Thou shalt not steal; an empty feat, When it's so lucrative to cheat.
– Arthur Hugh Clough 'The Latest Decalogue'
Proprium humani ingenii est odisse quem laeseris.
It is part of human nature to hate the man you have hurt.
– Tacitus Aricola, 42
Jackie watched as her son demolished another Easter egg, stuffing it into his mouth and barely chewing the chocolate before grabbing another one. He would be sick soon and he would cry, then the whole cycle would start all over again.
As usual mere were too many eggs, too much chocolate, and she did not have the energy to tell him to wait until he had eaten his dinner. He never ate real food, not in this house, anyway. He ate crap, and she had stopped trying to make him do any different.
His tantrums were legendary, and his sisters had gone ahead to their aunt's house rather than sit and listen to it all. He had been calling them names since he had awoken at five thirty that morning. He had sat up all night watching videos, and had not deigned to go to bed until gone two.
It was driller killer that kept him quiet at the moment, and the more violent the movie, the more he became engrossed. Jackie knew she should stop him from watching them, but it was the only time they got any peace. He loved the blood, and as Freddie and Jimmy were now the main people involved in video piracy, it was only natural that the boy should want the films that were so easy for them to locate.
Little Freddie thought it was funny when he watched the blood and gore, but it was as if he had no concept of pain because of them. If he had a hammer, he would hit you with it and laugh. She knew this because he had done it countless times. It was like living in a nightmare.
Pouring another glass of vodka, she sat down and wondered if Freddie was going to be back in time to go to Maggie's for their dinner. It was Easter Sunday and the whole family would be there. Maggie's was now the place where everyone got together on high days and holidays. Maggie with her dinner service and her tablecloths. Maggie the cook and the golden girl. With her top-of-the-range car and her fucking beauty salon. She really thought she was something special.
Jackie glanced at the clock and knew she would have to get going soon or she'd be late for dinner. One good thing with Maggie: at least there would be plenty of drink and grub at her house.
If Freddie didn't come quickly then she would go on her own, she was used to it these days. She had stopped expecting him, had learned to just wait and see when he arrived. It was easier for her in the long run because it meant she could have a drink in peace.
He acted as if she had some kind of problem - this from a man who was drunk and drugged every night of his life, and all day as well if he could get away with it. He had even hinted, in their more antagonistic rows, that it was her drinking that had caused their son problems. It couldn't be the fact that his father never came home and treated them all like dirt when he did, could it. He was blaming her for the way Little Freddie was, when he was a replica of himself, from the temper, to the single-mindedness and the complete and absolute disregard for his safety, or anyone else's for that matter.
To call her a drunk was one thing, but after the first visit from social services, he'd asked if she thought maybe Little Freddie had foetal alcohol syndrome? Where would he get a term like that from? It was something she had never heard about, had never even known existed. That jibe had hurt her because, deep inside, she had a terrible feeling there just might be a grain of truth in it.
She gulped at the drink. It was her anaesthetic against the world, against her family who pitied her on the one hand, and who blamed her for her problems on the other.
Little Freddie, as he was known, even though at seven he was already wearing the clothes of a ten year old, stood up and walked to his mother. 'Are we going?'
He was getting irritated. He hated being alone with her. He liked it when he was surrounded by people, when he was the centre of the universe. But even his doting sisters were getting fed up with him and his attitude, and he was finally learning to act lovable now and again to keep them interested.
He kicked his mother on her shin, and she leaped forward and slapped him hard across the side of his head. She caught his ear with her ring and he screamed loudly, 'You fucking bitch, you fucking whore.'
He started grabbing at her then, trying to pull her hair and punch her face. She put her glass down quickly and, smacking him once more across the head, she threw him away from her. 'Fuck off, you mad bastard, before I fucking knock you out.'
He lay on the floor then, screaming and swearing at her. She picked her drink up again and took a deep swallow. The tirade would soon reach a crescendo, then he would just lie there and swear at her until she hit him again. Jackie sat back in the chair and closed her eyes. He was like an animal, and she knew it was her fault.
When he had first done it they had all laughed. He had been eighteen months old and he had attacked poor old Kimberley because she had told him off, and his language had been ripe. They had all sat stunned for a few minutes and then started rolling up. The words coming out of his mouth, and his dear little face while he said them, had been so outrageous they had roared. Then the girls had told him to repeat it, because it was so funny, and it had caused them all to crack up again. Little Freddie had soon sussed out that it was an attention-getting device and before they knew it his whole speech was peppered with effing and blinding.
It had set the tone for him and now at nearly eight it was his main vocabulary. He had been ejected from two playschools because of it. Now the school was refusing to take him back again, but that was also because he attacked anyone in his radius if they did not let him do exactly what he wanted.
It had brought the social workers into their life and she could knock him out because of that alone. If that Mrs Acton mentioned her drinking one more time she would scream. Fucking social workers, if she had that mad little cunt all day and night she would have a bastard drink herself! And Jackie had told her that in those very words, enjoying the woman's shock at her turn of phrase and feeling as if she had finally scored a point.
