Sweetie Read Online Free PDF

women tended to favour Shirley Bassey and Peggy Lee numbers, and liked to dress up for it.
    ‘Who’s she then, bloody Columbo? Same again.’
    Paul tilted his pint glass at the barmaid.
    ‘No, but it’s funny how none of this happened before he came home for the summer holidays. Sue says he gives her and the other women the creeps, the way he’s always just standing around staring at the 24
    kids.’
    ‘Might be because no bugger wants to play with him, poor little sod.’ Paul handed a pound note over the bar and waited for his change.
    ‘Yeah, but he’s fourteen and wants to join in with little kids? Cheers, love.’ Terry winked at the barmaid.
    ‘That’s because he’s got a mental age of about five.’
    ‘What are you sticking up for him for?’ Terry grew instantly confrontational. ‘I thought you’d be the last person, what with . . .’ he paused here, unable to speak about Chantal ‘. . . well, you know.’ Paul didn’t reply, just stared into the mirror behind the bar reflecting back the sea of bodies in the pub behind him. It could be any one of these blokes in here, he thought to himself. Or none of them. The police had told him that in the vast majority of rapes and murders, the assailant was known to the victim. But who could it be?
    Terry shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, sensing he had gone too far and at a loss for what to say next. Finally he managed a feeble, ‘Fancy a quick game of pool?’ Paul knew that in his way Terry was trying to apologise. He turned and touched his friend’s shoulder. ‘Nah, you’re all right, mate. I’m just gonna finish this then shoot off. Don’t like to leave Michelle on her own too much, ’specially not with the funeral tomorrow.’
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    ‘Yeah, yeah. Course, mate. I’d better be getting home myself or Sue’ll have my bollocks on the chopping block again like she did last night. But, listen, we’ll see you there, mate. Christ Church, isn’t it?’
    ‘Yeah, eleven o’clock, then we’ve got the wake in here after. Maggie and John are closing the pub
    ’specially for us. Michelle wanted to do it at home but our place isn’t big enough and I don’t want a load of people in the house anyway. The other kids are upset enough as it is.’
    ‘Are you bringing them?’ Terry was fishing on instructions from Sue who wanted to bring all four of hers including the baby in a show of family solidarity.
    Terry didn’t think it was right but wasn’t going to go up against her.
    ‘I dunno, mate. Aisha’s definitely coming, but I think Trinity’s too young. Still, it’s Michelle’s call.’
    Aisha was Chantal’s younger sister, Paul’s second step-daughter, a beauty like her. At nine she was old enough to understand what had happened to Chantal.
    Instead of forever riding around the estate with her mates on the Chopper she’d got last Christmas as she used to do, Aisha had refused to leave her room since Chantal’s murder. Michelle wanted her to see a friend, do anything, just be normal for a while. But it was early days, they supposed.
    Trinity, Paul’s daughter by Michelle, was four and too young to understand what was really going on.
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    Her mum had tried to explain but Trinity just kept asking, ‘When’s Chantal coming back from heaven?’
    Thinking of the kids suddenly caught Paul by the throat. He felt he might choke on the lump in it. He finished his pint with one long swallow, banged the glass on the bar harder than he’d meant to and, without saying a word, touched Terry’s arm by way of goodbye. His friend started to say something but his mouth just opened and closed again. What could he say? Paul opened the door, ignoring the sym
    -
    pathetic glances of well-wishers, and walked quickly out on to Gosset Road where he cried all the way home.
    Grace was having the opposite problem. She couldn’t cry. She couldn’t feel. John was doing enough of that for both of them. She had never seen her husband sob like this before and could