Dangerous Promises (39 page)

‘Can’t say I blame you. I’d be the same myself.’

What really irked Petra was that Sharon was also in on the secret, that the three of them had formed a tight little unit from which she was excluded. It made her feel pushed out, ostracised, as if she wasn’t really part of the family. She didn’t deserve to be treated like this. ‘And do you know what that evil slut Sharon said to me this morning?’

‘What did she say, love?’

Petra put on a high-pitched voice, mimicking the younger woman. ‘Oh, I suppose you’ll be wanting to get home for Christmas. Don’t worry about your Kelly, she’ll be fine. I’ll take good care of her.’ Her eyes narrowed with anger. ‘
She’ll
take good care of her, as if
she’s
her bloody mother. It ain’t right, it ain’t right at all.’

‘It’s downright criminal,’ Colleen said, backing up her friend. ‘You’ve got no idea what they’re up to then?’

‘It’ll be something to do with this Eddie business, bound to be. Kelly doesn’t talk about nothin’ else. The poor guy’s six foot under and the filth still ain’t made an arrest. It’s been weeks, Col. At this rate they’ll never find out who done it.’

Colleen swigged on her gin and gave a rueful shake of her head. ‘It ain’t proper, not your own flesh and blood hiding stuff from you. You need to have a word, get it all out in the open.’

‘And I’ll tell you what else,’ Petra continued, ‘since the weekend I’ve not been alone in that house, not for five minutes. Most times they’re all out somewhere, at work or down the pub, but not for the past few days. There’s always been one of them there. It’s like they’re keeping an eye on me.’ She frowned down at the slice of lemon floating in the gin before lifting her gaze to meet Colleen’s again. ‘Oh, I know that sounds daft, like I’m paranoid or something, but I’m telling you it’s the God-honest truth. I can’t get five minutes on my own, not for love nor money.’

Colleen raised her eyebrows, perhaps not entirely convinced that Petra was under any kind of surveillance, but too much under the influence to try and offer up a more rational explanation.

‘Everyone needs a bit of quiet, don’t they? It ain’t too much to ask.’

‘No, it ain’t, not too much at all.’

‘So how do I sort this out? Wayne’s up to something. I can see it in his eyes. I said, didn’t I? He’s got that sneaky look about him. He was just the same when he was a kid. I could always tell when he was lying, and that was most of the time so I had plenty of practice.’

Colleen gave a snigger. ‘And since when did you ever let a bloke get the better of you? You’re getting soft in your old age.’

Petra frowned, wondering if this was true. She sipped at the gin and placed the glass back down on the table with a solid thump. ‘Oh, I’ll get to the bottom of it, you see if I don’t.’

Colleen gave Petra’s elbow a nudge. ‘That’s more like it. Come on, drink up and I’ll get us another.’

It was almost midnight when the two women finally staggered out of the pub and headed for home. They said their goodbyes at the corner and went their separate ways. Although Petra could normally hold her drink, tonight she’d had more than usual. The gin washed through her veins, making her feel both maudlin and resentful. Where had all the good years gone? It didn’t seem that long since she’d been young and carefree, looking forward instead of always looking back. What had she done to deserve this? She was lonely in Bournemouth and that was the truth of it; she missed her kids, Colleen, the familiar streets of London. Shoreditch was where she belonged and where she wanted to spend the rest of her life.

The chill night air cut through her bones, making her shiver. She pursed her mouth, partly in response to the cold, but mainly in protest at the way she was being treated by her family. ‘It ain’t right,’ she muttered as she walked up the path to the house. She fumbled in her bag for her key, took it out, placed it in the lock, turned it and quietly opened and then closed the door. Unlike other members of the household she had some consideration for people who might be sleeping.

From the jackets hung up in the hallway, Petra could tell that both Wayne and Kelly were already home. She went through to the kitchen and put the kettle on. It was late but she didn’t feel sleepy; there was too much rattling around in her head. She needed a brew and a chance to think.

Five minutes later, she was sitting down with her elbows on the table and a big mug of tea in front of her. She spooned in a couple of sugars and gave the tea a stir. It wasn’t easy to concentrate – the gin was blurring the edges of her thoughts – but as she drank she tried to make sense of what had been happening recently: Eddie’s murder, Kelly’s grief, the funeral, the shooting of Wayne at the cemetery. She felt there must be clues somewhere and she glanced around the kitchen as if one might be lurking in the cupboards or in between the pots and pans.

