Читать книгу: «Backstabber», страница 3

CHAPTER THREE

‘I think it might be three, six, four, Harry. Keep those numbers firmly in your head and as soon as we get a chance, we’ll try them,’ Georgie O’Hara said.

Desperate to return to the family that had raised her, Georgie O’Hara had been racking her brain for weeks trying to remember her boyfriend Ryan’s phone number. She knew it started in 07973 and ended in 187, but the middle numbers she could not seem to fathom.

‘I reckon Dad and Granddad Jimmy are dead ya know, Georgie. They would have come and rescued us by now if they were still alive. Eddie telling us they went back to Scotland is a load of bollocks. No way would Dad go back to Scotland without us.’

Eyes welling up, Georgie squeezed her brother’s hand. She feared the same but prayed she was wrong. She knew her father and Granddad Jimmy had followed her and Harry on the day they’d been abducted because she and her brother had heard the mumblings of Eddie and the others. ‘I’ve got a plan. Why don’t we say sorry to Mum for being bad yesterday, then beg her to take us to Joycie’s birthday party. We can’t use the phone here ’cause the numbers will show up on the bill and we’ll get into trouble like we did before. But we can use Joycie’s. She must have a phone upstairs. Most gorgers have phones in their bedrooms.’ Joyce Smith was their great-grandmother, their dead Nanny Jessica’s mum, but neither Georgie nor Harry really remembered her from the past. Neither did they like her very much, which was why they called her ‘Joycie’ rather than ‘Nan’.

Harry shrugged. ‘I ain’t saying sorry to Frankie though. I wish she’d die.’

Backcombing her dyed-blonde hair into a bouffant, Joyce Smith repeatedly yelled her husband’s name.

Stanley Smith puffed out his cheeks as he ambled up the stairs. Today would be the first time he’d been forced to socialize with the man who had murdered his daughter since she’d died, and Stanley was dreading being in close proximity to Eddie no-good Mitchell.

Jessica’s death had been a tragic case of mistaken identity, but that didn’t lessen Stanley’s hatred towards the man who’d snuffed out her life. Eddie had thought it was Frankie’s gypsy boyfriend hiding under the bed in a trailer in Tilbury when he’d manically fired that machine gun. Jessica had been pregnant at the time with her and Eddie’s third child, so Mitchell had two lots of blood on his hands. In Stanley’s eyes, a judge and jury should have locked Eddie up for life, but they didn’t. He got found guilty of only the firearms offence and was let out of prison far too soon.

‘You’re not wearing that, Stanley. You look like a bundle of shit tied up ugly. Go and put your blue suit on, and wear that new tie I bought you.’

‘I’m not wearing a suit and bloody tie indoors. I’ll look like a poxy doctor’s clerk,’ Stanley complained.

‘I bet you wore a suit for the old slapper. Now go and get changed. Chop, chop.’ Joyce had been equally appalled and devastated when Stanley had once left her and moved in with that brazen old bag, Pat the Pigeon. To this day, Stanley insisted they’d been just good friends and their relationship was platonic, but Joyce wasn’t a forgiving woman. Most days she would remind her husband of his infidelity, especially when she wanted her own way, or jobs around the house doing.

Mumbling obscenities, Stanley took his suit out of the wardrobe.

‘Answer that phone. I’m doing my make-up,’ Joyce shouted out.

Stanley did as he was told, then relayed the message to his wife. ‘That was Eddie. He said Frankie’s bringing Georgie and Harry with her, but you’re not to worry as he’s invited some other kids to keep them occupied.’

Dropping her make-up brush, Joyce looked at her husband in despair. ‘But they can’t come. I’ve invited Rita and Hilda now, and Jock and your pigeon club mates. We can’t have the monsters running riot amongst friends, Stanley. Whatever will they think?’ Joyce wasn’t a big fan of her gypsy great-grandchildren. They were terribly behaved and reminded her of all the bad things that had happened over the years. If Frankie hadn’t got in with that Jed O’Hara, her Jessica would still be alive today.

Stanley shrugged. ‘Eddie better not be bringing his kids by that other woman. He’s not, is he?’ Eddie Mitchell was remarried now to a woman called Gina and Stanley had no wish to meet her or her children.

‘No. Eddie’s coming with Vinny Butler and his mum, Queenie.’

‘Vinny Butler! Jesus wept, Joycie! I know you love mixing with the criminal fraternity, but you’re asking for bleedin’ trouble inviting those Butlers to our home. They’re rotten to the core, you silly woman.’

