Buried (DC Jack Warr #1) - Lynda La Plante Page 0,108

looked up to, was now so far down the wrong road. Jack had bet his reputation on the guilt of the women from The Grange and he’d had it thrown back in his face. Just when he’d finally started caring about this thankless job, no one was listening.

All he wanted right now . . . was Maggie.

CHAPTER 30

The coach was in a lengthy queue waiting to embark on the DFDS ferry from Newcastle to Amsterdam. The kids were exhausted and were trying to sleep, and Ester was being more obnoxious than usual, having drunk the contents of one of her hip flasks. She had two more tucked away in various pockets of her clothing.

‘It looks like a floating skip!’ she said scathingly, as she caught sight of the ferry.

Ester took any and every opportunity to undermine Angela’s escape plan; it was as though she wanted it to fail just so she could laugh in Angela’s face and mock how the ‘little tart’ from all those years ago should have stayed on the lowest rung of the ladder, where she belonged, and made no attempt to climb. Ester’s penchant for self-destruction was well known, so they’d already agreed to keep her sweet for another week or two because after that they’d never have to see her again.

‘We’re staying in Hyatt House in Düsseldorf tomorrow night, Ester.’ Rob’s deep, velvety voice from the driving seat made Ester go weak at the knees and he knew it. ‘Google it, darlin’. It’s stunning.’

Ester obediently got out her mobile and, as she scrolled through the photos of the double-staircase, gold and winding up three floors, she beamed and opened her second hip flask.

Angela put her hand inside Rob’s, as they inched closer and closer to the first test of their new passports. She was nervous; she was so excited for what lay ahead of them, and terrified of losing it at the final turn. Rob’s huge hand enveloped Angela’s. She loved the rough callouses at the base of each of his fingers, just above his palm. They were comforting. Her man knew what hard work was and that made him appreciate everything he had. He could take on anything, because he knew what life was about. His life, anyway.

The front wheels of the coach hesitated on the lip of the ramp, rolled back a little, then went for it. They were aboard.

A man in a yellow tabard waved them into a parking space and Rob turned the engine off. For a few seconds, they all nervously looked out of their nearest window for . . . what?

Connie was the first to grin, which she quickly followed with a shriek that scared Suzie. Riel and Aggie were used to Connie’s oddness, so ignored her; Sam, out of boredom, was using his penknife to snag stitches out of the seat he was sitting on.

Angela, Julia and Connie, quite unprompted, came together in the centre of the coach and hugged. They then forced themselves into Ester’s two-seater space and hugged her too, which she pretended to object to.

‘Gerroff me! You stink! Gerroff, I’m going to the bar.’ Ester struggled to her feet. ‘Come and get me when we’re there.’

Connie curtsied and off Ester went.

‘Right, kids!’ Julia turned.

Sam was holding up a £50 note. She dived to the back of the bus and snatched it from his hand. She didn’t have to say anything, she just glared. Between Sam’s legs, the stitching in the front of his seat was open about half an inch, exposing one of the stacks of cash. He closed his legs, covering the damage he’d done. She read the ‘I won’t tell a soul’ in his eyes. Julia pushed the £50 note back through the hole in the seat and stroked Sam’s hair. Even though he was only ten, and inquisitive as a puppy, she trusted him completely.

‘I can sew that.’ Julia spun round to see Angela right behind her. ‘Maybe you should take the knife though, eh? For safekeeping.’ Then, to show Sam that she too trusted him, she said, ‘Rob, would you take the kids to look around? Sam’s going to be your wingman.’

Sam handed his penknife to Julia and left the coach with the other kids, Rob, Connie and Julia.

As the ferry pulled away from the terminal, Angela sat in the driver’s seat and looked out to sea. Then, quite unexpectedly, she began to cry. She tried to control it, but she couldn’t; the tears flooded out from pure relief. Angela gasped in the stale air