Widows

Linda walked over to the van — not too quick, not too slow — and wished that Dolly could see her. Her meticulous planning, her precision timing — yes, Dolly would be impressed. She took a casual look round before jumping in the driver’s seat. Pulling a small screwdriver out of her jacket pocket, she rammed it into the ignition barrel and turned it to start the van. It wouldn’t budge. Linda didn’t panic: she knew what to do next. She’d seen Joe hotwire a car on numerous occasions to get them home after a night out. She’d done it herself three or four times. She pried open the ignition tumbler, ripped out the wires and twisted two together. Next, she pushed her foot on the accelerator a couple of times to inject petrol into the carburetor, then touched the other two wires together to activate the starter. As the engine started, she smiled to herself... just like old times.

Linda drove directly to the underground parking area used by Shirley’s mum and the other market traders to stash their vehicles, cart stalls, tables and produce. The two-mile drive was thrilling: Linda’s eyes darted from the road to the wing mirror to the rearview mirror and back again. She was hyper-alert, taking in every detail; she even noted a couple of beat cops wandering aimlessly around their patch. She smiled; they were totally oblivious.

When she reached the market, Linda edged her way slowly through the line of trucks and vans delivering fruit and veg to the traders, on the lookout for Shirley. She spotted her, standing outside the car park, waving furiously. Shirley had managed to get two copies made of her mum’s key and had cleared a pile of old fruit and veg boxes out of the way to make a space in the far corner to park the van. Linda reversed into the space and Shirley banged on the rear doors when she needed to stop.

Linda was feeling pleased with herself as she showed Shirley round the van. ‘It’s perfect, nice and big too, look at the size of the rear bumper... it will stand up to a tank hittin’ it.’ Shirley kept schtum as she slid open the driver’s door, allowing Linda to enjoy her moment. ‘There’s only one seat, so Dolly can move fast from here to the rear doors... when she’s learned to get out of the harness, that is!’

‘You’ve nicked a good ’un, I reckon,’ Shirley replied, encouraging Linda. Then she noticed the damage to the ignition. ‘What the hell’s happened there?’

‘Well, the driver was hardly going to hand me the keys, was he?’ Linda said. ‘I bought a replacement barrel before I nicked the van — I knew it was likely to get damaged. It’s a thirty-minute job to replace it.’ Replacing the barrel was actually something Linda had never done before, but she had seen Joe do it. It looked easy enough and now the van was safely tucked away, she had time to work it out.

As the two of them heaved a tarpaulin over the vehicle to hide the logo on the sides, Linda asked Shirley if she’d brought the false plates.

‘Course I ’ave. And some spray paint to go over the logos, just like you asked.’ Shirley handed Linda a key. ‘That’s for the padlock on the gate. Make sure it’s all secure when you leave and leave at least ten minutes after me.’

‘Yes, Dolly.’ Linda mocked and they laughed, releasing some of the tension. ‘Go on, then,’ Linda said. She released the bonnet and took a look at the engine. ‘Sod off and leave me to work.’

Instead of leaving, Shirley stood close to Linda’s shoulder and peered at the engine. ‘Does she run OK?’ she asked anxiously.

‘So so,’ Linda replied, humoring Shirley. ‘But I won’t know until I done a bit of work on it, will I? So, if you’d let me get on...’

‘Sounded like it was on its last legs to me — you sure it’ll be all right?’

‘I know a lot more about engines than you do, Shirl, and when I’ve finished givin’ it the once over, it’ll run like a Maserati.’

Shirley was fed up with how quickly Linda would go from being nice to being a bitch. ‘You’re welcome!’ Shirley shouted as she stomped off. ‘For getting the key cut, and for bringing the paint, and for waiting in the freezing bloody cold all morning for—’

‘THANK YOU!’ Linda yelled with a huge grin on her face. Shirley shut up mid-sentence, but still left in a huff. Linda returned to the van’s engine and her grin slowly faded. Fuck me. It’s a bit different from a normal van...

Shirley was still tetchy when she arrived at her mother’s flat later that afternoon. She let herself in and shouted to Audrey, who yelled that she was in her bedroom and would be out in a minute. At first Shirley thought she’d walked into the wrong flat. It was so neat and tidy — not one dirty mug or dish in sight. Suddenly Audrey swirled into the kitchen, dressed up to the nines, wearing heavy make-up, hair lacquered stiff as a board. Shirley almost keeled over from the strong smell of Revlon’s ‘Intimate.’