Jerry’s face, red from laughing, splits into another grin as he wipes his eyes. ‘Can’t tell you when I’ve had so much fun!’

‘Think I might take it up as a living, this acting business. Reckon I make a good villain.’ Paddy loosens his tie further and undoes the top button on his shirt, running a finger round the inside of his collar to make it more comfortable..

‘You frightened me an’ I knew who you was!’ Charlene makes out she can see the funny side but her hands still shake as she grips a brandy glass.

‘You were magnificent!’ Jerry declares, putting his arm around her and giving her a congratulatory hug.  He looks up at Ingrid when she sets a tray of coffee on the table. ‘Alright bringing her back here, was it? Poor girl was shaking like a leaf. Couldn’t let her Mum see her like that, she’d have known something was up.’

‘Of course it’s alright.’ Ingrid strokes her hand down the back of Charlene’s head and takes the chair next to her. ‘Proud of you. That couldn’t have been easy.’

‘It weren’t really. You was right, he did tell me a load a lies...but then I told ‘im a lie why I was late.’

‘You get that brandy down you, girl. You’ll soon feel better about it.’ Paddy counsels from the head of the table. ‘I know he’s family and you feel guilty but he didn’t think twice about conning you,’ he says, tapping the table with his finger then lifting it to wag more advice. ‘So don’t you give it another thought. He’s just not worth it.’

‘I know you're right...and I did get ever so angry...’

‘We noticed’

Both Jerry and Paddy start to laugh again.

‘I was watching from the car.’ Alex says as he presses the plunger down on the cafetiere. ‘I was glad Paddy got hold of you, ‘cause we’d’ve had one hell of a game explaining that lot away if you’d killed him!’

‘I wanted to.’ Charlene whispers and takes a tiny sip from her glass. ‘Is that bad?’

‘Not half as bad as his blooming accent!’ Jerry nudges her and points at Paddy. ‘You kept forgetting to miss your aitches off!’

‘And you went from Cockney to Pakistani via Welsh!’ Paddy retaliates, each trying to outdo the other in the telling of the tale. He nods a distracted thank you when Alex puts a mug of coffee in front of him.

‘And when you let him think you were carrying a gun!’ Jerry guffaws and slaps his thighs. ‘Bloody hell, I nearly pissed meself!’ He grimaces apologetically to Ingrid and Charlene. ‘Begging your pardon.’

Charlene looks bewildered by the truth.  ‘What were it, then?’

Paddy slips his hand into the inside of his jacket and with a flourish, produces a metal case designed to hold three large cigars. ‘Anyone for a smoke?’ he asks amid further laughter, and flicks open the top with his thumb.

‘But I was scared you was goin’ t’shoot him.’ The only one of the group unable to raise so much as a smile, she buries her face against Ingrid’s neck and sobs. ‘I really did.’

‘But you knew they were only going to scare him,’ Ingrid puts both arms around her and makes no attempt to lift her head. ‘Get the truth out of him and scare him off....which they did. They’re not really violent men...just...well...big. They would never actually hurt anyone.’

‘Yeah, but they were all goin’ too fast and I couldn’t remember when I was s’posed to do anythin’ and ‘e never said nothin’ about no gun!’

‘Sorry about that, littl’un.’ Paddy clears his throat and looks abashed. ‘Think we all got a bit carried away with our amateur dramatics. I’ve always got a cigar or two on me, haven’t I?’ he appeals to Jerry and Alex for confirmation. ‘I felt the case in my pocket and the idea sort of popped into my head, unrehearsed like. If I’d realised you’d think I’d got a real gun, I wouldn’t have done it, of course I wouldn’t.’

‘You did really well,’ Jerry says quietly and considers the propriety of the gesture for the briefest of moments before stroking his hand up and down her bare arm. ‘We fooled him. And if you were my daughter, I’d be as proud as Punch of you right now, honest I would. You remember what Paddy said when we were putting on that little performance? He was only playacting but I reckon what he said is the truth, you have got bottle.’

‘You think so?’ Charlene turns her face outwards while her head still rests for comfort on Ingrid’s shoulder.

‘I do.’ He tips his head and gives her a wink of encouragement. ‘Pity about the money but I don’t think he’ll be bothering you again.’

‘He’s probably half way to Scotland by now, the way he shot past the car!’ Alex brings some humour back into the conversation. ‘Running like the hounds of hell were after him.’

While the other men seem pleased with themselves a look passes between him and Ingrid. With an almost imperceptible narrowing of his eyes, he manages to convey that there is more to the story.

‘Did you want to stay over?’ Ingrid asks Charlene when the fit of trembling shows no sign of stopping. ‘Where does your Mum think you are?’

‘With you,’ Charlene snuffles. ‘And I am now, aren’t I? It was nearly right before but now it is really.’ She looks down at her hands. ‘I can’t stop shaking.’

‘That’s all the adrenalin. And the last thing you need is coffee!’ Ingrid moves her mug back to the tray. ‘I’ll get you some cocoa shall I? Or would you like some hot milk instead?’

‘No...It’s alright. It’ll stop in a minute. Mum’s on nights, so she’s at work now. It’ll be okay t’go home. Thanks ever so much for offering though.’

‘Not sure you should be on your own, sweetheart. Look at you.’

‘It’ll be alright. I can put me music on loud so I don’t ‘ave t’think nothin’ then I can get t’sleep.’

