Читать книгу: «The Traitor»

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Epigraph

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Forty-Three

Chapter Forty-Four

Chapter Forty-Five

Chapter Forty-Six

Chapter Forty-Seven

Chapter Forty-Eight

Chapter Forty-Nine

Chapter Fifty

Acknowledgements

Keep Reading …

About the Author

Also by Kimberley Chambers

About the Publisher

PROLOGUE

1988

Eddie Mitchell stared at the handwriting on the envelope. He knew who it was from but, unable to take any more pain, he couldn’t face opening it.

Ever since that fateful night in Tilbury, Eddie had shed enough tears to fill a swimming pool. Nothing was going to bring her back, so what was the point of crying any more?

Stuffing the letter under his mattress, Eddie lay back on his bunk and stared at the ceiling. He’d give anything to turn the clock back, fucking anything.

The bullets he had fired had been meant for somebody else, not his beautiful wife. To make matters worse, Jessica had been pregnant at the time with their third child. The unborn baby hadn’t stood a chance, God rest its soul. The newspapers had had a field day writing about Eddie’s faux pas, the headlines screaming ‘Gangland boss in double slaying’.

As soon as Eddie had realised his fatal mistake, he’d immediately tried to take his own life. Unfortunately for him, Jessica’s brother Raymond had lunged at him and knocked the gun away. Eddie had still managed to pull the trigger, but the bullet had whizzed through his shoulder, not his brains, as he’d intended it to.

Waking up in hospital and realising he was still alive was the worst moment of Eddie’s life. Jessica was his world and he just couldn’t live without her.

Consumed by grief and guilt, Eddie immediately admitted what he’d done to the filth. Seven days he’d then spent in hospital under police guard. Once well enough to leave, he’d been carted off to Wandsworth nick.

Eddie was shoved into a cell with an Indian guy who introduced himself as Raj Malik. Company was the last thing Ed needed or wanted. He couldn’t even eat, let alone talk.

The screws must have read Eddie’s mind when they put him on suicide watch. The pain caused by his blunder was unbearable, and if he could have found something to top himself with, he’d have done it without a second thought.

Eddie had been with Jessica for over seventeen years, and from the moment he first clapped eyes on her, he’d known she was destined to become the love of his life. She was everything a man could want in a woman. She was beautiful on the outside and had a soul to match.

Overall, their marriage was an extremely happy one. Like most contented couples, they’d had their ups and downs over the years, but their love for one another had always remained intact.

Tall, with dark hair and a rugged complexion, Eddie had looked like a scar-faced giant beside his pretty, petite wife. They’d looked good together, though. Everybody used to comment on what a striking couple they made.

Jessica had fallen pregnant within months of them meeting. Eddie married her weeks later, and even though he already had two sons from a previous relationship, he had never felt as content as the day Jess had given birth to their twins.

Frankie and Joey were sixteen now and Eddie knew that he’d lost their love and respect for ever. How could he even consider contacting them when he’d so brutally wiped out their mother’s life?

Feeling a shiver go down his spine, Ed sat bolt upright, hugged his knees and laid his head against them. He was forty-eight years old, his life was all but over, and he wished he was fucking dead.

That fateful night would haunt him for ever. It was on his mind every second of every day. Even sleep didn’t release him from his burden, because his nightmares replayed the tragedy over and over again.

As the screw opened the flap to check on him again, Eddie snapped out of his trance. Knowing the letter was under the mattress was doing his head in. He ripped open the envelope and began to digest the words.

Hi Ed,

This is probably the hardest thing that I’ll ever have to write and you’ll ever have to read.

Before I begin, I just want you to know that I don’t blame or hate you for what happened. If anyone knew how much you loved Jessica, that person was me.

Anyway, I thought it only right to inform you that the police have now agreed to release Jessica’s body. All the funeral arrangements are now in place, and Jess will be laid to rest at 2.30 p.m. next Wednesday in Upminster Cemetery.

Dad wanted Jess to be buried next to his father over in Plaistow, but Mum didn’t want her to go there. She insisted that the happiest days of Jessica’s life were spent in Rainham, so her resting place should be as near to there as possible.

I know with everything that’s happened, it’s impossible for you to attend the service, but I want you to know that I’ve ordered a beautiful wreath on your behalf. I’ve enclosed the card, in case you wanted to write it personally. Don’t worry if you’re not up to it, as I can write one for you.