‘That was my dad. Vinny Butler’s son is coming and bringing his kids, so Georgie and Harry will have some company. I do hope they don’t start performing, Stuart. I can tell my nan don’t like them very much.’

Stuart held his pretty fiancée in his arms and stroked her long dark hair. Frankie had changed since Georgie and Harry’s return. She’d lost a lot of weight and her once happy persona had all but disappeared. ‘Today will be fine. Kids will be kids – there’s no point worrying about it, babe.’

Frankie clung to Stuart, taking in the smell of his familiar aftershave. What she would have done without him these past six months she did not know. He was her rock and she could never have coped alone.

In Queenie Butler’s opinion, she looked bloody good for her seventy-four years. Her shoulder-length straight hair was regularly dyed blonde and she wouldn’t be seen dead without her make-up on. She was still the same ten dress size as when she’d got married and, considering she was short, Queenie classed that as an achievement. Both herself and Vivian had loathed the thought of ever letting themselves go.

‘You look beautiful, Mum,’ Vinny told her. His mother hadn’t wanted to attend Eddie’s ex-mother-in-law’s birthday bash, but Vinny had managed to talk her round by pretending she was doing both he and Eddie a big favour. He was desperate for his mum to make friends in Essex and was hoping that she and Joycie would hit it off. Like most people, including Eddie, Vinny always referred to Joyce as Joycie.

Queenie picked up her handbag. She and Vivian had always had a passion for dressing up in nice clothes and it felt weird getting glammed up without her sister’s presence. ‘I’m as ready as I’m ever going to be, but I’m not staying long, Vinny. It doesn’t feel right, not with Vivvy still lying on a slab. In fact, I think I might get changed, wear black instead.’

‘No, don’t. That green really suits you and Auntie Viv wouldn’t want you walking around for weeks on end wearing black. She liked bright colours, and she’d want you to try and enjoy yourself today, wouldn’t she?’

‘Fat chance of that happening. Come on; let’s go before I change my mind.’

‘Hurry up, Sammi. The boys are ravenous and so am I,’ Little Vinny urged.

‘I can’t do my jeans up and I look like an elephant. You go with the boys and I’ll stay here.’

Little Vinny opened the bedroom door. His wife had put on a stone and a half since they’d first met, but he had no issues about her weight at all and wished he could convince her how stunning she was. ‘You’ve got to come, Sammi. I want us all to go as a family.’

‘But we don’t even know the woman whose birthday it is, Vin. No way am I turning up at someone’s party without a present. We’ll have to stop at a florist’s on the way.’

‘OK. We’ll get a bouquet and a card if it makes you happy. And you will look beautiful in whatever you wear, so just put a spurt on,’ Little Vinny ordered, playfully squeezing Sammi-Lou’s backside. Meeting Sammi had been the best thing that had ever happened to him. They had three sons whom they doted on and couldn’t wait for their youngest Regan to be allowed home. He was currently serving a bit of juvenile bird for stabbing his school teacher with a pair of scissors, but had behaved himself since and all being well would be released in the next few months.

When her husband locked the bedroom door, Sammi-Lou scolded him as he began kissing around her neck. He knew she found that a turn-on. ‘I thought you was in a rush. We can’t, not now. The boys will hear us.’

Little Vinny grinned as he put his wife’s hand on his erect penis. ‘Nah, they won’t. We’ll be extra quiet.’

The four-bedroomed house that Joyce and Stanley now lived in had once been Jessica and Eddie’s marital home. Eddie had signed it over to Joyce whilst in prison, insisting it was what Jessica would have wanted. Stanley saw it as a guilty gesture and blood money, but instead of telling Eddie where to stick his unusual offer, Joyce, being the boastful show-off that she was, could not wait to collect their belongings from their old house in Upney and up sticks for good.

Panicking at the thought of her great-grandchildren embarrassing her, Joyce was running around like a blue-arsed fly to keep herself busy. ‘Tidy up that corner again by your armchair. The guests will be arriving soon,’ she shrieked.

‘Stop getting in such a two and eight, woman. And they’re not guests. They’re friends and family – well, apart from the notorious underworld figures you’ve invited. They’re guests, unwanted ones.’

Brett Mitchell stared miserably out of the window of Stuart’s motor. He had been really looking forward to seeing his granddad and great-grandparents, until Harry had threatened to drown him in the swimming pool earlier. Now he didn’t want to go to the party. Water scared him and he couldn’t swim very well. ‘I feel ill, Mum. Can I go to Granddad’s house instead? I have a bellyache and want to lie down,’ Brett lied.

