Near And Dear Read online

  She could have told him how thoroughly irresponsible he’d been but since he must already be aware of this, there was hardly any point. Hysterics wouldn’t solve anything either.

  ‘So what are you going to do?’

  ‘Start again, as I said I would.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘All taken care of,’ he said quickly. ‘The bank’s behind me. They’re going to fund the new business once I’ve found suitable premises and got everything organised.’

  ‘Just like that?’

  ‘They know a winner when they see one,’ Mick was quick to point out.

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Of course. Having watched me build the last business up from nothing, they’re only too happy to do so again. They know they can’t lose.’

  ‘Why have you been on such a short fuse lately, then, if there isn’t a problem?’

  Mick shrugged his shoulders. ‘Dunno. I suppose it’s because I can’t get things moving fast enough. You know me, I like everything done yesterday. But these things take time.’

  ‘True.’

  ‘Well, don’t look so worried, it isn’t the end of the world.’

  ‘I know that.’

  ‘What’s the matter then?’

  ‘You lied to me.’

  ‘I didn’t want you to worry.’

  ‘I’m your wife, Mick,’ she pointed out emphatically. ‘We’re supposed to be a team. Your problems are mine too. We should work things out together.’

  ‘There are no problems.’

  ‘Why lie to me about the insurance money, then?’

  ‘Because I knew you’d only see trouble where there is none,’ he explained. ‘I just wanted to spare you.’

  She believed him about that anyway.

  ‘What about all the letters and phone calls from the bank?’

  ‘They’ve been chasing me about the paperwork for the funding of the new business,’ he told her. ‘Figures to be agreed, forms to be signed . . . all that sort of thing. But it’s more or less finalised now. As soon as I find the right premises, Parker Supplies will be up and running again.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘I won’t let you down, Jane.’ He waved his hand, indicating the room, the subdued wall lighting casting a gentle glow over the elegant furniture and fittings. ‘All of this . . . the house, our cars, everything . . . it’s all safe.’

  ‘These things aren’t the be all and end all to me, Mick,’ she said, her voice thick with emotion. ‘Can’t you understand that you and the kids are what is important to me? Whatever happens, good or bad, we face it together. But I don’t want you to lie to me, no matter how well-meant.’

  Her words brought tears to his eyes. What a wonderful woman she was - so good, so caring. She looked so small and feminine sitting there, the light bringing out the golden tones in her hair, it was no wonder he wanted to protect her.

  ‘Oh, babe,’ he said, moving towards her.

  Drawn to him by the force of her love, Jane got up and went into his arms.

  ‘No more lies, Mick . . . promise me?’ she entreated.

  ‘I promise.’

  He kissed her passionately, then moved back and gave her one of his most melting looks.

  ‘So, am I forgiven for what happened this afternoon?’

  When he looked at her like that, his dark eyes somnolent with passion, she found it hard to refuse him anything.

  ‘It was Davey you hurt,’ she said. ‘He’s the one you need to talk to.’

  ‘Yeah, of course. I’ll do something about it tomorrow.’

  ‘If you don’t, you’ll have me to answer to,’ Jane promised him. ‘And I won’t be easy on you.’

  Later that night when Jane had fallen asleep in the afterglow of lovemaking, Mick lay awake in the dark, listening to her even breathing and mulling over the actual situation, which was entirely different from the version he had given her.

  The truth was, he was in a mess and that was why he was so bad-tempered. But how could he let Jane even suspect he was in trouble financially? How could he tell a woman who worshipped him as a man of credibility and power that the bank was threatening to foreclose on him, and that he spent all his time outside the house begging them for more time and trying to raise money?

  For a month or so after the fire, the bank hadn’t pressurised him. But as his overdraft had soared under the strain of high living expenses, heavy mortgage and hire purchase payments, with no income to service them, they began to give him a hard time, especially since he’d been forced to admit that there was no insurance money due to him.