Mum and Dad have temporarily moved into your house. I hope this is OK with you. Let me know if it isn’t. It was Mum’s idea. She said that her house wasn’t roomy enough for the kids and they’d had enough upheaval without moving them away from their friends. She also said that living at yours makes her feel closer to Jessica.

I’ve been keeping an eye on Frankie and Joey and both seem to be coping in their own way. They’ve barely left the house, so hopefully Frankie might be tiring of Jed.

I hope you don’t think badly of me, but I really ain’t up to visiting you at the moment. I know Gary and Ricky have been to see you and they’re coming again next week, so I know you’ve got visitors. What I’ll do is wait till all the press interest dies down, and then I’ll pop up and see you.

I know what happened is awful for you, but you must try and be strong for Jessica’s sake. My sister loved you very much, and she’d want you to hold it together for the sake of the twins, Ed.

I know it must seem impossible, but try to keep your chin up, mate.

Thinking of you, Raymondo

As he stared at the condolence card, Ed was overcome by grief. ‘In deepest sympathy’ it said. Screwing the card and the letter up, he let out a painful sob.

With visions of his wife’s mutilated body firmly in his mind, he leaped off the bed and, overcome by grief, repeatedly smashed his head against the cell wall.

‘Jessica, Jessica’ he shouted, as blood began to trickle down his forehead.

As two prison officers ran in, Eddie lashed out at them. He didn’t want to be restrained, he wanted to end his misery once and for all.

Two more screws suddenly appeared out of nowhere and, finally overpowered, Eddie sank to his knees.

‘I don’t wanna live any more. Please just let me fucking top meself,’ he screamed.

CHAPTER ONE

Joycie Smith finished off her outfit by adding the black netted hat, then studied her appearance in the full-length mirror. She was so glad she’d bought the new black dress and jacket. It looked very smart and she was determined to do her daughter proud. Moving closer, Joyce noticed how red raw and puffy her eyes looked. She’d had a good old cry this morning – in private, of course. There’d be no tears in front of Stanley and the twins. She had to be brave for their sake.

Joyce put on her tinted glasses and headed downstairs. The flowers had just started to arrive, and she wanted to arrange them neatly. She had to keep herself busy, it was the only way. Not only that, she was determined that her daughter would have the best send-off ever.

Stanley sat in his newly built pigeon shed and stared at his beloved birds. He was all ready – he even had his new suit on – but he’d rather leave Joyce to deal with the tributes.

Putting his head in his hands, Stanley broke down for the third time that morning. The flowers arriving made everything seem so final.

Jessica’s death had torn a huge hole in all of their lives. What had happened that night was nigh on impossible to understand, and living hell were the only words Stanley could find to describe life since. There wasn’t a parent in the world who imagined outliving their children, and he was no different.

Stanley had disliked Eddie Mitchell from the word go, but now he despised him with a resentful passion. Living in his house was a constant reminder of the murdering bastard, but it was Joycie’s decision and he’d had very little say in the matter.

As his two favourite pigeons, Ernie and Ethel, both cooed at him, Stanley lifted his head, wiped his eyes and smiled sadly. Seconds later, he heard his wife’s dulcet tones.

‘Stanley! Get your arse out that shed. Raymond and Polly have just arrived.’

Taking a deep breath, Stanley stood up. He was literally dreading the day ahead and it would be a miracle if he got through it at all.

Frankie was sitting on Joey’s bed. As her brother offered her a cigarette, she gratefully snatched it out of his hand. Being a couple of months pregnant, Frankie knew she shouldn’t really be smoking, but the sound of people arriving downstairs filled her with dread.

Her mother’s death and the circumstances surrounding it had created the biggest underworld talking point since the Brinks Mat robbery. The press had had a ball, they’d milked it for all it was worth.

‘Gangland boss kills wife in jealous rage’, ‘Gangster finds wife in bed with daughter’s boyfriend’, ‘Mitchell’s moment of madness’ were just some of the headlines Frankie had seen.

Most of what had been written was just awful, vicious lies. A couple of the more sensible papers had got the story right, but the ones at the lower end of the scale had written absolute trash just to sell their papers.

Both Frankie and Joey had barely left the house since their mother’s death. Frankie had sneaked out a few times to meet up with Jed, but on the last occasion the press had seen her climbing over the back fence and plastered her picture all over the papers.

‘Picture of innocence’ had been the sarcastic headline.

Frankie was mortified. All her friends had seen it and had called her on her mobile. Instead of being a victim, Frankie felt like the accused.

