Page 38 of Fireworks at Pennycress Inn
‘It’s not far off the truth. He’s…’
Tuning out, Polly watched as Zac walked back into the kitchen. The furrows in his brow had deepened and his hair was dishevelled as if he’d been raking his fingers through it, just as he had when he’d taken that call on the way down here. Something was up with him, something was going on, and the more she thought about it, she wasn’t so certain it was to do with the reserve and the money he was trying to raise.
She glanced at the clock by the door, for once regretting not replacing the battery when it had died three months earlier. It must be late, though. Nine o’clock. Maybe later. Would he even be taking calls about work this late?
Zac held his hand out, indicating her mobile, which she now held by her side, distracted by Zac’s reappearance.
Turning her attention back to her phone, Polly cut across her friend. ‘Sorry, I’d better get going.’
‘Right, okay. I suppose I should as well. But I’ll ring you later, right?’ Stacey’s voice suddenly sounded very far away.
‘Yep.’ Ending the call without letting Zac see, Polly gripped the phone closer to her ear. She had nowhere to go. She’d have to stay here. Trying her best not to let her voice wobble, she carried on speaking into her phone, her voice a little louder. ‘Thanks, Stacey. See you in a few minutes.’
Waiting until she’d slipped her mobile into her coat pocket, Zac stepped a little closer. ‘You can stay at your friend’s house?’
‘Yep, yes, I can stay. She’s on her way.’ Shoving her hands into her coat pockets, one hand gripped her mobile, the other the defunct key to the flat. ‘Thank you for this evening, but you can go.’
‘No, I’ll wait.’ Zac looked at his mobile as a message pinged through, the creases in his forehead deepening again as he read it.
‘No, you’ve done enough. More than enough. And by the looks of it, you’re needed elsewhere…’ She nodded towards his mobile.
‘Well, I…’
‘Honestly, she’s only round the corner. She’ll likely get here before you’ve started your engine.’ She swallowed. She hated lying, even to him, but he had things to do, places to be. He’d had to leave Meadowfield this weekend, just as she had. He had a reason, responsibilities too. ‘Besides, Mr Greene will be sitting on the steps until at least midnight. And no one he doesn’t know will get past him.’
Zac visibly relaxed a little. ‘Yes, I suppose you’re right. And you’re certain she won’t be long?’
‘Nope. She’ll be no time at all.’ Polly shook her head, trying desperately not to give in to the stinging behind her eyes, willing the tears to stay where they were, hoping he wouldn’t be able to hear the fear in her voice. ‘Thank you for everything.’
‘No worries, I’m just sorry this has happened to you.’ Zac looked around the kitchen again. ‘You’ll ring me if I can do anything?’
Polly nodded.
‘Right, okay.’ Zac took a breath in before turning and leaving.
As soon as she heard the crunch of glass beneath his shoes and the feeble click of the damaged door closing, Polly slid to the floor, her back against the counter. Crossing her arms, she buried her face in the warmth of her coat sleeves. She was alone. Here alone for the night. The whole night. And yes, she hadn’t been lying when she’d told him that Mr Greene would be perched on the steps for hours yet, but even he’d have to go to bed at some point, or else simply get too cold and venture inside to his flat.
She should have told Stacey what had happened. If she had, she knew her friend would have come straight over. But Stacey deserved a night out, she worked hard and needed to spend time with her colleagues unwinding. Besides, there was a small part of her that would be mortified if Ben found out what had happened. And he likely would if Stacey had to run out on his leaving drinks. He’d always been a snob about where she’d come from, about where her grandparents lived.
Pushing herself up to standing, Polly made her way back through to the living room, pausing just before entering the hallway. What if they – whoever they were – had watched Zac leave and decided to come back? The fact there hadn’t been anything worth stealing in their eyes didn’t matter. They’d still used the flat as a place to eat pizza. What if they assumed it was still empty and returned? Or decided to use it as a bolt-hole, somewhere to hide away, or simply just to eat and hang out?
She needed to do something. She had to somehow plug the hole in the window and barricade the door, make it impossible for anyone to enter. Yes, that’s what she would do, and she had to do it fast, before anyone had a chance to make their way inside again.
First though, she’d turn the electric fire on, let it take the chill out of the air whilst she was doing what she could to secure the place.
24
Placing the last of her grandma’s china dolls inside the large, battered suitcase they’d always taken on holiday with them, Polly lifted her forefinger to her lips, kissed it and placed it on the doll’s forehead. Her grandma’s prized possessions. She’d collected them for as long as Polly could remember, receiving one from Polly’s grandad for every birthday, Christmas and wedding anniversary.
And now what? Polly had spent the last few hours packing them up, and what was she supposed to do with them? There were well over thirty which had been on display here in the living room and in her grandparents’ bedroom, and more lovingly wrapped with tissue paper in boxes in the loft space above the flat – a perk her grandad had often reminded her of, always advising her to buy on the top floor if she ever moved into a flat.
For now, she could put the bulging suitcases in the loft, but when, or if, the flat ever sold, what then? She had nowhere to take the dolls and other things. Where would they go? She didn’t think she was ready to sell or give her grandparents’ belongings away. Besides, they’d always be pieces she’d want to keep, want to treasure. What did people do with such things?
Tucking the edge of a doll’s satin dress into the suitcase, Polly carefully zipped it up. She’d have to look into storage solutions, those big containers or rooms you could hire in the large metal warehouses on the edge of town. Yes, that’s what she’d do. For now, at least.
Slumping back on the floor, her back against the sofa, Polly closed her eyes for a second. She wasn’t sure of the time – she’d taken the batteries out of all her grandma’s clocks, leaving only the clock in the kitchen ticking because they usually had the door closed, when she’d first moved in to look after her all those months ago, and she’d left her phone on the mantelpiece on the other side of the room – but she knew it must be almost, if not past, midnight. Or at least it felt like it.
Ever since Zac had left, she’d been trying to keep busy, trying to distract herself from the creaks and noises from the flat below and she’d given up counting the number of times she’d been to check the door for any sign of someone trying to force entry again. She’d told herself a million times that now she’d covered the hole in the glass with an empty cereal box and enough duct tape to secure even the most valuable bank safe, she was secure. Not to mention the wooden chair she’d jammed up against the handle of the door leading from the tiny hallway into the living room. No one was getting in here, not without making a huge racket first, anyway.