  As things stood at the moment, he had one week in which to restore their confidence in him by paying money into his account - or they would close it. Everything would go if that happened. The house would be reclaimed by the building society and the bank would take what was left over after the mortgage had been settled, to repay the overdraft. The cars and everything inside the house would be taken by the finance companies.

  He’d managed to spin his bank manager a convincing yarn about an uncle who was willing to back him in a new business, and had promised to credit the account within the time limit.

  The amount of money Mick needed to get him out of trouble couldn’t be obtained from an ordinary job or the welfare state. But cash would go into his account as promised. Oh, yes. He was determined not to lose the lifestyle he had worked so hard for. He couldn’t go back to being a nobody after being someone of substance. It would kill him!

  Having people - especially his wife - think he was tough and invulnerable was meat and drink to him. Jane admired him for what he’d achieved and had become accustomed to living as the wife of a rich man, even though she claimed that money wasn’t important to her. Well, she wasn’t going to see him go under, not while he had a brain in his head and breath in his body!

  Money would be credited to his account first thing on Wednesday morning, he could guarantee it. Because on Tuesday night he was going out on a job with two old mates from the Berrywood Estate who earned their living outside the law. There was no way he could get out of this mess legally.

  Just thinking about the path he was about to tread made his head throb and tightened the tension in his stomach that had been bothering him ever since the fire. He just couldn’t lie still.

  Careful not to disturb his wife, he got out of bed, felt his way across the room in the dark and crept down the stairs. On his way to the kitchen, he went into the hall cloakroom and took a bottle of tranquillisers from the inside pocket of his leather jacket which was hanging up. Sitting gloomily at the kitchen table, smoking, he swallowed two tablets with a cup of tea.

  When he was feeling calmer, he went back upstairs, replacing the tablets on the way. No one would discover them there. He dreaded to think what would happen to his macho image if word got out that he’d consulted the doctor about his nerves.

  Anyway, he only needed something to help him temporarily, just to get him through this agony until Wednesday. With money in the bank he would feel more like his old self again.

  Of course, his share from this one job wouldn’t be enough to solve his problems in the long term. But it would buy him time with the bank. Time to work out what to do next . . .

  Chapter Three

  Mick was in Paddington, at the wheel of a parked Ford which had been stolen for the getaway. His eyes were glued to the service-station opposite where his mates Terry and Pete, who were in the back of the car, would soon go into action. Sick with fear, the rapid beating of his heart reverberated through Mick’s body and thundered in his ears.

  Sticky with sweat, and panic stricken as his mind went blank, he reached into his jacket pocket for the bottle of tranquillisers, quickly replacing it as his memory returned and he thought of the possible consequences of becoming too relaxed. He reminded himself that nothing could go wrong, that the job was a doddle. The forecourt attendant on the evening shift was being given a cut for supplying information which had enabled them to make their plan fool-
proof . . .

  When the garage closed for the night, the proprietor, who also owned other service-stations in the area, would arrive with his minder to collect the day’s takings. This was his last call and the cash from his other collections would be locked in the boot of his car. The two men would go into the office to collect the money and when they emerged, Terry and Pete, wearing stockings over their heads, would be waiting.

  As well as the cash, they would snatch the keys of the proprietor’s car and grab the rest of the money from the boot. The boys would have to rough them up a bit in the process, of course, but nothing too violent, Mick had been given their word on that.

  His job was to drive the Ford on to the forecourt at the appropriate moment for the getaway. They had arranged to abandon the car a mile away where Pete’s vehicle was parked, then drive to his place in Hammersmith to share out the loot. Afterwards Mick would get into his own Jaguar and go home, a saved man, his wife thinking he’d been out on business as usual.

  Now the attendant was putting the ‘Closed’ signs up and turning the forecourt lights off, leaving just the square of light in the office shining from the darkened building. Inside the Ford, the three men watched and waited.

  ‘Here he comes, boys, dead on time,’ said Pete as the Mercedes swept on to the forecourt and stopped to the side of the petrol pumps.