Things at home had been no better. Her nan and grandad had moved in to look after her and Joey. Jed wasn’t allowed anywhere near the house and every time Frankie mentioned his name, everyone in the room went quiet.

Frankie missed her mother dreadfully, but what had happened was neither her nor Jed’s fault. She hadn’t asked her father to turn up at Tilbury with a gun, had she now?

As her brother dissolved into tears yet again, Frankie hugged him. Joey wasn’t as strong as her, and he wasn’t coping very well at all.

‘Listen, Joey, in a minute we’ve got to go downstairs and face everyone. You’ve got to be brave for Mum’s sake.’

Joey threw himself on his bed. ‘I can’t go to Mum’s funeral. I just can’t face it. Let me stay here, Frankie. Tell Nan and Grandad I’m not well.’

Frankie stroked her brother’s back. Joey had been as close to her mum as anyone had. That’s why Frankie hadn’t already moved in with Jed: she couldn’t have lived with her guilt if she had left Joey at home with her grandparents. They were twins, had been inseparable, even in the womb; no one could look after him like she could.

‘Come on, Joey. Put your suit on, and we’ll go downstairs. You’ll never forgive yourself if you don’t go. You’ll regret it for the rest of your life.’

Joey sat up. ‘It’s all right for you. You’ve got Jed to look after you. Mum’s dead, Dad’s in prison and Nan and Grandad do my head in. I’ve got nothing and no one, Frankie, and I know you’re gonna be moving out soon. What am I gonna do then, eh?’

Frankie squeezed his hand. ‘I’ll only be living down the road, Joey. And what about when I have the baby? You’ll be an uncle for the first time, and I know you’ll be the best uncle ever. All you have to do is stop blaming Jed for everything, then you can be part of our lives.’

As she finally persuaded Joey to get dressed, Frankie made a mental note to ring Dominic the following day. Her brother had barely spoken to his ex since their father had found out Joey was gay and threatened Dom, but now Eddie was banged up, he could ruin her brother’s relationship no more. Joey was desperate for love and support and Frankie needed him to be OK before she could move on with her own life.

Downstairs, Joycie was keeping herself busy. She’d chatted to all the mourners, kept their drinks topped up, and managed to convince herself that she was over the worst. No amount of sobbing would bring her beautiful Jessica back from the dead, so she just had to get on with things.

It had been kind of her friends, Rita and Hilda, to come to the house, instead of just turning up at the service. They’d been her neighbours at her old house in Upney for over thirty years, and had known Jessica since she was knee-high.

‘So, what do you think of the house?’ Joyce asked them brightly.

Rita and Hilda glanced at one another. Joyce liked to act as if she was as tough as old boots, but they both knew that she wasn’t. Her behaviour today, considering what had befallen her, was strange, to say the least.

Gary and Ricky, Eddie’s sons from his previous marriage, had just turned up and, seeing them in deep conversation with Raymond, Stanley eyed his son suspiciously. Joyce might have forgotten about Raymond’s involvement on the night of Jessica’s murder, but Stanley most certainly hadn’t. If it wasn’t for Joyce, he could have quite easily washed his hands of the boy, but his wife had given him a lecture.

‘Now, you listen to me, Stanley, and you listen bloody carefully. I’ve lost one child and if you think I’m having the other banished from our lives, you can think again. Our son had nothing to do with what happened. He wouldn’t hurt a fly, that boy. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. He loved every hair on our Jessica’s head, did our Raymond.’

Joycie wasn’t one to argue with, and Stanley had little choice other than to agree and reluctantly forgive his son. Trouble was, deep down he hadn’t – it was all pretence.

As the twins appeared, there were lots of emotional condolences. Vicki, Jessica’s heavily pregnant best friend, sobbed as she clung to Frankie. ‘I loved your mum so much. She was such a wonderful woman. I’ve already told Dougie, if we have a little girl, I want to name her Jessica.’

Tears were streaming down her face, but Frankie forced a smile. ‘Mum would have been honoured,’ she whispered.

As more and more people arrived, Stanley became increasingly anxious. All he’d wanted was a quiet send-off for his daughter and already it was turning into a bloody circus. The driveway was packed with people he didn’t know and Stan was furious that Eddie’s brothers had shown their faces. It would have been bad enough if they had turned up at the church, let alone coming to the house beforehand. Surely they were aware of what Eddie had done? Didn’t they have any remorse or guilt whatsoever?

