letter, her eyes streaming with tears bouncing off the paper.
Terry got up when he heard a knock on the door and the burly PC Tate escorted by a younger officer, came in with a grin on his face. “Someone said the old tart had topped herself,” he said crassly. “Where's the body?”
Terry bit his lip. “She is in the bathroom, second on the right,” he replied tersely and he walked down the corridor and opened the door.
He chuckled. “Hey I bet she isn't gonna give good oral now. Boastful cow said she could suck a golf ball through a hosepipe.”
Grace took a deep breath, filed the letter away in the envelope and put it in her handbag. She walked to the corridor, and with as much force as she could muster, drove her fist into the side of PC Tate's head.
“Don't you dare talk about my friend like that,” she screamed, and arrowed a kick into his stomach, tears streaming down her face. “She was a good person. And because you won't find her attacker she has killed herself.” Grace steadied herself on the doorway and was over the surprised police officer.
“Stop her, Dawkins,” PC Tate cried out between painful yells and Terry dragged Grace away before the police could do it.
“He killed her,” Grace yelled, straining at Terry's arms. “It's his fault,” she shouted hysterically and he pushed her into the chair she had just come from.
Terry looked into Grace's eyes and knelt down beside her, holding her hand. “It won't bring her back, Grace. It won't bring her back.”
Grace and Terry walked into Grace's bedroom. Her body had been taken to the morgue and she didn't want to leave London that night, the shock of what she had seen made her scared. She had looked in Sandy's bedroom and she had helpfully sorted out all of her belongings before she had killed herself. This made Grace cry again; the very thought that she had spent the last days of her life organising her own death.
It hit her that suddenly she would have the rest of her life without her only friend and this scared her. But her loss was more than that, she felt she should have been there for her, Sandy was her friend and she let her down when she needed her the most. Why was she out with Terry instead of consoling her?
Grace was racked with guilt and nothing Terry could say changed anything. She opened her desk drawer and burst into tears. Sitting on top of all the underwear and papers was a big pile of money: Sandy's money.
“It'll pay for a nice funeral,” Terry muttered when he saw it and immediately wished he hadn't. It was a little insensitive but Grace was looking further into her drawer and not listening to what he said. A small wrapped present and card lay at the back; she removed them.
“She was twenty tomorrow,” Grace said tearfully. “We were going to go the flicks before all this happened.”
“What did you get her?”
“A bracelet,” Grace replied staring into the space. “A silver bracelet. She loved her jewellery.” Grace buried her hands in her face and howled inconsolably.
“Listen Fingers,” PC Tate said menacingly pushing the guy up against the alley wall. “You do what I tell you to. That girl you raped topped herself. You just do the beating that I tell you to and get out of there. Nothing fucked up, you hear me.”
“But you told me to teach her a lesson,” he whined. His clothes were torn and dirty from his work in the factory and the officer sneered.
“I told you to give her a seeing to. Little bitch wouldn't give me a freebie, I didn't tell you to rape her.”
“Yeah, but she was asking for it. See what the slut was wearing.”
PC Tate drove a fist into his stomach and stared at him. “I've had a fucking hard time covering this one up,” he spat. “You're lucky half of the Met aren't looking for you. We got a fucking good description, now lose the trainers and stop fucking about and just do what I tell you to, unless you don't want to run the crack market in this town?”
“I know we are supposed to be going slowly and all that, but please Grace. Come and live with me for awhile. At least until you got yourself sorted.”
Grace huffed at him. “Please Terry, I don't need this,” she murmured and he nodded. It had been two days since the body had been found by her, but he was getting worried. She seemed unable to think about anything other than Sandy and he certainly didn't want her living here on her own.
“I know. Which is why I am concerned about you. It's a small village. Well away from the hustle of London. Come back and I'll sleep on the sofa while you are there. Please. I'll only worry about you. Come after the funeral.”
Grace wiped a tear from her eyes and glanced over at the envelope on her desk with Sandy's scrawling writing. She thought about what she told her, “don't push him away,” and then looked up at him.
“OK. But I don't know what I will do for work.”
“There is a strip club in Stoke. I'm sure you'll find something to keep you occupied. Or don't work. It's not as though I will need the money,” he told her. “Just come. Please, Grace. Just come back to Cheshire with me.”
“I'm leaving,” Grace admitted and passed Ethel the cat. “He needs a home and we can't take him.”
Ethel smiled and looked at the purring animal in her hands. “You sure, love. Won't your partner want to keep it?”
Terry was busy loading the last of the bags in his car and was waiting for his girlfriend to join him. It had taken many weeks, but she was finally his. She was worth fighting for, he thought, as she was unique.
“No. There is no space. And he is a London cat.”
The woman smiled and stroked the animal. She had a nervous look on her face as if she wanted to say something but didn't quite know how to broach it.
“I'm sorry to hear of your friend,” she said eventually and Grace nodded. She hadn't stop thinking of Sandy and wished that she was coming with her, and wiped her eyes.
“Yes. It was… awful. Police don't care,” Grace muttered. “Bastards.”
Ethel nodded. “They are that.”
“You ready?” Terry asked, interrupting the subdued conversation, and Grace left Ethel and Terry to give the flat one last look, and to lay a small bouquet of flowers in the bathroom. She knew they would be gone as soon as the cleaners came in, but she couldn't leave the flat without signifying Sandy's presence somehow.
“Yes,” she murmured as she returned to the daylight. “Let's just get out of here.”
