The Girl in the Rug Page 2

  ‘Bloody hell love, what a nightmare…’ said Carla with a sigh. ‘Oh well let’s just hope that Dom will see her for what she is before she can do too much damage.’

  ‘Huh fat chance,’ tutted Maggie. ‘he is absolutely besotted, hangs onto her every word and scurries round after her…oh it’s so infuriating to watch I can tell you…’ she heaved a sigh. ‘Anyway enough about that, what time are the lovely couple due back? I can’t wait to see Tracy; I bet she’s as brown as a berry.’

  Tracy and her long term partner Simon had been holidaying in Antigua, whilst there they had got married on the beach and the rest of the witches were gagging to hear all about it.

  ‘Well actually,’ said Helen, ‘that was Tracy on the phone just now, they’re back and she is coming straight over…and if my eyes don’t deceive me that’s her now…Tracy...Tracy,’ called Helen standing up and waving frantically, ‘over here love.’

  Tracy bustled through the bar with a grin as wide as the Grand Canyon, she looked happy and rested and very, very brown.

  ‘Well hello Mrs Burton,’ said Maggie giving her a squeeze as she got up to get the drinks in. ‘Bloody hell darling you look like a native, don’t tell me you spent all your time sunbathing…it was your honeymoon after all, I expected you to come back all pale and walking like a cowboy as any self respecting bride should.’

  ‘Oh there was plenty of time for all that,’ said Tracy with a flippant wave of her hand. ‘It is so good to see you all, that was the one thing missing from my wedding…having you three there...but what the hell, I soon got over that and had a bloody good time without you!’ she finished with a giggle. ‘And I have got literally hundreds of photos, although a lot of them are ones that Simon took in the privacy of our hotel room, so I’ll have to sort them out…I think I’ve got about five that are not X-rated though.’

  ‘You look fabulous love,’ said Helen shuffling over so that Tracy could squeeze in beside her, ‘and I can’t wait to hear about the wedding, did you cry? Was it incredibly romantic? How did you get on with Simon’s mum?’

  ‘Yes, yes, and that’s a story for another day,’ said Tracy laughing. ‘Oh it was so lovely Helen I can’t tell you…the beach was just beautiful and the little flowered arbour that we had the wedding service in was really pretty. I was worried that the service would be a bit impersonal…you know…but actually it was so very sweet and touching that I think we were all in tears by the end of it. Simon looked so handsome and the children…oh I brought you pictures,’ she rummaged about in her bag before producing a small pile of photographs.

  Maggie arrived back with the drinks and soon the four girls had their heads together oohing and aaarhing over Tracy’s wedding photos.

  This was a regular weekly meeting for the girls who had been dubbed ‘The Witches of Glory Woods’ years ago by Maggie’s then husband Greg, he had said they reminded him of Shakespeare’s witches in ‘Macbeth’ with all their plotting and gossiping and the name had stuck. All the girls were aware of just how important these weekly ‘cauldron’ meetings were to them though, it was a time when they could off load and discuss their problems whatever they happened to be.

  ‘So what’s been happening while I’ve been away?’ Tracy said when there was a break in the conversation.

  ‘Well Maya’s started her new job teaching at Riddlestone Juniors,’ said Helen, she pulled a face, ‘it wasn’t where she had hoped to have her first proper teaching job but so far she seems to be enjoying it…and I have finally almost finished the portrait of the mayor thank god…what a twat he is…other than that…’ she tailed off.

  ‘Actually it’s all been blissfully quiet for the last few weeks,’ said Carla, picking up the conversation again. Carla worked as a Detective Inspector in the local CID.

  ‘Which is just what we all needed after the events of the last few months…’ she went on. Both Maggie and Carla had been injured at the hands of a psychopathic bitch a few months earlier, Carla only just escaping with her life.

