Black Widow. Jessie Keane

shot up in the bed, heart hammering, horrors erupting in her brain. She was in a strange bed, in a strange room. A blonde woman was at the window, yanking back the curtains so that Annie winced at the brightness of the new day. A double bay window. A nice room, prettily furnished. The woman with the bubble perm placed a mug of tea on the side table.

       Dolly.

      Annie clutched her head in her hands as it all came back to her. And with the grim memories came guilt and intense self-hatred. She had slept, deeply and dreamlessly, while her husband lay dead in a rocky gully far away and her daughter was God knew where, in the hands of people who could do her serious harm.

      ‘You were worn out,’ said Dolly, sitting down on the side of the bed and staring at her friend with concern. ‘I came up last night to see if you wanted anything to eat, and you were spark out. So I let you sleep. This is my room, you remember?’

      All Annie knew was that she had fallen on to the bed and literally passed out.

      ‘God, I’m sorry. Where did you sleep?’

      ‘Don’t be a silly mare, Annie, there’s always a spare bed in a place like this. You can have this room for the time being, no worries.’

      ‘You should have woken me up. Have there been any phone calls? Has anyone asked to speak to me?’

      Dolly shook her head.

      ‘There must have been!’ Annie burst out in fury.

      Dolly kept staring at her. ‘Nobody’s called. I would have fetched you. But they didn’t.’

      ‘Sorry,’ mumbled Annie. ‘Didn’t mean to shout the odds, Doll’

      ‘That’s okay.’

      ‘She’s fucked off then?’

      ‘Jean, yeah.’

      ‘Jeanette.’

      ‘Who the hell is she? Not your sort, I’d have thought.’

      ‘One of Jonjo’s blondes.’

      ‘Ah. Drink your tea.’

      Annie took up the mug with shaking hands and sipped it. The tea was strong, bracing.

      ‘You going to tell me what’s been going on?’ asked Dolly.

      ‘Nothing’s been going on,’ said Annie.

      Dolly smiled dryly. ‘Like fuck,’ she said. ‘You looked like a ghost when you pitched up here. And you sounded in bits on the phone. You’re shaking like a sodding old man now. So what’s happened?’

      Annie looked straight at Dolly. ‘Something horrible, Doll. And now they’ve got my baby girl.’

      ‘Layla?’ All trace of the smile was gone. ‘Fucking hell, Annie—who, for the love of God?’

      ‘I don’t know who,’ said Annie. ‘They’re going to contact me here. That’s all I know.’

      ‘Do they want money?’

      ‘Yeah.’ Annie tried another sip of the tea but this time it wouldn’t get past the lump in her throat. She put the mug aside.

      ‘Have you got it?’

      Annie shrugged. Anxiety gnawed at her. This was taking her right back to the time when she had been kicked out of home and left to fend for herself. Potless, homeless, abandoned, disgraced, and on the run from the Carter clan. She felt as lost, as hopeless now as she did then. She didn’t know squat about Max’s financial affairs. There had always been plenty of money, and he had been generous with it, but where it had come from and where he kept it was a mystery to her. She had no money of her own; she’d never needed it while Max was there. But now Max was gone.

      ‘And where is Max?’ asked Dolly after a pause.

      ‘I don’t know,’ said Annie painfully.

      ‘What the fuck do you mean, you don’t know? He’s your flaming husband, of course you know where he is.’

      ‘He disappeared, Doll. These people phoned me and said they’d killed him.’

      Dolly recoiled in shock. ‘Jesus, no.’

      Annie nodded dumbly. She looked spent, Dolly thought, as if all this had drained the life from her. Dark shadows under her eyes. Her lips parched and cracked. Her skin sallow. This wasn’t the polished, controlled woman she knew. This was a beaten stranger. Dolly wondered how she would cope with such a bucketload of grief, though. Her kid snatched, her husband topped…that was enough to finish anyone, even the strongest.

      ‘You mustn’t tell anyone that Max is dead,’ said Annie. ‘I mean it, Doll. No one.’

      ‘You know I won’t. What about Jonjo?’ asked Dolly. ‘Jeanette was with you, so where’s Jonjo?’

      Annie swallowed and shook her head.

      Dolly was silent, gobsmacked.

      ‘Look, I tell you what,’ she said at last. ‘You get washed and dressed, then we’ll think again, okay?’

      Annie looked at her. Dolly was the best friend she had ever had, and she knew it. Annie was quite likely bringing trouble to her door, and many another would have turned her away, but not Dolly. She could almost have cried at Dolly’s kindness, but she held her emotions in tight check. Dolly would be embarrassed anyway by a display of emotion. She always had been. You’d never get hugs and kisses from Doll, but what you would get was firm support from a genuine ally.

      ‘Thanks, Dolly. Can I borrow something to wear? All I’ve got in the case is sandals and summer dresses and swimming cossies. Don’t ask me why I brought any of it back. I don’t think my head was right at the time.’

      ‘Help yourself. Anything you want. Oh, and Annie…’ Suddenly Dolly looked awkward and anxious. ‘I had to phone Redmond Delaney, tell him you’re here. Sorry. You’re a mate, but I can’t be seen to be disrespecting the Delaneys, not on their own turf. I didn’t want him just hearing about it from Ross, do you understand? I have to be careful.’

      Annie nodded. ‘Don’t give it another thought, Doll. I know you had to tell Redmond. That goes without saying.’

      And Redmond ain’t going to be very pleased about it, she thought.

      Dolly’s tense expression relaxed with relief.

      ‘We’d better get you some breakfast,’ she said. ‘You come down when you’re ready, Annie love. No rush. I’ll listen for the phone, don’t worry.’

      Dolly left the bedroom and closed the door softly behind her. She felt embarrassed at her own inability to help more. All hell was being set loose in the poor bint’s life, and she was telling her not to worry.

      ‘Doll!’

      At Annie’s call, she reopened the door and stuck her head around it.

      ‘Yes, Annie love?’

      ‘Does Billy Black still call in?’

      ‘Billy? Of course he does. Every week, regular. He hasn’t got many places to go where they’ll make him welcome, the poor bastard.’

      ‘When he calls, I want to speak to him.’

      ‘Okay,’ said Dolly, and went off downstairs with a troubled mind to see to breakfast for the girls. As she passed the telephone in the hall, it jingled. She looked at it, picked it up, listened to the dial tone. Then she shrugged and put it back down.

      When Annie got downstairs, she found Dolly there eating toast and chatting to her ‘girls’. There was Darren, a slim blond young man wearing a flamboyant scarf and a yellow shirt, and to her surprise Ellie was there too, dark haired and still pretty, but porked up to double her usual size.

      All conversation stopped when Annie opened