A Lesser Evil - Lesley Pearse [95]
‘Fat lot you’d care if it had,’ she sobbed out. ‘Nobody cares about me.’
‘I’m knackered and hungry, Fifi,’ he said, his voice strained and weary. ‘If you’ve got some grievance, spit it out now. Then I’ll go and get some fish and chips for us both.’
‘Grievance?’ Fifi spat at him. ‘I’ve had a horrible day, everyone’s been mean to me. And all you think about is eating fish and chips!’
‘Can’t you just think about someone else for a change?’ he snapped at her. ‘Look at me, I’m filthy, I’ve been working in eighty degrees for ten hours. I’ll try to be sympathetic when I’ve had a bath, changed and had some food.’
He didn’t wait for her reply but grabbed a bath towel and stomped off down to the bathroom.
Fifi could only cry harder then. If Dan had no time for her, there was no one left.
Chapter eleven
‘Fer fuck’s sake slow down, Dan, it ain’t a bleedin’ race!’ Chas exclaimed as Dan snatched a brick from the hod before Chas had even had a chance to take the bricks out and stack them.
Dan looked askance at his labourer. He had been so immersed in thinking about Fifi he hadn’t been aware he’d been laying the bricks like a madman.
‘Sorry, mate,’ he said. ‘I’ll stop for a fag.’
Once Dan had sat down on the edge of the scaffolding platform, his legs dangling over the side, he lit up a cigarette. Chas sat down beside him. ‘What’s up with you anyway? You’ve been on another planet for days now. Is the old woman giving you grief?’
Dan didn’t like Chas Bovey. He thought the man was a lazy and dishonest thug who would sell his own grandmother for a few bob. He only did labouring work in the summer because he liked to build up muscle and get a suntan. The rest of the year he probably spent housebreaking or stealing cars. But Dan always did his best to get on with workmates, so he held out a cigarette to him. ‘I wouldn’t say she’s giving me grief,’ he sighed. ‘But she ain’t herself. That kid being killed has knocked her for six.’
A fortnight ago tomorrow, Dan had been looking forward to surprising Fifi by taking her to Brighton. He could remember wondering where she kept her swimsuit, and how he could manage to pack it into a bag with his trunks and two towels without her seeing it. He decided he couldn’t, so instead he’d make out they were going to a swimming pool. He wasn’t going to tell her where they were really going until they were on the tube heading for Victoria.
Two hours later that same day as he had made his way home, he was still trying to dream up a good excuse for setting off so early in the morning. Then he’d turned into Dale Street to be confronted with the sight of police cars and a hysterical horde of neighbours.
As soon as he was told that Angela was dead and Fifi had found her body, his first thought had been that this was way too much for her so soon after losing the baby.
Now, a fortnight later, he just didn’t know what to do for the best. Fifi was either locked into brooding silence or going on and on about the murder to the point where he felt he might scream. Moving away from Dale Street was clearly vital, but it would take time to find another place, and any decent accommodation required a hefty deposit and advance rent. As their savings had taken a hammering in the two weeks he was off work without pay, they just didn’t have that kind of money right now.
The only way to get some extra money was to go back to working all day Saturdays. But as Fifi’s moods were so unpredictable, she might go spare when he told her. Only the other night she’d said that if he’d come home at lunch-time that day as he always used to on Saturdays, she wouldn’t have been the one that found Angela.
He classed the evening of that day as the very worst in his life. On top of all the noise and police activity out in the street, Fifi’s distress and the tension in the air as they waited for the Muckles to come home, he was tormented with guilt.
He should have gone to the police and the NSPCC when Angela was hurt before. But he’d smugly thought that the kid would be safe once he marked