Kitabı oku: «Backstabber», sayfa 8

CHAPTER TEN

‘Please come with me, Joey. I don’t think I can go on my own,’ Frankie Mitchell begged. Apart from Stuart’s funeral and a few sneaky trips to the local off-licence, she had not ventured outside the house since her fiancé’s death. Now she was in her brother’s car on her way to Little Vinny’s, and the thought of being left alone there terrified her.

‘You know I can’t come with you, sis. Dom has taken the day off work for one reason: so he and I can spend it together. Little Vinny is a nice guy. He’ll look after you.’

‘Divvy dinlo whore,’ Harry whispered in his sister’s ear. Joey drove a red Mazda sports car and he and Georgie were all but crushed in the small space behind the seats.

Georgie pinched her brother as hard as she could. Harry could not see the wood for the trees at times, whereas she most certainly could. ‘It’ll be OK, Mum. I’ll look after you too,’ Georgie promised.

Frankie stared at her trembling hands while taking deep breaths to try and control the panic. She’d often gone out, once upon a time, but since Stuart’s death leaving the house felt like a big deal. It scared her. Thankfully she’d had the foresight to sneak some vodka into her handbag. ‘Can we stop at a garage or somewhere? I’m busting to do a wee,’ she lied. As far as her brother was aware, she only drank wine of an evening now to help her sleep, and what he didn’t know couldn’t worry him.

Joey squeezed his sister’s hand. ‘’Course we can.’

Queenie Butler was done up to the nines. Her bright red cashmere jacket was thin, flowing and to the knee, and her new black ankle boots with a three-inch heel were very modern and suited her. Vinny had told her that only yesterday. ‘Mum, you look more like fifty-four than seventy-four in that get-up. Really suits you,’ he’d said when she’d shown him the outfit she planned to wear today.

As per usual, Joyce was done up like a dog’s dinner. She had a thing for animal prints and Queenie thought the long coat she had on today looked as common as muck. Her blonde bouffant hairstyle didn’t do her any favours either. She stood out like a beacon in Lakeside.

‘You know who you remind me of,’ Joyce said. They were currently sitting outside a little coffee shop.

‘No. Go on.’

‘Barbara Windsor. Minus the big knockers, of course,’ Joyce laughed.

‘I don’t look sod-all like Barbara Windsor. She wears wigs, for starters. I read that in Bella magazine the other day,’ Queenie snapped. ‘You remind me of someone too. It’ll come to me in a minute.’

‘Yootha Joyce?’

‘You look a bit like Yootha, but it’s not her I’m trying to think of. Me and Viv used to adore George and Mildred. Don’t make ’em like that any more do they? Nor Love Thy Neighbour. The world’s gone politically-correct-fucking-mad,’ Queenie said bitterly. ‘As for the music these days, don’t even get me started. Ava had some shit blaring out in my house the other day. I said to her, “You can turn that bleedin’ racket off.” She said, “But it’s Shaggy, Nan.” Who’s Shaggy when he’s at home, eh? I couldn’t even understand what the bastard was singing. I mean, what happened to the likes of Kay Starr and Johnnie Ray?’

Breaking into Johnnie Ray’s ‘Cry’, Joyce spotted an awful sight and stopped singing. ‘State of that over there. Has she not got a mirror indoors? Look at the fat hanging out over the top of those tracksuit bottoms. You think she’d wear a long baggy top, not a belly one, wouldn’t you? It’s enough to put you off your lunch.’

Queenie Butler felt melancholy as she nibbled at the scone and sipped her tea. Gone were the days when women would take pride in their appearance like they had on a Saturday down the Roman back in the day. Used to be like a contest, that did, to see who could get glammed up the most. This was her first trip to Lakeside shopping centre since Vivian had died, and she and her sister had spent many a happy day here.

‘Nice of your Michael to give us a lift, wasn’t it? Handsome sons you have, Queenie,’ Joycie Smith said.

‘Thanks, lovey. They’re always well turned out. I drummed that in ’em as kids.’

‘Eddie said you lost a daughter as well. What happened to her? I hope you don’t mind me asking.’

‘Nah, it’s fine. Got stabbed, my Brenda did. Another one murdered in cold blood. To be honest, I doubt she’d be alive now anyway. She was an alcoholic – had her father’s genes.’

‘That’s tragic. Did they catch her killer? Poor you, Queen.’

‘No. Never caught him. Jake Jackson his name was and he fled abroad. Could be anywhere in the bleedin’ world now.’

