Kitty Neale 3 Book Bundle. Kitty Neale

didn’t argue. He’d done his bit, but the extra weight of holding Frank up had put a strain on his damaged leg. His limp really bad now, Stan put the man’s keys on the table and left, putting the puzzle from his mind.

      What Frank said or did was none of his business, but from the state the man was in, Stan doubted he’d be fit for work in the morning.

       Chapter Twenty

      Carol woke earlier than usual on Friday morning. She’d heard the commotion downstairs the night before, guessed her dad had come home drunk again and though she felt sorry for him, she dreaded the thought of facing his hangover. Since Mabel Povis had tried to get him done for murder, he’d become uncommunicative, had taken to drink, and Carol seethed on her father’s behalf. She would never forget the day the CID had turned up, her horror at the accusation that had somehow managed to snap her out of her own self-absorption.

      She had been in a black pit, hating herself so much that she hadn’t spared a thought to what her dad had been through. On the same day that her mum had walked out, she’d had an abortion and she knew her dad had feared that she might die. On top of that, he’d been questioned by the police and though able to prove his innocence, Carol knew there were some locals who would say there was no smoke without fire.

      If anyone said anything to her, they’d get a mouthful, Carol thought, now fiercely protective of her father. In fact looking after her dad, seeing that he had nice meals to come home to and the house immaculate had become her penance. Unwilling to get up yet, Carol lay in bed, her thoughts drifting to the conversation she’d had with Amy the previous evening. They had once been so close, worked and laughed together but that seemed eons ago now. In reality it had only been around four months, yet Carol knew she had been a different person then. She’d been happy, thought only of fashion, music, dancing, and a part of her longed to turn back the clock so that she could become that innocent girl who had once loved life again.

      Sadly Carol knew it was impossible and shaking these thoughts off, she climbed out of bed to get quickly washed and dressed before going downstairs, only to stand with her hand over her mouth in horror.

      ‘Dad, Dad, are you all right?’ she cried, dashing to the sofa and kneeling at his side, yet looking at his grotesquely swollen face the question seemed inane. Of course he wasn’t all right. Along with the swelling on his cheeks, his eyes were like slits in a yellow mass of bruising and there was blood on his chin that had trickled from a nasty split in his lip.

      ‘Wh … what?’

      Carol rushed to the kitchen and poured water into a bowl before grabbing a clean cloth to go back to her father’s side. She tried to dab the caked blood from the cut but he pushed her hand away and she felt helpless, useless to deal with his wounds. ‘Dad … I think you need to see a doctor.’

      One eyelid partially opened and he squinted up at her, moaning, ‘No … no … but get me … get me a drink … water …’

      She hurried to do his bidding, but as he seemed incapable of holding the glass, she lifted his head with one hand while holding the water to his lips with the other. He drank a little then tried to sit up, but groaning in pain he found it impossible and sank back. ‘Dad, who did this to you?’ Carol asked again.

      ‘Ca … can’t remember.’

      Worriedly she repeated, ‘I think you need the doctor.’

      ‘No, I’m just a bit bruised and I’ll be all right. Just find me a couple of pain killers.’

      Unsure that her father was right, Carol nevertheless did as he asked. As the pain killers took effect his swollen face relaxed as he drifted off to sleep, and Carol went to quietly pour a bowl of cereal before returning to sit close by, ready to be there if her father needed anything when he woke up.

      Mabel waited until ten thirty, then went along to see Phyllis. She didn’t know how she’d have got through the last weeks without her and would be forever thankful that they were friends again. There were few people who spoke to her now, all of them disgusted or angry when it came out that she had accused Frank Cole of murdering his wife. Of course he’d been the one who had put it about, and though he hadn’t actually used her name, everyone had pointed the figure at her.

      It had shaken her to the core that Frank had been found innocent, and when the nastiness started she only had Jack to turn to. Instead of being sympathetic, he had been furious with her, and said that in future she should keep her nose out of other people’s business.

      ‘Watcha,’ Mabel said as she walked into Phyllis’s house.

      It was obvious that Phyllis was now subject to the occasional bit of gossip too as she said, ‘Hello. Have you heard about Frank Cole?’

      ‘No,’ Mabel said, stiffening. ‘What about him?’

      ‘He got beaten up last night.’

      ‘Well I hope people aren’t blaming me for that too,’ Mabel said nervously. ‘Who did it?’

      ‘Terry Price. Apparently Frank was drunk again and insulted Edna.’

      ‘How did you find out about it?’ Mabel asked. ‘Did Edna tell you?’

      ‘No, it was Stan. He saw it happen and helped Frank home.’

      ‘I suppose people will say it’s my fault that he turned to drink,’ Mabel said. ‘Yet I’ve been thinking about it lately and in all fairness, if Frank had told the truth about Daphne leaving him in the first place, my suspicions wouldn’t have been aroused.’

      Phyllis was prevented from answering by a knock on the door, but her voice was loud when she opened it. ‘Rose! You’ve got a cheek showing your face here.’

      ‘Why? What have I done?’

      ‘You know full well what you’ve done,’ Phyllis said indignantly. ‘You ran off with George Frost.’

      ‘I flaming well didn’t,’ Rose said.

      ‘Yes you did!’

      ‘I did not, but I’m not standing on the doorstep arguing with you, so let me in and we can sort this out.’

      Mabel stood up as Rose walked in and said, ‘I’ll go.’

      ‘No, I’d prefer you to stay,’ Rose said. ‘No doubt you’ve heard this rubbish too and I want to set the record straight.’

      ‘Phyllis?’ Mabel asked, hoping she’d agree. ‘Is that all right with you?’

      ‘Yes, yes, sit down, Mabel.’

      Mabel did, looking at Rose who was dressed respectably in a well-cut suit. She wore less make-up and her hair was beautifully styled, showing her to be a very attractive woman.

      ‘Right,’ Rose said. ‘What’s this about George Frost?’

      ‘There’s no need to act the innocent,’ Phyllis snapped. ‘He walked out on his wife and as you both left on the same day it was easy to put two and two together. What’s happened? Didn’t it work out and that’s why you’re back?’

      ‘Now listen here. I may have left, but it wasn’t with George Frost. If you must know I’m living in Bethnal Green now, with Samuel Jacobs.’

      ‘What! Our landlord?’ Phyllis gasped.

      ‘Yeah, that’s right.’

      ‘We haven’t seen him in years,’ Mabel said. ‘He got a bit past it and started using an agent, so how did you meet him?’

      ‘He came in the Park Tavern one lunchtime, and though you’re right, he doesn’t do much now, he still keeps an occasional eye on his agents. We got talking and well, he asked if he could see me again.’

      ‘Ain’t