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“I’ll say summat I shouldn’t if I get involved with the bloody Hatherleys,” she said. “I don’t like my Emma being so friendly with Kiley and her sister, but what can you do when they live so close?”
“Make a cup of tea for yourself and put a slug of whiskey in it,” Mower said, getting to his feet. “I’ll see if I can find out just exactly what went on at lunchtime.”
Closing the flat door behind him he stood for a moment, taking deep breaths of the cold air and gazing unseeingly out at the glittering early evening lights of the town below. From the moment he had arrived with Do
In any case, he doubted the underlying logic behind Do
He pulled the collar of his fleece up closer round his neck and shivered himself back to the immediate problem, where, he thought wryly, he could at least perform one paternal duty for young Emma and try to find out how she had managed to drink herself unconscious in her school di
“Mrs. Hatherley? Is young Kiley in?” Mower asked. “Emma Maitland’s mum asked me to come down and talk to her about what happened at lunchtime. She’s very grateful Kiley had the sense to get help. Saved Emma’s life, I reckon.”
“Who are you, any road?” the woman asked, without a flicker of friendliness in her eyes.
“I’m Emma’s uncle,” Mower replied, knowing the codes of the estate. “I just brought Do
From behind the woman the noise of television or hi-fi, or possibly both, diminished a decibel or so and a male voice could be heard calling angrily for the door to be closed. When the woman did not respond, a volley of curses was followed by the appearance of a large, shaven-headed man in jeans and a sleeveless t-shirt who pushed the woman out of the way and scowled angrily at Mower.
“Yer what?” he asked.
Mower repeated his request to talk to Kiley but met with even less co-operation than he had from the woman he presumed was her mother.
“If I could just ask Kiley a couple of questions. Whether the bloke was black or white, for one. There’s a lad called Ounce …”
“Don’t I know you?” the man broke in aggressively. “You’re the fucking fuzz.”
“No way mate,” Mower said quickly. “Not long out of nick, me.”
“He says he’s Do
“Fuck off, any road,” the man said and slammed the door in Mower’s face. As he turned away he was aware of a child’s pale face watching him with frightened eyes from the kitchen window.
Exasperated by the limitations of being without a warrant card in his pocket, and by the implications of what Kiley’s father had said, Mower leaned over the balcony again, fingering the beard which had not protected him as well as he had hoped. He considering his options which had suddenly become very much more limited than they had been even half an hour before. If he had been half-recognised once, he had no doubt that he might be again and the news that Do
“Where are you, mate?” Mower asked.
“Waitin’ for you in the pub like you said. It’s been a bloody long wait, man.”
“Do one thing for me will you?” Mower asked. “Those kids you were talking to with Laura Ackroyd. See if they know who got Emma Maitland pissed out of her head this lunchtime. Someone must have seen something, and if I know anything about the Heights, no one will tell me. My cover may be blown - such as it is - and I’ve got some things to sort out with Do
“Sounds like bad news,” Dizzy said. “Give me an hour, right?”
“Right. And Dizzy. Ask them if it was an accident, will you? Or if someone’s got it in for Do
As Mower walked slowly back up the stairs to Do
“You made us jump,” Joyce said cheerfully. “You won’t find me up here after dark as a rule. But I wanted to see Do
“She’s fine, thank God,” Mower said. “The doctors said it was a good job she was sick or it could have been much worse.”
“How did she get hold of the booze. Was it her mother’s?” Laura asked cautiously.
“No, it bloody wasn’t.” Mower’s response was angry enough to startle the two women. “Some idiot gave it to them apparently, but the other girl didn’t like it so Emma drank the lion’s share.”
“How old is she?” Laura asked.
“Eight,” Mower said, his anger suddenly out of control. “Booze at eight! What do they get for their ninth birthday on this god-forsaken estate? A shot of heroin? When do they start pulling the bloody place down, because it can’t be soon enough for me.”
“Well, that’s a sore point, too,” Joyce said. “You could get rid of the drink and the drugs without pulling the whole community apart and punishing us all. And I do mean you, Kevin. We might as well be on the moon, I sometimes think, for all the attention we get from the police.”
“Come on, Nan, I don’t think this is the time or the place …” Laura began but Mower took hold of her arm urgently.
“I’d be grateful if you didn’t link me to the police when you talk to Do
Laura looked at the sergeant curiously.
“Unravelling, is it, your cover?”
“No comment,” he said sharply. “Tell Do
“Fine,” Laura said, taking her grandmother’s arm again. “We’ll keep her company till you get back.”
Later Laura drove her grandmother the short distance from Priestley House to the small bungalow, one of the row perched on the brow of the hill overlooking the town. Laura had never thought of the tiny properties as in any way “desirable” in estate agents’ terms, but on a clear night, with the view across the town in the valley below sparkling like a scatter of jewelled necklaces thrown carelessly down on black velvet, she suddenly saw the potential of the site through Councillor Dave Spencer’s - and his developer friends’ - eyes and knew with a depressing certainty that Joyce and her elderly neighbours would not win their battle to stay put.