But he was out of control, there was no doubt about that, and as the only person he was even remotely civil to was his father, he would stay that way until Freddie came home regularly and took him in hand once and for all.
Fat chance of that ever happening.
Jackie sighed and then poured the dregs from the bottle of cheap vodka into the glass. He was still swearing and calling her names, but she ignored him as best she could, just saying, 'Get your coat on, and I'll call the cab.'
Maggie had been cooking all morning, and the smells coming from her kitchen were driving everyone mad. Lena and Joseph were already there, all spruced up and filled with pride at the lovely home their youngest daughter had created around her.
She and Jimmy had moved into this place a few months earlier. According to Lena, it was a brand-new, large, detached, four-bedroom mock-Tudor mansion, with a huge garden and en-suite bathrooms. Lena never stopped going on about it to anyone who would listen. Her pride in her daughter knew no bounds.
It was a nice place, but for Jimmy and Maggie it was just another stepping stone. Unlike Freddie, Jimmy had taken Ozzy's advice and he had invested in property. It was the best thing he had ever done in his life. He bought early, waited and then they moved on again, with their tidy little profit ploughed back into a new house that was always a bigger and better place for them to live.
This was their first brand-new home, though, and as much as they loved it, they missed the character of their last place. But they had bought that for a song. A builder friend had owed Jimmy a big favour and this was his way of paying him back. They'd done it up and then sold it because it was too good an opportunity to miss.
They would have the character house once again, only bigger and better next time. This place would do for another couple of years. It had a big garden which wasn't overlooked, and they had the kitchen and bathrooms of their dreams.
Maggie looked up at Jimmy as he walked into the large kitchen to refill his father-in-law's glass.
'All right, babe?' he said.
She nodded. ''Course I am. Are Paul and Liselle here yet? I heard a car pull up.'
Jimmy walked out into the big entrance hall. A few seconds later, he saw them coming through the front door, and waved them into the kitchen.
Liselle looked around in admiration. 'This place is lovely. I wish you well in it.'
Maggie kissed her on the cheek. 'Take your coat off, mate. We're lucky with the weather, anyway.'
Jackie's girls were all laughing and joking in the front room, putting on music, and Maggie smiled as she heard an old soul tape going on. The girls loved all the old songs, thank God. As Sam and Dave blared out of the sound system, she walked through to the garden and was grateful to finally have a sip of her white wine.
Maddie was sitting quietly on a garden chair. She was always invited, and she always sat by herself, smiling, but rarely joining in. Her husband's death had hit her hard and Maggie always remembered the awful feeling on her wedding day when the news had been blurted out by Freddie.
His father had lain in the bath and slashed his wrists, and the thought of it still made her blood run cold.
It had been such a traumatic thing for them all to have to deal with on such a happy day. Freddie had found him, and had not wanted to ruin the wedding. He had waited until the body had been taken away and the bathroom cleaned up, so his poor mother had not had to face that on top of everything else.
Maggie knew that Jimmy, like her, felt awful for the way they had assumed Freddie had just blanked them. She pushed the thought from her mind and went over to where poor Maddie sat on a garden chair.
She sat beside her and chatted for a while, but she knew the woman was waiting for her son, and if he arrived it would make her day. If he didn't then she would go home and sit alone and wait for him there. At least he took care of her. Maggie couldn't take that away from him.
'I wish you would just listen to me sometimes, Freddie. I knew they were fucking ice creams.' Pat's voice was heavy with annoyance because she knew Freddie was still not listening to her.
The South London warehouse they were standing in was full of snide. Though Jekyll and Hyde was the proper term for all the goods stacked around them, it had been shortened to Jekyll or snide. The warehouse was chock-full of snide booty and swag. A lot of videos, most not yet on general release. Disney videos were where their money really lay. Disney only brought their films out every seven years, so there was always a new market for them. One year it might be Bambi, another year Dumbo, but the main thing was, once the film was released it would not be brought out again for a long while. This worked to their advantage since all they needed were a couple of master tapes and they were off. They could knock them out for a couple of quid and the one-parent families could treat the kids and buy a carton of fags, and still be quids in, as opposed to going to Woolworths and paying what they termed the full bifta.
There was also plenty of hardcore porn, otherwise known as old Bluey. They made fortunes from that too. It was easy to bring it in from Denmark and Sweden, where you could watch what the fuck you liked without having to justify your shagging preferences to anyone but your old woman.
Then there were knocked-off Fila tracksuits, run up in Korea and shipped over for the benefit of the unemployed and anyone who used a local market. The designer stuff was worth a lot of money, and it caused a lot of aggravation because there was so much competition around trying to flog it off.
'How long did they say they would be?' Patricia tapped her foot in annoyance, and Freddie checked his gold Rolex. It was definitely not a Jekyll nowadays. Patricia had seen it before and knew it sweeped not ticked, but they had boxes full of snide watches for the discerning punter. From Rolex to Cartier, it was one of the best scams ever. Everyone suddenly wanted to be a film star, wanted to look worth a few quid, and they were tapping into that market.
