Pop Goes the Weasel | страница 118

The baby had vanished into the care system and then to fostering, but Helen had diligently pursued Baby K through the reams of paper and bureaucracy until she’d traced him. He’d been adopted by a childless Jewish couple in Aldershot – who’d named him Robert Stonehill – and he was doing fine. He was rebellious, lippy, frustrating – with scant qualifications to show for his years of schooling – but he was ok. He had a job, a solid home and two loving parents. In spite of the loveless nature of his birth, he had grown up nurtured and loved.

Robert had dodged his inheritance. And Helen knew that because of that she should have left him well alone. But her curiosity wouldn’t let her. She had attended Marianne’s funeral by herself, her killer and sole mourner, only to discover that she was not alone after all. Someone else had escaped the wreckage. So for Marianne’s sake, as much as her own, she would keep an eye on Robert. If she could help him in any way, she would.

Helen turned the ignition of her bike, revved the engine and roared off down the street. She was so caught up in the moment, so relieved, that for once she didn’t check her mirrors. Had she done so she would have realized that the same car that had followed her all the way from Southampton was now following her back.

Since his daddy’s return, life had got better for Alfie Booker. They had been living in a flat whilst his dad was in the army. But when he came back they moved to a caretaker’s house that bordered school playing fields. His dad cut the grass and swept up the leaves. Painted the lines on the football pitches. It was a good job, Alfie thought, and he liked to go with him as he did his work.

His dad argued with his mum a lot and was happier when he was working, so that was the best time for Alfie to be with him. He never said much but he seemed happy to have his son by his side. They made a funny pair, but Alfie wouldn’t have changed it for the world.

His dad hadn’t come home last night. His mum said he had, but Alfie knew that wasn’t true. His work boots were where he’d left them yesterday afternoon and he was nowhere on the grounds. Alfie had covered every blade of grass, listening all the while for the tell-tale drone of the sit-on mower. He didn’t know what was going on, but he didn’t like it.

He turned the corner and saw a tall figure walking towards the sports pavilion. It was Sports Day later that day and his first thought was that it was one of the games masters, but he didn’t recognize him. The figure wasn’t broad enough to be his dad, so who was it? They were walking with real purpose towards the pavilion so they obviously had something of importance to do. Instinct drew Alfie towards the figure, his curiosity getting the better of him.