“Billy.”
“His real name, Edina. And if you lie to me again, I’m going to arrest you.”
“Richie.”
“Call him.”
“You don’t have to inv—”
“Call him.”
She hesitated, then:
“RICHIE.”
“Yes, mama,” came the call from the kitchen.
Edina’s eyes fell to the floor.
“Who’s his father?” Charlie continued her attack.
Suddenly there were tears in Edina’s eyes.
“Please don’t involve him or the boy. This has nothing to do with—”
“Do they have papers?”
Nothing in response.
“Are they in this country illegally?”
A long pause. Then finally Edina nodded.
“Please” was all she could say by way of entreaty.
“I’m not here to cause you or your boy trouble, but I need to know what Alexia did here. And what happened to her. So either you start talking or I make a phone call. Your choice, Edina.”
There was no choice, of course. And Charlie wasn’t surprised by Edina’s answer.
“Not here. Meet me in the café round the corner in five minutes.”
She hurried off to her son. Charlie breathed a sigh of relief. It was strange to be doing battle once more and suddenly she felt exhausted. She hadn’t expected her first day back to be so grueling. But she knew that worse was to come. Tonight was her welcome-back drinks. Time to face Helen Grace.
15
For the first time in years, Helen craved a drink. She had seen what it had done to her parents and that had put her off for life, but sometimes she still craved the hit. She was wound tight tonight. The interview with Eileen Matthews had gone badly, as the disgruntled Family Liaison officer had been quick to point out. There was little Helen could have done differently—she had to ask the tough questions—but still she berated herself for upsetting someone who was blameless and distraught. In the end, they had had no choice but to leave, having learned nothing of use along the way.
Helen had biked straight from Eileen’s house to the Parrot and Two Chairmen pub, Tony following behind. Situated a couple of blocks from Southampton Central, it was the traditional venue for leaving dos and the like. Tonight they were wetting Charlie’s head on her return to work—another stupid tradition. Helen had steeled herself and walked in, Tony trying a bit too hard to be jaunty and relaxed beside her... only to find that Charlie wasn’t there. She was still out on the job and was expected shortly.
The team made small talk, but no one knew quite how to play it. Furtive eyes were cast toward the pub entrance; then suddenly there she was. Charlie bounded over toward the group—keen to get this over with?—and as if by magic the crowd seemed to part, allowing Charlie a clean run at her superior.
“Hello, Charlie,” Helen said. Not exactly inspired, but it would have to do.
“Boss.”
“How’s your first day been?”
“Good. It’s been good.”
