‘My former landlady’s daughter. She’s pregnant and doesn’t want to get rid of the baby, or leave me alone for that matter. Haven’t you seen her hanging about the house?’

The woman in the emerald coat. Of course. ‘Don’t you want to marry her?’

He shrugged. ‘I’m getting used to the idea.’ He indicated the money. ‘And extra cash may not give me a happy journey, but it will certainly oil the wheels. Come on. Take a share. You know you want to.’

‘But, it’s . . .’

‘What? Stealing?’

Connie nodded, but her resolve was weakening. How much could she buy for the baby?

‘How do you think Kenneth and his pals got it in the first place? And how many people did Kenneth betray to keep it all for himself?’

Connie had a vision of Frank Dennis flailing in the lake.

‘Come on,’ said Victor, shaking the notes, ‘I haven’t got all day.’

Heart thumping, she took the money and walked as fast as she could to the house. Climbing the steps at the front, she felt a stab of pain. It must be a stitch. She waited for it to pass. Breathing heavily, she pressed on, closing the door behind her and returning to the flat.

Later, her dreams were full of random images: Socks’s belly, heaving with kittens; Frank Dennis’s body being pulled from the water; Kenneth’s roses blossoming but with banknotes instead of petals.

25

Marina

January 1992

Victor lives in a sixties block of flats, ten minutes from the High Road. Marina presses the buzzer on the intercom and he opens the door without checking who is there. She had called him again and, this time, when he suggested she come to his home, she agreed.

She avoids the lift and climbs the concrete stairs to the third floor where she finds the door to his flat is ajar. She steps inside and calls out his name.

‘In the living room,’ he shouts back.

The corridor is narrow with parquet flooring which is shabby but well-swept. Glancing through the first open door on the left, she sees a small and tidy kitchen. The next room must be Victor’s bedroom. The curtains are closed and she makes out the shape of a bed and a wardrobe. There is a further closed door which she guesses is the bathroom and, at the far end, the living room.

Victor is less well-groomed than before. He wears a white shirt, but there’s a stain on the front and he needs a shave. His eyes are bloodshot and Marina suspects he has either started drinking early or has kept it up extremely late. In contrast, she has gone for a no-nonsense image again. Her hair is scraped back and she wears jeans, a jumper and her thick furry coat. She is well and truly covered.