Stone Cold Red Hot - [41]

“Isabella?” I made my voice squeaky.

“You’ve got the wrong number.”

“Oops! Sorry.” Now don’t go out before I get there.

I bought an A-Z at the newsagents and worked out my route. They didn’t live far from the motorway. As I rejoined the traffic I considered what questions to ask Mrs Shuttle. There would be little point in going over the same ground I’d covered with everyone else. I tried to come up with something other than ‘why did you cut me off?’ but I just couldn’t concentrate. I was too distracted by the revelations of the records office. To be honest I hadn’t got the foggiest what I’d say.

Chapter fifteen

I left the motorway and followed the ring-road round the outskirts of Bradford. Like Sheffield, the city had grown along the valleys and up the hills but Bradford was built on wool not steel. My mobile began to bleat and I pulled in at a bus stop and fished it out of my bag.

“Sal Kilkenny.”

“Hello, it’s St Paul’s here, we’ve got Maddie and Tom waiting, no-one’s come to collect them.”

I felt a wave of panic followed by a roll of anger. Where the hell was Ray? Had something happened to him? My mind span round seeking solutions. It would take me an hour or more to get back. Nana Tello wouldn’t be able to do it, unless she could get a taxi and had the money to pay for it. I hadn’t got Ray’s college number on me and past experience had told me it was hopeless trying to contact him there. Besides Salford is miles from Withington, it’d take him ages to get to school.

“I’m ever so sorry, there’s obviously been some mix up. I’m afraid I’m over in Yorkshire but I’ll try and get somebody to come and get them now, I’ll ring you back and let you know what’s happening.”

I took the school’s number then dialled home. Bloody Ray. No answer. Vicky? Vicky Dobson! Back from her tour of the festivals, she’d often babysat for Maddie and Tom before. I punched the number. Please be in, please.

“‘Lo?”

“Vicky, it’s Sal. Look, it’s a bit of an emergency, Ray’s forgotten to pick the kids up from school. I’m in Bradford and I can’t get there. Could you get them? I’d pay you of course.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you.

“Shall I bring them back here?”

“Great. I’ll come round as soon as I get back. I’ll let the school know you’re coming.”

So, I was extremely rattled by the time I rang the Shuttles doorbell. She answered.

“Mrs Shuttle?”

“Yes.”

“Sal Kilkenny, we spoke on the phone some time ago. I’m trying to trace Jennifer Pickering.”

Her expression changed; polite reserve hardening into appalled disbelief.

“I told you,” she said, “I’ve nothing to say to you. How dare you come here…”

I cut her off. “That’s why I came. You’re the only per son who has refused to talk to me. That makes me curious.”

“Get out of here,” she said her voice quiet. At that point the door from the back garden swung open and a man appeared carrying a garden-vac. Mrs Shuttle froze, eyes like a rabbit in the road.

“Perhaps I should talk to your husband instead?” I smiled and made as if to turn.

“No,” she hissed. “Come in.”

“I’ll do the front now, Marjorie,” Mr Shuttle announced. “Will you plug me in.” He came up with the cable, smiled expectantly at me.

“Hello,” I said brightly.

“Do come in,” Marjorie blurted out, taking the cable from him, “this is Mrs Kenny, from Italian night class.”

“Ah, buongiorno,” he enunciated.

I nodded, grinning inanely and escaped into the house.

Marjorie Shuttle’s efforts to hide who I was and what I was doing from her husband spoke volumes about her connection to the Pickerings. Whatever it was it was still secret. I waited until she’d plugged in the lead and called out to her husband and then went with her into their living room, at the back of the house. I sat down without being asked. Sod the niceties. I wasn’t going to try and eke out dribs and drabs of information from Mrs Shuttle with carefully worded questions. She had something to hide and I was going to make her tell me about it. I’d start by making her think I already knew most of it.

“The business with the Pickerings. I’d like to hear your side of it.” As if I’d heard the other.

There was a fractional pause, she licked her lips. The drone of the vac reached us but was muffled by the distance. I looked towards the door, cocked my ear focusing on the sound then looked back to her, raised my eyebrows. Not very subtle, a nudge really, tell me or I ask him. She let out a long breath and stared at the carpet.

“I don’t see what this has to do with anything,” she prevaricated. “We haven’t seen the Pickerings for over twenty years.”

“Mrs Shuttle, I’ve come a long way today, I’m tired. I realise this may not be easy for you but just tell me about it in your own words. Save us both some time.”

“This won’t go any further?”

“Of course not.”

“If Gordon ever found out…”

“I’m not about to tell him but the longer I’m here the more risk there is that he’ll suspect something – or interrupt us and I’d have to see you again then.”

She gave a big sigh and shifted her position, looked down at the rug and spoke. “We were having an affair, Frank and I.”