The Wayward Wife by Jessica Stirling Read Free Book Online Page A

‘Ron, is that you?’
    No answer came from the shadowy figure.
    â€˜Ron,’ she said, ‘for God’s sake stop muckin’ about.’
    The torch beam, as blinding as a searchlight, encompassed her. She opened her mouth to scream, then, remembering Billy asleep next door, clamped a hand to her mouth and drew her knees up to her chest.
    Her first thought was that the Germans had invaded Shadwell in dead of night and that she was about to be raped. That was how they would do it, her father-in-law had told her. They’d come dropping down out of the skies on their parachutes when nobody expected it to round up all the men and rape all the women before they took over the country.
    Breda peered, dazzled, into the light, and listened for sounds of other men, other Germans, crashing about in the kitchen or, worse, gleefully scrambling upstairs to pin her down and take her one after …
    â€˜Is he here?’ said a voice, in English.
    â€˜Uh?’ said Breda.
    â€˜Leo Romano, is he here?’
    â€˜Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.’
    The beam slithered away, picking out objects in the room one by one then climbing up the far wall to illuminate the ceiling as if her daddy might be hanging there like a bat.
    â€˜Don’t gimme that,’ the voice said.
    She peered at the figure at the foot of the bed: no webbing, no buckles, no swastikas, no gun. The intruder, she realised, wasn’t a German invader but a plainclothes copper in the belted trench-coat and soft hat that was practically a uniform for the sneaky pigs from the Yard.
    â€˜Leo Romano, your father,’ the copper said.
    â€˜Oh, that Leo Romano,’ said Breda. ‘Ha’n’t seen ’im in years. What you want with ’im anyhow?’
    â€˜Never you mind what we want with ’im. Is he here?’
    â€˜Does it look like ’e’s ’ere,’ said Breda. ‘Nobody in this ’ouse but me an’ my kid. What you doin’ breakin’ in after dark without a warrant when my hubby ain’t ’ome?’
    â€˜Don’t need no warrant,’ the copper said. ‘Don’t you read the papers, girly? No use you yowling about illegal entry. We’ve got a free ’and now. Where is he?’
    â€˜I told you, I ha’n’t seen—’
    â€˜Your husband, I mean.’
    â€˜What you wanna know that for?’
    â€˜My report,’ the copper said. But there was something in the way he said it, a slight patronising edge, that made Breda wonder if he really was a copper after all.
    â€˜My ’usband’s a fireman. He’s on watch up at the Oxmoor Road station, you must know.’ She sat forward. ‘You ain’t no copper, are yah?’
    â€˜â€™Course, I am. Special Branch.’
    â€˜What’s special about it?’
    â€˜Special powers. Now, who else is here?’
    Doubt increased her caution. ‘Only my kid.’
    â€˜I’ve searched ’is room already. He didn’t even stir. I found all that stuff you got stashed away downstairs, though.’
    â€˜Bought an’ paid for, all bought an’ paid for.’
    â€˜Hoarding’s illegal, case you didn’t know,’ the man said. ‘I could have you up for that.’
    He came closer to the bed and Breda saw his face above the torch beam for the first time: a youthful face, younger than the voice suggested, with an ugly scar meandering down from the corner of one eye to the point of the jaw.
    â€˜Look,’ he said, ‘I ain’t got time to frig around. If you know where Romano’s hiding, you’d better come clean.’
    â€˜I
don’t
know,’ Breda said. ‘Honest to God, I don’t.’
    To Breda’s relief he pulled back and, swinging the big torch like a drumstick, tapped the bed-end. ‘Say nothing about my little visit, not to no one, not even your hubby. If Romano does turn up you let me