‘Bellyache! What’s that when it’s at home?’ Harry taunted, grabbing his little brother in a none-too-gentle headlock.

‘Stop that, Harry. Leave your brother alone, love,’ Frankie ordered. ‘Brett, you must come to the party. Nanny Joycie will be upset if you’re not there, and you don’t want to spoil her birthday, do you? You can lie down on her bed until your tummy ache has gone.’

Stuart watched surreptitiously through the interior mirror. He was sure that little bastard Harry had been picking on Brett, but he’d yet to catch him in the act. He’d even asked Brett in a roundabout way, but Brett had denied there was any issue.

‘Tummy ache,’ Harry said in a silly voice. A warning nudge and look from his big sister stopped him from saying anything else.

Stuart kept half an eye on the mirror and finally saw Harry pinch his prey. Brett winced, and Stuart angrily slammed his foot on the brake.

‘What’s the matter?’ Frankie asked.

‘I’m taking Brett round your dad’s. He looks a bit peaky to me. Gina will look after him.’

Feeling a sense of relief wash over him, Brett’s heartbeat returned to normal.

When Jessica was killed, Joyce swore she wanted nothing more to do with Eddie Mitchell, but time was a healer and she knew how much Ed had loved her daughter. Apart from a few minor ups and downs, they really had been the perfect couple until that fateful evening in Tilbury.

‘Eddie, thank you so much. They’re beautiful,’ Joyce gushed, waving the bouquet in the air so her old neighbours Rita and Hilda could see her lovely flowers. She knew they were jealous of her closeness to Eddie. He was a somebody and their children had married nobodies.

‘Joycie, this is Queenie, Vinny’s mum. Queenie, this is the wonderful woman who I will always class as my mother-in-law. We’re very close,’ Eddie grinned, winking at Joycie. Not many mothers would have forgiven him for the major mistake he had made and Ed would always be grateful to Joyce for reuniting the family in more ways than one. Little did she know it, but Joycie’s interference had actually saved his life. It was all her doing he and Joey were back on speaking terms in the first place.

The two women looked one another up and down, and neither particularly liked what they saw. Joycie thought Queenie was extremely hard-faced and nobody of her age should be wearing a skirt slightly above the knee. As for Queenie, she thought Joyce was an ugly old cow. Her teeth were far too big for her mouth, her nose slightly hooked and that bouffant hairstyle had gone out with the ark.

Queenie smiled falsely. ‘Nice to meet you, Joycie.’

‘Likewise, Queenie. Would you like me to give you a tour of the house and grounds?’ Joyce asked, in her poshest voice.

‘No, thank you. I have just lost my sister, so not an awful lot impresses me at the moment.’

Eddie and Vinny shared an awkward glance. This certainly wasn’t going to plan.

Georgie and Harry O’Hara were bored, miserable and felt like fishes out of water. They’d sneaked upstairs earlier and tried the number Georgie had thought was Ryan’s, but some silly old lady had answered.

‘All right? Shit party, ain’t it?’ Calum Butler voiced, plonking himself on the grass next to Georgie and Harry.

Harry eyed the boy suspiciously. ‘Who are you?’

‘Big Vinny is my granddad and Little Vinny’s my old man. Are you Eddie Mitchell’s grandkids? I heard you were gypsies.’

Georgie O’Hara glared at the boy. ‘So what if we are?’

Fourteen-year-old Calum smiled. He’d fancied Georgie the moment he’d laid eyes on her. She had dark hair and green eyes like he had, and she had big knockers and a very pretty face. ‘Wait ’ere and I’ll steal some booze. I won’t be a tick.’

Loving nothing more than bragging and showing off her wealth to her old neighbours, Joyce dragged Hilda and Rita upstairs to view her newly acquired bedroom furniture. ‘Look at the quality of the pine,’ Joyce urged, stroking the chest of drawers as one would a tiny puppy.

Hilda and Rita pretended to be interested, then nudged one another, raising their eyebrows as soon as Joyce turned her back. Joyce had always thought she was the bee’s knees when she’d lived a spit’s throw away from them in Upney, and since moving up in the world had become ten times worse.

About to start gushing about her new en suite, Joyce was stopped in her tracks by an out-of-breath Stanley. ‘Get your backside downstairs now, Joycie. One of your Butler guests has just knocked Jock in the swimming pool – on purpose. Never will I invite my friends round here again. This is all your fault, you senile old bat.’

