‘Anyone think of anything else, hear anything, call me,’ Rachel said.
‘Have you any more news about Rick – Richard?’ Liam Kelly said.
‘We have charged two men with his murder.’
‘The Perrys?’ Connor said.
Rachel inclined her head slightly but did not commit herself verbally. ‘It’ll be made public in the morning.’
After leaving them, Rachel rang in and reported the serious assault of a person of interest, then called the hospital and left her details so they could contact her once Shirelle was fit to be interviewed.
Sean had left her a voicemail message: We’re at the pub if you fancy a drink on the way home.
She did. A drink with her husband at the end of a long, long day.
Rachel walked round from the pub car park and in the main entrance to the Ladies where she gave her hair a quick brush-through and applied some lip gloss. She’d do. Sean probably wouldn’t notice. He thought she was gorgeous, told her so at regular intervals.
She went through to the bar and spotted him playing darts with a couple of the lads. She signalled to him to see if he wanted a drink. He shook his head, raised a full pint. Rachel bought herself a large red wine, had a sip then set it on a table near the lads and went out to the beer garden for a fag.
And found her mother.
‘What the f- are you doing here?’ Rachel said.
Sharon, wearing some sort of tiger-striped fake-fur jacket, was leaning back against the wall, fag in hand, and a drink on the table in front of her. She cut her eyes at Rachel.
‘Sean was coming for a drink, he invited me along.’
You invited yourself, more like.
Rachel didn’t know what to say, couldn’t bring herself to say what she really felt: Fuck off and leave me alone. When I said I’d meet you, I didn’t mean every other bloody night.
Instead she remembered telling her mother to wait for an invitation. Rachel needed the distance. Twenty years Sharon had been on the lam, she couldn’t just pick up the reins like it had never happened.
‘He ring you up, did he?’ Rachel couldn’t leave it. She struck her lighter, a tug of wind snuffed out the flame.
‘I rang him, as it happens, see how you all were. He said he was coming here.’
‘I’ve no cash,’ Rachel said, ‘if that’s what you’re angling for.’
‘How dare you,’ Sharon said, her face alive with outrage.
‘Just a few free drinks, was it?’
‘You little bitch.’
‘Listen, you… you can’t just waltz back in,’ Rachel said.
‘You think you’re better than me,’ Sharon said, ‘you think because you’ve got a job as a copper and a fancy flat and a few bob you can look down on me.’