Read Online Get Carter by Ted Lewis - Free Book Online

about?”
    “All sorts.”
    “Like what?”
    “Nothing in particular. She used to tell me what she’d got up to in London and that.”
    “When was she in London?”
    “I don’t know, years ago.”
    “What was she doing down there?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Yes you do.”
    “Well, she worked as a hostess or something.”
    “Or something. Was she on the game?”
    “I didn’t ask.”
    “Clip joints?”
    “I suppose so.”
    “And you didn’t mind your dad having it off with a slag like her?”
    “Look,” she said, “bloody shut up. Me dad knew what she was like. It was his business. She was all right, was Margaret. She understood things.”
    “What things?”
    “About life.”
    “What about life?”
    “She didn’t care what everybody thought.”
    “In what way?”
    “She lived as she pleased.”
    “And you agree with her?”
    “Well, why not? You’re only here once.”
    “How many blokes have you had, Doreen?”
    “Now look …”
    “How many?”
    “Mind your bloody business.”
    “Did your dad know?”
    “Nowt to do with anybody but meself.”
    “Did he?”
    “Shut up.”
    “Do you think he’d have liked it?”
    “Shut your mouth.”
    “I bet Margaret knew, though. I bet you talked about it with her, didn’t you?”
    “Why not?”
    “I bet you had a right laugh behind his back. I bet he didn’t know half of what she was up to, let alone you.”
    “She was married. She did as she liked.”
    “You sound closer to her than you were to your dad.”
    She stood up.
    “She understood me,” she said, tears beginning. “She knew what it was like.”
    “Didn’t your dad?”
    “No.”
    “You’ll have a better time now he’s gone, then, won’t you?”
    She flew at me. I took hold of her wrists.
    “Now listen,” I said. “Tell me. What was up with your dad? What did he know?”
    “Nothing, nothing.”
    “I don’t believe you. What was wrong?”
    “I don’t know. Maybe Margaret …”
    “What?”
    “Maybe she finished with him.”
    “And he’d get drunk over that?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “I bet,” I said. “I bet.”
    I pushed her down on to Frank’s chair and leaned over her.
    “Now look,” I said. “It strikes me that for Frank to get drunk the way he did and for him to drive off top road, there must have been something on his mind that was pretty heavy.”
    She stared at me.
    “Now,” I said, “I don’t know whether it was an accident or on purpose or what. But I’m going to find out. And if it turns out that you know something you’re not telling me then I’ll knock the living daylights out of you.”
    She was frightened to death and at the same time she was bewildered by what I’d said.
    “What do you mean?” she said. “It was an accident. What do you mean?”
    I straightened up. So that was it. She didn’t know anything.
    “What do you mean?” she said again.
    “I’ll tell you if and when I find out,” I said.
    I started to go out of the room and up the stairs. She followed after me.
    “What, Uncle Jack?” she said. “What do you mean?”
    “I don’t know,” I said, “so don’t ask.”
    I went into the bedroom and picked up the hold-all and the shotgun and box of shells.
    “But you think …”
    “I don’t know what I think,” I said.
    I walked out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Doreen stood at the top of the stairs.
    “Where are you going?”
    “To where I’m staying.”
    “But what about me dad?”
    “I’ll let you know what happens.”
    “You don’t know where I’m staying.”
    “I’ll find you,” I said.
    I closed the front door behind me. I put the hold-all on the front seat and went round to the boot and opened it. I laid the shotgun and the box of shells down on the carpeting. I closed the lid and turned the key in the lock.

    I phoned Audrey again. This time Gerald wasn’t there.
    “Jack,” she said. “I’m worried.”
    “What about?”
    “I’ve been thinking. About what Gerald might