  As soon as the two men disappeared into the office, Terry and Pete got out of the Ford and hurried across the road, shadowy figures in the amber glow of the street lights.

  With his hands damp and trembling on the wheel, Mick waited with the engine running, his eyes never leaving the scene. The car radio was playing low and an item of news about someone being sentenced to eighteen years in prison for his part in the Great Train Robbery registered like a fist in his guts. It was three years since that notorious event and they were still bringing the villains in, he thought. You weren’t safe even after all that time. What sort of stretch would this job carry? he wondered fearfully.

  Across the road things were happening. The two men came out of the office and were immediately leaped on by Pete and Terry. Now it was time for Mick to play his part . . .

  But as he was about to turn into the forecourt, his mates came tearing towards him with owner and minder in hot pursuit.

  ‘Put your foot down, mate, or we’ll all go down for attempted robbery and assault!’ said Pete as he and Terry fell into the back of the car, panting.

  ‘What the hell happened?’ asked Mick with a sinking heart.

  ‘That henchman only swung a bag of coins at me, didn’t he?’ said Pete. ‘Hit me right across the head with it an’ all. The spiteful bugger could have killed me!’

  ‘The other bloke threw a wacking great bunch of keys at me,’ said Terry. ‘Caught me right in the face . . . he’s probably broken my nose.’

  ‘Did you get any of the money?’ asked Mick in desperation.

  ‘Not a penny, mate,’ answered Pete.

  ‘Don’t tell me I’ve been through all this for nothing?’ complained Mick, who was shaking and wanted to be sick.

  ‘Could you have done any better in the circumstances, then?’ growled Terry.

  ‘You’ve done enough jobs . . . surely you knew what to expect?’

  ‘How were we to know they’d pull a stunt like that?’ complained Terry.

  ‘You planned the job . . . you should have anticipated the unexpected.’

  ‘You were there when we planned it,’ Pete pointed out. ‘If you’re so clever, why didn’t you predict what might happen?’

  ‘I don’t have the experience,’ said Mick.

  ‘Exactly . . . so don’t criticise us.’

  ‘There’s no point in arguing about it,’ said Terry as Mick pulled up in a back street and they all piled into Pete’s car.

  ‘There’s nothing we can do about it now anyway,’ said Pete. ‘We’ll just have to put that one down to experience.’

  ‘But I really need that dough,’ moaned Mick, in the back of Pete’s car now.

  ‘Don’t we all, mate, don’t we all?’ said Pete, not sounding too concerned.

  ‘Some you win, some you lose,’ said Terry. ‘That’s the way it goes.’

  Mick sank back into the misery of his own black world, isolated from his mates by the seriousness of his dilemma. Pete and Terry were small-time crooks who lived from day to day and had no real financial commitments. The failure of the robbery didn’t spell disaster for them as it did for him.

  His last hope had gone. There was no way out. What was he going to do?

  ‘Daddy’s home, Daddy’s home!’ cried Pip excitedly, seeing her father’s car on the drive when Jane parked beside it the next day at lunchtime.

  Having been to the supermarket while the children were at nursery school, Jane had been out all morning and Mick had still been in bed when she’d left. Since the fire there was no set routine to his day and she never knew what his plans were. She’d been asleep when he’d got home last night and he’d been none too happy when she’d taken him a cup of tea in bed this morning so she hadn’t risked asking him what he was doing today.

  Pip trotted round the side of the house to the back door while Davey ‘helped’ his mother unload the shopping. Weighed down with carrier bags, Jane was heading for the house when Pip came to meet her with the news that she couldn’t find her father.

  ‘He isn’t in any of the rooms downstairs.’

  ‘He’s probably still in bed or in the shower or something, ’ said Jane.

  ‘Shall I go and look?’

  ‘No. Leave him be, Pip . . . just in case he’s still asleep.’

