Widows

‘Don’t call me Doll! And I think you’re in enough trouble without me adding to it, don’t you? Working for the Fishers is a dangerous move, Boxer. They’re not smart, see, not like my Harry was. I mean, if the Old Bill did my house over and couldn’t find the ledgers, what makes Tony Fisher think he’s going to do any better?’

Boxer sat there on his heels, looking at Dolly for guidance. His poor brain couldn’t work out how to speak at the same time as think.

‘Leave me alone now, Boxer. Come round in the morning, help me tidy up and we’ll see if we can find any hiding places that the coppers and Tony might have missed.’

Boxer’s eyes widened and his face lit up like a child who’d just been given the biggest ice cream in the world. ‘I will!’ He beamed as he stood up. ‘I’ll be here at nine, shall I?’

‘Seven.’

‘Seven’s better. Yes, I’ll be here at seven. I’m meant to report back to the Fishers this evening, so I’ll let them know you’re co-operating and tomorrow we’ll look properly and everything will be all right.’

Dolly couldn’t believe how gormless Boxer was. She watched him trot off out the front door, with a renewed bounce in his step. She then bolted and double locked every door in the house before tidying the kitchen a little. All her food from the freezer lay on the floor defrosting and her beautiful china and cutlery was smashed and strewn everywhere. She didn’t have the strength to tackle this tonight, so she made herself a coffee and sat back down in her ransacked living room, on her ruined sofa.

Dolly knew she had to start thinking the way Harry would have done, but it was hard as she looked around the room at the collection of Capodimonte figures Harry had bought her, smashed to bits. She looked at Wolf. ‘What would Harry do? Eh, darling? What would Daddy do?’

She thought about the police car outside and was tempted to call Resnick and tell him how his idiot men chose to follow her to the Dorchester instead of stopping Tony Fisher and Boxer Davis from breaking in and destroying her beautiful home. She went to her window and peered out through a rip in her thick velvet curtains. ‘Idiots!’ she seethed. ‘You’ve just watched Boxer Davis leave my home and it doesn’t even cross your mind how or when the hell he got in here in the first place.’

Dolly turned to survey her living room. Amid the horrific mess, the broken framed photograph of Harry dropped by Boxer stood out as clear as day. At first, she felt sad seeing Harry’s handsome face smiling up at her through the cracked glass, but then she felt he was trying to tell her something.

‘What is it, Harry? What should I do?’ Dolly said softly as she knelt on the floor and picked up the broken frame. She stared at his face and with her whole heart and soul whispered, ‘I loved you. I loved you so very much. Dear God, Harry, I still love you. You would never have let those Fisher bastards do this to us.’

Then, as if Harry was suddenly there standing by her side, she suddenly felt comforted. He would guide her through the next few months, through the robbery, she was certain. She was doing it for Harry, after all. She truly believed that he would watch over her now, and wouldn’t let anything go wrong.

That night, with little Wolf curled up on Harry’s pillow next to her, Dolly had her best night’s sleep since she’d heard the terrible news.

Chapter 9

Dolly had been up since 6 a.m., tidying and cleaning. At first, she hadn’t known where to start. Usually, she’d run the vacuum round but this morning she couldn’t even see the carpet under all the debris.

By the time Boxer strolled up the driveway, she was dressed in her oldest clothes, apron and headscarf and was throwing away yet another bin bag full of broken memories. 7 a.m. was clearly way too early for Boxer. He looked like a zombie as he shuffled past her, although he seemed enthusiastic enough to get on with the search for Harry’s ledgers.

The second zombie in the street was the very tired young officer in the car parked six houses down. ‘You’re not paying any attention, are you?’ Dolly said. She glanced down at Wolf. ‘Silly policeman.’

In the lounge, Boxer was assessing the situation.

‘What shall I do first?’ he asked. Housework, especially after a ransacking, wasn’t something he was going to take to easily.

‘Right,’ said Dolly. ‘Throw anything that’s broken beyond repair, but bag the sofa cushions and curtains; they can be fixed. And, once you can see the carpet, the vacuum’s in the cupboard under the stairs.’

‘Right you are, Dolly.’ Boxer beamed. With idiot-proof instructions, he was far happier. ‘We’ll have this place spick and span in no time.’