‘Was it a random attack?’ Joycie enquired.

‘No. My boys had run-ins with Jake’s father and grandfather many years ago. Still doesn’t explain why the little shit targeted Brenda though. Too cowardly to have a pop at the men, I suppose.’

‘You never get over it, do you? Not a single day goes past I don’t miss and think about my Jessica.’

‘I rarely think about Brenda any more, to be honest. She was her father’s daughter all right.’

‘Aww, was she close to Albie then?’

‘No. Brenda hated him as much as I do. Now drink your tea, Joycie. It’s getting cold. Nice scones these, aren’t they?’

Little Vinny and Frankie Mitchell were sitting in the garden. The autumn weather was breezy, but the sun was shining and the birds could be heard tweeting away in the surrounding trees.

‘Peaceful out here, isn’t it? Sammi loved this garden. I was thinking of planting something and making some kind of shrine to her and Oliver down the bottom.’

‘I think that’s a lovely idea. It just doesn’t seem possible that we are never going to see them again, does it? I keep expecting Stuart to walk through the door any minute, laughing and joking as he always did.’

Little Vinny nodded. ‘I know where you’re coming from, and even though people mean well, nobody really understands, do they? My mate Finn’s been great. He pops round most days, but I find it difficult to open up to him, and my family. My dad’s had too many deaths to deal with over the years, made him as hard as nails. And my nan’s the same. They haven’t got a sentimental bone left in their bodies.’

‘I feel the same. The nights are the worst. I can’t sleep unless I’m bladdered. My dad sent a private doctor round to me recently. I think he thought I was gonna top myself, so he gave me some pills. They haven’t helped much though. Then he suggested I have counselling, but I can’t be talking to strangers. Makes me feel uncomfortable. Have you been drinking or taking any pills?’

‘Nah. I daren’t. Got a bit of an addictive personality, me. I don’t do anything by halves, and I made a promise to Sammi-Lou that I would be strong and take care of Calum and Regan for her.’

‘Awww, that’s lovely. Did you speak about stuff like this then when Sammi was alive? Me and Stuart didn’t and I wish we had now.’

‘No. I made Sammi the promise when she was dead. Excuse me a tick. Gotta pop to the loo, then I’ll top your glass up. You’re not in a hurry to get home, are you? I wasn’t in a cooking mood, so thought we’d order a Chinese later. The shop opens at six and it’s the boys’ favourite.’

‘We’re not in no rush. I do hope Georgie and Harry don’t run away again though. I always worry when they’re out of my sight. How far away is the park?’

‘It’s only local. Stop worrying. They’ll be fine.’

Georgie O’Hara was in fact more than fine. Regan Butler had a cocky confidence about him, a quality she had only ever seen amongst travelling lads, and she could not take her eyes off him. He looked much older than twelve, was as tall as Calum, and he reminded Georgie of a young Elvis Presley. Nanny Alice had always had the hots for Elvis, said she would have married him instead of Granddad Jimmy, given the chance.

Sporting a pair of Ray-Ban sunglasses, Regan Butler glanced out the corner of his eye. He was aware of Georgie O’Hara’s interest in him, and the effect he had on girls. He’d sampled his first French kiss at the age of eight, and before he’d got banged up, had shoved his hand inside fourteen-year-old Sally Parker’s knickers. ‘What you looking at?’ he asked.

Harry O’Hara burst out laughing. Regan was aloof and stroppy like himself and he preferred him to Calum already. He was also annoyed with his sister for her continuous flirting. She had a boyfriend, and he liked Ryan Maloney a lot. Georgie shouldn’t be dressing like a slag, or acting like one. It was all wrong.

Calum Butler scowled at Regan. ‘Don’t talk to Georgie like that. She’s a decent girl, bruv.’

‘I never said she wasn’t. I only asked her what she was looking at.’

Red-faced, Georgie marched her stupid brother out of earshot. ‘Do you want to go back to Scotland and live with our real family again?’

‘Yeah, you know I do.’

‘Well shut the fuck up then. I know what I’m doing, Harry, you dinlo.’

Little Vinny poked his head around the lounge door. The kids had returned from the park as good as gold earlier, and were now playing games on the massive TV that was bracketed on the wall.

‘I’ve never heard Georgie or Harry laugh like that before. What they up to?’ Frankie asked.