Petra’s gaze eventually drifted towards the cellar door. Her brow wrinkled as she recalled Wayne’s recent forays into its depths. A screwdriver, that’s what he’d claimed he’d been looking for, but he’d been down there more than once. Anyway, there were always tools lying around at the yard. No, he’d had another reason. She was sure of it.

If it hadn’t been for the booze, Petra would never have set foot inside the cellar. As it was, she still hesitated as she opened the door, flicked on the light and peered down into the gloom. With the slanting ceiling she couldn’t see further than the base of the steps. She didn’t want to go down, feared going down, but knew she had to.

Tentatively she made the descent, her left hand trailing along the dusty wall. When she reached the bottom, she drew in a breath, her eyes widening in confusion. Everything was different to how it had once been. Although it was an age since she’d last been here, she hadn’t forgotten what the place looked like.

The door leading off into the second smaller room was now completely obscured by a wide set of steel shelves covered in paint pots, boxes, tools and other random items. Bemused, she moved forward and stared at them. Why would anyone choose to put shelves here when there was plenty of other wall space? It didn’t take a genius to work out the answer. Wayne was hiding something he didn’t want anyone else to find.

Petra’s first guess was a stash of drugs. Roy had dealt on and off through the years, coke and weed and shit like that, and now that he was banged up Wayne was probably trying to step into his shoes. But then she thought of all the whispering that had been going on lately, the exchange of glances, the secrets that were being kept from her. Maybe it was something else.

At first sight the unit looked too heavy for her to move, but as her gaze dropped to the floor she saw that it was actually on wheels. She wrapped both her hands around the edge and pulled. It shifted quite easily, sliding away from the wall with a thin scraping sound. She held her breath, wondering whether the noise had travelled upstairs. She listened for any movement but there was none. No, they’d all be fast asleep by now.

Once the unit was out of the way, the door was exposed. Petra reached for the handle and pressed it down. Damn, it was locked! Frustrated, she rattled the handle again. It was no good; she wasn’t going to get in without a key. First, she checked all four shelves of the unit, poking in between the old tins of paint and the tools, and then moved on to other parts of the cellar. As she searched, the tips of her fingers became blackened with dust. Then, just as she was starting to give up, she suddenly realised where it would be.

Petra flew up the steps, passed through the kitchen and living room and walked quietly into the hallway. She went straight to Wayne’s jacket hanging on the peg, slipped her fingers into the right-hand pocket and pulled out a large set of keys. Success! Taking care not to let them jangle, she retraced her steps and went back down to the cellar.

There were about twelve keys on the ring – some of them for the yard – and she tried the most likely-looking ones first, the ones that were old and tarnished. The first two failed, she couldn’t even get them in the lock properly, but the third slid in easily. As she began to turn it, she thought she heard a noise, a faint mewling sound like an animal in pain. Startled, she stepped back. What was that? She waited a while before moving forward again and pressing her ear against the door. There was nothing but silence.

Petra wondered if the gin was playing tricks on her hearing. She was getting nervous now, her heart starting to thump in her chest. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. Sometimes ignorance was bliss. But then, as she was thinking of making a hasty retreat, she remembered those words uttered by Colleen:
And since when did you ever let a bloke get the better of you?

Before she could change her mind, Petra quickly turned the key and pushed open the door. Nothing could have prepared her for what she found inside. She gasped at the sight of the girl sitting with her arms wrapped around her knees, her face cut and swollen, her hair matted with blood. Jesus! Jesus Christ! It took a moment for her to realise that this was the girl in the newspaper, the girl she’d seen at the funeral – this was Eddie Wise’s wife.

Their eyes met and Petra instinctively stepped back. No, she couldn’t cope with this. It was too much. She had walked into a nightmare. She went to slam the door, to shut off the dreadful vision, but Sadie Wise quickly jumped to her feet.

‘Please,’ she begged. ‘Please help me. Don’t leave me here!’

54

Sometimes you only got one chance and Sadie knew that this was it. If the door closed again, it would be shutting on her only hope of escape. A few seconds ago, she’d been bracing herself against the next round of punches, but now suddenly there was a glimmer of hope. She could tell straight away that her presence in the cellar was a complete shock to Petra Gissing.

