The Watchful Neighbour - Debbie Viggiano Page 0,32
deep gratitude to God for the guitar.
‘You know what this means?’ said Mr Grimshaw Senior the following day. ‘I’ll be able to borrow this, Brad, and do a bit of busking.’
‘Sing for your supper?’ said Mrs Grimshaw, looking horrified.
‘Yes, why not?’ He’d picked up the guitar and started to strum it. ‘After all, there’s no work to be had, and I want to financially contribute.’
‘I didn’t know you could play the guitar, Dad,’ said Brad. His voice had been full of admiration.
‘You betcha. Want me to teach you?’
‘You betcha!’ Brad beamed back.
By the time Brad was sixteen years old, he was jamming along to all the popular songs. At seventeen he was writing his own stuff and improvising. At eighteen, he’d formed a band and, within months, been signed up after winning a talent contest. At nineteen, the band’s new manager had dumped them before their career had even begun.
Every member had carried on like they were celebrities. There had been too much “bad attitude”. Too much alcohol and recreational drugs. That was when the crime had started. After all, money had been required to fund such habits.
At the age of twenty, Brad had been cooling his heels in prison for numerous bouts of breaking and entering which included assaulting a policeman while resisting arrest. His father had been furious, and his mother devastated.
‘Is this how we brought you up, Brad?’ his father admonished. ‘Sort yourself out, son.’
And Brad had. He’d left prison at the age of twenty-five, determined to help kids stay out of trouble. Despite his criminal record, he’d been lucky enough to work alongside the authorities by offering advice, counselling, and support for youngsters.
Music therapy was part of the scene. Brad had taught the guitar to many a tight-lipped ex-con. There had been countless tough guys baring their sensitive side through song-writing and strumming the strings.
Brad now casually studied Jade Ferguson’s smashed window. He intuitively knew this wasn’t an attempted burglary. Whoever had done this had wanted to rattle the girl.
Judging from Jade’s agitated body language, that person had succeeded.
Chapter Twenty
Brad had waited until the police officers, Greg Good and Dee Parker had finally drifted away before offering to help Jade.
He’d removed the shards, then boarded up the window. Jade had reluctantly agreed to Brad assisting, but only because she’d not known who else to turn to at this time of day.
‘Thank you,’ she said, after Brad had disposed of the glass. ‘I’ll sleep better tonight knowing everything is secure again.’
‘My pleasure,’ said Brad, putting away the hammer and tacks. Making the property safe again had been an easy job. ‘Have you telephoned the lettings agency and brought them up to date with the damage?’
‘They were shut. However, I’ve since spoken to the property’s owner. Mrs Sims. She’s arranging for a glazier to attend, but it won’t be until the day after tomorrow. Fortunately, I will be the glazier’s first appointment of the day.’
‘That’s good. Is Greg going to let the guy in on your behalf? I’m presuming you’ll be at work.’
‘Absolutely not,’ said Jade vehemently. ‘I will let the glazier in myself. It’s not an issue with my employer. My boss is very amenable.’ A picture of her scowling manager came to mind. Jade instantly dismissed the image. Sue could jolly well bugger off. ‘I’ll go to work as soon as the glazier has finished.’
‘It’s good that your boss is understanding. Mine certainly isn’t. That’s why I always let Greg help me out in tricky situations.’
‘Rather you than me,’ Jade muttered.
Brad looked at Jade speculatively. Greg was still lurking, messing about in his garden. Finding things to do. Brad lowered his voice.
‘I don’t mind Greg. He has a key to my house and seems an amenable guy. Don’t you like him?’
‘Not particularly. Do you trust him going into your place when you’re not there?’
‘Sure, why wouldn’t I?’
Jade shrugged. She didn’t like to voice aloud that she thought Greg Good was the sort of person who might explore her knicker drawer and get a thrill out of seeing if her undies were black or white. Saying such a thing would make her sound paranoid. Which she was.
Brad grinned, trying to lighten the mood. ‘I have nothing of any huge value, and certainly there isn’t anything that can’t be replaced by house insurance. I suppose old Greg could have a rummage through my private film collection, but unless he likes Jack Nicholson, he’d be disappointed with his findings.’