‘Welcome to the Hackney Hilton, luv, and next time don’t come with your job handbag – sticks out like a sore thumb that you’re a plonk,’ he said, using the derogatory term she detested. He then rolled the newspaper into a ball and tossed it towards a cardboard box holding rubbish. Next to it were two old beer bottles and he pointed to them, grinning. ‘Men’s piss bottles. We got an empty milk carton somewhere for the ladies, though.’
Jane was mortified.
‘I’m DC Stanley, and believe me I’ve been cooped up in a lot worse. I was jokin’ about the milk carton. We nip out if there’s no one about, or lift the flap in the floor there and pee on the road. As you can smell, some officers’ aim isn’t too good.’
‘I couldn’t see the spy holes from the outside.’
‘Well, that’s the idea, luv. This one I’m at is part of an apple stalk, other side is a pear, back door’s potatoes and the air vent on the frame lets you see out the front.’
‘I thought it would all be a lot more high tech.’
‘This is the Old Bill, luv, not James Bond or MI5. I came straight here from a different overnight job so I’m knackered and me neck’s killing me. You can take over and eyeball the estate. If you see any of the targets, let me know and I’ll nip in the front and drive,’ he said, showing her the small sliding door to the front of the van.
She sat on the stool and peered through the hole; it was very uncomfortable as she had to crane her neck and keep her head up to see properly. Stanley lay down on the bench, dragged a blanket over himself, and closed his eyes. Jane knew there was no way she would be able to sit monitoring the estate in the same position for hours. She reached for her shoulder bag, took out her powder compact mirror, opened it and held it by the spy hole.
‘If that worked do you think I would sit on that stool in the same position for hours?’ Stanley said and pulled the blanket over his head.
Jane felt embarrassed and dropped the compact back in her bag.
Clifford Bentley was nursing a hangover whilst having a bath and John and David were still asleep. He hadn’t returned home until after midnight and had been very drunk. Renee knew from experience that he could be volatile and violent when he had been drinking, so she had pretended to be asleep as he fell into the bed beside her.
No one, apart from her, had eaten any of the liver, peas and mash she had cooked the previous evening and left out in a tin-foil-covered serving dish. ‘What a waste,’ she said to herself as she tipped it into the rubbish bin.
She heard David coughing loudly and went to listen outside his bedroom door, where it sounded even worse. She inched the door open. The curtains were closed and he was gasping for breath, his chest rattling as he coughed.
‘You want me to bring you a cup of tea or hot toddy, dear?’
‘No, I’m OK,’ he said, sounding terrible.
She could see he was sweating profusely and went over to feel his head. He was very hot and she realized he was running a high temperature. He didn’t seem to have the strength to argue, so she fetched a bowl of cold water, rinsed out a cloth and sat down on his bed, gently dabbing his forehead. She opened his bedside cabinet and took out a jar of Vicks VapoRub. After unbuttoning his pyjama top she rubbed some into his chest.
‘You got a terrible cold and chest infection. I’ve been warning you to rest because I know you take after me. My asthma is shocking and if I get a cold as well then it always goes straight to me chest.’
David kept his eyes closed. He felt really ill and didn’t have the strength to ask her to leave him alone. She kept on rinsing the cloth in the water and placing it across his brow. She jumped up when she heard Clifford’s voice.
‘I didn’t like the look of that congealed mess you left out last night, and I’m starving now. I’ll have some bacon and eggs with fried bread and a mug of tea.’
‘Can’t you see David’s sick? Listen to him trying to get his breath – he’s got a temperature and I think we need to call the doctor out. God only knows what time he and John came home this morning.’
Clifford stepped forward and nudged the bed with his foot.
‘David, are you all right, son? What’s the matter with you? Is she fussing over you too much?’
David barely managed to nod, he felt so weak, then Clifford grabbed Renee’s arm tightly, ushering her out the room.
‘Just leave him be and get me some breakfast,’ he said, pushing her into the kitchen and shutting the door before going to John’s room. John was snoring and in a deep sleep so Clifford shook the bed and waited for him to wake up.
‘Listen, our David’s sick.’
John yawned. ‘I know, he was in a really bad way this morning when we got back.’
‘Are you workin’ tonight?’
John moaned and sat up. ‘We’ve hit a couple of obstacles and it’s taking longer than I thought. Me, Danny and Silas are knackered. We’ve worked our bollocks off and need a night’s break. Besides, there’s no way David will be up to it this evening.’
‘What obstacles?’
