Читать книгу The Taken Girls: An absolutely gripping crime thriller full of mystery and suspense - G Sanders D - Страница 19

Ed registered names and places as Mike Potts drove her around the streets of Canterbury cataloguing the local crime scene. When they arrived at the Brewers Tap, DI Saunders was talking to a man behind the bar. Borrowdale and Eastham were sitting at a table with near-empty glasses. Ed took the opportunity to build bridges.

‘What can I get you?’

‘We’re still on duty,’ said Nat.

Perhaps the edge was harder than he’d intended. Either way the message was clear. We may be with you in a pub but that doesn’t make it a social occasion.

‘Mine’s a Diet Coke, Nat’s on orange juice.’ Jenny spoke with a softer tone, attempting to pour oil.

‘Alcohol-free beer for me,’ said Potts as he pulled out a chair beside Nat.

With no ‘please’ or ‘thanks’ ringing in her ears Ed walked to the bar alone and asked Brian Saunders what he was drinking. Before he could reply there was a shout from the far end of the room.

‘Well, if it ain’t Potty Potts! Who’s a brave boy then, coming in my boozer?’

A thickset man stepped out from a group of companions at the far end of the bar. His neck was as wide as his head with hair razored to a grey stubble. If his nose hadn’t been broken and poorly re-set then he’d been an unfortunate child.

‘Ah … but y’re not s’brave are ya? Y’got yer slag of a daughta f’protection.’

Ed saw Potts stiffen and turn.

‘Nah … can’t be yer bleedin’ daughta cos yer bleedin’ daughta’s bleedin’ dead. Ain’t she?’

The speaker looked at his target with malevolent contempt.

Potts’s ruddy face turned white and he struggled for control.

The thickset man continued to goad him. ‘Cummon then, Potty, y’wanna tek me on?’

‘Fynn McNally, you bastard!’ Potts got to his feet and stepped forward raising his arms.

At this, McNally moved towards the DS. Closing in, he pulled a knife and lunged at the detective’s stomach. Potts was inclined to be slow but this time he was on the front foot and even slower checking his forward momentum. With his failure to pull back and his assailant’s inability to check his own lunge, the knife seemed destined to bury itself in Potts’s body.

After the event nobody could agree quite what happened next. There was a flash of legs as Ed launched herself like a fullback, making a flying tackle on the edge of the area. There was the slap of a break-fall as her right hand and forearm made contact with the floor while her right foot hooked behind McNally’s right ankle and the sole of her left foot struck his knee.

With his forward movement abruptly checked, the look on McNally’s face changed from a snarl of rage, through a flash of surprise, to a yell of agony as his knee dislocated and he collapsed in a heap at Potts’s feet. Ed flipped McNally over and pinned his arm high behind his back, forcing his face into the floor and the knife from his hand.

‘Cuff him!’

Nat was first to reach her. He grabbed the free arm and snapped handcuffs in place. McNally’s companions turned back to their drinks at the bar. They made no move to intervene as Saunders called for back-up.

Uniform arrived quickly. Fynn McNally was arrested and taken into custody. The landlord offered drinks on the house but Potts was clearly upset and Saunders said they’d call it a night.

‘That was unorthodox, Ed, but very effective.’ Saunders paused to let his praise hang in the air. ‘I’ll drive Mike home. Nat, you and Jenny drop Ed back at her hotel.’

Ed was silent in the car. Saunders was right: her actions had been unorthodox. Much of what happened in Brixton when she was younger was unorthodox. Ed recalled the incident which had led to the move she’d used to take out McNally. Those distant events were behind her decision to join the police. She might have been on the other side of the law but she’d separated herself from that scene.

Whenever she heard female voices raised in threat, Ed knew she would see a circle of girls around their victim. Ten years ago she’d been that victim, cornered after closing time in the entrance to Morley’s. They’d wanted her cash and cards. Her mother’s repeated advice came instantly to mind. If ever you’re mugged, God forbid, just give them what they want. Your health and your life are worth more than they will ever take from you. Ed had been about to hand over what her attackers wanted when there was a shout from across the street. It came from the corner of Electric Avenue.

‘Oi! That’s my girl Eddie.’ Like Superman without a phone box, Craig, all supple swagger and a voice that carried distance and authority, was by her side. The young muggers slipped rapidly away.

‘You al’right, Eddie?’

‘I’m okay.’

‘Ya goin back to y’yard? Want me to come with?’

‘I’ll be all right, thanks.’

‘I’ll put the word out. Pum pums will get rushed next time. Nobody’s gonna get facety.’

‘Thanks, Craig, see you Monday.’

Walking home she’d wondered if Craig already had that power. Whatever, she was never bothered again. At home she mentioned the incident to her mother. By the following week her father had arranged self-defence classes. The emphasis was on surprise and effectiveness rather than orthodoxy. Ed was a natural. She never missed a meeting and soon few students fancied pairing up with her for a contact session.

At school, Craig often sought Ed’s advice about assignments but the incident at Morley’s was never mentioned. She knew he worked hard but he seldom performed as well as she thought he could. It was as if Craig was content to know his own strengths but unwilling to reveal them to others. Perhaps he felt this gave him an edge. The teachers regarded him as no more than average but among the students he had a position of authority which was never challenged. Ed wondered if his status had been won on the streets of Brixton because at school she’d never heard him threaten anyone, never seen an act of aggression.

Craig left school at the end of Year 11 and Ed returned to the Lower Sixth, assuming she’d never see him again – but she was wrong. Leaving the school gates a couple of weeks or so into the new term, she saw a group of students standing round a parked car. As she turned to walk home, a voice she knew well called her name.

‘Eddie! Why you in such a hurry? I’ve got my car. Come, I’ll give you a lift.’

Craig had left the group and was walking towards her. When he caught her eye, he half spun, making a show of pointing to his car.

‘It’s dope, ain’t it? Wanna come for a drive?’

It was all so unexpected, so unlikely, Ed was intrigued. Without a moment’s thought she said, ‘Okay.’ For weeks he was always there. Their roles reversed, he became the tutor and she surrendered enthusiastically to new experiences and new sensations. Ed was determined not to let her schoolwork suffer but she spent all her free time with Craig. He was happy to drive her around Brixton but when intent on parking somewhere discreet, he would drive further afield to quiet spots near the south London commons. If they wanted to see a film, Craig took her to the West End. They never went to clubs and never joined groups of friends.

All this changed when Ed discovered she was pregnant. Craig disappeared. Sometimes when they were together he’d get a message and, apologizing, say he had to go. Until the last time when she never saw him again. At home, her parents struggled to hide their disappointment and Ed felt she’d been left to face the future alone.

From the outside, the Ogbornes appeared to be the close-knit family they’d always been but, for Ed, the warmth she’d felt all her life had diminished. With her grandfather, things were different. They never spoke of Ed’s condition, or the decision she faced, and it was clear his love for ‘little Edina’ had never faltered. At first, she was uncertain what to do, then, in an instant, her mind was made up: she would not have a termination. The decision had arrived fully formed for reasons which were unarticulated and which Ed didn’t explore.

As her pregnancy progressed, Ed had worried about the consequences of raising the child as a single mother. Despite her anger at Craig’s abandonment, she’d wanted the best for their baby, her baby. After her son arrived she’d decided early to offer him for adoption and signed the papers six weeks after he was born.

Now, ten years later, Ed had long since ceased to contemplate the ways her life would have been different had she not opted for adoption. However, she’d never broken free from a nagging guilt: had she acted in her son’s best interests or her own?