‘Let’s give it a few more minutes, eh? I’ll drop you back when I think you’re ready.’

The Red House,

Barleyfield Way

Chapter Fifty

Rose Cottage, Albans Lane

‘I been an’ gone an’ done it, so you can stop yer carpin.' George drops his car keys into the drawer on the hall stand and hangs his cap on a peg.

Halfway down the stairs and rubbing at the banister rail with a duster while holding a can of polish in the other, Jessie turns round. ‘Gone and done what?’

‘Told ‘em they can sell me ‘ouse. They’re gonna come an’ look at it t’morrer.’

‘Tomorrow!’ her shoulders slump with impatience. ‘But the place needs a good clear out before anyone so much as sets foot in it! It’s not just filthy; it’s full of mouldering furniture. What on earth made you decide to do it now?’

‘Cos you keep bendin’ me earole! I ain’t ‘ad a minute’s peace since I moved in ‘ere. I thought I’d made me mind up ‘bout gi’in it t’ Rowena but that weren’t right neither!’

‘Nor it wasn’t.’ Jessie stomps down the remaining few steps into the hall. ‘That would have been more unfair than anything you’ve ever done.’ She opens the cupboard under the stairs, throws polish and duster into it and slams the door.

‘I dunno why you’s makin’ such a fuss, they must be used t’seein’ ‘ouses in all sorts a states where they been left when folks was dead.’

‘Don’t tempt me,’ she mutters and continues on her way to the kitchen. ‘I suppose that’s my blooming day taken up now, I’ll have to go and give it a bottoming out; try and make it look half decent at least.’

‘I can put ‘em off.’ George offers and hurries past her to get to the kettle. ‘How’s about a nice cup o’ tea?’

‘You needn’t think flannel will work either!’ Jessie refuses to be swayed by his ingratiating smile ‘Out of my way before you feel the back of my hand! What a stupid thing to do. Stupid, stupid, stupid,’ she continues to mutter while opening and closing cupboard doors. Eventually finding the vacuum flask, she rinses it under the tap and sets it next to the kettle. ‘As if I haven’t got enough to do!’

‘It ain’t no good you gettin’ all ‘et up. Wha’s done’s done. They ain’t gonna take no notice a the furn’ture, yet while the winders needs cleanin’. They measures up an’ tells me a price.’

‘Fine! Just fine. You let them do that, then.’ Jessie glowers and returns the flask to the cupboard before rounding on him again. ‘I’d be ashamed for anyone to see my house in that state, no matter who they were. You won’t get so much for it, I’m telling you now!’

George matches her truculence with some of his own. ‘I ain’t wastin’ good money puttin’ stuff right when very likely folk’ll move in an’ undo all what I got done. They can ‘ave it cheaper and do what they wants. I shall tell ‘em I’m gettin’ it cleared out afore they put it on the market.’

‘You’ll need a skip the size of the house next door!’

‘The boy’ll come an’ gi’me ‘and.’

‘Have you actually asked him? ‘The Boy’ has got enough to do with his own house; he won’t have time. And I know he’s busy at work, because Helen’s mentioned it, so you can think again.’

‘Then I’ll get one a them people what does clearin’ ‘ouses,’ he argues with an air of obstinate triumph. ‘There’s allus advert in the paper.’

‘That’s buying up a housefuls of furniture in the hope there’s something decent in it they can sell.’ Jessie says in the flat monotone of someone used to having to explain everything twice. ‘They don’t come along just to put the whole lot in a flipping skip!’

‘Ere! There’s some good stuff in there.’

‘Good it may have been but it’s only fit for firewood now. These things don’t look after themselves, you know, they need to be kept warm and dry and that’s the last thing your blooming house is.  Bet your life your beds and your three piece are riddled with mildew...if something worse hasn’t happened to them.’

‘Like what?’ George looks at her with a half smile, unsure if there is to be a punch line.

‘Like flipping mice chewing their way through everything!’ The flask is fetched from the cupboard once more. ‘I need to get down there and give it an air out if nothing else. You’ll have the estate agent going in and ending up suing you when a rat goes for him.’ She spoons in instant coffee and drums her fingers on the worktop while she waits for the kettle to come to the boil.

‘Rats don’t go for people!’

Jessie spares him a swift look up and down. ‘Just because they left you alone, doesn’t mean to say they won’t go for someone who smells more lavender than lavvy!’

‘I wash meself!’

‘It wasn’t a wash you were short of; it was a bung for your backside! That front room of yours always smelt of sprouts where you used to sit there all evening, watching television and letting off.’

‘I never did no such thing!.’

‘Then all I can say is you’ve got trouble with your drains and that’s another couple of thousand you can knock off what you think you might get for it.’ She turns away to concentrate on filling the flask and screwing on the top. ‘Have you thought what you’re going to do with the money, if and when it does sell?’

George lifts a pugnacious chin to say grandly ‘I shall share it out between ‘em’

‘Humph, well, there’s some sense in that at least.’ She takes her shopping bag from the hook on the back door and puts the flask and two mugs into it, soon to be joined by bleach and a roll of cloths from the cupboard under the sink. She bustles into the hall to collect her full range of cleaning stuffs from under the stairs. She looks over her shoulder as she brings out the caddy with them in. ‘Don’t stand there like a tart on a cold night! Get your things together. You can tidy the garden while I do the blooming house!’