'They should have been here by now, Freddie.' Patricia lit a cigarette, also snide. These were knocked up in China and they had everything from the right boxes to the right import dockets. They were ten pence a pack, and they knocked them out in the two hundreds all over the smoke for fortunes. It was like having a licence to print money.
'They had better get their arses in gear, right?' she said.
Freddie heard a van pull up outside and sighed theatrically. He knew how to play the game and Pat was getting on his wick acting like he was her fucking ball boy.
The men he was meeting were two brothers from Liverpool. They were young, ambitious and basically braindead.
They had been taking a lot of the merchandise from them and relocating it up their end of the country. All well and good, except the brothers now owed Freddie a lot of money and after repeated requests for payment, and outrageous and insolent excuses for the lack of moolah travelling back down the Ml, they were about to get what was known in their game as a severe warning.
The two brothers were called the Corcorans. Shamus and Eddie were in their twenties and were loud, funny and good company. Now they would have added to their résumé, piss takers.
As they walked into the dimness of the warehouse they were both smoking cigarettes and, as usual, laughing. Seeing Freddie, they both slowed down. He was not supposed to be there, and they had believed they were meeting with his minions, Des and Micky Fleming, and Bobby Blaine.
'Hello, Freddie, we didn't expect to see you today.'
Freddie grinned, all white teeth and camaraderie. 'I know. How are you, boys?'
They shrugged simultaneously. 'Great, yourself?'
Shamus was the brains of the outfit and he was uneasy. He knew Freddie was going to have to have a word, and he tried to pre-empt him. 'We've got some of your money in the van.'
Pat laughed. 'That makes a fucking change. We thought we were giving out to a new charity, the Liverpool ponces' society. You a member, eh?'
Freddie laughed then, a genuine, friendly laugh that relaxed the two men. 'How much you got for me, then?'
He sounded all right and the brothers relaxed. Freddie smiled. In his tracksuit pocket he held a set of knuckledusters. They were custom-made and spiked, and they would do a lot of damage in the minimum of time.
Shamus flicked his hand over his shoulder in a friendly way. 'We've got ten grand out there.'
Shamus was a large lad, but he did not have the presence he needed to intimidate. His brother did have the presence, but he lacked the killer instinct. They would always work for someone and that someone would always leave them to take the flak. It was sad, but it was a fact of life.
'Go out to the van, Pat, and have a rummage, see if you can locate any poke. I'll meet you outside in a minute.'
She nodded to Freddie and walked sedately away from the men.
Shamus knew what was coming and braced himself. He had taken the piss, he knew that, but his brother was not the sharpest knife in the drawer and he wanted to protect him.
'Look, Freddie, let me brother go, mate. I'll take whatever is coming… it was me who pissed the money away, not him.'
Freddie admired him for his loyalty. He understood that the younger brother was obviously not a contender for The Krypton Factor, so he made a snap decision. He brought his hand out of his pocket and attacked Eddie with all the force he could muster. Shamus jumped in but Freddie knocked him to the ground.
Freddie took Eddie's face off in under two minutes.
Then, once he had dropped to the floor, he turned to Shamus and grinned at him as he kicked the boy's ribs into mush.
Exploit any weakness to your advantage. Freddie had lived by that rule all his life and it paid off. Shamus's weakness was this poor boy who would spend the rest of his life with breathing problems, due to a punctured lung, and a face full of Mars Bars, courtesy of his knuckle-duster.
He also knew his money would be there within the week.
Freddie had already taken care of the Liverpool end, so he had not stepped on anyone's toes. Shamus would find that out soon enough, so he decided not to add to the boy's burden today by telling him he had nowhere to go for retribution. This was an out-and-out straightener.
He shook hands with Shamus before helping him sling his brother into the back of the van and giving him directions to the nearest hospital.
'No hard feelings, son, but you remember to pay on the nail in future if you want to carry on doing business with me, OK?'
He was being magnanimous, he was being the big man and letting the lad know that it wasn't personal, it was just business. He was trying to help him with his future endeavours, giving him a lesson in the big boys' way of trading.
After all, it was Easter Sunday. He could afford to be nice one day of the year.
Jackie was rocking, and her loud laugh was getting even louder. She was taking the piss out of Maggie as usual, calling her Mrs Bouquet in one breath, and reminding her of her beginnings in another.
It was a pattern and Maggie was used to it, but she knew that Jimmy never would be, that he was on the verge of throwing her out. He wasn't worried about Freddie's reaction to his aiming Jackie out the front door, though, he was more worried about hers. Freddie was always urging him to send his wife home, telling him it was his house and he should not let Jackie mug them off in it.
But Maggie understood her sister's disappointment in her own life, and knew that every time she saw her she was reminded of a youth she had thrown away on a man who had no real care for her and who, for some strange reason, she could not live without.
Joseph stared at his eldest daughter. She was so far gone he knew it was a miracle she was still able to talk. They were all in the dining room. The meal had been perfect, and the kids had been good, even Little Freddie who always underwent a personality change at Maggie's house. They were now enjoying port and brandies and the cheese platters Maggie made up so beautifully, and Jackie was getting personal and vindictive.
