‘Has he been back? Terry Starkey?’
‘Aye.’
Sean came back into the hall, palming his wallet out of the jeans pocket and flicking it open. It was empty. Cards and cash both gone.
‘He’s robbed me, the bastard.’
‘He needed some cash for petrol. He’ll pay us back.’
‘You mean he’ll pay you back, I can’t see him doing me any favours. But my cards, Dad, you let him take my cards.’
‘He said it’s a gas guzzler, that car. It’ll be fifty quid for him to get to York and back. He said he’s found that lass, the one who killed his brother.’
‘York? Shit. When was he here, Dad? How long ago?’
‘Hours ago. I don’t know. I’ve been asleep.’
Khan ducked out onto the landing and spoke quickly into the radio.
‘Funny,’ Jack said, wheezing a laugh through his broken teeth. ‘I’d have liked to have seen that, you two having a happy family reunion.’
Khan hit the lift call button and called back.
‘Come on, Sean. We’ve got to get to York before Starkey gets to the girl.’
‘What d’you mean, “happy families”?’ Sean said quietly, ‘I’m not related to him.’
‘Aren’t you?’ Jack was close enough for Sean to smell vomit through the whisky stench. ‘She was a looker once,’ Jack said quietly, a strange smile creasing his loose skin.
‘Hang on a minute, sir.’
Whatever Jack was about to say, he would have to say it in private. Sean pushed his father towards the kitchen.
‘Saint Bernadette, we called her,’ Jack said. ‘She used to do the soup kitchens during the strike. When I came out of the hospital, I helped her out and she helped me. He was on the picket line, old man Starkey, or down the pub. I walked her home a few times, and the rest.’
‘You’re full of shit.’
‘Am I?’ He said, whistling something tuneless through his teeth. ‘She was kinder to me than your mam ever was. Mind you, that wouldn’t be hard. They all showed me more respect than that bitch ever did.’
Sean fought the urge to grab him and slam him against the wall. He heard Khan’s phone ring out on the landing.
‘Yes?’ Khan said. ‘Mrs Coldacre, of course I remember. Did he? When was this? Thanks.’ He called through the doorway of the flat: ‘Sean? Are you coming? He was at Halsworth Grange half an hour ago; he must be heading north.’
Jack Denton was shrinking from his son, his back pressed against the cooker, but Sean wasn’t looking at his father. Out of the kitchen window he saw a familiar car slow down and stop.
‘Sir! He’s here.’
Khan came into the kitchen and they watched as Terry got out of the car. He leant back for a moment against the bonnet, then pulled himself up as if he’d seen something, like a cat who’s spotted a sparrow. And then he ran.
‘Who’s he after?’ Sean said.
‘Come on!’
Khan led the way out of the flat, radio in hand, as they took the stairs two at a time.
‘Dawn? Can you see the front of the blocks? OK. IC1 male, cropped hair, denim jacket, could be following someone.’
The fire door clattered shut behind them.
‘Shit. OK, get an ambulance for her and wait for instructions.’
Outside, the police cars were still. The estate seemed frozen, not even the swings moving on their chains.
‘Mrs Armley spotted someone,’ Khan said to Sean, ‘while Dawn and the boys were searching her home. A slim young woman, apparently, running over the playground. But she wasn’t running away, she was running towards the Eagle Mount flats.’ He stood back, looking at each blank-faced tower block in turn. ‘The old woman’s so shocked, she’s collapsed.’
‘Chloe Toms?’
‘Must be.’
Sean looked around them. ‘Where did Starkey go?’
Still nothing moved.
‘Which block did she push the brother off?’ Khan tipped his head back and scanned the rooflines.
‘Eagle Mount Four.’
Khan was already heading towards it.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Doncaster
Chloe’s been running since she got off the bus. The grass of the rec is a relief, softer under her feet. She thinks she saw the car as she crossed the road by the shops, but she’s still ahead. There are police cars at Eagle Mount Two. Jay’s block. Where his brother watched from the window and saw him wave. Not now. She doesn’t want to think about that now. She must push it down, keep it back. That was then and this is now. She crosses the top road and throws open the front door of Eagle Mount Four.
In the sun-filled lobby, ten years vanish. The smells and the colours, the sounds – distant voices, doors closing, resonating along concrete floors and metal pipes – are all exactly as they were. She’s back. Marilyn Nelson, Linnie, her Jay calls her. They’re back here together and this time she’s going to get it right.
The lift is out of order. By the time she’s half-walked, half-run to the top, her legs are shaking. She pulls herself up through the service hatch. On the roof her footsteps sound unnaturally loud, slapping down on the asphalt where it’s bubbled and blistered. She stops at the edge, watching over the town. She remembers how her fingers brushed his sleeve and the brittle edges of her chewed nails caught the wool of his old army trench coat. She wished she’d worn something warmer. She slipped her hand into the crook of his arm and stood close, so that his body sheltered hers. Traffic and children’s voices floated up to meet them.
She wanted to know if he was afraid, but his hair whipped round his face and she couldn’t see his eyes. At the corner of the railing a crow perched, watching them, feathers ruffled by the wind. She want to say a prayer, but she didn’t know any, just fragments remembered from primary school and nothing about being ready to die. She squeezed his elbow and they stepped up onto the wall. He raised his arm and waved to someone below. Then her hand was empty, reaching into nothing. He was meant to hold her hand, but he let go. The crow took off, hovered for a moment in the updraught; staring back at her with hard, shining eyes.
‘Linnie.’
His voice is behind her. She turns and sees he’s cut his hair short. He’s put on weight. There are spots behind her eyes again, the image blurs and her mouth fills with saliva.
‘Fuck you. You little bitch. I’ve got you now.’ Blue eyes, red-rimmed, he’s crossing the roof towards her. ‘And I’m going to make you suffer.’
That was then. This is now. It’s not Jay.
‘Hello, Terry.’
She leans back against the railing. Above her the sky is blue and cloudless.
‘You can’t catch me, Terry,’ she lets her weight take her, feels her chest open and throws her arms wide. ‘And who’s going to believe you didn’t push me over?’
‘Don’t you fucking dare!’
‘You killed him, Terry, with what you did to him. Made him hate himself enough to want to die.’
‘Oi!’ Another voice and footsteps across the roof, boots slapping down on the asphalt, but it’s all too slow, she’s falling back.
‘I’ve got him,’ a voice she knows, dark eyes and a black beard. ‘Sean! Catch her!’
A scuff of sound, muffled, and the hard bar of the railing against her shoulder blades. Her head snaps back and it’s all sky.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Doncaster
Sean dived for her legs, his fingers closing round the bones of her ankles as he fell face down on the sandpaper surface of the roof. He thought he’d lost her, the weight of her upper body carrying her over the rusting, broken rail, but at the last moment she tipped forward and slumped down next to him. She looked unconscious.