‘It’s Wayne you should be worrying about,’ Kelly said. ‘Those bastards could have killed him.’

Petra opened her mouth, about to say something on the subject of Sadie Wise, but at that very moment the phone started ringing. No one else moved and so she put down her glass and hauled herself to her feet. ‘I’ll get it, shall I?’

Wayne gestured towards his leg. ‘What do you want me to do, hop there?’

Petra raised her eyes to the ceiling and went out through the door to the hall. She picked up the phone and put it to her ear, hearing the pips go before she could speak. She waited until the caller came on the line.

‘Sharon?’

It was Roy ringing from the nick. Hearing his voice again made her wince, reminding her of times she’d rather forget. ‘She ain’t here.’

‘What do you mean, she ain’t there?’ he asked roughly.

‘What do you think I mean? It’s plain English. It ain’t that hard to understand.’

‘Where is she then?’

‘How should I know? I’m not her keeper. Out with her fancy man probably.’

Roy sucked in an audible breath. ‘Just can’t help yourself, can you? Even at a time like this. The screws told me about Wayne. He’s all right, yeah? They said he’d been released from the hospital.’

‘About an hour ago. I reckon he’ll live.’

‘So what the fuck happened?’

Petra, aware that the conversation was probably being recorded by the prison, had the nous to stick to the story that her son had told the law. ‘Tried to mug him, didn’t they? Three of them, the cowardly bastards. ’Course Wayne wasn’t having any of it. He put up a fight and one of them took out a shooter and… Anyway, it ain’t as bad as it might have been. A few weeks and he’ll be back on his feet again.’

‘Put him on. I want to talk to him.’

‘And how am I supposed to do that? He can’t walk, for God’s sake. You want him to crawl into the hall?’

‘I want to make sure he’s okay.’

‘I just told you he was. You want a word with Kelly?’

‘How’s she doing?’

‘She’s had better days.’

‘Yeah, put her on.’

Petra called out through the open door, ‘Kelly, it’s your dad,’ before laying the phone on the table and going upstairs for a pee. She grinned as she thought back to what she’d said about Sharon. The tart had only nipped out for a takeaway but he wasn’t to know that. Roy knew she was stirring, trying to cause trouble, but that wouldn’t stop him from thinking about it. She had planted a seed of doubt and when he was banged up this evening, when he had too much time to dwell on stuff, he might just start to wonder…

She looked in the bathroom mirror, made some adjustments to her hair and gave her reflection a friendly nod. Perhaps, all in all, the day hadn’t worked out so badly. What did they say about every cloud having a silver lining? Now that Wayne was temporarily laid up, she had the perfect excuse for staying on in Shoreditch.

38

Wayne gritted his teeth, trying to contain the rage that was bubbling up inside him. It wasn’t just that he’d been shot – that was bad enough – but that he’d been shot by a fuckin’ woman. It was wrong, humiliating, and he’d be a laughing stock if anyone on the street got to hear about it. Sharon had better keep her big mouth shut. In his head, he replayed the fateful moment over and over again; he’d been convinced that the tart was bluffing, sure that the gun was a replica, some fake piece of plastic shit that couldn’t even be fired.

And then, as if things hadn’t been bad enough, he’d had the filth on his back, bombarding him with bloody questions. The story – which he and Sharon had thrown together on the way to the hospital – was flimsy, full of holes, but the best they could manage in the time they had. And he hadn’t exactly been thinking straight. Still, there wasn’t a whole lot the law could do about it. They might suspect it was a pile of bullshit, but they couldn’t prove a thing.

Before going into A&E he’d had the nous to pass the knife over to Sharon. You couldn’t trust the filth when it came to going through your things. Now he took it from his pocket, flicked it open and stared at the blade. He should have cut the crazy bitch’s throat when he had the opportunity. Still, he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

Wayne looked up as Kelly came back into the room. They hadn’t had a chance to talk properly since the funeral and he could see the frustration in her eyes. She closed the door, hurried over to the sofa and sat down beside him.

‘What the hell happened today?’

Wayne closed the knife and slipped it back into his pocket. ‘What do you think fuckin’ happened? The crazy bitch had a shooter, didn’t she?’

Kelly’s jaw dropped. ‘What? It was Sadie Wise?’

‘Keep it down. You want Mum to hear?’

‘I thought it must have been Stone or Terry Street or —’

‘It was a set-up,’ Wayne said. ‘They must have guessed that we were planning something. Stone was there too, keeping out of sight. He fucked off with the tart as soon as…’ His hands balled into two tight fists. ‘It was a fuckin’ ambush, Kel. The bitch could have killed me.’

‘Jesus,’ she murmured, her face growing pale and tight. ‘So what are we going to do now?’

Wayne thought about all the hours he’d spent down in the cellar getting the place just right. All that work for what? Well, he sure as hell wasn’t going to let it go to waste. And then there was the ransom money he’d been expecting to get. He deserved that fuckin’ money, every penny of it and more. ‘What do you think? No one puts a bullet in my leg and gets away with it. No one!’

39

Sadie was holding her breath as she got off the train at Haverlea, convinced that the police would be waiting there. Nervously, she glanced along the length of the platform. She had spent the entire journey in a heightened state of anxiety, terrified that at any moment she would look up to find an officer standing over her, his eyes cold and accusing, handcuffs at the ready. Even the ticket collector had made her jump, the sight of his uniform causing her heart to miss a beat.

Although Nathan Stone had insisted that Gissing would say nothing, she still couldn’t bring herself to believe it. People didn’t think rationally when they were in pain. They lashed out. They let their mouths run away with them. Already he could have made a statement, pointing the finger directly at her. What then? She gave a shiver, thinking of what the future might hold.

Slowly she walked towards the exit. Others hurried past, eager to get home after a day’s work in the city. As she approached the barrier, her gaze raked the area beyond. Were the police there? Perhaps, because of the gun, they wouldn’t try and approach while other people were around. She passed over her ticket with a shaking hand and went through the gate.

Sadie’s pulse was racing as she crossed the forecourt. Her lips were dry, her stomach churning. But by the time she reached the street she realised that nothing bad was going to happen. And then it occurred to her: if they were going to pick her up, they were more likely to do it at the flat. What if they were waiting for her there? She was tempted to turn around, to jump on another train and keep on going until she was miles away.

Sadie stopped on the corner, shifting the cheap holdall she’d bought at Euston from one hand to the other. It wasn’t physically heavy – all it had in it was a magazine and a new toothbrush – but it seemed to contain the weight of all her secrets. She had known it would look odd if she returned home without any luggage. Joel would ask questions and she would need to tell more lies. Well, she would need to tell lies anyway, but some were easier than others.