voice soothed it. Then he spoke.
‘You can’t go upstairs,’ he said. ‘One of our mates is dead.’
That put the cat amongst the pigeons. The first council official was up the stairs like a greyhound, racing past me and Squib and pushing Nev aside on the landing. The dog began to bark and wanted to jump up at him but Squib held it by its collar.
‘Where?’ the official was yelling. ‘Are you sure?’
‘She topped herself!’ Squib yelled back at him. ‘It was you coming yesterday to tell us we’d gotta quit that did it! She got depressed!’
The fat man was plodding heavily up the stairs. He squeezed past me giving me a dirty look. He had BO, the sort his best friend hadn’t told him about. The stair creaked. I hoped the dry rot would give way under his weight but it didn’t. Probably just as well. We’d have had two corpses.
Nev mumbled, ‘She’s in there! We didn’t touch her!’
The two men had opened the door to Terry’s room. There was silence and then the fat man began swearing.
We heard him say, ‘The press will get hold of this!’
The thinner one told him to shut up. Then they began whispering together. Eventually the first one came out of the room and spoke to us all.
‘We’ll fetch the police. You lot stay here. Don’t let anyone in. Don’t talk to anyone!’ He paused. ‘My colleague, Mr Wilson, will stay with you.’
Fatty plodded across the landing, glowering. He looked an awful lot less confident than when he’d arrived. Squib’s dog, not liking the look of him, growled again.
He moved back. ‘What sort of dog is that? Is it a pit bull?’
‘Does it look like a pit bull?’ I asked. ‘It’s about half the size, to start with.’
‘He’s got a bit of Staffordshire in him, I reckon,’ said Squib with pride. ‘Once he gets his teeth into something, he don’t let go.’
‘For Gawd’s sake,’ said Wilson to his council colleague, ‘Hurry up and get back here with the cops!’
We waited for the police, all of us sitting in the living room, Wilson included. He sat by the door like a heavy, with his arms folded over his beer belly, in case any of us tried to rush him. When he wasn’t watching us, he was watching the dog.
Squib huddled in the far corner with his arms round it, whispering into its pointy ear. It kept turning its head and looking up at him. Once or twice it licked his face. No way was anyone going to be able to claim it was dangerous. I hoped.
Nev was managing well. He sat by the hearth, only a nervous twisting of his hands betraying stress. From time to time he glanced at me for reassurance and I smiled back. It took some doing on my part. I didn’t feel like smiling. My head was in a whirl and I knew I had to sort it out before the police got there.
To begin with, they’d ask us about Terry and there wasn’t very much we could tell them. We could suggest they ask Lucy. That was about it. I tried hard to remember all the things she’d said, every word since she’d arrived. But I hadn’t liked her and I hadn’t talked to her unless I’d had to, so there you were. All opportunities missed.
She’d been very well spoken, an upper-class sort of voice. She reminded me of the girls at the private day school I attended until they politely requested my dad to take me away. Of course, she used to use all kinds of words she’d picked up out there in the streets, trying to sound like just anyone else around the area. But it hadn’t worked. She still sounded different. There was that woolly jacket with the expensive label. She’d had that with her when she came. She was wearing it the night she arrived with Lucy. I know she didn’t get that jacket from Oxfam. She’d brought that with her from home, wherever home was.
As for her friends, I didn’t even know if she had any, or where she went during the day. The police would ask if either Nev or Squib had been her boyfriend. Neither had. Nev was generally considered to be with me, but the
‘You can’t go upstairs,’ he said. ‘One of our mates is dead.’
That put the cat amongst the pigeons. The first council official was up the stairs like a greyhound, racing past me and Squib and pushing Nev aside on the landing. The dog began to bark and wanted to jump up at him but Squib held it by its collar.
‘Where?’ the official was yelling. ‘Are you sure?’
‘She topped herself!’ Squib yelled back at him. ‘It was you coming yesterday to tell us we’d gotta quit that did it! She got depressed!’
The fat man was plodding heavily up the stairs. He squeezed past me giving me a dirty look. He had BO, the sort his best friend hadn’t told him about. The stair creaked. I hoped the dry rot would give way under his weight but it didn’t. Probably just as well. We’d have had two corpses.
Nev mumbled, ‘She’s in there! We didn’t touch her!’
The two men had opened the door to Terry’s room. There was silence and then the fat man began swearing.
We heard him say, ‘The press will get hold of this!’
The thinner one told him to shut up. Then they began whispering together. Eventually the first one came out of the room and spoke to us all.
‘We’ll fetch the police. You lot stay here. Don’t let anyone in. Don’t talk to anyone!’ He paused. ‘My colleague, Mr Wilson, will stay with you.’
Fatty plodded across the landing, glowering. He looked an awful lot less confident than when he’d arrived. Squib’s dog, not liking the look of him, growled again.
He moved back. ‘What sort of dog is that? Is it a pit bull?’
‘Does it look like a pit bull?’ I asked. ‘It’s about half the size, to start with.’
‘He’s got a bit of Staffordshire in him, I reckon,’ said Squib with pride. ‘Once he gets his teeth into something, he don’t let go.’
‘For Gawd’s sake,’ said Wilson to his council colleague, ‘Hurry up and get back here with the cops!’
We waited for the police, all of us sitting in the living room, Wilson included. He sat by the door like a heavy, with his arms folded over his beer belly, in case any of us tried to rush him. When he wasn’t watching us, he was watching the dog.
Squib huddled in the far corner with his arms round it, whispering into its pointy ear. It kept turning its head and looking up at him. Once or twice it licked his face. No way was anyone going to be able to claim it was dangerous. I hoped.
Nev was managing well. He sat by the hearth, only a nervous twisting of his hands betraying stress. From time to time he glanced at me for reassurance and I smiled back. It took some doing on my part. I didn’t feel like smiling. My head was in a whirl and I knew I had to sort it out before the police got there.
To begin with, they’d ask us about Terry and there wasn’t very much we could tell them. We could suggest they ask Lucy. That was about it. I tried hard to remember all the things she’d said, every word since she’d arrived. But I hadn’t liked her and I hadn’t talked to her unless I’d had to, so there you were. All opportunities missed.
She’d been very well spoken, an upper-class sort of voice. She reminded me of the girls at the private day school I attended until they politely requested my dad to take me away. Of course, she used to use all kinds of words she’d picked up out there in the streets, trying to sound like just anyone else around the area. But it hadn’t worked. She still sounded different. There was that woolly jacket with the expensive label. She’d had that with her when she came. She was wearing it the night she arrived with Lucy. I know she didn’t get that jacket from Oxfam. She’d brought that with her from home, wherever home was.
As for her friends, I didn’t even know if she had any, or where she went during the day. The police would ask if either Nev or Squib had been her boyfriend. Neither had. Nev was generally considered to be with me, but the
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