The two surveillance vehicles checked every nearby road and narrow lane, but all they found were high brick walls and gated yards that they were unable to see over. Getting out and looking over the walls was not an option. They decided to return to the Pembridge Estate and see if Bentley had driven back there. It never crossed their mind that John Bentley’s passenger had been dropped off as they now assumed his turning into the car park was a deliberate ploy to see if any unmarked police vehicles were following him.
High up in his wheelchair David could see the white van going up and down the alleyways through his binoculars. He was in two minds about making contact with the café, but was worried about John getting mad with him for making unnecessary contact. He was relieved, and presumed the driver was lost, when he saw the van turn onto the main road and drive off up Kingsland Road towards Dalston.
As she waited for the drying cycle to finish, Renee read some of the discarded, out-of-date magazines that were lying around. When the drier stopped a woman offered to help her with the sheets, holding one end whilst she held the other, and together they folded all the bed linen. Renee had already put the other washing into her wheelie, and although the two women had hardly spoken to each other they smiled and both said ‘Goodnight’. By the time Renee got back to Ashburn House her breath was rasping and the wheelie felt heavier than when she had started out. Climbing the stairs to the flat and heaving the wheelie up each floor tired her out, and she had to keep pausing to catch her breath. The flat was in darkness when she let herself in.
Feeling exhausted Renee made herself a cup of tea and had some biscuits, then decided to press on and make up the beds before the boys got back. Whatever time that would be.
She started on David’s bed first. Noticing the mattress was slightly urine-stained in places she decided to turn it over. As she did so she saw newspaper and magazine cuttings hidden beneath it, some of which slid off the divan and onto the floor. Using both hands to balance the mattress on its side she shuffled the rest of the cuttings to the floor with her foot, and heaving some more she eventually succeeded in turning the mattress over. Renee found herself gasping for breath and had to sit down before she could gather the energy to pick up the cuttings. Some were from a travel brochure advertising hotels in Florida, and tucked inside the magazine was an envelope with David’s name and address.
She looked inside the envelope and was surprised to find a passport. Opening it she saw that it was David’s, and looking at his photograph she realized it was at least seven years old. Also in the envelope was a page from a medical journal, giving details about a hospital in New York City that specialized in orthopaedic surgery and treatment for rheumatological conditions. She was unsure what the medical terms meant but underlined was a reference to the hospital performing knee and joint replacements. It made her feel wretched as her poor son must have at one time hoped for an operation to cure his lameness. She sighed. In his dreams maybe, she thought to herself. She placed everything on the bedside cabinet, and set about making up the bed, tucking the cuttings and envelope back under the mattress after she laid the bottom sheet.
Renee noticed that it was almost eight o’clock and realized that she had not had anything substantial to eat since midday. She started to peel some potatoes for the mash and decided she’d cook the liver in gravy, and put on some frozen peas to go with it as well. She spread some newspaper over the table and got a small plastic bowl, tipped in a few potatoes and sat down to peel them. She always used the same small, sharp knife, cutting the skins off finely and methodically. As she did so she thought about David’s cuttings and why he had hidden them. It made her feel depressed as he would never have enough money to get to places like New York, or anywhere in America. David was her favourite son, the handsome one, who had been the most caring and sweet-natured little boy. Now his life was ruined by his awful crippled leg, which was his father’s fault. The tears started to trickle down her cheeks and drop into the dirty, potato-stained water as she thought of poor David’s wasted life. Then she thought about her own life and wept for herself.
It was dark when Jane was woken by a knock on her door. She panicked, thinking she had slept in and was late for the 6 a.m. early shift. She looked at her bedside clock and was relieved to see it was actually only 9 p.m. Opening the door she saw Sarah in the corridor.
‘Hey there, it’s Sarah Redhead, and there’s a DCI Bradfield in the quiet room who wants to speak to you.’
‘Did he say what he wants?’ Jane asked, pulling on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.
