Chapter 9

Margaret pushed open the door to the church hall, allowing the excited din of a dozen children and babies to blast down the small path. "Come in," she ordered the nervous Annabel. "Ahh come on."

Annabel slowly put her head around the door that Margaret was holding open to see groups of mothers sitting on the floor with their babies or sat on chairs as toddlers ran around, playing with a small assortment of toys.

A tall mousy-haired lady waved at Margaret from the floor and the young solicitor strode over. "Hey, this is ... er ... this is Annabel. She's just come up from London."

Annabel gulped as the three women sized her up, holding her baby on her hip. "Hi," she muttered.

"Hey, sit down," Margaret told her and then introduced Lucy, Pauline and Edith."

"Is that your sports car?" the mousy-haired Lucy asked and Annabel giggled.

"Umm ... sort of. It's my boyfriend's. Well ex-boyfriend's. He'll want it back I'm sure." The ladies looked at each other for a moment. "He hit me so I ... umm ... well I sort of took it to get away from ... him."

"In London?" Lucy asked and Annabel nodded.

"He ... umm ... well I prefer up here."

The ladies gently probed Annabel and she let her baby, the young Abigail, crawl off to play with the other babies as she talked. She was brought a cup of tea and turned around to see Margaret leaving, promising to see her later.

Annabel was a little guarded on her answers although the ladies were left in no doubt that her boyfriend was up to no good, but she did not mention the fact he was a dangerous gangster. She did confess to having some of his money to tide her over but she wanted a job and the three suggested various employers who might be interested.

"Where ya stayin'?" Lucy asked as midday came and the mothers started to pack up. Abigail had crawled over and cried for awhile until Annabel had fed her some banana but she was tired and needed a sleep.

"Above solicitor's ... for a week. Margaret said I could stay there for awhile but I need somewhere to stay as well."

The mother grinned as she scooped up her toddler. "Ah got some old books," she promised. "Ah'll drop 'em off later for ya."

"Cheers," Annabel muttered; she was not a big reader but she was without a television and had been bored when Margaret had gone home to her family the night before.

Willie passed his partner-in-crime a piece of paper in the damp, run-down flat. "Only thing left in 'is 'ouse now. We torched the rest." Tony snatched it and his eyes widened as he read the text.

"Fuckin' bitch. Were the fuck is Kirk-cud-bright?"

Willie licked his lips. "Scotland. We know where she is and she ain't goin' nowhere. We got all of our dealers being nicked and 'Arry's movin' on to our patch up Walthamstow way. It ain't good."

"Now would be good time to run off to Spain," a third voice added and Tony snorted, picking up a knife and advancing on him.

"Spain? You think I should run away like a fuckin' deer?" The young man gulped and watched as Tony got closer and closer. "You think I ain't got no balls?" Tony asked the retreating man as he came up against the wall. "I'll show you no fucking balls."