The sight of Stanley’s best mate spluttering and mumbling obscenities while fully clothed in her swimming pool appealed to Joyce’s warped sense of humour. She tried to keep a straight face, but when she locked eyes with Queenie, who was laughing like a hyena, Joyce did the same.

Arriving amidst the drama, Joey Mitchell was none too surprised to learn that his nephew was at the centre of it. He had done his utmost to bond with Harry, but the child was bloody hard work and so was Georgie.

‘Where’s Dom?’ Eddie asked his son.

‘He’s not coming. We had words earlier, you know how it is. He’s on my case constantly to go back to work and I just don’t feel ready. To be honest, I don’t know if I want to go back to my old job at all. It’s too stressful and I don’t think I could cope with it now.’

Eddie felt guilty. Joey had been earning bloody good money at the Stock Exchange before that fateful night with the O’Haras. An unlikely hero, Joey had never returned to work since.

‘Where’s Frankie?’ Joey asked. He and his twin were extremely close, but looked nothing alike. Frankie had his dad’s dark skin, hair and features, whereas Joey was fair-skinned and blond like his mum had been.

‘I think she’s gone round the side of the gaff to give the devil’s spawn a talking to.’ As Joey made to set off in search of his sister, Eddie laid a hand on his arm. ‘There’s something you need to know: I had to tell her Jed and Jimmy were brown bread.’

‘You what! You said you wasn’t going to tell her. You didn’t let her know—’

Eddie interrupted his son. ‘Of course not. What happened that night stays between those present. Nobody else will ever find out, so don’t panic. As far as Frankie knows, none of us were there when the deed was done, me included. But I had to tell her something, son. She was out of her mind with worry that Jed would come back and snatch the kids. Stuart said she hasn’t been sleeping properly for weeks. Well, it’s done and dusted now, but she was interrogating me about you. Reckons you must have witnessed something because you’ve changed since that day. If she starts questioning you, tell her she’s talking bollocks. Make something up about you and Dom if you have to, eh?’ Eddie had been mortified when he’d first learned his son was gay and in a relationship with Dominic. Time was a healer though and even though he still wished Joey was straight, he’d managed to finally accept the situation.

‘I’ll tell Frankie me and Dom are on the rocks and that’s the reason I’ve not been myself lately. It’s partly true anyway. He knows something went on that evening and I can never tell him the truth, can I? He would disown me.’

‘You saved your family’s bacon, boy. That’s something to be proud of, not ashamed. But no, the less people that know what really happened, the better. Listen, how d’ya fancy being mine and Vinny’s assistant manager at the casino when it opens? Keeping your mind occupied might do you good, and if you don’t like it you can always go back to the Stock Exchange at a later date.’

Joey toyed with the idea. The thought of working in the City again filled him with dread, and he couldn’t be unemployed as he and Dom had a mortgage to pay. He was on the sick, his father had sent him to a bent doctor who had lied and informed his employers he’d had a nervous breakdown.

‘I’ll pay you good dosh,’ Eddie promised.

Joey held out his right hand. ‘You got yourself a deal, Dad.’

Having never met before, Sammi-Lou Butler and Frankie Mitchell were getting along famously. Frankie had few friends these days, and it was good to speak to another mother whose children were problematical.

‘It’s awful having to keep Georgie and Harry under lock and key. But I’m at my wits’ end and have no other option. Would you do the same, if you were in my position?’

Sammi squeezed Frankie’s arm. ‘Probably. I can’t begin to imagine the heartache you went through when their dad took them away. All those wasted years when you could have been watching them grow up. But you’ve got them back now and that’s all that matters. Things will improve, but it’s bound to take time.’

Frankie looked towards her children and smiled at her new-found friend. ‘They seem to be getting on well with your Calum, so that’s a start. They’ve had no interaction with other kids since they came home. It’s a relief to know they can mix, to be honest.’

‘I have an idea. Why don’t you bring the children over to ours for the day so they can hang out with Ollie and Calum? We have a big garden and while the weather’s still nice, we can have a barbecue.’

‘That would be lovely. Our men seem to be getting on like a house on fire too, so I’m sure Stuart will be up for it. But please be forewarned, Georgie and Harry can be awfully behaved at times. They swear like sailors and I’d hate you to think badly of me and Stuart. It’s the way they were dragged up in the travelling community.’

‘Mine weren’t dragged up and they’re no better. Oliver is an angel compared to Calum and Regan. Little bastards they are. I seriously don’t know where me and Vin went wrong. We’re decent parents, I know we are. Worst moment of my life was when they sent Regan away. I miss him so bloody much, even though he drives me insane.’