  She got the rest of the shopping from the car and went upstairs to the bedroom, expecting to find her husband in bed. He wasn’t there. Nor was he anywhere else in the house, the garden or garage. He must have gone out for a walk, she thought, which struck her as odd because Mick would take the car to the end of the road to get a newspaper rather than go on foot. Was he in with one of the neighbours, perhaps? Most unlikely because all the men were out at work. Maybe one of his mates had picked him up and taken him out somewhere? But that wasn’t Mick’s style. He liked to be in the position of control, in the driver’s seat. Anyway, he wouldn’t have left the back door unlocked if he was going out for any length of time.

  Putting the shopping away and getting the children’s lunch, Jane felt uneasy, mostly because it was so unusual for Mick to go anywhere without his beloved car. There was something strange afoot, she could feel it. Mick wasn’t the sort of man to account to her for his every move but neither was he given to disappearing without a word. She phoned his mother and sister; they had neither seen nor heard from him.

  The afternoon passed. She took Davey to a friend’s house to play and collected him later. Still no sign of Mick. She got the children’s tea and prepared the vegetables for her and Mick’s meal. She bathed the children and put them to bed and cooked a meal as though everything were normal.

  Drying her hands in the hall cloakroom, she brushed against Mick’s leather jacket and a rattling sound caught her attention. Tracing it to the inside pocket, she put her hand inside and drew out a bottle of prescribed valium. So, he’d been to see the doctor - unheard of for Mick. He would consider being on tranquillisers to be a sign of weakness which must be why he hadn’t told her about it.

  Hating herself for invading his privacy but feeling compelled to do so in the light of this new development, she checked the other pockets and found his wallet containing paper money and his cheque book.

  He couldn’t have gone far without these essentials. So where the devil was he?

  ‘Marie, it’s Jane.’

  ‘Hi. Your timing’s perfect. The kids are in bed and I’m in the mood for a chat.’

  ‘I haven’t phoned for a chat.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘No. I think something’s happened to Mick.’

  ‘Still not back?’

  ‘No, he’s disappeared. I haven’t seen him si
nce before I went out this morning to take the kids to nursery school.’

  ‘Oh, come on, Jane,’ said Marie in friendly tones. ‘I hadn’t seen Eddie since this morning until just now when he got in from work . . . you can hardly call that a disappearance! ’

  ‘But this is different.’ Jane explained about the car and the wallet. ‘It’s as though he’s disappeared into thin air. He couldn’t have intended to be gone long or he’d have taken his wallet.’

  ‘Mick always carries a fair amount of money in his trouser pocket,’ Marie reminded her. ‘You know him, he’s always got a wad of notes on him.’

  ‘Yes, there is that.’

  ‘There you are then.’

  ‘But it feels wrong,’ said Jane through dry lips. ‘Perhaps he’s been taken ill or something? He usually phones me when he’s out for any length of time, if I don’t know where he is.’

  ‘I’m sure you’re worrying unnecessarily,’ said Marie. ‘He’ll be home in a minute and you’ll feel daft for having got yourself so worked up.’

  ‘Yeah, course he will,’ said Jane, only slightly reassured by Marie’s confidence. ‘I shouldn’t have bothered you.’

  ‘Don’t be silly . . . if you can’t ring your best friend when you’re worried, who can you turn to?’ Marie assured her kindly.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘It’s odd him not getting in touch, I admit, but I’m sure there’s no cause for alarm. Phone me when he gets in.’

  ‘Will do.’

  An hour later, Marie phoned Jane to find out if Mick had turned up.

  ‘No, and I think I ought to phone the hospitals.’ Jane sounded desperate now.

  ‘I don’t think that’s necessary but if it’ll put your mind at rest . . .’

  None of the hospitals had admitted anyone answering to his description.

  ‘Do you think I should call the police?’ Jane asked Marie when she called again.

  ‘And tell them that your husband’s gone out and is late back?’ she said with a touch of friendly cynicism. ‘I don’t think so, Jane. They’ll just say, So what? You and a million other wives.’