Finders Keepers Edie Baylis (phonics readers .TXT) 📖

Lena clocked where Jonah’s drunken eyes were focused and seeing his expression, smiled inwardly. Bingo.

Taking the opportunity to wring as much out of the situation as possible, she placed her hand lightly on the kitchen roll baby, not wanting to squash it out of shape. ‘It’s this dress, isn’t it?’ she gasped. ‘It makes it obvious and I’ve got that function tonight too. How stupid of me. I’m sorry, babe. I’m running out of things to wear that fit properly, but I’ll go and change. I’m sure I’ve still got something...’

She moved to get up but Jonah stopped her. ‘Leave the dress on.’ A strange mixture of pride rolled around his head as he reached towards Lena’s belly. ‘You look... amazing. Beautiful...’

‘Don’t,’ she whispered, twisting away. ‘I’m really self-conscious about it at the moment.’

Jonah cupped Lena’s face in his hands. ‘I’m sorry I shouted at you,’ he said, placing his lips on hers.

Lena enjoyed the kiss – far too much, but as it became deeper and more urgent, Jonah’s hands wandering dangerously close to the stack of kitchen roll, she had no choice but to pull away. She looked hungrily at the unmistakeable bulge in his trousers and cursed the day she’d had this stupid idea. She was gagging for a good seeing to. ‘We’ll have to wait until later, babe. I’ve got to go to that function.’

Jonah backed off sulkily, his eyes still focused on Lena’s belly. That was his baby in there. His.

Lena looked suitably downcast. The final piece of the plan ready to go... ‘And you really want to know why I told Saul...?’

Jonah’s drunken grin slid slowly from his face. ‘Yeah, as it happens, I do.’

Lena sighed dramatically. ‘I don’t... don’t want to cause any grief between the two of you... I...’

‘Just spit it out,’ Jonah said. There was little even Saul could do to spoil the fuzzy sense of pride he felt at this precise moment.

Looking up at the ceiling, Lena blinked rapidly as if she were stopping tears from falling. Come on, Jonah. Suck it up.

Moving forward, Jonah held Lena gently by the shoulders, unease prickling. ‘Lena? Tell me what the problem is.’

Lena sniffed loudly. ‘I-I had to tell Saul about the baby because I knew it would make him stop...’ Her voice was small, quiet. ‘He kept trying to paw me... Touch me... I...’

Jonah’s eyes narrowed, like someone had flicked a switch. ‘He did fucking what?’

Fifteen

FLICKING THROUGH THE PAGES of the notebook, Robert realised it was a diary. Not the type you’d get nowadays with the date printed on every page, but a plain book with the dates written in his mother’s hand, the tiny writing making it difficult to read.

He scanned some of the entries; 1962, 1963, notes about a show opening, having a row with a girl in the dressing room... The standard witterings of a young woman.

Robert was about to close the book and put it back when he stopped:

6th Jan 1964

Pegasus show a hit, but boa makes me sneeze! Ha ha!

Getting more frustrated and hate sneaking around, but things are far too deep with M.

Robert frowned. ‘M’? Michael? His eyes scanned the next entry, squinting at the tiny writing:

29th Jan

I’ve asked P for a divorce and he laughed! How I hate him. He has to go.

P? That must be Peter? Peter Adams?

3rd March

Nearly got caught with M tonight in Nobby’s bar. SO came in, but M says he’s ok and won’t say anything. We have to be careful.

Irritation prickled. By the sounds of it his mother had been seeing Michael Pointer behind Peter’s back for some time and the concept he’d cultivated about her began to quickly deteriorate. And who was ‘SO’? Someone that Michael was involved with by the sounds of it.

His nose wrinkled with distaste, not wanting to read further, but found himself unable to stop his eyes moving over the small words:

14th Aug

I told M it’s me or S. To my relief he chose me! I knew he would! All I need now is to get rid of P and S and then everything will be perfect.

Was ‘S’ the same person as ‘SO’? Robert chewed his lip, hating abbreviations. But it said ‘choosing S’? Was ‘S’ a woman? Shrugging, he continued:

9th Sept

Love love LOVE M

12th Sept

M promised to sort P. I have to believe him. It has to happen. It’s the only way.

Robert frowned. ‘Sort P’? What was that supposed to mean? A growing glimmer of unease formed.

19th Sept

I can’t breathe! He’s done it! M has done it!!! I’m so SO happy!

20th Sept

P’s “accident” made the papers. I was named as the distraught wife. How funny! Pretending to be upset when I’m celebrating is more difficult than I thought.

Robert blinked and re-read the entries. Was this what he thought it was? Was she saying that Michael Pointer had killed Peter? ‘Pretending to be upset’? No, it couldn’t be, could it?

25th Sept

I’m worried they’ll find out. M says no one will and that everything is covered. AND M’s divorcing S! He’s seeing a solicitor and then we’re getting married!

Robert swallowed the rising bile. He wasn’t wrong. Michael Pointer had killed Peter Adams. But how? He frowned. However he’d done it, he’d made it look like an accident. He froze, vividly remembering his mother had always said that his father – or rather, Peter, was killed by a car outside the Feathers. Hit by a car which hadn’t stopped when he’d left work one night... Oh, shit! It was no accident.

Pointer had killed Peter Adams or arranged for someone else to do it. Either way, the man was responsible and Robert also realised it was apparent that his mother had known all about it, and worse, welcomed it. Maybe she’d even helped plan it?

Feeling sicker by the second, he turned the page, detecting the noticeable tremor of his fingers:

27th Sept

I’m in shock! M wants me to leave