A Lesser Evil - Lesley Pearse [112]
‘Did he?’ Fifi asked.
Frank shook his head. ‘You know what Stan’s like, too much of a gent to be rude to any woman.’
‘So she got her claws into him then?’
‘Not in the way you mean. He didn’t take Frieda out or anything like that, but he liked the little girl, and felt sorry for her cos she were a bit neglected. Next thing Frieda was tapping him up for a few bob when the kid needed new shoes and stuff. I reckon it must’ve got out of hand, because back in June Stan was getting the other blokes on the dust van to do the bins on that street so he didn’t have to see her.’
‘Do you think this is like “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned”?’ Fifi asked.
‘I reckon so. I know Stan ain’t seen her or the kid for ages, and if he really had done something to the child, Frieda would’ve screamed blue murder right away. The way I see it, she heard about what happened in the street, and thought she’d jump on the bandwagon and make some mischief for him.’
‘Evil cow!’ Fifi exclaimed. ‘But did you tell the police this today?’ she asked.
‘Yeah, fat lot of good it did though. They see me and Stan as a team because we’re mates. And of course there was that joke I made in the pub, they took that seriously.’
Fifi tried everything to cheer Frank up. She showed him her white arm, told him about The Day of the Triffids, and some of the more amusing things her mother had said during her visit. But it was impossible to make him either laugh or talk, and after a second drink she left to go home.
Once outside in the sunshine though, and just a tiny bit tiddly after two shandies on an empty stomach, she didn’t want to spend the afternoon indoors. All at once she hit on the idea of going down to the council depot in Stockwell to see if she could enlist the help of one of Stan’s workmates.
She had the idea that if she explained to them that he was in deep trouble, and that she thought this woman Frieda had made a false allegation, one of them might be persuaded to go to the police and tell them what they knew about her.
It was only one stop on the tube, and she asked a road sweeper for directions from there. Stan had told her once that the depot was just the place where the dust vans were cleaned and garaged, and that the refuse was dumped elsewhere. Yet as she turned into Miles Lane, a narrow, winding street of dilapidated small houses and workshops, the stench of rotting rubbish was overpowering.
The gate had a ‘No Admittance’ sign, but it was open so Fifi went in. Two young men stripped to the waist were cleaning a truck with hoses, and another two middle-aged men were sitting on the ground, with their backs against the wall of an office, having a cigarette.
Fifi walked hesitantly over to these two, ignoring the wolf whistles from the younger ones.
‘I’d like some help, please,’ she said, smiling flirtatiously, even though they were tubby, with thinning hair, and in very dirty overalls.
‘Anything you want you can have, including me,’ said the slightly bigger man, who had a squashed nose like a boxer’s. He got to his feet. ‘Bert’s the name. I’d shake your hand but mine’s too dirty to touch a pretty little thing like you.’
‘Do you know Stan the Pole?’ she asked.
The man’s face tightened and he instinctively moved a step back, so clearly he knew Stan was in police custody. ‘Yeah, we know ’im,’ he said. ‘What’s ’e to you?’
‘Just a neighbour and a friend,’ she said. ‘I want to help him because I know he hasn’t done anything wrong.’
‘Then ’e ain’t got nothin’ to worry about,’ Bert replied.
‘But a woman has claimed he molested her child,’ Fifi said.
‘So!’ he exclaimed, and the fact he didn’t display any shock or ask any questions suggested he knew exactly who she was referring to.
‘I was hoping that someone here might go to the police station and tell them that what she’s saying isn’t true.’
‘’Ow do we know it ain