Read Online Hide Her Name by Nadine Dorries - Free Book Online Page B

since he had read the news of the priest’s murder. He had hardly slept since. His mother had commented over breakfast that morning that he was looking sickly.
    ‘They work you too hard at that hospital. Look at the state of youse. Mind you, I always say it must be harder working with them sick kids. Why don’t you see if you can transfer to the Northern hospital or somewhere where it’s adults, like, rather than them poorly littl’uns?’
    Stanley stared at his mother. What would happen to her if she ever knew the truth?
    The thought churned his stomach as he pushed away his plate of bacon and eggs.
    ‘I’ve just got a bug, Mam, I’m OK,’ he said with a hint of irritation.
    Last night Stanley had walked into the kitchen to find his mother standing in front of the television with a tea towel in her hand, staring at the screen.
    ‘I’m just plating up yer dinner, lad,’ she said, without even turning round to look at him. ‘They’ve got no one for this murder of the priest, yer know. Bloody shocking it is. I reckon there’s more going on in there than they are telling us.’ She nodded at the television, as though the investigation were taking place somewhere inside.
    Stanley looked at his place set at the table and the folded-up copy of the Liverpool Echo , which his mam left for him to read as he ate.
    The headlines glared at him. ‘P OLICE SHOCKED BY EXTENT OF INJURIES IN PRIEST MURDER AND APPEAL FOR WITNESSES TO COME FORWARD .’
    The now-familiar hand of fear caressed his neck and shoulders as he shivered slightly and took his seat. It slithered down his spine and lay heavily on his chest, pressing down hard, making him work to draw breath.
    Not again, he thought, as his face became hot and flushed, and pins and needles ran down his arms, but this time he was spared. His breathing slowed and he didn’t pass out. His mother had walked in and, with one eye still on the TV, placed his supper in front of him. She had noticed nothing.
    Eventually, Austin ran across the yard, the tan-brown tails of his porter’s coat flapping in the wind. His round, dark-framed glasses were as opaque and as greasy as his grey Brylcreemed hair, which was slicked back and hadn’t been washed for weeks.
    Not for the first time, Stanley wondered how Austin could see where he was going.
    ‘Come on, there’s no one in the porters’ lodge now,’ said Austin, ‘let’s have a brew.’
    Stanley tipped up the sack trolley, shuffled the next cylinder into place and ran across the yard into the wooden lodge with Austin, who placed the kettle on top of the electric ring.
    ‘Have you seen last night’s Echo ?’
    ‘I have,’ said Austin.
    Stanley stared at his back. Was the man mad? How could he be so calm? Did he not realize the danger they were in?
    ‘What are you being so fucking calm about, eh?’
    Stanley had almost shouted at Austin, who now turned round with a look of anger.
    ‘I’m not fucking calm, I’m fucking working hard to make sure no one knows I am terrified of looking up and seeing the coppers walk in through the door, which is more than you are doing. All you need is a fucking sign on your head saying kiddie fiddler, priest’s friend, police, please arrest me.’
    ‘Have you collected the photographs?’ Stanley asked as he handed Austin a mug of Bovril.
    ‘Yes, of course I have. Did you want me to leave them sitting there, you stupid twat?’
    Austin put his hand into his top pocket and handed Stanley a white envelope with his share of pictures inside. Tailored to his taste.
    ‘Arthur is in a bit of a state. Wants us to see him after work tonight. I don’t reckon that is a good idea. We need to disperse. It is only a matter of time before they get to us. We can sit here and deny everything or do a runner. I am going to stay put. I’m too old to run.’
    How could Stanley run? Austin thought to himself. It would kill his old mam.
    ‘I will stay put too,’ Stanley croaked. He took a sip of the