'Why don't you shut your fucking trap for once?'
Joe was pointing at his daughter with a cheese knife, and Lena was trying to pull his arm down all the while saying quietly, 'Leave it, Joe, you'll only make her worse.'
Jackie poured more brandy for herself. 'Well! Who does she think she fucking is, with her fucking family dinners and her fucking big house, looking down her fucking nose at me?'
Maggie sipped her port and sighed. She had been here many times before, and as ever she would sit it out until Jackie went into the lounge and fell asleep.
'Well, let me tell you something, lady,' Jackie poked herself hard in her ample chest. 'I am a better person than you, remember that. I am a better fucking person than you will ever be.'
She was now pointing at Maggie with a long fat finger. The nail varnish was chipped and her hands were chapped and sore looking. 'I don't need cars and fucking houses to make me feel good about meself.'
This was a familiar rant and Maggie ignored her, waiting for her to get it out of her system, but Kimberley shoved her head towards her mother and said nastily, 'Why would you need cars to make you feel better, Mum, you've got fucking alcohol.'
Somewhere in Jackie's head the words penetrated and she knew the girl was speaking the truth, but the thought of her daughter saying that to her was like a knife in her chest.
Lena was nearly in tears. She dreaded this and every time it happened it upset her more. She knew it was all their own fault. They had allowed Jackie to get away with it, and consequently she now believed she could do and say what she wanted whenever she wanted. This should all have been nipped in the bud years ago.
'How dare you talk to me like that? I am your mother.'
Jackie had the self-righteous tone off pat, and she also had the look of a woman who had been whipped once too often. She'd been a complete manipulator of everyone around her, and as the years had gone on she'd become unable to see that none of it was working any more. Especially with her girls, who knew her too well.
'You are a piss head, Mother, and you ruin everything because you can't stand to see anyone doing well, can you?'
'Stop it, Kim, leave her alone.' Maggie's voice was calm and she handed her sister a cigarette and then lit it for her.
It was what Jackie wanted – if Maggie wasn't annoyed with her then she was still in with a chance of redeeming herself. She puffed on the cigarette as if her life depended on it and looked out of the sparkling clean patio doors into the garden.
Everyone was talking again in low voices, and Jackie felt the urge to cry that always came when she was with her family. Opposite her chair was a long gilt mirror and she could see her reflection. At first she had wondered who the hell it was, the dark-circled eyes, with their bitterness and hatred burning out, and the heavyset body and hunched shoulders encased in a white frilly shirt that made her look even bigger than she actually was. Despite her denial, on one level she knew it was her, and seeing the destruction of herself just made her angrier, because it showed her the abortion her life had become.
Jackie glanced back out of the window and stared at the green lawn and the small summerhouse that was freshly painted. It was a lovely day, warm and bright, with the sun glistening down on the ornamental fishpond. It looked so nice, so normal and it was this normality that frightened her.
This should have been her, this should have been her house, her home, and Freddie should have been sitting with her and loving her like Jimmy did Maggie. They showed her life up for what it was, and she couldn't bear it sometimes.
Even her children only tolerated her. As the girls had grown up they had grown away from her, further and further by the week. Maggie and Jimmy still didn't have kids, they were waiting for the right time. They planned everything and they made sure they had enough money and enough time to bring their plans to fruition. Even Maggie's little shop was now one of five hairdressers and beauty parlours she had spread all over Essex and the East End. Jimmy had a pub, a garage and a night club, and that was without his hot-dog vans and the houses they rented out. And they worked them all together, they did everything together. They even had a place being built in Spain.
They were a constant reminder of what she didn't have, had never had.
Jackie hated them for that.
Freddie had dropped Pat back at her house and stayed for a couple of hours. They were an item, he supposed, except she still acted like she was a single woman.
He loved her house. It was bright, clean and quiet, so bloody quiet. Her sound system was the best that money could buy, and like him she listened to it down low, not blaring out and blasting your eardrums the way Jackie and the kids preferred. Pat had a chocolate fridge and a fridge for beers – it was like a different world. She was also so independent. Even though over the years this had annoyed him, he liked it about her now, especially since one of his little amours had given him an ultimatum.
He was going to pop in to see her before going to Jimmy's for his dinner. Jimmy knew he had a bit of business so he wasn't expecting him until late.
Freddie drove on to the Thamesmead estate and parked outside a tower block. Locking his stacked-head Mercedes, he sauntered over to the main doorway and observed the kids hanging around like little clones of one another.
Jimmy had recruited a few kids off this estate when he had started doing the flowers years ago. He had got a couple of boys from here to work the plants for him, and they had been sound little workers. He had driven them all over the place and settled them in lay-bys with a flask of tea and their flowers all bucketed up in water. Freddie had thought he was mad until he saw the money he was pulling in, then he had worked them with him.
