Time To Play by KA Richardson (best book club books of all time TXT) 📗

back through the kitchen towards the living room. She was just about to plonk herself on the sofa when another knock sounded.

Darting to the door with a wide ‘oh yes, who’s this then’ grin at Marlo, she flung the door open and smiled widely.

Ali stood in front of her, his mouth open in shock. It was almost comical, and Marlo had to stifle the giggle that threatened to escape.

‘Ah, a man to join our pity party,’ said Deena dramatically, sweeping her arm across to invite Ali inside. ‘Enter, kind sir, come drown your sorrows with us. Wine solves all problems, don’t you know.’

Ali grinned. ‘Why the hell not?’

Marlo handed him her glass – she hadn’t even taken a sip yet – and nipped to the kitchen to pour herself another. Grabbing the second bottle while she was there, she put it on the table in front of the sofa and sat down next to Ali, much to the amusement of Deena.

‘So,’ said Marlo, ‘you wanted to whinge?’

‘Who me? No, no. No whinging. Just fancied a quick glass of vino to be honest. I’ve got plans tonight anyway, I’m meeting some of the traffic lads for a few drinkypoos down at The Old Nun. Didn’t know you were expecting company, though.’

Lifting the glass to her lips, she downed the rest of her wine in one gulp.

‘I’ll be on my way, pet. Don’t forget the table’s booked tomorrow at Filoria’s for 1 p.m. You can catch me up on all the bedroom gossip then. Unless I need to ring you to drag you kicking and screaming from your duvet and away from the wonderful Ali?’

‘Jesus, Deena!’ said Marlo, mortified.

‘Not Jesus, pet, just little old me. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

Deena planted a kiss on her forehead, then flounced out of the room as energetically as she’d flounced in just minutes before.

‘Sorry, did I interrupt something?’ asked Ali.

‘No, she’s…well, she’s a little nuts if I’m honest. I’ll catch-up with her tomorrow.’

‘Another day off, huh?’ Ali teased. ‘To be fair though, I’m off tomorrow, too. Going in for the immigration meeting then handing off to DI Caville for two whole days. I’ve not been off for seventeen days straight now – it’ll be so nice not having to get out of bed if I don’t want to. Or even just having the time to go to the gym or whatever.’

‘Yeah, know what you mean, resourcing think we’re machines half the time. I bet they never get their rest days cancelled.’

‘So, dunno about you but I’m starving. Chinese?’

Marlo nodded and pulled a menu from the magazine rack beside the table. ‘Sounds good.’

 

Chapter Thirty

Ali’s Flat, Sunderland – 18 November

E lvie suddenly sat bolt upright in bed, startled, the remnants of the nightmare still clear in her mind. She put a hand over her mouth to stifle the noise she knew she’d make. She didn’t want to wake Agnes who was asleep on a camp bed beside her.

Agnes had been wonderful to her, Elvie knew that, and she appreciated it. But she was afraid. What if they sent her back to her village?

Silently, she left the bedroom and padded through to the sofa. She pulled her knees to her chest and hugged herself tightly, tears running down her cheeks. It was awful not knowing what would happen. Tonight was almost as bad as being in the container.

She didn’t want to go back. She never wanted to go back where people could just take her from her bed and force her to go with them. Everyone kept telling her she’d be OK, that they were petitioning and giving statements for her to stay in the UK. But she didn’t really understand what it all meant. All she knew was that the immigration people could make her go back.

Guilt was another emotion she was feeling, so much so that it was giving her nightmares. Horrible dreams about Nita getting hurt and Elvie never going to get her despite knowing where she was. The trouble was that she didn’t actually know where Nita was. The name of the street had gone from her mind, and now it only hovered on the perimeter, not quite letting her reach it.

And what if immigration said she could stay, and then Marlo didn’t like her any more. Then what would happen? Elvie really liked Marlo, she’d saved her life and Elvie would always remember that, but that made her beholden to Marlo, not the other way around. What if Marlo didn’t want a kid hanging around, especially a kid that wasn’t a friend or relative? Did Marlo even have relatives?

She knew she should feel lucky. Things could have been so much worse for her: she could have ended up with the man that Yolanda wanted to sell her too, or Danny might not have turned out to be so nice, or she might not even have survived the container trip. But lucky wasn’t something that she felt right now.

I tell tomorrow, I tell them about Nita and the horrid men in that house. She need my help, she my friend.

Elvie resumed the rocking motion, unable to stop the sobs this time. What did I do? Why is this happening?

But nobody answered.

Ali’s Flat, Sunderland – 18 November

Elvie didn’t hear the front door open a few minutes later, or notice Ali step inside, see her crying, then sneak back out to get Marlo. The first she knew of anyone being there was when Marlo’s arms wrapped round her and pulled her close. She could feel Marlo stroking her hair, and it reminded her so much of Noni that the tears refused to stop.

‘Shhh, it’s OK, it’s all going to be OK,’ whispered Marlo.

Elvie wanted so much to believe her. Heaving great sobs shook her thin body, eventually petering out into hiccups and occasional