“Yes.” She fumbled her phone out of a pocket and hit the number she still hadn’t been able to delete. “DS Saint? It’s Matty… She’s here, in the square.”
She ended the call and shoved the phone back into her pocket just as Sloan appeared at the table, fresh from the office—hair tied back, suit perfect—the whole controlled package. She leaned in to kiss Matty, but Matty caught her by the wrist.
Sloan blinked. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“That woman,” Gloria said, nodding across the square, “from the flat. She’s over there.”
Sloan’s face changed in an instant. She turned, eyes narrowing. “Sarah?”
“Green top,” Gloria added.
As they watched, Sarah started walking away.
“Where’s she going?” Sloan said, half to herself. “We can’t let her get away.”
“And what do you suggest we do?” Matty asked, voice tight. “You’re on your lunch break. She’ll recognise me.”
“She won’t know me,” Gloria said brightly, and turned the key on her scooter.
“Oh, for fu—” Matty started, but Gloria was already moving.
“Mum!” Sloan called. “What are you doing?”
Gloria waved without looking back. “Call the police. I’m going after her.”
Sarah disappeared past the corner. Gloria was only a few yards behind her, and Sloan was almost jogging to catch up. In heels and a pencil skirt, it was genuinely ridiculous.
Matty stood, foot tapping hard against the pavement. Her phone rang and she snatched it up.
“I’m a few minutes out,” Saint said. “Is she still there?”
“No. She’s walked away. Gloria and Sloan are following her. I don’t know what to do.”
“Which direction?” another voice shouted in the background. Matty recognised it as DI Sophie Whitton.
“Towards the station.”
“Right. I’ll head that way. And Matty—do not engage with her,” Saint then warned.
Matty grabbed her skates off the ground. “It’s not me you have to worry about,” she said, already moving. “Gloria is heading her off.”
“Bloody hell. Granny on a scooter?” Saint said, and Whitton muttered a, “For fuck’s sake,” in the background.
Up ahead, Sloan stopped dead, kicked off her heels, scooping them up and taking off again.
By the time Matty reached the corner, she could see Sarah up the pavement, still walking, still unaware she was the main event. Gloria was almost on her. She swung the scooter out, overtook Sarah with a triumphant little whirr, then cut back in front of her and turned—fast as a mobility scooter could manage.
Gloria planted herself there, chin up, eyes bright.
“Stop right there!”
Sarah halted, confused, looking around for whoever the batty old woman was shouting at. Then she saw Matty.
For a second, Sarah didn't move at all, just staring at her.
Matty stopped too—skates clutched in one hand, phone in the other, mouth gone dry.
"Think you'd get away with dumping poor Matty in the shit?" Gloria challenged, inching forward. "You're going down." It was straight out of a TV cop show and Matty almost giggled.