Nowadays, of course, it was all taken care of for them and they just picked up their poke at regular intervals, but it had been the catalyst for him listening to Jimmy's ideas. He had a good business brain, and so did little Maggie. Look at how she had turned those shops into gold mines. Seven years on, that girl had a small empire and, in fairness, she had built it on her Jack Jones. And she hadn't even dropped a chavvy yet, she still had her tits in the right place and a stomach like a washboard. Jimmy was a lucky fucker.
Freddie still had an ambition in life, and fucking Maggie was it.
She looked at him and he knew she was looking down her pretty little pointed nose, but the time would come when he would bring her down a peg. Like his father always used to say, wait long enough and you'll get what you want from life. Just make sure it was worth the wait.
He walked into a flat on the ninth floor. The door was open, the door was always open. The flat was occupied by a nineteen year old called Charlene, who had thick blond hair and green eyes framed by thick dark lashes. There was no doubt about it, she was a looker, and her neat little body was made for Freddie Jackson's large, brutish lovemaking. However, she had a kid called Deandra, a name she had heard on a TV show and loved. The child was a nice little thing, and she was also at Charlene's mum's, as it was a weekend.
As he walked into her tidy front room he was smiling. Charlene, however, was not.
'You took your fucking time.'
Freddie was doing his best not to laugh at her. She really thought she was something special. What was it with these girls? Did they really believe a few fucks and a couple of Indian meals represented a relationship?
Pat was getting suspicious, and if he cared about any woman it was her. This whore had actually phoned her house and then threatened him with exposure, not only to her but also to his lawful wife!
Now that was a melon scratcher as far as he was concerned, and he knew he had to shut this fucker up once and for all or she was going to be one of those girls who caused more trouble than they were worth.
'Hello, Freddie, good to see you, Freddie. Ain't that what you are supposed to say to me?' His sarcasm was lost on the girl, who all her life had been feted, first by her father and mother and then by everyone in her orbit, because she was so beautiful.
She had got pregnant by a no neck at sixteen, and he had gone on the trot without a backward glance. He was now doing an eighteen for armed robbery and drugs offences, so he was definitely out of the picture. She had latched on to Freddie because he was good looking, he had plenty of poke, and he was also the number one diamond geezer in her vicinity.
She had what he wanted – a lovely face, a good body, and she knew how to make a man feel like a king in the kip. Now she was flexing her little muscles. She wanted him full time, was not happy with his erratic style of courtship, and she was under the impression that he was as up for this fairy tale as she was.
He looked at her dispassionately. She was lovely, really lovely, but she had about as much conversation as a junkie in a holding cell. Her only allure as far as he was concerned was that she had her own drum, clean knickers, and made a decent cup of tea in the morning: his criteria for a good shag.
Charlene was sitting upright now, on her second-hand three piece, and looking at him daggers. She really thought she had enough nous to keep a man like him interested in her. It was unbelievable the way these young girls kidded themselves when they were there for the taking for men like him.
They were in every pub and club he frequented, they were like leaves on the ground. When you dumped one, another one would be standing in the same place in the same bar a few hours later.
They wanted him, they wanted what he was, and what he had to offer. They were like those young girls who married old geezers who were caked up with dosh. When one of them married some old fucker with no poke, except his pension, and moved into his sheltered accommodation, he would believe it was love.
Until then, bollocks to them all.
This girl would spout love if he wasn't careful. He had been there, done that.
'You can't treat me like some fucking tart, I won't have it.' She was all on her dignity and full of her own self-importance.
Her eyes were made up and her lipstick was perfect. She had been expecting him and he knew she had been dolled up to the nines every day waiting for him to arrive.
She really was a lovely little thing.
She was about to experience one of the worst days of her life and he was sorry for her because of that. But needs must when the trollop drives!
He walked to her and dragged her up from her seat by her thick blond hair. Pushing his face close to hers he said quietly, and with deliberate menace, 'Who you talking to?'
He was so close to her face she could smell his breath, and the sweet aroma of the grass he had smoked earlier.
'You are going to tell my old woman about us, are you?'
Charlene was trying her hardest to shake her head but he was holding her like a vice.
'No one threatens me, lady, and anyone who does, man or woman, is a cunt. Do you understand what I am saying to you?'
She was terrified. Her lovely green eyes were filled with tears, and she was thankfully speechless with terror. This was going to be easier than he thought.
'If my wife or kids ever hear about my little wander into your flat, I will blow this fucking place off the face of the earth. Do you hear me?'
She was desperately trying to nod her agreement.
He let her go then and, smiling at her with that charming dead smile he had, he kissed her on the forehead and said, 'You know it makes sense, darling.'
Then he pushed her back on to the sofa and left.
She could hear him whistling to himself as he walked back towards the lifts.
Jackie had drunk herself sober by the time Freddie arrived at the house.
As he pulled up outside he was impressed despite himself. This was his idea of a nice place, not like Jimmy and Maggie's last one with its pantiled roof and all the old-fashioned fireplaces. He liked the newness of this house, the clean lines, the integral garage. He would love a drum like this, and he could have one if he wanted to.