  ‘Oh,’ she added holding up a hand, ‘but I did have to arrest Harry Finkler again for exposing himself to the whole of the W.I. this time would you believe,’ she stopped and giggled as she remembered. ‘Apparently he burst in just as Hester Binworthy was about to start her talk on ‘the best ways to deal with slugs in your vegetable patch’, threw open his coat and showed the ladies some decidedly shrivelled looking plums, ha ha. Oh and DCI Drew was promoted and has moved to another area and we’ve got some new chap starting this week, so that should be interesting. I mean Rebecca Drew wasn’t the friendliest of DCI’s but at least I knew where I stood with her…not sure about this new bloke, I haven’t come across him before…Frank has though I think, not that he’s said much.’

  ‘And I am dealing with the potential daughter-in-law from hell,’ said Maggie dramatically, ‘but don’t worry Tracy I’ll fill you in later on that front.’

  ‘Are Duncan and Martha still with you Maggs?’ asked Tracy stifling a yawn.

  ‘No…they moved back here last week, well once the work was completed they wanted to be back in their own home,’ Maggie finished looking a bit forlorn. Duncan was the new love in Maggie’s life, or rather he would be just as soon as the stubborn idiot stopped worrying about how disfiguring his injuries were and realised that Maggie adored him. Duncan had been terribly mutilated at the hands of the same nutter that had injured Carla and Maggie, he was still undergoing skin grafts to try and repair the damage to his face and body. He and his elderly grandmother Martha had been staying at Maggie’s whilst the pub, which he co-owned with Maggie, was being repaired after a fire had nearly destroyed it a couple of months earlier.

  Tracy smothered another yawn and then said, ‘Look I’m so sorry but I am absolutely knackered. It is so lovely to be back but if I don’t get some sleep soon I am going to pass out so…’

  ‘Oh you know what, I am really tired as well,’ said Helen. ‘I think I’m going to head off home now too…do you need a lift Tracy or did you drive?’

  ‘Oh a lift would be great Helen thanks love,’ said Tracy gathering her things together. She kissed the others goodbye and soon it was just Maggie and Carla left sitting at the table.

  ‘Well I’m not going home yet…how about you?’ said Maggie looking hopefully at Carla.

  Carla had been just about to suggest that she drove them both home, but she could see that her friend wasn’t looking forward to going home to an empty house. ‘Not likely,’ she said, ‘I have at least two more drinking hours left and anyway I need to tell you about how James reacted when Rosie asked him what a ‘blow job’ was and if it was the sort of job she could do for some extra pocket money at the weekends!’

  CHAPTER 5

  Amish Patel sat behind his counter. He was alone this evening as his wife and nephew, who helped run the shop, had gone to the cash and carry. He looked at his watch, 8.15, they should be back soon. As much as possible they tried to keep two people in the shop at all times, it deterred shop lifting and Amish felt safer that way. A few years earlier the shop had been raided by armed men who had trashed the place and taken everything from the till and, even though Amish had let them get on with it, they had still felt the need to beat him around the head until he lost consciousness.

  That was when he had drafted in his nephew Raza, a giant of a man who took no nonsense from anyone, to help in the shop; they hadn’t had any trouble since then.

  Through the window, Amish spotted Andy and his little sister heading his way. ‘Those poor kids,’ he thought again, ‘what the hell are they wearing,’ he shook his head in disgust as he watched the bedraggled pair. Andy was wearing a coat that was far too small for him, the arms only went as far as his elbows, and his shoes were wet through and hanging off him. The girl wasn’t much better off with her skinny legs bare and exposed to the cold. ‘That woman should be hung,’ Amish thought in disgust as they came into the shop.

  ‘Have you got any old bread today please Amish?’ Andy asked coming
up to the counter and holding out his hand which contained a few coppers. Amish was in the habit of selling off his bread cheap at the end of the day, not the packaged loaves of course, but there were always a couple of bread rolls still unsold by the evening and there were a few families on the estate that he knew could do with the help. These two kids were a case in point…sometimes Amish thought that his old bread was all they had to eat.

  ‘You are in luck Andy,’ Amish said with a big toothless smile, I have got a few rolls…they’re a bit stale but not too bad, but there are also a couple of meat samosas going spare if you want them, 10p each, how about that?’

  Andy nodded enthusiastically, ‘That’s great… thank you,’ he said with a smile, counting out his pennies.

  Amish wondered where the boy got his good manners from; his mother was a foul mouthed old trollop.

