Sadie sighed into the silence of the room. There was no point in dwelling on the past. What was done was done and no amount of accusations, of bitterness or bad feeling, could change it. And perhaps, after all, Eddie had done her a favour. If he hadn’t walked out on her, she’d never have gone back to Haverlea, and if she’d never gone back she’d never have met Joel Hunter.
Thinking of Joel caused her conscience to start niggling again. She knew she wasn’t going to tell him about last night and the knowledge made her feel guilty. What kind of woman lies to their intended? Except she wouldn’t be lying exactly – he was hardly likely to ask her straight out – only being economical with the truth. This, she knew, didn’t make it right but she couldn’t think of another way round it.
Last night had left a sour taste in Sadie’s mouth and it wasn’t only down to the wine she had drunk. Nathan Stone had used her and she’d allowed him to. She had made a pact with a local villain, a criminal, a man who must be involved in all kinds of nastiness, just so she could get what she wanted. She had allowed her sense of what was right and wrong to become distorted in her selfish quest to be free of Eddie Wise.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ she whispered, trying to still that other voice. ‘You only did what you had to do.’ And it wasn’t as if anything sordid had happened. The two of them hadn’t even touched, not so much as a brush of a hand. It had all been entirely innocent. But no matter how much she protested, the feeling remained that in some way she would be made to pay for the deceit.
Still unable to go back to sleep, Sadie put the light on again, picked up her book from the bedside table and tried to read. But the words swam in front of her, letters that danced into dots and sentences that merged together. No matter how hard she tried to, her mind refused to concentrate. Instead she found herself thinking about greyhounds running round in circles, about Nathan Stone, Barry and Cheryl, a black Daimler that smelled of leather and aftershave and guilt.
At half past seven she got up, went to the bathroom and had a shower. Yet she still felt dirty, as if what she had done had left a residue of grime that could never be washed away. She paused on the landing outside the bathroom and listened. There was no sound coming from behind Velma’s door. She had heard her come in at about two in the morning, heard the key in the lock and the gentle click of the door closing behind her.
At eight o’clock, Sadie went down for breakfast and found herself alone in the dining room. Even the middle-aged man with The Times was absent. She poured out some cornflakes and ate them even though she wasn’t feeling especially hungry. The two Anadins she’d taken hadn’t done much to dent her headache. After five minutes Mrs Cuthbert shuffled in with some toast and a pot of tea and plonked them on the table.
‘It’s quiet this morning,’ Sadie said, just for the sake of saying something.
‘Sunday, ain’t it? No one comes down before nine on a Sunday.’
Sadie wasn’t sure from her tone whether this was meant as a fact or an admonishment. She had, perhaps, disturbed Mrs Cuthbert in her own breakfast. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘I didn’t realise.’
‘No matter. Will you be wanting anything else?’
‘No thanks.’
Mrs Cuthbert gave a grunt and shuffled off again.
Sadie finished her cereal and forced herself to eat a slice of toast. If she was going to confront Eddie later she’d need all the sustenance she could get. She drank two cups of tea while she thought about what she’d say to him. Stay calm, she told herself. Don’t lose your rag or you won’t get anywhere.
She checked her watch again, but it was still only twenty past eight. What was she going to do for the next couple of hours? They stretched ahead of her like a great yawning chasm. Too restless to stay put, she decided to go for a walk. Anything was better than sitting in Oaklands watching the minutes tick by.
Sadie went up to her room, put on her jacket, grabbed her bag and went downstairs again. Outside the air was cold, the sky low and grey as if snow might be on the cards. She turned up the collar of her coat and tramped towards the high street. There were a few people around, but not many. Even the station was eerily quiet. Her plan was to head for the Mansfield, make sure she knew where Carlton House was and then have a wander around Kellston until eleven.
As Nathan Stone had told her, the place wasn’t hard to find. The three tall towers were visible from just about everywhere in the area. Within fifteen minutes she was standing at the entrance staring down the long wide path that led into the estate. She could see Carlton House almost directly in front of her, a concrete monstrosity covered with graffiti. As she gazed up at the rusting balconies, the boarded-up doors and endless grey windows, she felt a shiver of dismay run through her.
Sadie shifted from one foot to the other. In truth, places like this made her nervous, ever since the Brixton riots, and then the trouble at Broadwater Farm in Tottenham only last month. These estates were all on a knife-edge, steeped in poverty, desperation, anger and despair. The shabby walkways were lawless and the police were the enemy. All it would take was a single spark and…
Still, there wasn’t much sign of life at the moment. She watched a teenage boy scuttle along one of the paths, his shoulders hunched, the hood of his jacket pulled over his head. He ducked into a doorway and disappeared. Across the far side of the estate, a couple of kids were throwing a football about.
Sadie turned and began to walk back along the street again. And then she stopped. What was she doing? The idea of kicking her heels for the next couple of hours was ridiculous. It wasn’t as if the shops were even open. And the longer she waited, the later she would get home tonight. It would be better, surely, to get it over and done with. Eddie might not take kindly to being dragged out of bed, but he would just have to live with it.
She stood there for a while in two minds as to what to do next. If she waited until eleven, she might catch him in a better mood, but what if she missed him completely? He might go out and not get back before midnight. And then she’d be stuck in Kellston for another day.
No, she was going to do it now. With the decision made, she took a deep breath, retraced her steps and walked boldly on to the estate. She tried to look confident as she made her way down the main path, keeping her head up and her shoulders back. Looking nervous or wary was only asking for trouble. It was too early, perhaps, for muggers to be on the prowl but she wasn’t taking any chances.
At the entrance to Carlton House she checked the numbers and found that 93 was on the ninth floor. She pushed open the door and entered the foyer, a chilly space that stank of piss and dope. The tiled walls were covered in spray-painted tags and the floor was littered with empty cans, cigarette butts and old crisp packets.
There were four lifts to her left, all with their doors open, and she viewed them dubiously. Two of them had pools of urine in the corner, but they all smelled bad. She hesitated, unsure as to what was worse: taking the stairs or taking her chances in one of the stinking metal boxes. What if the lift broke down and she was trapped inside? On the other hand, she wouldn’t be in much of a state to do anything by the time she’d climbed up nine flights.
On balance, Sadie decided that the lift was probably a better option. She chose the least noxious one, stepped inside and punched the button. As the doors closed, she felt a brief flurry of panic and was tempted to jump out again. It was only by gritting her teeth, by telling herself she had to do it, that she managed to stay put.
The lift slowly heaved its way up to the ninth floor as if every inch was an effort. Sadie held her breath, trying not to inhale the awful smell. When the doors finally opened again, she leapt out, went quickly to the edge of the landing and gulped in the cold morning air. She stayed there for a while, gazing down on the estate while she gathered her thoughts together.