He always reminded himself of that when he was around them, and he always promised himself that it would happen sooner rather than later. If Jackie wasn't such a dirty bitch he would have gone for it years ago, but no matter how much he weighed out, no matter how much they decorated, their place was still a shit hole.
Dirty, scruffy and in constant need of redecoration.
Young Jimmy had always bought for cash and then remortgaged, that way the money was clean. It was a perfect way of laundering their robbery and drugs cash. Freddie had missed the boat in a lot of respects. It was getting harder to do that now, unless you bought really cheap. But his money went through his hands like water. He would put on large bets, lose the money and then recoup and lose it all once again. He was constantly out and about. He would make the night last as long as possible because there was nothing to go home to. He ended up paying for everyone, not just with the drinks but also with the gear. He attracted hangers-on, the piss heads and the druggies who knew he was always good for a night out because he could never let the night end.
Jimmy would have a couple of beers and say his good nights. He was happy to go home to Maggie and their nice bed and their nice life. Freddie had never been able to do that, even when the kids had been young. Maybe it was a personality trait, or something missing in him, he didn't know. But he had sat for twenty-four hours at a time and spent huge amounts of wedge on people he didn't even really like.
The money just disappeared. He had no real back up if there was an emergency, and he knew he was ashamed of that because they had earned real money. Most people would kill to earn like they had, and he had pissed it all away.
And with Jackie having their place decorated on a regular basis he knew he was just throwing good money after bad. Jackie had nagged at him until, a few months ago, she had been delivered of a new white wood kitchen, and already it was rotten. Even while the men were fitting it she had not bothered to clear her dirty dishes away, or make it habitable. He had seen the men tiling the walls and having to move used plates and mugs out of the way themselves.
He had been so embarrassed he had caused ructions. But Jackie, she was a lost cause and they both knew it. He told himself that was why he didn't bother, he was trapped with her and he had accepted it. Since his son's birth he had been tied to that place. The worse his son behaved the less he wanted to be there, but the tighter the hold she had over him. He hated his life and yet he didn't know what to do about it.
If it wasn't for Patricia he knew he would lose it completely. Even though he wanted her more than he had ever wanted anyone before, he knew it suited him that Pat was not the clingy type. Jackie would completely fold without him. Although he knew they were not healthy together, if he left her it would be the end of her world. He was the only thing she had ever really wanted until his son had been born, and now Little Freddie had to try to make up for his father's absence.
Jimmy let him in to the house and they hugged. This was a new thing with them which had started a few months before when they had been drunk, and now it seemed right to show the deep feelings they had for one another. And the feelings they had for one another did run deep, even though as time was going on it was becoming harder for Freddie to ignore Little Jimmy's success.
In the dining room he saw that Paul and Liselle had already gone, but the usual hangers-on were still there, his family included. He kissed his mum, said his hellos and sat down. He barely glanced at his wife, but as Maggie put a plate of food in front of him he smiled at her nicely. 'Thanks, mate.'
She smiled back. It was a game they now played.
Maggie looked beautiful, her hair was now dyed a deeper blond, and it had white highlights that made her look even more angelic than usual. It was her teeth he really admired, though, straight and a startling white. But then she was always tanned these days. She was the epitome of the nineties woman, independent and well groomed, and she was sensible enough to make sure her husband was fed and watered and shagged into submission into the bargain.
He envied Jimmy his marriage as he envied him his peace of mind.
The turkey was moist and the salad was crunchy, and as he watched Jackie trying to focus as she spoke to him he sighed inside. Even Little Freddie was good when he was with Maggie, and his girls worshipped her. She made sure their hair was perfect and that they knew how to dress for their builds, and she gave them a safe haven when Jackie's drinking got too much for them.
As much as he was grateful for all that, his nature also made him resentful of her. Like his wife, inside he felt this couple showed up the uselessness of their existence together, and no one liked to be reminded of that.
'Will you answer me, for fuck's sake.'
Jackie was shouting at him now and he turned towards her and smiled. 'I heard you the tenth time, Jackie. I told you this morning, if you had listened to me then, I had to go out and do a bit of business, all right?'
She was placated because he had spoken directly to her.
Little Freddie came in and he sat him on his lap and let him feed off his plate. He knew the boy only ate proper food if it was given to him in this manner.
His daughters were all watching a film and he could hear them laughing and chatting together. They would wait until he went in to see them. They were getting big girls now and he knew he had to keep an eye on them, especially his eldest. Kim was built like a thirty year old, and knew more than the brasses who worked for him. She was ripe for the picking, and he was determined that she would get a better crack at her life than they had. Maggie was taking her into the salon business with her once she finished her college course in health and beauty, which pleased him. She would still be in his orbit, and that was important to him.
Joseph started to tell a long convoluted story about when he was a young man and had got his first job. As he watched him spin the tale, Freddie finally relaxed. He would sit it out for a while, and then he and Jimmy would have to get going. But he could manage an hour or so with this lot.