Frankie offered words of comfort to Sammi before asking, ‘When would you like us to come over then?’

‘How about tomorrow? Shame to waste this nice weather, and we have nothing planned.’

‘Brilliant. OK, tomorrow it is.’

Having been raised by travellers, Georgie O’Hara was far more savvy than most children her age. ‘Go and nick some more booze and we’ll meet you round the side of the house. Hide it behind those plant pots again,’ Georgie ordered Calum, before dragging her brother away.

‘You fancy him, don’t ya? I saw the way you were looking at him,’ Harry said accusingly.

Had she not promised to marry Ryan one day, Georgie might have fancied Calum. He was a bit wild, a bad boy, which was her type, but she had other plans for him. ‘Of course I don’t fancy Calum, you dinlo. I’m just playing him to get us out of the house. He could be our perfect opportunity to escape.’

‘How? Frankie don’t let us out of her sight, the slag.’

‘She will if she thinks we can be trusted, Harry.’

Vinny Butler handed Eddie a cigar. Neither smoked cigarettes any more, but liked the odd cigar on special occasions.

‘I wonder if we’ve got any more nasty surprises in the post today? Got a feeling I know who sent the last one,’ Eddie announced, before telling Vinny the story about the rats, Jimmy O’Hara and what Harry had told him.

‘But Jimmy ain’t about no more, is he?’ Vinny enquired. Eddie had ended up with a broken arm, leg, and ribs after his confrontation with the O’Haras. Ed had told Vinny the feud had been sorted at the time, and Vinny hadn’t wanted to pry too much.

‘Jimmy’s out the picture and so is Jed, but they have other relations. Breed like flies, those bastards, don’t they?’

‘Yeah, but we can handle ourselves, mate. We’ll have plenty of back-up at the casino an’ all. I’ve hired new doormen at my club, so Pete and Paul can run the door, and you’re bringing muscle in an’ all. The pikeys are no threat to us.’

‘You’re right. We’ll have enough brawn to deal with any chancer. Ray, Tel, Gary and Stuart are no mugs either,’ Eddie replied, referring to his own firm. ‘Is Carl gonna still be working at the Holborn club?’

Vinny nodded. ‘Carl and Ava will run Holborn for me. Not long now, me old mucker, and we’ll be greeting our first punters. The Butlers and Mitchells unite, eh?’

Eddie dotted out his cigar. ‘That’s if Joycie and your mother ain’t murdered one another. Come on, let’s go see the damage.’

After initially hating one another on sight, Joyce and Queenie bonded over Jock nearly drowning, and now decided they did rather like one another after all. Both were strong characters, with similar views on family and life in general.

‘So, was your son Raymond here today?’ Queenie asked Joyce.

‘Nope. He’s abroad. Married a posh tart, Raymond did, and you can bet your bottom dollar that it was she who booked the holiday so they wouldn’t have to come to my party. As for their daughter, that’s an absolute replica of its mother. Want, want, want, it is. Spoilt as arseholes.’

Queenie smiled. ‘I’ve got a grandchild like that an’ all. My Michael’s youngest, Ellie. I can’t take to her. Don’t like her mother either. Trapped my Michael, did Katy. Gold-digging whore.’

With all the guests now gone, Vinny poked his head around the door. ‘You OK, Mum? Let me know when you want to make a move.’

‘I’m OK, love. You can top mine and Joycie’s drinks up, though, if you want to make yourself useful.’

‘Bring us in a bottle of Baileys. Do you like Baileys, Queenie?’ Joyce asked.

‘My favourite. Where’s your husband? Has he gone to bed?’ Queenie enquired.

‘Stanley’ll be out in the shed, playing with his cock,’ Joyce chuckled.

‘I beg your pardon.’

‘The old goat keeps pigeons. Spends hours in that shed, he does. Suits me. I don’t have to look at him. Left me once for another woman, he did. Right old trollop she was. I mean, who’d look at Stanley twice? Bald-headed, short old bastard.’

Queenie laughed out loud. Today was the first time she’d properly laughed since Vivian had died. Joycie sounded just like her and Viv. She was certainly a ‘Say it as it is’ type.

Vinny did the honours by pouring the Baileys, then walked into the kitchen shaking his head. ‘Women, eh? Getting on like they’ve known one another all their lives. I’ll never understand the female species.’

Eddie raised his eyebrows. ‘Me neither. I’m thankful there won’t be any bloodshed though.’

As Vinny and Eddie carried on chatting, neither had a clue that plenty of blood would soon be shed. In the most atrocious way imaginable.