Escaping From a Murderer
Copyright© 2013 by John D
Chapter 7
"I want that bitch found," Tony shouted and threw a cup against the wall. "My bloody car. When ya find her, I want her naked, tied up and a chain saw to cut the cunt up. I'm gonna..." He exploded again and kicked the table over.
Willie shook his head, looking out of the window and down the street. "Heard she stopped off at an old friend's 'ouse," he told him. "Word on the street is she went to see Georgie Baynes." Tony's eyes narrowed. "We've got a crew out looking for him."
Tony straightened his jacket. "Take 'im to the docks," Willie was told. "I want him ready for some justice."
Willie nodded and then took a deep breath. "There's a rumour," he started and then winced. "Some guys are saying that her kid is ... well he's Georgie's."
Tony's eyes narrowed and he stared at the wall. "Nah," He spat. "Anyone saying that and I'll cut their tongue out," he warned. "And I want that cunt in the docks by tomorrow." Willie nodded. "And don't just nod your fucking head. Yer not a dog. Find the cunts."
Margaret brought the young mother some lunch and sat down on the bed. "What time is it?" Annabel asked.
"Three in the afternoon," Margaret replied.
"Oh, it's getting dark out."
"It does that in Scotland," the solicitor said with a smile and looked at Annabel curled up with Abigail. The little girl was still fast asleep in the double bed and Annabel gently slid out of the covers. Annabel took one of the two sandwiches and left rest on the plate on the table.
"I'll wake Abigail up in a minute," Annabel said as she bit into the ham sandwich and walked out of the room with Margaret. "Thanks. If I owe you..."
Margaret gave her a wave of her hand and pointed to the small sofa. "You seem to be the only person in this town with more problems than me." Annabel shrugged non-committally and ran her tongue over her discoloured teeth. "You can talk, y'know."
Annabel paused and Margaret pointed to a box on the floor containing a pink baby plate, cutlery and a few pieces of fruit and tinned food. "Thanks."
Margaret waited and inhaled deeply. "Look, Anabel, I need to know who you are running from. I can't help to protect you if I don't know..."
"You can't protect me from him. Nobody can."
Margaret touched the bridge of her nose. "I can, now if it's the Police, I have a great record 'gainst the Police and if it's..."
"How about London gangsters?" Anabel interrupted and pushed her hair back as Margaret waited for an answer. "I have some money but I need a new life for me somewhere. I need a job that I can work around my baby and I need somewhere to stay." She paused and waited for Margaret to digest what the girl had told her. "And I hope my friend will be joining me. George," she told the solicitor.
"OK," Margaret muttered and rubbed her eyes. "Any chance of a full story?"
Annabel looked behind her and gripped the tea in her hand, slouching in the chair. She picked up a small parish magazine on the table and looked at her host. "Is that where I am, Kirk-cud-bright?"
"It's pronounced Kir-koo-brie," Margaret corrected her. "And yes."
"Far from London?"
"Fairly," Margaret summarised. "Past Birmingham, Manchester, Lancaster, Carlisle and Dumfries."
"So that's a hundred miles?" Annabel asked.
"Try five hundred," the solicitor impatiently replied and Annabel sighed.
"OK. It might be safe to tell," she murmured and in a low voice, began to explain about the previous two years to a near total stranger.
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