He glanced at his mother. She was so lovely to him, and he worshipped her in his own way. But she depressed him. Her whole life was spent waiting to die, and it annoyed him. Life was for living and the worst life was worth fighting for. Even Jackie would go out kicking and screaming, he was sure of that much.
He was proud that his mother was still well groomed, but since his father's death she had become as mad as a hatter. He knew it was only him and the kids that had kept her going. Her advice about Little Freddie had been to give him a good hiding, and he had a feeling she was right about that much at least.
Maddie saw him looking at her and she winked at him. She had always winked at him at Mass when he had been a kid and he had loved it, so he winked back. He saw Lena had noticed the gesture, and she smiled at him kindly.
He liked Lena. She was a nice old bird, and she looked out for his mum, which saved him a job. So if for no other reason than that he would have liked her anyway. But she was also a shrewd old bird and she helped keep Jackie together, which Jackie needed these days because, thanks to the drink, she was gradually unravelling at the seams.
If Jackie knew exactly what he and Jimmy were now involved in, she would go completely over the edge. Her biggest fear was of him getting another capture, even though he knew in other ways she would probably welcome it, just so she could be certain where he was of a night. He wondered if Maggie knew the half of it. Jimmy told her most things, but he had a feeling even Jimmy would think twice before discussing this lot with his wife.
If they worked this right it would be the pinnacle of their careers in skulduggery. It could also be the reason why they spent the remainder of their youth in a maximum security prison.
Maggie had washed up and put nearly everything away, with her mother happily helping her. She poured them both a large Scotch before saying, 'Leave it now, Mum. I'll finish unloading the dishwasher in the morning.'
'It won't take a sec, darling.'
Maggie let her mother do it, she knew she loved this part of the day. Lena enjoyed her houses even more than she did.
'Oh, I love this place. Stay here for a while, love, it's gorgeous.'
Maggie grinned. We'll give it a while, Mum, don't worry.'
Lena sat down heavily on the stool opposite her daughter. She was so enthralled with this breakfast bar she felt she could sit there all day. Just looking around her at her daughter's home, at her life, made her happy. If only Jackie could find that kind of peace she would finally feel she could relax and stop worrying about them all. But right now she had an agenda, and even though it was the last thing she wanted to bring into their conversation she did not know who else to turn to for advice.
So lighting yet another cigarette she said quietly, 'Something's got to be done about Jackie, you know that, don't you?'
Maggie sighed then. She had been expecting this, it was a conversation they had frequently. 'What do you suggest, then? She ain't going to stop drinking, until she really wants to.'
Lena nodded in agreement. 'Someone needs to talk to her about it…'
Maggie held up her hands in supplication. 'Well, it ain't going to be me this time. I've tried it before and she nearly ripped my head off. It's an illness, Mum, and she doesn't think she is ill.'
Lena had looked old lately, and as Maggie watched her sipping her Chivas Regal she saw the lines that had gathered around her eyes and her mouth. They made her look as if she was permanently unhappy, which she wasn't. Considering the life she had been given, she was a relatively happy woman. It was Jackie who worried her, who gave her sleepless nights.
'That child is out of his fucking tree,' Lena said. 'Did you hear about yesterday?'
Maggie shook her head. 'What's he done this time?'
She sounded bored. Little Freddie was always doing something, it was him, it was how he lived. He was his mother's son, a drama queen. Not that she would ever say that out loud, of course.
'He had been accused of touching that little girl across the road, that little Karen. You know who I mean, Sammy's daughter.'
'What do you mean, touching her?' Maggie's voice came out sharper than she had intended.
Lena was pink with embarrassment. 'You know what I mean. What do I have to do, draw you a picture?'
Maggie swallowed hard. What her mother was saying was too outrageous even for that little sod. 'I don't believe it…'
Lena interrupted her. 'Neither did I, but now I ain't so sure. There is something radically wrong with that child.'
'Oh, Mum, leave it out. He's a little boy, a fucker, I admit, but he's only seven.'
She didn't want to believe it.
She was dismissing her mother's words and Lena was aware of that. Looking down at the floor, she said, 'One of his sisters saw him, and stopped it from going any further.'
Maggie sat back on her stool, and as the words penetrated her brain she felt as though someone had punched her in the tummy.
At her old house, Little Freddie had stayed over one night, when her neighbour was holding a party for her daughter, who was turning four. She had never got to the bottom of why the child was screaming but she had guessed it was something to do with her nephew. Everyone had gone home suddenly, all saying the same things. The kids were tired, they were whacked out. But in her heart she had known it had been something to do with Little Freddie. The neighbour, a pleasant woman with two kids and a nice home, had basically blanked her after that day. It had been nothing you could put your finger on – she had been OK, she said hello, asked how they were, gossiped on the drive – but Maggie had never been invited inside that house again.
When she had mentioned they were moving home, the poor woman had looked relieved, she would have sworn to that on a stack of Bibles. Maggie had assumed she had found out about Jimmy's other businesses, which would not have been too far off the wall because he was a Face in the neighbourhood. But now she wondered if it was something far more sinister.
'Was anything done? Was he brought to book over it?'
