Witness - [76]

TWO MEN CONVICTED OF KILLING MANCHESTERSCHOOLBOY DANNY MACATEER – and started to cry. It was all too much. Oh, Nana.

Nana Rose had called the evening of Nana’s death, she’d got Cheryl’s message. Nana Rose was distraught at the news of her old friend’s passing and anxious to know the details. ‘You were with her, Cheryl, yes? She was not alone.’

Cheryl couldn’t lie. ‘Not exactly. I had to leave her for a bit. I was as quick as I could be…’ Cheryl let the sentence trail, her eyes stinging.

‘This is a disappointment,’ Nana Rose said. ‘I hate to think of her alone.’

Cheryl thought Nana Rose was saying Cheryl was a disappointment and for a moment she almost took it on but she went back to why she’d had to leave and she knew Nana would have been proud of her. So proud of her. And she held on to that. It kept her strong.

Vinia had come round after the trial was over. ‘I worked it out,’ she said after they’d talked about Nana and everything for a bit. ‘The witness, the one I told you knew Sam and Carlton, the one that saw the car and had their voice disguised. I know who it is.’

Cheryl, who had been trying to sort the kitchen out, froze, the rubbish bag heavy in her hand. She swallowed. ‘Oh, yeah?’

‘Genevieve,’ Vinia proclaimed. ‘She was there that day, remember?’

Cheryl opened the back door, carried the bag out, her heart pittering in her chest. ‘Genevieve went to the States, didn’t she?’ Cheryl called. ‘To those cousins in Atlanta?’ Cheryl hoisted the bag into the wheelie bin, slammed the lid shut.

‘When did she go?’ Vinia was scowling, pulling out her cigarettes, as Cheryl went in.

‘Summer. Still there. Can’t have been her.’

Vinia sucked her teeth. ‘Damn!’

‘There were loads of people out that day,’ Cheryl told her, ‘could have been any one of them.’

Vinia held the packet out to Cheryl. ‘Smoke?’

Cheryl hesitated. She was trying to cut down but with Nana gone and all, it was so hard. Vinia screwed her eyes up, craned her neck back examining Cheryl. ‘What?’

‘I’m pregnant,’ Cheryl told her.

‘Oh. My. God. Whoa! What you gonna do?’

Cheryl pressed her tongue against the roof of her mouth, shook her head.

‘Does he know?’

Cheryl shook her head again.

‘Aw, girl. I reckon you need this then.’ Vinia handed her a cigarette, pulled out her lighter. ‘I sure as hell do.’

Now Vinia was back with news about the sentences. Cheryl was up to her eyes sorting out things for Nana, notifying the post office and utility companies, cancelling some things, transferring others. She’d had a lot of help from people at church: some making meals for her or taking Milo for a couple of hours, others driving her places.

‘Life, both of them, and a minimum of twenty years.’ Vinia said. ‘I’ll be thirty-nine when he gets out. I hadn’t planned on living that long!’

‘They deserve it,’ Cheryl said.

‘Well, yeah, but-’

‘Don’t make excuses, Vinia.’

‘What’s eating you?’

Cheryl felt a glow of rage, a steady burn, something righteous and fierce. ‘Apart from my nana gone and a baby on the way and no money, you mean?’

Vinia sighed.

‘Carlton and Sam killed Danny, now they get to pay. I’m glad I won’t see either of them for the next twenty years. I don’t want to know about them or hear about them.’

Vinia’s eyes went hard. ‘What you saying?’

Cheryl cleared her throat. ‘The crew doesn’t exist anymore, all those other arrests since. No one would care if you walked away now. But if you’re going to stick by Sam, don’t come round here again.’

Vinia turned away then back, making Cheryl flinch. ‘You asking me to choose? Without me you’re on your own, Cheryl.’

Cheryl said nothing.

‘It’s not like you have to go visit anyone, innit?’ Vinia pouted.

‘I have Milo,’ said Cheryl, ‘another baby come April. I’m thinking of them. I don’t want them growing up mixing with guns and gangs and-’

‘You’re picky all of a sudden,’ Vinia said.

‘That’s how it is,’ Cheryl folded her arms. She felt dizzy.

Vinia didn’t speak. She picked up her bag and walked out.

Cheryl let her breath out. She closed her eyes for a moment, then straightened up and went to clean the sink.

EPILOGUE

Zak wondered how people stuck it: going to work in the dark, coming home in the dark. Animals hibernated. People should too. He managed up until Christmas but after that he found it harder to get out of bed in the mornings. Especially if he’d had a few the night before.

He got a warning, then a written warning. Not that he could read it. Then he got the push. The Jobcentre wouldn’t let him sign on for Jobseeker’s Allowance because he was voluntarily out of work; he would be sanctioned, they said, though he could appeal for hardship payment. He couldn’t face it.

He tried some of his old scams but it was tougher up here: either people were tighter with their cash or he was losing his touch. Wouldn’t need to bother if they’d given him the reward. Tight gits. Zak still couldn’t believe he wouldn’t get a penny, all he’d done.

Now he got letters through, some official with red lettering. He knew that wasn’t good. Then a bloke came round, a bailiff. Zak had till the end of the week to pay his rent or he’d be evicted. He had the numbers for Little and Large but all they’d do was slap his wrists and stick him in some other poxy job. Maybe not even that. They had warned him over and over like some stuck record, that if he messed up he’d be thrown off the programme. He sold the TV and DVD player to a pawn shop, made enough for the train and a bit left. He had to buy a ticket for Bess as well.