By the time the hearse arrived, the driveway was a mass of beautiful flowers.

As she cuddled her grandchildren, one on either side, Joyce couldn’t bear to look at the coffin she’d so carefully chosen. It just didn’t seem possible for Jessica to be inside that box. Trying to suppress her emotions, Joyce took a deep breath. She had to keep it together in front of all these people. Stanley was in a terrible state and somebody had to look after the twins. Aware that the undertaker was ready to take Jessica on her final journey, Joyce led Frankie and Joey outside.

Seeing his father almost collapse with grief, Raymond held Stanley’s arm to support him. ‘I’ve got you, Dad. Just hold my arm and walk with me,’ he told him.

Joyce had insisted they just have the one family car. She’d never got on with her parents – she hadn’t even seen them for years – and they were going straight to the service. Jessica’s other grandparents, on Stanley’s side, were both dead.

Joyce, Stanley, Frankie, Joey, Raymond and Polly sat in the hearse behind the coffin. Everybody else was to make their own way to the cemetery. In normal circumstances there would have been at least three or four cars laid on for Eddie’s sons, brothers and family. However, the circumstances surrounding Jessica’s death were anything but normal.

As the chief undertaker walked in front of the hearse, the cars crawled along behind him.

Stanley was furious as he saw how many reporters were taking pictures on the road outside. ‘Couldn’t they have left us alone for just one day?’ he mumbled.

Raymond put a comforting arm around his father’s shoulder, but it was quickly brushed away.

Noticing the young reporter who had given her a wonderful write-up in the Daily Mirror, Joyce gave a solemn wave. Stanley went apeshit. ‘Our daughter is lying in that coffin in front of us. Show some respect, you stupid woman. Fucking parasites, they are.’

Raymond put his other arm around his mother. This was as hard a day for her as anyone and acting normal was just her way of coping.

Frankie and Joey clung to one another throughout the short journey through the lanes. Neither could believe that they would never see or hear their mother again. As she stared at the coffin, Frankie thought of her father. Throughout her childhood, Frankie had always been a daddy’s girl. She had his dark features, fiery temper and impulsive nature. Joey looked nothing like Frankie or their dad. He was blond, mild-mannered and a clone of their mum.

‘Do you think Dad knows that Mum is being buried today?’ she whispered to her brother.

Joey looked at her in horror. ‘Don’t mention his name. How could you Frankie, today of all days?’

As the rest of the journey continued in silence, Polly studied Raymond’s family. They were a funny bunch, to say the least, especially his parents. Polly’s own parents had been horrified when Jessica’s murder had made all the nationals. They’d known that Raymond worked with Eddie and they were worried about what she’d got herself involved with.

‘I know you’re very keen on Raymond, but there’s plenty more fish in the sea. Why don’t you walk away while you still can?’ her father had urged her.

Polly had taken no notice of her mum or dad. They weren’t exactly whiter than white themselves. She was besotted by Raymond, in a way that a woman could only dream of. She wasn’t stupid – she’d always known that he was a bit of a rogue, but even so, the circumstances of Jessica’s murder had frightened the life out of her.

Raymond had recently made a promise to her. He’d sworn that he would give up the job he was doing and find a normal nine-to-five number.

‘Are you OK, Ray?’ Polly asked, squeezing his hand.

Raymond nodded, but said nothing. Obviously, working with Eddie over the years, they’d seen and been responsible for many a dead body. Remembering how Jessica had looked, Raymond felt physically sick as he stared out of the window. The sight of his sister’s bullet-torn corpse would prey on him for the rest of his life. There wasn’t an hour that went by when the death of Jessica didn’t enter his thoughts. His sister had been one of life’s beautiful people. Thinking back to when they were kids, Raymond nervously bit his lip. Life without her was pretty much unbearable, and he was dreading doing his speech.

When Joyce stepped out of the hearse, she was surprised by the number of people already at the church. They’d tried to keep the funeral small and private, and she was thrown by the crowd of mourners that had turned up. Grabbing the distraught Joey and Frankie, Joycie bowed her head as she led them into the church.

Raymond had instructed all of Eddie’s family to sit well away from his parents. ‘I know none of this is your fault, lads, but because Eddie did what he did, it ain’t appropriate for you to sit near the front.’

Eddie’s sons from his first marriage, Gary and Ricky, were devastated by Jessica’s death. They’d loved her immensely, and over the years she’d been a better mother to them than their own. Seeing their dad in prison had broken both boys’ hearts. They knew how much Jess had meant to their old man, and what had happened was the tragedy of all tragedies.

