THE STREET

GILLIAN GODDEN

I dedicate this book in loving memory to Avril. You will be sadly missed. Sorry you never got to read the end x

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

More From Gillian Godden

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Also by Gillian Godden

Peaky Readers

About Boldwood Books

1 MOVING IN

‘Oh God, I’m knackered. Someone put the kettle on.’ Sitting down on a wooden dining chair, Maggie Silva looked around the kitchen. It looked pretty gloomy and needed a lick of paint but at least the walls were newly plastered and in time could be painted something nice and cheerful. But the nicotine-stained ceiling looked almost brown. Her heart sank; another moving day and another escape, but at least this was a great step up from where they had come from. Sevenoaks was one of the richest towns in Kent. The landscape was beautiful, the streets were clean, and you could breathe in all that lovely fresh air.

‘What did you say about the bloody kettle missus?’ After putting a cardboard box down on the table in front of her, Maggie’s husband, Alex Silva, stood there with his hands on his hips and a frown on his face. ‘You might have a kettle, Maggie, but there are no taps to fill it with. Look around the kitchen; haven’t you noticed there’s something missing?’

Maggie scanned the room. For a moment she couldn’t see what he was talking about. They had travelled a long way, and she was tired, and there was still a lot to do. But looking around the kitchen and following her husband’s lead, she let out a gasp. He was right, there was no kitchen sink!

Numbly, she walked to the corner of the kitchen which held the carcass of a double unit, but no kitchen sink, no draining board. Nothing.

‘What do you think has happened?’ Bewildered and confused, she stared at the blank space again and ran her hand along the wooden unit.

‘I think we need to look around Maggie. The brewery gave us this pub in good faith. They must have checked everything was in order before giving the previous landlord his marching orders, but I’ve a feeling he’s cleaned the place out and taken everything with him that he could scrap and sell. Bastard!’

They walked from the living quarters into the bar of the pub. Just as Alex had predicted, it had been stripped bare. ‘There isn’t a sink in here either and the glass washer is missing. Look at the gap, you can see the water pipes on the floor.’ He pointed. ‘And where is all the stock Maggie? They gave us an inventory. We were told it was fully stocked apart from the barrels of beer. Christ, everything has been taken. Get your phone out and take photos of this lot and then ring the brewery. I don’t want them thinking we’ve stolen it. Christ, we’re up to our neck in enough shit without this!’

‘Do you want the beds in first Mr Silva?’ Two removal men stood in the bar and looked around. Giving a low whistle, they met Alex’s eyes. ‘Looks like the locusts have been through here.’

Alex picked up a nearby dusty glass and turned towards a half-empty optic and poured himself a shot of whisky. ‘I take it they didn’t want this one. Do either of you want one?’ He gulped back the drink.

‘Sorry Mr Silva but I’m driving and we have a lot to do… If you don’t mind, sir, as I said, do you want the beds bringing in first?’

‘Yes, I suppose. If nothing else, we’re going to need somewhere to rest our weary heads tonight. Come on, I’ll give you a hand.’ Alex walked out to the back yard where the removal van was parked and tried not to think about the mess they had been left.