  ‘Well why don’t you and Lucy go round to the bakery counter and choose a couple…you can take a small milk as well Andy, they won’t last another day,’ said the kind old man shaking his head as he watched them skip off happily to where the baked goods were kept.

  As soon as he saw the masked men enter the shop a moment later, Amish knew he was in big trouble. He knew these two by reputation; despite the masks they wore…he knew who they were…and he was alone.

  The taller of the two produced a shotgun; he pointed it straight at Amish.

  ‘Open the till and put all the money in the bag,’ he said in a calm voice muffled by the mask. ‘No funny stuff or I will shoot…and you know I will don’t you fella?’

  Amish just nodded and tried to get his shaking hands to open the till, he obviously wasn’t going fast enough for the other one though.

  ‘FUCKING OPEN THE TILL OLD MAN OR YOU’RE DEAD,’ he screamed. Amish fumbled with the state of the art till until finally it opened and he began stuffing notes into the bag that the man had given him. Meanwhile the other man had come behind the counter and was opening the wire cage that held the cigarettes with a pair of wire cutters; he then began to fill another bag with cigarettes and tobacco.

  ‘Where’s the safe?’ asked the first man…you must have more money than this…where is it in the back?’

  No I don’t hold money in the shop…’ Amish began.

  The one behind the counter hit him viciously round the head with the butt of his gun.

  ‘DON’T FUCKING LIE…YOU PAKIS ALWAYS KEEP YOUR MONEY CLOSE AT HAND… WHERE IS IT YOU FUCKER?’ He started hitting Amish over and over until he fell to the floor behind the counter.

  ‘Leave ‘im Turk,’ the other man said, ‘you’ll kill the fucker if you carry on…get some of that booze, ‘ere put it in this.’ He threw a holdall to the man, who stopped hitting Amish, just kicking him in the ribs as he walked past him to the alcohol counter.

  Amish lay in agony behind the counter, his mouth was filling up with blood and there was a ringing in his ears. He could just hear the muffled sounds of them loading up their bags with his stock. He wondered where the two kids were; hopefully they had made a run for it. As he lay there his eye fell on the alarm button which was situated on the floor behind the counter. If he could just stretch out a little bit further he could reach it. He clamped his teeth together against the pain and reached out until he could just get a fingertip to it and pressed down on the button. Immediately a little red light started flashing which unfortunately caught the attention of one of the raiders.

  ‘YOU FUCKING BASTARD,’ shouted Turk, ‘POLICE ARE ON THEIR WAY NELLIE… BASTARD’S PRESSED THE ALARM.’

  ‘Nellie’ swore viciously under his breath, turned and calmly walked back over from the wreckage of Amish’s off licence, looked down at Amish cowering behind the counter, raised his shotgun and shot the old man at point blank range.

  ‘Told the fucker not to make trouble didn’t I?’ he said dispassionately as he gathered all the bags together and made for the exit. He was just about leave when something stopped him in his tracks…a sort of snuffling noise was coming from the back of the shop. He put his finger to his mouth telling Turk to keep quiet and started slowly scanning round the shop.

  Andy stood terrified and shaking as he heard the men shouting at Amish. He had pulled Lucy to him, hand over her mouth to keep her quiet, he wasn’t sure what to do…should they try and make a dash for the exit, no he dismissed that idea, even if he could get Lucy to run her fastest there was no way of getting out without being seen. No, he needed to find a place for them to hide. After looking round for a couple of panic filled seconds, Andy shoved Lucy behind the big baskets that held the loaves of bread and baked goods. Pushing her back as far as he could he squeezed in beside her holding her face into his body to smother her sobs. Petrified, they stood as still as they could, tears streaming down their cheeks, as they listened to the awful sounds of Amish being beaten, flinching with every blow they heard his groans and his pleas…then they heard a thump as he fell to the ground. Andy pulled Lucy even closer to him when a shot rang out a couple of minutes later. Eyes wide with terror they huddled together in shocked silence, praying that the two gunmen would leave the shop now that they had done their worst. But they didn’t leave…in fact the man with the gun seemed to know that they were there. He started walking slowly around the shop…looking and listening…trying to find them. Both the children were petrified and shaking; holding on to each other in desperation, not daring to breathe as they heard the man start systematically searching the shop, pulling down tins and packets from shelves.