Eddie had only agreed to see them the once. He was a broken man, a shadow of his charismatic former self, and had sat opposite them in bits. Neither Gary nor Ricky had known what to say or do. It was a surreal situation that had devastated everybody. The only words of comfort they could offer their father were to promise to continue the family business and do him proud.

‘All right, Gal? Packed innit?’ their uncle Ronny said in a loud voice, as the boys now entered the church.

Seeing that Ronny’s eyes were already glazed, Gary put his finger to his lips. The service was about to start, and a drunken Ronny causing havoc in his wheelchair was the last thing the vicar needed.

The vicar cleared his throat. He was a seasoned professional, but this particular service was difficult, even for him. ‘Today we are here to commemorate the life of Jessica Anne Mitchell,’ he said.

There wasn’t a dry eye in the house as parts of Jessica’s life were remembered. The twins and Stanley were inconsolable. Joyce couldn’t look at them; if she did, she’d break down, so she ignored their sobs and stared at the vicar.

‘Can we open our hymn books at page twenty-one?’

As the congregation stood up, Raymond had to once again physically support his father.

All things right and beautiful,

All creatures great and small,

All things wise and wonderful:

The Lord God made them all.

Jed O’Hara entered the church and stood quietly at the back. He held the hymn book in his hands, but couldn’t sing because he couldn’t read properly.

Jimmy O’Hara put an arm around his son’s shoulder. Jed was a good boy and had been determined to attend Jessica’s funeral, so he could keep an eye on Frankie. Not wanting his son to become raw meat in a starving lion’s cage, Jimmy had insisted on coming with him. Jed was worried about Frankie; she was carrying his child and he had every right to be there in her hour of need.

Jimmy knew what losing a child was like. His wife, Alice, had been pregnant up until a couple of weeks ago, when she’d suddenly miscarried.

As the hymn came to an end, Ronny Mitchell decided he was busting for the toilet. Being stuck in a wheelchair, he was unable to hold himself like other people could. Nudging his brother, Paulie, he urged him to take him outside.

‘I need a shit. I’ve gotta find a bog,’ he said in an extremely loud tone.

As Raymond stood up to give his speech, an embarrassed Paulie also stood up. Ronny was a nuisance with a capital N at times.

‘Jessica was the most wonderful sister a brother could wish for,’ Raymond began.

While Paulie wheeled his brother towards the exit, a nosy Ronny scanned the mourners. The church was full of villains, most of them mates of Eddie, his father and his uncle Reg. Spotting Jimmy O’Hara’s ugly mush, Ronny did a double take and slammed the brake on his wheelchair.

Because he was staring at the piece of paper he’d so carefully written, Raymond didn’t notice what was happening at the other end of the church and, with tears rolling down his face, carried on with his speech.

‘The day Jessica gave birth to her twins, Frankie and Joey, was the happiest of her life. Even though she was no more than a child herself, she quickly adapted to become the most wonderful …’

Raymond’s speech was stopped in its tracks by Ronny’s drunken voice. ‘Get out of here, you pikey cunts! Hit ’em, Paulie. Go on, fucking do ’em,’ he yelled.

Shocked by the commotion, every mourner turned around to see what was happening.

Jimmy O’Hara held his hands up. ‘Look, we don’t want no trouble. I’ve only come here to support my Jed. He has every right to be here. Jessica was his future mother-in-law and would have been grandmother to his chavvie.’

When Paulie lunged at Jimmy O’Hara, the vicar pleaded for order. ‘Can we stop this awful nonsense? Please respect the deceased and also the house of God,’ he shouted over the loudspeaker.

Uncle Reg eventually broke up the fracas and, with the help of Paulie and a couple of Eddie’s pals, they threw both Jed and Jimmy out of the church.

‘Frankie’s having my chavvie – we’re getting married. Tell ’em Frankie, tell ’em,’ Jed screamed, as he was roughly pushed out of the door.

Frankie went to run to her boyfriend’s aid, but Raymond put his arm out and stopped her. ‘You stay there. It’s your mother’s funeral, and you’re partly to blame for all this,’ he reminded her coldly.

Traumatised, Stanley and Joey clung to one another and, seeing their anguish, Joyce was unable to keep it together any more. Bursting into tears, she fell to her knees. ‘The least my baby deserved was a good send-off. Why us, God? Why?’ she screamed.