As she opened the door to the flat, she could hear Joel on the phone. She hung up her coat on a peg in the hall and went through to the living room. ‘Oh, hold on, that might be her now. Let me check.’ He put his hand over the receiver and said softly, ‘It’s Eddie’s dad. Do you want to talk to him?’

Sadie pulled a face. He was the last person she wanted to talk to, but she would have to do it. She gave a nod and reached out her hand.

‘Okay, she’s here. I’ll pass you over.’

Sadie took a deep breath and put the receiver to her ear. ‘Hello, Stan.’

‘Sadie,’ he said gruffly, clearing his throat before proceeding. ‘I thought you might like to know that Eddie’s funeral is on Friday.’

‘Oh,’ she said.

‘In case you wanted to come.’

Sadie was surprised by the invitation. Her relationship with Eddie’s parents hadn’t exactly been cordial since the split. ‘Er…’

‘It’s up to you. We just thought you might like to pay your last respects.’

‘Yes, of course. I mean, I wasn’t sure if you’d want me there. You know with… I’m so sorry about Eddie and everything. It’s all been such a shock.’

‘It’s up to you,’ he said again. ‘St Luke’s in Kellston at ten o’clock.’

‘Thank you.’

He hung up without saying goodbye.

Sadie put the phone down and looked at Joel. ‘Eddie’s funeral,’ she said. ‘It’s on Friday.’

‘Are you going to go?’

‘I don’t know. I suppose I should, shouldn’t I?’

‘Not if you don’t want to.’

‘I don’t know what I want,’ she said wearily.

Joel put an arm around her shoulder. ‘You don’t have to make up your mind straight away. Sleep on it and see how you feel in the morning. I don’t mind coming with you.’

‘You didn’t even know Eddie.’

‘You shouldn’t be on your own. Not for something like this.’

Sadie leaned her head against his chest, trying to figure out what to do. If she didn’t go, it would look like she was guilty, like she had something to hide. Perhaps that was why Stan had asked her. Perhaps it was some kind of test. But if she did go, how would she look him and Marcie in the eye? How would she stand there, lie through her teeth and claim she knew nothing about their son’s death?

‘How was work?’ Joel asked.

‘A bit weird. You know, everyone wanting to ask stuff but no one daring to.’

‘I guess they’re not sure what to say. It’ll get better. Just give it time; in a week or two they’ll have forgotten all about it.’ He held her close, kissing the top of her head. ‘Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be okay.’

But Sadie wasn’t so sure. She was a liar and a fraud. She was tied up in knots she couldn’t escape from. She had a gun in her bag along with three screwed-up pieces of paper, plans for yet another murder. How could it get better? If anything it was only going to get worse.

28

Wayne Gissing flicked on the light, a low-voltage bare bulb that hung by a tattered wire from the ceiling. As he went down the flight of steps into the cellar he was aware of a heavy sour odour, an unpleasant mixture of damp and mould and whatever darkness smelled of. When he reached the bottom he turned on another light, this one a little brighter, and looked around at the bare brick walls. There were two interconnecting rooms, both full of junk and covered with cobwebs.

The larger room, the one he was standing in, had once been used to store coal and the floor was still covered in the black gritty remains. It crunched underfoot as he walked around. Old, rusted tools lay in a heap on a table, along with bits of wood, nails, screws, tins of linseed, paintbrushes and bottles of turps. Crates were stacked against the wall, their contents long forgotten.

He went through to the second smaller, windowless space which contained some unused furniture – a couple of broken chairs, a lamp with no shade and a coffee table with a broken glass top – as well as a mildewed single mattress. There was no bulb in here and the heavy shadows gave the room a spooky feel.

Wayne peered into the dark corners, a smile twitching at the corners of his lips. Yes, it would do, he thought. There were some changes that would need to be made but otherwise it was pretty much perfect. He retreated into the main room and stared hard at the doorway between the two. He would have to find a way of disguising that, a set of shelves perhaps or some sort of false wall. The trouble was he didn’t have much time. The funeral was on Friday and it needed to be ready by then.

He went over to the table and picked up the mallet, weighing its heft in his hand. He thought of the damage he could do with it, of the soft crunch of wood against bone. He would like to cave in Terry Street’s skull; the bastard thought he could do whatever he liked. Maybe he had taken Eddie out in revenge for Vinnie Keane or maybe he hadn’t, but either way it was clear that he’d been involved in the killing.

Well, he wasn’t going to get away with it. Not this time. A soft hissing sound escaped from between Wayne’s teeth. For years Terry Street had been lording it over them all, running the East End as if it was his bloody right. This was where it stopped. He wasn’t going to be walked over any more. Already the whispers were going round, rumours that Terry had decided to teach the Gissings a lesson. Street was making him look like a mug and he’d had enough of it.

His mother’s voice came from the top of the steps. ‘Wayne? Wayne, are you down there?’

‘Yeah.’

‘What are you doing?’

‘Looking for something.’

‘Looking for what?’

Wayne raised his eyes to the ceiling. His mum, he knew, would not come down the steps. She hated the cellar. She said it made the hairs on the back of her arms stand on end. ‘A screwdriver,’ he said. ‘The one at the yard’s gone missing.’

‘Well, wipe your feet when you come back up. Don’t go tramping that coal dust all over the kitchen floor.’

‘I won’t.’

‘I’ll see you later then. I’m going down the Bell for a drink with Colleen.’

‘Yeah, see you later.’

Wayne took one last look round before climbing the steps again. Kelly was sitting at the kitchen table, smoking a fag and drinking from a bottle of lager. He glanced towards the living room and lowered his voice. ‘She gone?’

‘Yeah, it’s all clear.’

He went to the fridge, got himself a beer and flipped off the cap. ‘I reckon it’ll do,’ he said, sitting down opposite to her. ‘Needs a bit of work but nothing I can’t manage.’

‘I dunno. What about the filth? They’re going to be searching for her.’

‘They can search all they like.’

‘Wouldn’t it be better to take her to the yard?’

‘That’ll be the first place Stone will look.’

‘And this’ll be the second,’ Kelly said.

‘He might look, but he ain’t gonna find her.’ He saw the doubt on her face and said, ‘You want to find out what happened to Eddie, don’t you? Or do you just want the bitch to get away with it?’

Kelly scowled at him. ‘’Course I don’t. But Mum’s going to go ape. She won’t have it, Wayne.’

‘Well, it’s not her bleedin’ house, is it? And anyway what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. We just need to make sure she’s out when we bring the tart here.’

‘And then what?’

‘And then we get the murderous cow to admit what she did.’ Wayne had big plans when it came to Sadie Wise. If she was being shagged by Nathan Stone – and all the evidence pointed in that direction – then the guy should pay through the nose to get her back safely. He was thinking that twenty grand would be a fair price. Yeah, twenty grand to get the whore back and for Wayne to keep shtum about who murdered Eddie Wise.

‘And then what?’