  From where they were hiding they could see his booted feet walking slowly up and down the aisles, coming closer and closer. Andy was sure he must be able to hear his heart beating, it sounded so loud to his ears, his grip on Lucy tightened as the footsteps got closer. Through a gap in the baskets he could see the masked man clearly now, his gun at the ready…he was almost upon them…all he had to do was turn round…Andy squeezed his eyes shut tight. Then, just when he thought all hope was lost he heard the distant sounds of sirens coming their way, the man heard them too…he stopped still, right in front of where they were hiding.

  ‘FUCKING FILTH,’ shouted Turk running towards the exit; Nellie stayed where he was, standing absolutely still, right next to the bakery…listening for the smallest sound. He sensed someone was there, he just knew it…but he couldn’t see anyone.

  ‘NELLIE…WHAT’S FUCKING KEEPING YOU MAN…COME ON!’ bellowed Turk back through the doors at his friend.

  ‘Fuck it,’ muttered Nellie, spitting on the floor as the sirens became louder. He ran out of the shop minutes before two police cars pulled up outside, soon the shop was filled with policemen and paramedics.

  Andy stayed where he was, holding Lucy still behind him until he was sure that the two men had got away. Only then did he release the breathe that he’d been holding and slowly, pulling the shaking sobbing Lucy behind him, he crept out from behind the baskets.

  ‘Bloody hell, where did you two spring from?’ said a tall police constable as he spotted the kids at the back of the shop.

  ‘Sarge…got some witnesses it looks like,’ he called over to an older friendlier looking policeman who came over and hunched down in front of the children, he took in their grubby tear stained faces and their shabby clothes.

  ‘How long have you two been here?’ he asked gently, ‘don’t worry you’re not in any trouble I’m just wondering if you saw anything.’

  Andy shook his head and after watching her brother Lucy did the same.

  ‘What nothing?’ the policeman said shocked. ‘You mean you were hiding in here all that time and you didn’t even get a glimpse of the men who did this?’

  The two children shook their heads in unison.

  ‘You know Mr Patel is dead…he’s been murdered, you do know that don’t you lad?’ he said getting a bit angry now, but Andy knew it was more than his life was worth to say a word…he said nothing.

  After a while a lady police officer came over to speak to them. She wasn’t wearing a uniform and had nice
blond hair, she looked kind and she smiled at them in a friendly way.

  ‘Well you two have had an awful time haven’t you?’ she began crouching down next to them. ‘I’m DI Right and I’d like to have a word with you if that’s ok?’ No response, Carla tried again. ‘That was a really clever place to hide, lucky you two are slim enough to fit behind those baskets, I don’t think my big bottom would have fit,’ she joked. The little girl gave a watery giggle, but looked away quickly when Carla turned to her; the boy just stared passed her.

  Carla tried again. ‘Did you know Mr Patel?’ The little girl nodded, only to be elbowed by her brother…she dropped her head.

  ‘I’ve heard that he was a good man, a kind man…was he kind to you?’ Carla went on, she could see the boy’s eyes welling up…he had seen or heard everything she knew, but was just too terrified to talk. She looked over to Frank Hill, her sergeant, maybe the boy would be happier talking to a man.

  ‘I’m…I’m sorry he’s dead,’ came a voice so quiet that Carla almost missed it.

  ‘Oh I know you are sweetheart,’ said Carla putting a hand on to his painfully thin shoulder. ‘Can you tell me your names…I’m Carla.’

  ‘I’m Lucy,’ said Lucy before Andy had a chance to stop her; he gave Lucy a hard look.

  ‘Hello Lucy,’ said Carla, she turned to Andy expectantly, he seemed to have a battle with himself and then his shoulders fell, ‘I’m Andy,’ he said quietly.

  ‘So where do you live Andy…does your mum know you are here?’

  The two children looked at each other, but said nothing.

  ‘I know you are feeling really scared right now Andy, but if you want to help us find the people that killed Mr Patel then I need you to tell me all that you saw…’