Hit and Run - [14]

*****

Driving home, Janine was preoccupied with thoughts of Rosa. Last seen on Sunday night. Had she died that night, after leaving the club? What had happened? An assignation turned sour or a row with a lover they’d yet to find out about? She wondered about Rosa’s family, were there brothers and sisters, parents and grandparents back in Poland expecting to hear from her? She imagined the shock that would hit them when they learnt that Rosa was dead, her life ended swiftly, brutally, her body mutilated and abandoned; when the truth sank in – that there would never be another postcard or phone call. They’d never hear her voice again or open the door to greet her or kiss her. Perhaps Rosa was an orphan? With no one to mourn for her, no one to claim her remains and arrange her funeral.

Janine paused at the traffic lights in Fallowfield. Student territory here – the halls of residence that lined one side of the road were home to some of the thousands of students who came to study in the city. She watched pedestrians cross the road: an old man with a dog, both white-haired and skinny; a trio of girls, Rosa’s age; a man on his own, baseball cap and jacket, a bounce in his gait. Where was Rosa’s killer? Could he sleep? Could he eat and swallow and carry on with his daily life? Did he dream about what he had done? Was someone harbouring him – uneasy at his

mood, at his reaction to the news coverage or his sudden interest in doing the laundry?

She was late getting back – again. She’d already rung Pete to warn him but as usual her estimate was far too optimistic. ‘Sorry, sorry.’ She found him in the lounge with Charlotte who was dozing in her carrycot. ‘It always takes longer than I think. Kids all right?’

Pete nodded. ‘Fine.’

Janine looked at Charlotte; the sleeping infant made suckling motions with her mouth, gave a little sigh. Janine drank the moment in. Then she sat down heavily beside Pete. ‘God, what a day!’

‘It’s hard to believe.’ Pete said. ‘Ann-Marie…’

‘She didn’t make it,’ Janine said quietly.

Pete exhaled, sat back bracing his hands against the front of his thighs.

Thoughts of the Chinleys swamped Janine’s mind. ‘Has Tom said anything?’

Pete shook his head. ‘You going to tell him?’

‘In the morning. They’ll probably send a letter round from school…’ She faltered. ‘How the hell you explain…’

‘I don’t think I remember her.’

‘Skinny,’ Janine told him, ‘curly, black hair. Her mum always did a stall at the summer fair. They had a dog. Probably still got the dog.’ The ridiculous statement moved her to tears. She closed her eyes, covered her face, felt his arms go round her.

‘Oh, Pete… could have been us… Tom.’ She rested there for a moment then pulled away, wiping at her face. ‘I’m OK.’ She couldn’t afford to indulge her grief – not with Pete, anyway. ‘This week – it’s going to be all hours. And Connie – she deserves her evenings off.’ She didn’t want to jeopardise things with Connie. She’d struck lucky there. Most people said finding a nanny was a complete nightmare. When Janine had first met her she’d been impressed by the young woman’s enthusiasm. ‘Manchester is just fantastic,’ she’d said. ‘Lots going on: the Bridgewater Hall, the theatre. Do you go much?’

Janine shook her head. Connie had gone on to talk about her intention to take an evening course in business management. She had nannied while in Hong Kong but had always wanted to live in the UK. ‘It’s my favourite place,’ she declared. Janine liked her energy. With three kids and a baby, stamina was important. She just hoped Connie wouldn’t sail through her business course too quickly; she could just see her setting up her own nannying agency and making a go of it.

‘I can’t expect her to manage a baby all day long and then be on tap for babysitting.’ Janine told Pete.

‘Well, I’m on days,’ he offered, rising to get his coat.

‘And what about Tina?’ It still stung her to say the name though she hid it well.

‘Tina knows the score,’ he told her.

She was relieved. She knew just how crazy her hours might get and it would be impossible without Pete to call on. No need to show too much gratitude though. After all he was their father; his spending time here was good for them all.

As Janine headed upstairs, Eleanor pounced. ‘Mum, there’s a girl been knocked down at Tom’s school.’

‘I know,’ Janine said.

‘What happened?’ Eleanor’s eyes were bright with interest. ‘Did you see it, it was this morning?’

‘Yes. A car went straight over the crossing, and then they drove off.’

‘That’s awful. Is she going to be all right?’

‘No,’ Janine said quietly. She saw Eleanor’s face fall, her mouth part then close again. A tiny frown. ‘What?’

‘She died this afternoon.’

‘That’s awful,’ Eleanor repeated, a sudden glint of tears in her eyes. Any hint of morbid curiosity vanished.

Janine hugged her. ‘I don’t want you to say anything to Tom, OK?’

‘You’ve got to tell him; she was in his class.’

‘I know – but don’t say anything till I’ve had chance.’

‘Why didn’t they stop?’ Eleanor stepped back, an edge of outrage in her expression.