Sweetie by Jenny Tomlin Read Free Book Online

mob, arguing 39
    forcefully that Steven Archer needed to be dealt with.
    ‘What’s it gonna take, eh? Another kiddie being raped and murdered before we do anything?’ Sue’s husband Terry nodded his agreement, though after his conversation with Paul in the pub the night before he was beginning to doubt his wife’s certainty.
    ‘Fucking police are useless! I told them it was him but they haven’t picked him up yet. I saw him this morning outside the greengrocer’s, bold as brass, watching the hearse go by. It was all I could do not to get out of the car and throttle the sick bastard myself.’
    Next to Sue was Nanny Parks, mother to Gillian and Grace. A widow, she was close to her girls and idolised her four grandsons, Adam and Luke by Grace, and Jamie and Benny Jr by Gillian. She had left Grace and John at the hospital this morning after visiting Adam. No stranger to hardship, she had little time for tears. After seeing her frightened little grand -
    son cowering in his hospital bed, she had determined that all her anger and outrage would be directed at the person who had done this to him. Her mouth was set in a grim line and the sun shone through the windows of the pub, casting a halo around her purple rinse. ‘I’ve always said he was weird, that kid. Some -
    one needs to sort him out.’
    ‘Exactly!’ agreed Sue.
    ‘The police will soon pick him up if he’s guilty, won’t they?’ Terry offered gently.
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    ‘Humph.’ Nanny Parks made an indignant noise and raised her eyebrows at Sue.
    ‘No, Terry, we can’t wait that long. Our kids aren’t safe all the time he’s walking around. Anyway, no one’s asking you to kill him, just put the frighteners on him. Enough to make sure he goes away and never comes back.’
    ‘Here, here,’ said Nanny Parks.
    ‘Another milk stout, Mum?’ Grace’s sister Gillian asked their mother, arriving at the table.
    ‘What do you think then, Gill?’ Sue asked.
    ‘Think about what?’ she replied.
    ‘Steven Archer – me and your mum reckon it’s him.’
    ‘That’s what I said to Grace the other day but she wouldn’t have it. Maybe now this has happened, though . . . I can’t believe what he did to Adam, it’s fucking sick . . .’ Gillian’s voice rose dangerously.
    ‘That sick fucker mutilated his little willy, it ain’t ever gonna function like it should. John’s beside himself.’
    ‘Enough, Gill,’ said Nanny Parks firmly. ‘There’s enough gossip going round without spreading any more. We all need to pull together and remain tight-lipped. Let’s talk about who done this and leave ya sister to get Adam better.’
    A muted atmosphere fell over the group. Chairs were pulled up and moved around. Sandra Potts, or Potty as she was known, made her way over to Sue’s 41
    table. The women sipped their drinks and entered into whispered conversations.
    Memories of that day stayed with the community over the weeks that followed. Bit by bit, more was revealed about the terrible way that Chantal had died. A shocked and distrustful neighbourhood waited for further developments. The police had launched a house-to-house enquiry, but nothing had been found to move their investigation along. Even a front-page splash in the local rag had jogged no one’s memory about the day or time in question. All the police had were the lollipops found on Adam’s and Chantal’s bodies, the fact that both had had their eyelashes cut off and a matching blood group. They were also fairly certain that the attacker knew the area well enough to realise he would remain undis -
    turbed during the attacks. No one had seen anything, no one had heard anything, and the murder of Chantal Robinson remained unsolved. But news had travelled fast about Adam’s abduction and assault, and even if the police weren’t confirming anything, locals believed that they had been committed by the same man.
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    Chapter Four
    The mums loitered for longer than usual outside the gates of Columbia Row