I couldn’t think what to say. Everything seemed wrong. I could have said that this was where the boy lived and that it wasn’t so surprising, but that might seem unsympathetic. ‘It was terrible what they did,’ I said. ‘There’s no excuse for it. But they weren’t involved with your wife’s death. They didn’t know about it. They were stupid kids breaking into a car.’
‘That’s what the police told me,’ said Farrell. ‘How do we know they’re right? They could have mugged her in the street, left her for dead, then come back and broken into the car when it was dark.’
‘Did the police consider that?’
‘I don’t know. I told them about it and they said they’d investigate but I don’t think they paid much attention. They mainly asked me about how often my wife and I argued and whether I suspected her of being unfaithful. I knew what they meant. They even got me to talk to a bloody psychiatrist. He asked me about my mother.’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I met him as well.’
Farrell paid no attention to what I’d said. It was clear he just needed somebody to talk to. The words gushed out as if they had built up in the weeks since his wife’s murder.
‘What’s all this?’ he said, looking at the frenzied scenes in front of us.
‘Most of us are moving out,’ I said, ‘so some of the guys in the house decided to have a clear-out.’
Farrell gave a loud sniff. ‘You’re doing the right thing,’ he said. ‘I’d get out of this area if I could. I’ve lived here for more than thirty years. They say it’s coming up. But scum like that are still here.’
I didn’t speak. I was a bit worried that the boy he was talking about might hear and there’d be more trouble.
‘Peggy was old-fashioned,’ said Farrell. ‘She believed in being a proper neighbour. That’s why you all knew her, isn’t it?’
I murmured something unintelligible in response. I didn’t want to tell him that I hadn’t known his wife. That the first time I’d heard her full name had been when she was dead.
‘She noticed things,’ said Farrell, ‘and she believed in getting involved. Those kids from the flats, they go around late at night kicking bins over and breaking windows and jostling people in the street. Other people ignored it but she used to say things to them and she rang the police about them. Not that they did anything. But those kids knew she wasn’t someone who would just let something go. So they did something about it.’
‘I hope the police find who did it,’ I said.
‘They’ve given up,’ he said. ‘I keep phoning up and they say the investigation is proceeding. But when did you last see a policeman down here?’
I didn’t answer because I thought it would only confuse matters.
‘Look at that kid,’ said Farrell. ‘He’s pocketing that radio. I’m not going to let him get away with it.’ I clutched at his sleeve to stop him.
‘Don’t,’ I said. ‘He’ll get it home and then he’ll discover it doesn’t work. That’ll be punishment enough.’
Farrell looked at me awkwardly. He was clearly about to go. ‘If you ever want to pop round for a cup of tea,’ he said, ‘you know, to talk about things, I’m usually in in the evenings. And at weekends. Before you move away.’
‘That would be lovely,’ I said.
‘Biscuits as well,’ he said.
‘Great.’
He moved away. ‘I’ll hold you to that,’ he said, and I watched him edge his way through the crowd and walk alone along the pavement.
Suddenly I wanted to get away from the bustle and the noise, so I went back into the house, where I met Leah in the hallway outside Miles’s bedroom.
‘I didn’t know you were here,’ I said.
‘I just got in,’ she said. ‘That’s a squalid little scene out there.’
‘I think it’s quite fun,’ I said. ‘You wouldn’t believe the things people have bought.’
She frowned. ‘Oh, by the way, Astrid, Miles brought a bag of my clothes over this morning. Have you seen them?’
Chapter Seventeen
I contemplated making a dash for it, but Leah was standing in my way and to get past her I would have to knock her over.
‘I don’t know anything about a bag,’ I said. ‘I haven’t been here, you see. Hardly at all. Can I come by now?’
She shrugged and stood aside, and I charged past her. As I got to my room, I heard her clipping across the hall and opening the front door. I sat on my bed and picked up my new blouse, pressing my face into its softness. It had a familiar, expensive smell. I sighed and waited for the hubbub to begin.
It wasn’t long. First there was a shout, ‘Hey!’ in a voice I didn’t recognize, then a truly ear-splitting shriek of rage.
I stood up, laying my shirt carefully on the pillow.
Then lots of voices shouting, I couldn’t make out the words, followed by a crash and more screaming.
Very slowly I went down the stairs. The front door was wide open and through it I could see a wild scene taking place. Both tables seemed to have been pushed over, and the objects that had been on them were scattered across the front garden and even on the pavement. Youths were rummaging through everything in a kind of frenzy and more people were pouring in through the gate. As I looked, a very large woman, wearing tatty jeans, an old sweater and over it a glorious orange silk shirt that was several sizes too small, rushed past. There was a further yelp. I thought I recognized Pippa’s voice, but she was out of sight. Somebody was laughing and clapping.
Perhaps, I thought, I could go back into the house without being seen, creep downstairs into the basement, from there get into the garden, then sneak up the alley and be away. But even as I was thinking this, I was stepping outside and gazing at the wreckage that lay before me. The boys from the estate were picking up as much of the debris as they could hold and as I watched two started having a tug of war over the old lampstand. A group of girls were parading around with lacy knickers – Leah’s, I assumed – on their heads, taking photos of each other with their mobile phones. Leah was in the corner, wrestling with the large woman whose orange shirt was now ripped from armpit to hem. Davy was with them, hopping from one foot to the other and occasionally trying to pull them apart, but although he’s fairly strong, their rage was stronger and he didn’t stand a chance. A few residents of the street stood in a bewildered huddle, some clutching bright garments, and stared at the mayhem, while out on the pavement a crowd was gathering. A boy hurtled past me, holding the lampstand, followed by his rival.
I turned to Leah, who now had the remnants of her shirt in her hands and was striding towards a small group of bewildered middle-aged women standing near the side alley. ‘Hand them over,’ she said.
They looked at her as though she was mad and backed away. ‘My clothes,’ said Leah.
‘We bought them,’ said one, nervously.
‘Yes, proper money,’ said another. ‘This cost me five pounds.’ And she held up a military-style jacket with a red lining.
I felt a nudge as Davy arrived at my side. He was panting and there was a scratch on his cheek. I tucked my arm through his. ‘How did this happen? No, don’t tell me. Let me guess. Pippa and Dario.’
He didn’t reply.
‘Don’t worry, you don’t have to say. Let’s try and sort this mess out.’
I walked over to Leah and the women, stepping over a boy who was scrabbling on the ground for scattered bits of jewellery. I tried to adopt an official tone. ‘I’m afraid there’s been a misunderstanding, and those clothes you have aren’t for sale.’
‘We bought them.’
‘It was a mistake. You’ll get your money back.’
‘I don’t want it back.’
‘That’s right.’
Leah made a strangled noise beside me. I could feel the heat rising off her.
‘Just return the clothes, we’ll return your money. Simple.’