Same Time Next Week

Chapter 57

The following Tuesday, just before the close of business, Bon looked through the glass window of his office at the beautiful sight of Sky Urbaniak sewing and he cursed a god that had brought her into life so long after him.

He wasn’t stupid, he could tell from how Sky was in his presence what her feelings for him were. She wasn’t a girl, she was a woman, Erin had said. She was softening him with her confounded persistence, making him believe that he should let Sky in, look after her, take it slowly like the barrister wanted to do with her: ‘hold her heart in cushioned hands’, love her – let her love him. What if the opportunity arose like a gift – would he let it pass him by?

He was musing on this when Jock and Woodentop crashed into his office, scattering his thoughts. They stood before him, Jock with a grin on his face the size of a crescent moon. In all the years they had worked together, he had barely seen Jock as much as crack a smile before. It signified, ironically, that they’d brought some serious news.

Amanda was in her car, just about to drive home after work when her mum’s doorbell alert went off, signifying motion. The phone company would have needed a month’s notice before they cut off the line so that’s why the wi-fi was still working. What an added bonus to be able to witness what she hoped was about to happen then and not just imagine it. Thank you, God.

She turned on the ignition so the sound would play via bluetooth through the speakers. Then she enlarged the view on her mobile screen to see Bradley about to stick his key in the lock and Dolly from next door toddling fast up the path, shouting his name.

‘I’ve been trying to ring you,’ she said, none too patiently.

‘Sorry, I changed my number, I was getting loads of funny calls,’ he replied. Lying tosser, thought Amanda.

‘Anyway, I’ve been watching out for you coming here. I’ve got a message to give you. From your mum.’

Dolly had remembered. ‘Oh, Mrs Shepherd, I love you with all my heart,’ said Amanda aloud.

‘Now, let me think and get it right,’ said Dolly, tapping her lip. ‘Your mum said that when she passed I’ve to tell Bradley it’s in the bedroom, in the corner, under the carpet behind the unit. She said, he’ll know what you mean .’

‘Right, thank you, Mrs Shepherd,’ said Bradley, who was suddenly on double-speed. He couldn’t get the key in the door fast enough. ‘I’ll have to hurry. I need the toilet really badly,’ he added by way of explanation.

‘Oh, another thing before you go,’ Dolly said. ‘I never liked you that much before, but after what you’ve done, Bradley Worsnip… I’m just glad everyone knows now what a piece of work you are.’

Then she turned on her heel and marched back down the path, triumphant. Job done for her old friend.

The door was closed but Sky could hear Willy Woodentop’s voice full of animation, as were his hands. Whatever story he was recounting had Bon enthralled, she could see him through the glass, rapt. Jock’s voice now, guttural and excited. She saw Bon glance up as if feeling the heat of her gaze upon him and she hurriedly dropped her eyes. Then Willy and Jock came out and as they passed she saw they were grinning and that was weird because Jock’s default expression was that of a bull who had spotted a waving red cape in the near distance.

Something was going on, she couldn’t work out what. Bon came out of his office then and beckoned her in.

‘Sky, darling, can you come here for a moment.’

Darling, although it wasn’t said the way she wished it were. If only, because she needed just the slightest encouragement he felt the same and she would tell him what was in her heart. Then she’d know for sure what she meant to him. And if she got it wrong, then her heart really couldn’t be more broken than it was. The most broken thing in this repair shop.

He told her to sit down on the sofa, he pulled up a chair so he was sitting opposite and he took her left hand between his two.

‘Sky, I have something to tell you…’

Her bones began to tremble, she could feel them under her skin. She didn’t know what he was going to tell her but whatever it was, it was something big.

Bradley hadn’t yet discovered the cameras so Amanda watched in glee as he made a beeline for the stairs, stumbling up them in his haste to reach the top, huffing and panting like Ivor the Engine on forty a day. She switched view to the bedroom, because of course he’d gone in there.

Dear Dolly had delivered the message more or less verbatim. If you wanted to get some revenge for what he’s done to your friend – his own mother – trust me, this is the way, Amanda had told her. She pressed the record button so she could show Dolly the footage later; she owed her that.