‘It’s some dance game where you have to copy the moves. Regan won’t play it, sees himself as too cool. They’ve asked to get the karaoke machine out now, so prepare to be deafened. Regan can sing really well. Calum ain’t got a bad voice either. I sound like a cat being tortured, me, so they obviously have Sammi to thank for their musical talent.’

‘I have no idea if Georgie or Harry can sing – I know so little about them still. I do remember Georgie loving country music as a little girl. She knew all the words to the songs. Her bastard of a father taught her them. Was Sammi your actual first love, Vin? Or did you date beforehand?’

‘Sammi was my first serious girlfriend. I just knew as soon as I met her that she was the one, but we had our ups and downs like any young couple. I worked in my dad’s club in Whitechapel at the time, and I remember getting cold feet at one point ’cause she kept turning up there. How times change, eh? I’d give my right arm for her to walk in this kitchen right now. And Oliver.’

‘I wonder if they’re looking down on us? I’m sure Sammi and Stuart would want us to be friends, don’t you think?’

‘For sure. You’re the only person I’ve been able to open up to since, and Sammi would be so pleased that the boys have brightened up today. They were sad and quiet leading up to the funeral. That’s why I belled you yesterday morning. Was trying to think of ways to cheer them up.’

‘My dad reminded me your little sister got murdered years ago too. Same happened to my granddad you know. It was Jed that killed him. Broke in my dad’s—’

‘Enough of deaths, eh, Frankie?’ Little Vinny abruptly barked. No way did he want to discuss Molly. He then forced a smile. ‘Let’s join in with the kids’ karaoke, shall we?’

Back in Lakeside, a few sheets to the wind, Queenie was opening up about Daniel and Roxanne’s incestuous relationship. She’d dragged Joycie to the pub the other side of Brompton Walk by the lake.

‘So Roxanne never had a clue that Daniel was her brother?’ Joyce Smith asked again. Queenie was unsettled after bumping into a friend of Roxanne’s outside Debenhams. Alex had been a bridesmaid at the ill-fated wedding and Queenie had believed her when she’d sworn blind she had not heard a word from Roxanne since.

‘No. I’ve told you that three bloody times! Neither Roxanne nor Daniel knew one another even existed. But you must never tell anyone, Joycie. When it all kicked off at the wedding, my family told everybody there was a mix-up. I mean, incest isn’t something you can live down, is it? The police even visited us you know, to ask what had happened. Them nosy bastards would’ve had a ball if they’d had proof, so would the bloody press. Saw a programme on TV recently about another brother and sister who fell in love. It’s called “Genetic Sexual Attraction”.’

‘I’ve never heard of it, Queen, but I know sod-all about sexual attraction of any kind. Only ever slept with Stanley and he weren’t exactly Marlon Brando back in the day. We’ve slept in separate beds ever since the kids were born. I can’t be waking up looking at that bald head and ugly face every morning. Turns my stomach, it does.’

The comment lightened Queenie’s mood. ‘Exactly the same as me and Albie. The only time I used to let him anywhere near me was when I wanted another child. Coming home pissed at all hours and snoring – made him kip on the sofa, I did.’

‘What did Albie look like when you first met him? Bet he had more going for him than my Stanley.’

Queenie shrugged. ‘Albie was a looker back in the day, I suppose. That’s why I chose him, to be truthful. My old neighbour Doreen was a few years older than me. I used to look up to her as a kid, until she married Freddie Watts. Looked like he’d fallen out the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down, he did. I’ll never forget seeing her son for the first time. Ugliest baby I ever did see. Looked like an alien. It scared me.’

When Joycie started guffawing and banging her empty glass against the table, Queenie couldn’t help but laugh too. She’d been racking her brain ever since she’d met Joyce as to whom she reminded her of, and it had just this minute occurred to her. Joyce was a ringer for that famous cook her and Vivian used to laugh at on TV back in the day: Fanny Cradock.

Frankie Mitchell clapped as Calum Butler finished his rendition of Eminem’s ‘My Name Is’. She would never have believed her children could mix so well with others, but Georgie and Harry had taken a real shine to Calum and Regan. It was a joy and relief to witness their happiness and laughter for once. They always seemed so miserable at home and had never enjoyed anything she and Stuart had organized for them.

Little Vinny was sitting on the opposite sofa, and when he playfully grabbed Regan in a headlock and threatened to sing again unless his son did, Frankie found herself joining in with her children’s laughter. Sammi-Lou had described her husband as ‘a brilliant father’ who had ‘a unique way with kids’ and she’d been spot on. Little Vinny was a natural.

