Dead Wrong - [47]

‘I think Holly and you can sort something out,’ I said. Holly was looking pretty brassed off by now with all the drama and no fun in sight. ‘And if you clear it up I could put some water in the paddling pool.’

‘My knees will get wet,’ Maddie was appalled.

‘Not if you just paddle,’ I said firmly. ‘And we can have a picnic for tea.’

‘You could be the ambulance,’ Maddie said tentatively to her friend.

‘Paramedic,’ Holly corrected.

I left them to it.

I made a pot of Darjeeling for myself and drank it with lemon, out on the patio. A ritual to settle myself. The weather had picked up – blue sky, a fresh breeze, puffy clouds moving fast.

There was so much to do. I emptied the disgusting contents of my slug traps and filled the pots with beer again. Despite the constant supply of fatalities they commanded I still lost countless plants. Half the petunias I’d grown from seed had gone, here and there a single central stalk, sheared to a point and smeared with silver, bore witness. They’d decimated the lobelia too. I reorganised the tubs, putting the survivors together.

The clematis needed tying in again. When I’d done that I got the shears out and went round to the front. The privet there was well out of control. It’s one of my least favourite jobs, but it was beginning to interfere with free passage along the pavement. I chopped at it until it was a decent length, then brushed up the cuttings and stuffed them in the wheelie bin. I felt filthy by the time I’d done, covered in dust and spiders’ webs and insects, my nails full of soil, throat parched, arms aching. On the plus side I no longer felt rattled by the turn that I’d had at the Baths or by the unpleasantness of Zeb’s visit. Working in the garden, the physical graft, the pungent smell and the feel of the earth had grounded me again.

‘It’s for you, Sal,’ Ray called me to the phone.

I muttered my resentment. I’d just sat down to watch some telly.

‘Hello?’

‘Is that Sal Kilkenny?’ Mrs Deason.

‘Speaking.’

‘Joey wants to meet you. He’s given me the details. You won’t tell the police?’ She sounded desperate with worry. ‘I promised to make sure you would go on your own, that you wouldn’t bring anyone else. You won’t try to trap him, will you? Nor force him to come back? I can’t give you the details until I have your word.’

‘I promise. All I want is to hear what Joey has to say.’

‘He said to make sure you’re not followed.’

‘I will.’

A pause during which she must have checked that she’d asked all the salient questions. It stretched on.

‘Mrs Deason?’

‘He sounded dreadful,’ she said abruptly, ‘if only he’d just come home.’ Her voice broke. ‘When you see him,’ she faltered, ‘will you tell him that whatever happens he’s still my grandson. I’ll always…’ she didn’t need to finish.

‘I’ll tell him. Where have I to meet him?’

‘He’s not staying there,’ she rushed to explain, ‘you couldn’t find him afterwards.’

‘OK.’

‘It’s Prestatyn, in Wales. You’re to meet at the railway station, Twelve o’clock, midday.’ High Noon in Prestatyn: Joey’s liking for the dramatic. I knew the Welsh seaside town; I’d been to Prestatyn years ago. Remembered sitting on the concrete steps by the promenade waiting for the tide to give us back the beach. A long straight seafront, car parks, amusement place, couple of cafes. Its main attraction had been its proximity to Manchester; you could get there in a couple of hours. Not much else going for it apart from the sea, of course – ever-magical even in that setting.

‘Thank you.’

‘Will you let me know how he is?’ She wasn’t asking me to tell her what he’d said. If he had done it, she didn’t want to know.

I promised. I was pretty sure I’d recognise Joey from the photos I’d seen at her house so I didn’t need to ask for a description.

I reckoned on two and a half hours to get there, allowing for hold-ups. It didn’t matter if I was early but it would be disastrous if I was late. I’d be able to take the kids to school but I didn’t know if I’d be back in time to pick them up. I asked Ray and he was able to rearrange his day so he could collect them.

Would I be back in time to see Mr Pitt at four, though? Possibly. I didn’t want to ring and cancel now that I’d started putting pressure on him to see me. I would wait and see how the time played out, I decided. If I was delayed I could use my mobile and get a message to his secretary. Preserve my professional image.

I couldn’t help speculating about Joey’s reasons for agreeing to see me. To explain his innocence or defend his guilt? To protect his grandmother now that I’d uncovered her involvement in replacing the murder weapon? Was it a trap for me? My stomach lurched. Zeb had warned me off and that hadn’t worked so now they were using Joey as a lure? No. I reassured myself. Joey was in hiding, not in cahoots with anyone. It was me who’d put the pressure on for a meeting. Was he hiding from Zeb? What had their argument been about?

I didn’t sleep much that night. It was stuffy and I had the windows wide open. It felt as if the whole street was in my bedroom with me; the yappy dog, cars and taxis, a car alarm. When I did drop off my dreams were fretful. I was at school but I’d left Maddie at home. I got in the car but the steering wheel had gone. I was late; I was horribly late. I was so late that they’d all gone and left me. I was standing in the rubble and all the alarms were screaming but my legs wouldn’t move. I reared awake and felt a wave of relief-just a dream. It was six o’clock. I lay there until the dream had faded then I started my day.