She watched Bradley scoop all the ornaments off the corner unit and dump them on the bed and the floor, not caring if he chipped any. Ingrid had collected them for years; they weren’t worth anything to anyone but her, so the treasures she’d dusted and displayed were destined for a black bin liner and their own final resting place: the landfill site. She saw him wheeze as he pulled the unit away from its corner position, then he folded down onto his knees. He peeled back the carpet and she heard his delighted little yelp.

‘Whee hee, come to daddy.’

He tugged at the tin impatiently, trying to free it from where it had been lodged under a broken floorboard. The sight of his arse-crack moving in and out, like something on a builder’s porn film, was something Amanda wished she could scrub from her eyes but the pensioners at the coffee shop were going to love it. She was glad she’d put the tin back now, it was the right thing to do. Amanda had promised her mother she’d make sure her beloved Bradley got it, and she was about to deliver on that promise.

The floorboard gave, he wiggled the tin back and forth, and it was finally out, in his hands. He shook it, felt the gratifying weight of it, then he prised off the lid with his non-existent fingernails.

She heard his ‘What the fuck?’ as he lifted out the house brick. Then she pressed the microphone icon on the phone so he could listen to her laughter bounce around the bedroom at the loudest volume the speakers were capable of.

‘This is top secret,’ said Bon. ‘At least for now, but I have to tell you because you out of everyone should know, and everyone else will know soon enough.’

Her hand felt so delicate between his own. He could feel it fluttering like a small bird.

‘Sky… the police have found someone they think might be the second Pennine Prowler.’

She didn’t answer immediately because his statement brought up too many questions and it was impossible to know what to ask first.

‘They’ve arrested Archie Sutton,’ said Bon.

‘Archie Sutton?’ Sky couldn’t absorb it. ‘What… How… how… I don’t understand. Why now, after all this time?’

‘Well, as you know, he was a suspect briefly in the original enquiry, because he was a big man, like your dad, and he gave Wayne Craven work when few others would. But he was dismissed early on in the investigation, because he had what seemed to be solid alibis. Plus he was a successful businessman, he didn’t fit the profile that the experts had come up with. There was no evidence against him.

‘And you know Willy’s son was the scene of crime officer who lost the vital samples? I think he always hoped that one day he would make up for that mistake. Then Sutton’s granddaughter brought in those tools to be cleaned. Jock thought the rust looked suspect, like dried blood. It was a ridiculous long shot of course, but then so was the fluke of one of the victims being in a random pub and recognising Wayne Craven’s voice. Many criminals have been caught by stranger coincidences. So Willy bagged them straight up and took the tools to his son. He works in a crime laboratory now.’

‘Oh my god,’ said Sky. ‘And it was—’

‘No, it wasn’t,’ Bon jumped in. ‘It was just rust, only rust. That part was a wild goose chase.’

Then Sky really didn’t understand.

Bon squeezed her hand. He wasn’t trying to spin out the story, but he wanted her to know how it had unfolded.

‘You mustn’t tell a soul, Sky, not until the current investigation is concluded, because Willy’s son shouldn’t even have told Willy, and he’ll be in serious trouble if this gets out… It wasn’t the tools,’ he went on to explain. ‘It was the bags they were stored in. Three large, black drawstring bags, apparently. Willy’s son noticed when he unwrapped them that the bags had two holes in them, oddly neat holes, oval and deliberately cut, the same width apart on each bag. They looked to him like eyeholes, and then he realised they could have been used as hoods.

‘Fabric can hold all sorts of evidence, it seems: fibres, hairs, traces of bodily fluids, DNA. I don’t know what he found exactly – Willy says he was very clear that he couldn’t reveal those sorts of details – but it was enough to lead to Sutton’s arrest.’

‘Ugh,’ said Sky, trying to process all this. ‘If that’s true, about the hoods, whyever would anyone want to keep such a thing?’

Bon shrugged. ‘Who knows? Trophies, perhaps. Or to remind him of having got away with it… Speaking of which,’ he said carefully, ‘before you get too many hopes up, you know there’s a long way to go on this still. He’s only just been arrested, not yet charged, and we know he has dementia, so that will affect his capacity to answer questions, let alone stand trial.’

Sky’s face fell. ‘You mean it might all come to nothing?’ she said. ‘And I’ll be right back to square one?’ She didn’t think she could handle this up-and-down switchback of conflicting emotions.