Eddie Mitchell wasn’t having the best of days. His daughter Rosie had sicked up all over the back of his new Range Rover earlier. Then, minutes later, some dopey tart had pulled out of a side turning and pranged into him. Now, to crown it all, he’d been summoned to Lakeside to pick up an inebriated Joycie and Queenie, who had somehow managed to get themselves into a state only two teenage girls could dream of.

‘Where’s my Vinny?’ Queenie asked again. She’d tried both her sons’ numbers for at least an hour before Joyce suggested they ring Eddie to pick them up. Even Little Vinny wasn’t answering his bloody phone.

‘Queen, grab hold of the other side of Joycie, will ya? This is embarrassing, love,’ Eddie spat as he saw yet another crowd of kids looking their way and laughing their heads off. He’d virtually had to drag the woman he would always refer to as his mother-in-law through the shopping centre like a rag doll, and he prayed no bastard recognized him. Everyone was looking and laughing, such was the state Joyce had got herself in. And Queenie was unsteady too.

‘Put your arm around me shoulder, Joycie. We’re giving all these old trollops down ’ere something to gawp at, that’s for sure,’ Queenie bellowed, much to Eddie’s horror.

After what seemed like hours but was probably only in fact twenty minutes, Eddie finally had both women belted up in the back of his Range Rover.

‘Sorry for being tipsy and having to ring you, but my Raymond’s useless, you know that, Ed? You’re a far better son to me than he is and we’re not even blood-related, are we? It was the shock of finding out Queenie’s granddaughter might be going to give birth to her grandson’s baby what made us go to the pub in the first place, weren’t it, Queen?’

‘Yep! And where is my Vinny, by the way? Bet I can guess why Michael has his phone switched off. Fornicating with that Italian slapper, I dare say. More fool him, eh, Eddie? I bet you wouldn’t go back with a woman who’d had your brother’s dingle-dangle up her, would you? Makes me feel sick.’

‘Dingle-dangle! I love that bloody word. Used to call my Stanley’s a “tinky-winky”,’ Joycie shrieked.

Listening to his musical idol belt out a tune or two was far preferable to listening to two old-age pensioners discuss a man’s anatomy, so Eddie cranked the volume up as loud as it would go.

Queenie and Joycie knew all the words to ‘Maggie May’ and sang along quite happily.

‘Now Rod I could’ve quite easily fancied,’ Joyce shouted in Queenie’s ear.

Queenie ignored Joycie and instead tapped Eddie on the shoulder. Ed turned the music down and before Queenie could ask him the same question again, told her, ‘Vinny’s fine. I saw him earlier. But as I’ve already told you, I have no idea what his plans are for this evening.’

‘Yes, you do. I might be knocking on a bit, but I haven’t lost my marbles yet. My Vinny’s got a bird on the firm, can tell by the shady way he’s been acting recently. Nobody knows him better than his mother. So what’s she like then? Come on, spill the beans, Mr Mitchell.’

Georgie O’Hara was most impressed. After much persuasion from his father, Regan had finally agreed to sing and he had a superb voice. Georgie had heard many a travelling lad croon an Elvis tune, including her own boyfriend, but Regan’s version of ‘Are You Lonesome Tonight’ was truly captivating. That was Nanny Alice’s favourite Elvis song too.

Harry leaned towards his sister. ‘Put your tongue away. Flies might breed on it.’

Georgie punched her brother hard. Harry had been acting up today and was now grating on her immensely. ‘You sure you’re not a gay boy like Joey? Only you seem very obsessed with Regan yourself.’

Homosexuality was extremely frowned upon among travellers and when Harry lost his rag, like she knew he would, Georgie slapped him around the head before following her mother into the kitchen. ‘What’s a matter? You’re crying.’

Fiercely wiping her eyes with her sleeve, Frankie smiled. ‘Take no notice of me. Just having a weak moment. Been a nice day, hasn’t it? I’m so pleased you and Harry have made friends.’

‘We would’ve made friends ages ago if you hadn’t locked us up. And we love music. We used to sing regularly back home. Travellers don’t watch TV all the time like gorgers do. We sing and play music lots.’

Frankie knew the travelling way of life as well as anybody. Jed had loved to sing, and it was the norm that when families got together, everybody including the children would be urged to belt out a tune. ‘How about I ask your granddad to buy you one of those karaoke machines? You and Harry can have it in your bedroom and play with it whenever you want.’

