‘Oh yes, saw her arse big time and pissed off to Greece to find herself, or something wet like that. Never came back, until she decided to get in touch with Stan. She was hoping, from what I could tell, to rekindle the flame.’
‘And you had other ideas?’
‘Yep. Like I said. Nobody gets one over on me so I decided to dump Stan first. I was getting bored with him anyway and I already had my little honeypot on the side so it was just a matter of time. He wassofit though, Stan I mean, and it was hard to resist him, I can tell you.’
Billie watched as Kelly brushed more wine off her dress. She was really drunk and having trouble controlling her limbs, and her lips. Billie had never wanted to beat someone to a pulp in her life, but in that moment she would have cheerfully murdered Kelly with her bare hands. Now certainly wasn’t the time because she still hadn’t explained about her revenge. Did she mean by two-timing Stan, or the rather immature intention of dumping him first? It could be a simple case of either or both, but Billie needed to be sure. She was about to ask the million-dollar question when Kelly piped up.
‘Right, I need to go for a wee. Here, get the drinks in.’ Calling time on the discussion and passing Billie a twenty-pound note she stood, swayed, then set off for the ladies.
The problem was that when Kelly returned from the bathroom, it was clear she didn’t want to talk about the past, Stan or the guy she’d ensnared. No matter how much Billie prodded, Kelly said it was history and insisted they had a good time. The conversation was closed. Luckily for Billie, the triple vodka shot that she placed before Kelly served its purpose and within minutes, gave her the excuse to call time on their outing.
Kelly could barely speak properly, let alone stand but managed to stagger on jelly legs into the street where they waited for a taxi. When two merry men passed by, eating curry and chips from a plastic tray, the aroma made Billie’s stomach rumble, whereas it caused Kelly to retch.
‘Urgh, I think I’m going to throw up, I hate the smell of curry.’ She placed her hands over her mouth.
Billie couldn’t resist saying the first thing that popped straight into her head, which was now alive with so many other unanswered questions. ‘I thought you said you loved curry. I swear it was chicken tikka–’
‘No, I hate it. Always have and anyway it reminds me of him and what he did, fucking curry and men and cheating two-timing bastards…’ Kelly closed her eyes and slumped against the wall, mumbling.
When the taxi arrived, Billie began loading Kelly inside. It was as she waited for Jelly Legs to flop into her seat that flashing headlights caught her attention and she spotted the driver of the car parked a few feet away. It was him, Doog. This time, instead of the disappearing act, he raised his hand, smiled then nodded.
The light dawned, causing Billie to smile and return the gesture while her heart flooded with love for a man who, despite being locked in a cell, was still looking out for her. Climbing into the taxi, Billie swallowed the lump in her throat and gave the driver the address. Once they set off, Doog’s car pulled out and joined the line of traffic. She spent the rest of the journey listening intently to Kelly’s intermittent ramblings that were interspersed with moments of animated singing and lapses into sleep.
Now, as they headed towards East Manchester and Kelly’s flat, Doog following on behind, Billie focused on getting Sleepy Girl home and to bed. Then she was going to take the flat apart and find that money, or evidence of itandthe poor sod who’d handed it over.
At the entrance to the block, as Kelly fumbled with the lock and eventually managed to stagger inside, Billie turned and raised her hand in thanks, receiving a wave in return from Doog, who was pulling away from the kerb across the street. Shivering, she followed Kelly up the stairs, feeling abandoned yet wired. The next few hours were vital, her last chance before Aiden pulled the plug and Billie reluctantly threw in the towel.
33
Kelly had woken with a mammoth hangover. Billie did her best to be kind while hiding her own feelings of disappointment and frustration, exacerbated by mild panic. The first two were borne from a fruitless search that unearthed absolutely nothing of value.
* * *
Billie had put Kelly to bed immediately and placed a sick-bowl by her side, a kindly act that was preceded by a battle of the wills. In the end she decided that choking on vomit was too good a death for Kelly so before she left the room, Billie pushed her onto her side. Then got on with a methodical sweep of the flat.
It had been easy to locate Kelly’s bank statements. They were stored in a cardboard file and showed nothing more than wages in, bills out. The drawers and cupboards didn’t surrender an envelope stuffed with cash and the only suspicious item was in the kitchen drawer – an old iPhone with a flat battery and no charger. Was it a cheat phone, like Aiden mentioned? Billie had looked through every single contact and message on Kelly’s iPad and phone after using the unconscious woman’s finger to unlock touch ID, but there was nothing. She was either very clever or she had made up the blackmail and photos. Out of desperation Billie considered stealing the cheat phone, then bottled it.
It had been a long night after that, going over and over everything that Kelly had let slip but by morning Billie was none the wiser and had a list of unanswered questions that needed matching up to random clues. For now though, her main objective was escape.
Having listened to Kelly’s plans, it looked like an intervention was necessary, which was why, when ‘Davey’ had texted and asked ‘you ok, are you up, wot u doing?’ she replied, ‘yes I’m up, got headache, going Starbucks for breakfast.’
‘I’m up’ meant she had some news and ‘headache’ was their prearranged signal that Billie had had enough and was ready to bail out. ‘Migraine’ was the code word for ‘help’, just in case.
Kelly had suggested they went out for some fresh air and to grab a coffee. She needed to sober up and then they’d been invited by her parents for Sunday lunch. Apparently, she couldn’t wait to introduce Billie and seeing as Davey was in Dublin they could make the most of being together. Not a chance was Billie going to visit Kelly’s parents. She needed to escape the clutches of her desperate bestie and see Iris.
Rather than irritate Kelly in this mood, Billie played along and frantically worked on an excuse that would get her out of lunch and home. She sent a text saying ‘got migraine, feel crap, need to go home’.
It was good to be outside and back in her jeans and jumper, not the ridiculous dress she’d left at the flat. They were heading towards the coffee shop, Kelly linking Billie’s arm and sucking in fresh air to ward off nausea when a car shot past them and screeched to a halt at the kerb. The noisy, souped-up engine followed by the skid made both of them jump. When Billie saw ‘Davey’ jump out of the white Subaru, his black hoodie pulled over his head but not enough to hide his glare as he marched towards them, her mouth dropped open in genuine surprise.
Kelly looked from one to the other, a bemused expression on her face. Billie’s next words solved the puzzle for her.
‘Davey… what are you doing here? I thought you were in–’ Billie didn’t get the chance to finish.
‘Yeah, Dublin. But surprise, Davey’s home.’ He spat the words, using a strong Manchester accent.
Billie stammered. ‘B-but–’
Davey interrupted. ‘The car broke down on the way to the airport and we missed our flight so we made other plans and went to Liverpool instead. Thing is, when I got back to the flat this morning guess who was missing?’ Davey’s voice was laced with sarcasm as he grabbed Billie’s arm and dragged her away.