‘Not quite,’ said Bon. ‘There’s something else. Sutton’s wife. She broke down when he was arrested, cracked completely. Said that his alibis were false, and that she’d feared this day would come, ever since he’d asked her to lie for him that he’d been with her when he wasn’t. She even said she knew his early onset dementia was a punishment for what he did to those women. Clearly the strain of it all unravelling finally was too much for her.

‘We don’t know what sort of tale he told her about his guilt or innocence, or what he did to persuade her to keep silent for all these years. I’d guess she wanted to preserve and protect her family unit.’

Bon didn’t tell her his own theory because Sky had enough to deal with regarding the facts, plus it was just that – a theory. Jock and Willy said it held water though: that a god-fearing pillar of the church community such as Mrs Sutton would have afforded him the chance to save his soul and she’d have covered for him, lied for him for the greater good of this life they had built together. His stopping then, while he had the golden opportunity to remain in the shadows, would account for why Craven acted alone for the later attacks. And though Archie Sutton might have counted his blessings and slept like a baby, Mrs Sutton would have always weighing on her mind that one day their sins would be found out and the knock on the door would come.

‘When they came for Sutton, his wife was hosting a charity lunch in the garden. Plenty of people heard and saw far more than they should, and took it home with them. The news didn’t stay contained for even five minutes.’

The gossip machine . Sky knew only too well how that worked. But this time, please God, it had cranked up and was running for the right person, rather than against the wrong one.

There was a lot to take in, and suddenly, Sky felt light-headed, her breath coming shallow, fast, in line with the thoughts zipping around her head. She felt the warning sharp pin-prick of pain in her chest. She tore her hand away from Bon’s and scrabbled in the pocket of her work apron for her spray. Bon saw it and knew what it was, and he knew what it was used for.

It was a rogue twinge, she was fine. She was more than fine.

Bon was asking her, ‘Are you all right, Sky? Oh, my darling.’

The concern in his voice, the way he was looking at her. The way he was holding her arms. The way he said ‘darling’ this time. There was no doubting any of it.

‘I love you, Bon,’ she said. She couldn’t have held the words back with an army.

Erin pressed in the number. This was the sixth time in the day she had attempted to ring but chickened out on the last digit and flicked away the phone screen. But this time, she completed it, let the dialling tone kick in.

‘Alex Forrester.’ His name, his voice.

‘Alex, it’s me. Erin.’

‘Hello, you.’ She could feel the smile warm his words.

‘I got your letter.’ She was trembling like a sodding teenager.

‘And what did you think?’

‘You should have been a doctor with that handwriting.’

He laughed, a big sincere boom.

‘What about the content? Did that pass muster?’

‘Well, it made me ring you.’

A beat.

‘And?’ A change of tone, uncertain.

‘I think yes, I’d like to see you again too.’

Sky was in disbelief that she’d said it. She could have attempted to pull the words back, explained that she’d said them in misplaced gratitude but she didn’t, she let them whirl in the air and do what they must.

Bon knew there was no other way to interpret what she had said, not when accompanied by that look in her eyes, her beautiful sky-blue eyes.

He took her face gently between his strong hands. His brain was commanding his voicebox to say all manner of sensible things and it was refusing.

‘Bon, please don’t even attempt to tell me how I’m feeling, because I know. I don’t want to waste any more time. I want to spend all my future days with you, because you are everything to me.’

‘Oh, sweetheart.’

He didn’t want to fight it any more. His own words came to him, the ones he’d said to Erin, the ones she’d gifted back to him: there are no guarantees in anything, but you shouldn’t let fear hold you back from taking your chance because we only have one life and it shouldn’t be full of regrets.

‘I will make you happy. My darling Sky.’

There were questions filling his head, but they would all wait, this moment was all that mattered. His lips were on hers, his arms around her and it was everything and more than they both thought it would be.

‘Aye, aye,’ said Jock, craning his neck. ‘Guess what’s happening in the office.’

‘Is it what I think it is?’ asked Tony, taking a break from unscuffing the Tiny Tears doll’s cheek.

‘Aye,’ said Jock. ‘Aye’

Mildred let loose a long breath. ‘About bloody time,’ she said.