Exasperated, Georgie snatched her hands away. ‘We’re not five! We don’t play with things. And how would you play with a karaoke machine anyway? You can’t! You sing along with the music. We don’t want one in our bedroom either. Other people need to join in to make it any fun and we live in the middle of nowhere with no friends.’

When her daughter stomped out the kitchen, Frankie topped up her wine glass. Then the tears came. Joey had told her last night that he needed to move back home next week and she had no idea how she would cope alone. Georgie was right: their house was in the middle of nowhere, but her dad had chosen it because its remoteness would make it more difficult for the children to escape. Now, however, it held far too many memories of Stuart and it was too big and cold. She realized she’d come to loathe the place with a passion.

‘Hey, what’s up?’ Little Vinny asked.

‘Everything. I can’t do wrong from right when it comes to my children, and I do try my best. Joey’s moving back home next week and I’m never gonna cope. Georgie and Harry hate it where we live and so do I. My youngest son doesn’t even want to come home, he’d rather live at my dad’s. And I keep expecting Stuart to walk in all the time. I even imagined I heard his footsteps the other day, coming up to bed.’

‘Perhaps you should think about moving. You’re only renting, aren’t you?’

Frankie nodded. ‘My dad’s paying the rent and he’s shelling out for those security blokes. I hate seeing them all the time too. They give me the heebies. But the lease isn’t due to end until next year, and I can’t stay there that long. Between me and you, once Joey goes home, I’m afraid I might get drunk one day and do something stupid. I don’t think I would, ’cause I love my kids too much, but then I get these dark moods and I just don’t want to be in this world any more. Life is shit, Vin, it really is. We must go to a better place when we die, surely?’

‘Things will get better, Frankie. I’ve been through dark times in the past – and I mean really dark – but I’ve managed to pull through. If it wasn’t for the boys, I could never cope with Sammi-Lou and Oliver dying. But I’ve got to be strong and so have you. We have children who rely on us.’

‘You might have. I don’t. I’m sure those two in there would celebrate if I died.’

Little Vinny sighed. He wasn’t very good with awkward hugs or sympathetic words, but he was good with advice. ‘That isn’t going to do you any favours, for a start,’ he said, pointing to the wine glass. ‘Neither is locking your kids up in that prison you call home. Your dad isn’t short of a few bob, Frankie, and I know he’d want you to be happy. If I were you, I’d try out the counselling thing, and move over this way. It’s nice round ’ere, and central. I’ll have a word with Finn if you like? His pal is a local estate agent and I’m sure he’d be able to help.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah, ’course. Be nice for my kids to hang out with yours. I’ve also decided not to send Regan back to school, I’m gonna get someone in to teach him from home instead. He’s always got in trouble at school and I can’t risk him being sent away again. Not many schools will want to take him anyway, after what happened. Perhaps they can teach Georgie and Harry as well.’

‘Oh, Vin! That would be wonderful. Even if they could just learn to read and write, it would make me so bloody happy. And it will open up a whole new world to them. They’d love to live near Calum and Regan, I know they would. Shall I tell them the good news now?’

‘Whoa! Hold your horses. Let me speak to Finn’s pal first, and you can have a talk with your dad. Do ya want a coffee? I’m gonna make myself one.’

Frankie was about to reply when she felt the hair freeze on the back of her neck. Georgie not only had a voice like an angel, she was singing Tammy Wynette’s ‘Stand by Your Man’.

‘Wow! Your daughter’s got some voice on her. Let’s go back in the lounge,’ Little Vinny suggested.

Shaking her head, Frankie Mitchell held her face in her hands. ‘I hate this song. It reminds me of Jed. I even lost my virginity to him while it was playing. My life is such a mess, and it’s all my fault. Have you ever done something so wrong it eats away at you like a cancer? So much so, you can never forgive yourself. My mum would still be alive if I’d never met Jed.’

Overwhelmed by visions of himself strangling Molly, Little Vinny handed Frankie her bag. ‘Look, it’s been a long day and I think we should wrap it up now.’

‘But I thought we were going to order a Chinese?’

Little Vinny pulled out his wallet, peeled off a fifty-pound note and handed it to her. ‘I’m tired and need my bed. Get yourself a cab home and grab yourself something to eat on the way.’

Taken aback, Frankie stood speechless as Little Vinny stomped upstairs. She knew she was tipsy and had probably repeated herself once or twice, but she hadn’t said or done anything so wrong she deserved to be chucked out the house, had she?