‘Please,’ Sadie begged again, trying to engage with the older woman. ‘You have to help me. I can’t take it any more. They’re going to kill me. I don’t want to die in this place.’

Petra continued to stare, her mouth gaping, her eyes filled with disbelief.

Sadie made no attempt to move towards the open door – she didn’t want to spook the woman – but instead sat back down on the mattress. ‘They think I killed Eddie, but I didn’t. I didn’t have anything to do with it.’

Petra glanced over her shoulder before returning her gaze to Sadie. She lifted her hands and rubbed at her face as if she still couldn’t believe what she was actually seeing.

Sadie’s mind was racing, the adrenalin rushing through her body. What next? Should she jump up again, try and shove Petra out of the way and make a run for it? Quickly she weighed up the odds: she was younger but in her current state probably not stronger. And what if Wayne and Kelly were upstairs? She might not even make it to the front door. No, she had to play it smart. She had to try and talk her way out of here.

‘They got it all wrong,’ Sadie insisted, keeping her gaze firmly fixed on Petra. ‘It was a mistake. It wasn’t me. I’d never do that. Please let me go. I won’t say anything, I promise. I just want to go home.’

Petra’s gaze roamed around the cellar, taking it all in. She wrinkled her nose as if the bad smell had only just reached her.

Sensing that her pleading wasn’t having much of an impact, Sadie changed tack. ‘They’ll go to jail if I die. You know they will – your son
and
your daughter. They’ll be in prison for years. Is that what you want? And what about you? They won’t believe you knew nothing about it.’

‘Don’t threaten me,’ Petra hissed.

‘I’m not. I wasn’t. I’m sorry. I’m just saying it like it is. It’s going to look bad, isn’t it? And the police will be searching for me; I’ve been missing for days. They’ll think of here eventually. Maybe they already have. They could be on their way. They could be here any minute.’

Petra chewed on her lower lip, thinking about it. ‘They’ve got no reason. Why would they?’

‘Sure they have,’ Sadie said. ‘What about Kelly’s accusations? Everyone knows what she’s been saying about me.’

But still Petra didn’t seem convinced.

Sadie decided on more radical action. Leaning forward, she clutched at her stomach and groaned.

‘What is it?’ Petra asked. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘It hurts,’ Sadie said, rocking back and forth. ‘I need help. Christ, I need a doctor.
Please
, you have to get me out of here.’

Alarm passed across Petra’s face, fear that Sadie was going to croak in front of her. Her fingers tightened around the door handle. ‘And then what? You’ll go running straight to the law.’

‘No, I won’t. I swear I won’t.’ Sadie racked her brains, trying to come up with a convincing argument. ‘I can’t, can I? I was the one who shot Wayne. If that comes out, I’ll go to prison too. I was carrying a gun, for God’s sake.’

This was clearly news to Petra. ‘It was you? You shot him?’

‘I didn’t mean to,’ Sadie said quickly. ‘It was an accident. He grabbed me in the cemetery. It… it just went off. I never meant to. I didn’t even know the damn thing was loaded. But don’t you see? It means I
can’t
tell the police anything. I was carrying a gun, for God’s sake. They’ll lock me up too.’

Petra remained silent.

‘Please,’ Sadie begged. ‘I’ll say I was mugged. They can’t prove I wasn’t. I won’t breathe a word about all this. I swear on my life. I mean, we’re quits now, right? I understand why they did this. I hurt your son and he hurt me. That’s it, finished. But I really need that doctor.’

Petra shuffled from one foot to the other. ‘I don’t know. I have to think about it.’

‘There isn’t time to think.’ Sadie clutched at her stomach again, laying it on thick. ‘Do you really want me to die here?’

Perhaps it was this thought that finally galvanised Petra into action. Having a corpse lying around in the cellar was hardly a prospect to be relished. ‘All right, all right then.’

‘You’ll let me go?’

‘But if you tell anyone —’

‘I won’t, I swear I won’t.’ Sadie slowly rose to her foot, terrified that the woman would change her mind. ‘Thank you.’

Petra pulled a face, her thin lips turning down at the corners. ‘I’m not doing this for you, love. Don’t think that for one minute.’