Lena shook her head. 'Jackie doesn't know, at least I think she doesn't. You know what she's like, she wouldn't believe it anyway, not about her golden boy. But it happened, and it was a serious assault. That's what Kim said anyway, and she ain't a spinner.'
'He's seven, for fuck's sake. If he did do something bad, then he must have seen it somewhere, must be copying something he's seen.'
Lena looked defeated, she was nearly in tears. She lit another cigarette from the butt of the previous one. This was the first time Maggie had realised that she was chainsmoking these days.
'Have you seen the films he watches?' Lena asked her. 'Jackie doesn't police him, no one does. He sits up all night watching videos, watching filth and violence. They let him do what the fuck he wants.'
Maggie was more than aware of that but she decided not to mention it. She was guilty of it herself. Little Freddie was a nightmare of a child and she had a feeling in her bones that what she had been told was true. Kimberley didn't make things up, as her mother had pointed out. If she said it had happened, then it had happened.
She felt sick suddenly. This was something that she had never dreamed happened to people like them. But then Jackie was not like them, Jackie thought she was a law unto herself.
'What's Sammy said about it?'
Lena shrugged. 'What can she say? Who in their right mind is going to accuse Freddie's boy of noncing? But, as bad as this may sound, I believe it. I think he is more than capable of doing something like that.'
Maggie knew her mother would never say a thing like that unless she was absolutely sure there was truth in it.
She heard her father laughing with the girls in her lounge, where they were watching a film. The girls were all staying over, they usually did of a weekend. Jackie and Little Freddie were long gone, otherwise they would not be having this conversation.
She glanced at the clock and saw it was nearly midnight. She was not expecting Jimmy home for a while yet but at this moment she wanted him more than ever.
'You know what we want, so why are you stronging it?' Freddie was flexing his muscles, and everyone in the room was aware of that fact. But he was also dealing with his counterparts, Joey and Timmy Black. They were from Glasgow and they were hard men who had fought to get to the top of their game. They wanted a merger with London. Drugs were now their staple diet, so it was natural that they should merge with Ozzy's crew.
Between them all they could become the biggest distributors in Europe. They had the money, the brains and the acumen. They also had a friend who, while on the run, had made contact with some very nice Russians who could smuggle in live rattlesnakes dressed as geisha girls and get away with it. In short they now owned most of the customs officers in the southeast ports.
It was a doddle really, but Ozzy and the Blacks knew that they would be more powerful if they became partners. Between them, they could sew the trade up. As it was, with so many different firms plying their trade at the one time, it was inevitable that they would eventually step on each other's toes. When that happened, it would cause ructions and bad blood between the warring parties.
At the moment, the Scots had the second-largest handle on the drugs trade, since even though they had more heroin addicts per square foot than anywhere else in Great Britain, there was still a booming market for every other kind of narcotic. The coke and amphetamine market was mainly English. The Welsh were still dependent on magic mushrooms and LSD, while the Irish were more puffers, cannabis smokers. But the trade was changing rapidly, thanks to the club scene and a new drug from the States called ecstasy. PCP had never really taken off in the UK, mescaline had made a small inroad, but this new drug was everything anyone could want. And because everyone wanted in, these mergers were now becoming quite frequent across the European union.
Ecstasy was a feel-good, high-inducing dance drug, and although it was expensive and currently hard to come by, they knew that soon it would be everywhere. This was the money-making time, when they could charge the earth for it. They needed to hunt down anyone with a factory and bring them on side.
This needed to be well planned and well thought-out. Then they could all distribute it wisely and make sure it was only peddled by their people. It was in reality no different to a large organisation wanting to bring in a new product. It would be advertised and talked about, and then all the different retailers would eventually want to stock it.
This merger was about to bring in more money in one go than anything ever before. It was Mickey Mouse money, Monopoly money. It would be in huge quantities and it would all be in cash.
The only bugbear was that Freddie and Joey had bad blood between them. They had both been banged up in Parkhurst and they had fallen out over contraband. Freddie had run the tobacco and alcohol for Ozzy, and when Joey Black had arrived, with a body full of tats and the Glaswegian head-butt, it had caused them to go head to head.
Freddie had won hands down and Joey had always given him the credit for it, but that did not mean that he did not want a rematch at some time to reestablish what he felt was his rightful position. He had swallowed his knob in prison, you had to, and he had also known that he could not ask for any kind of replay because it was all done and dusted as far as everyone was concerned.
In prison he had been able if not to forget, at least to put it out of his mind. On the street, however, he knew it was discussed and talked about. For his own peace of mind, and to make sure that people still saw him as the undisputed king of his world, he needed to take Freddie out.
This would be difficult because they needed each other at this moment in time, and so although their meeting was fraught with undercurrents and hidden agendas, it would all be put aside in the pursuit of money.
But once the money started rolling in, the borders had been opened, and they had become legends in their own rights, there would still be the little matter of Joey Black and Freddie Jackson.
The clever money was on Freddie, but the outsiders were of the opinion that maybe he might be the better bet. Unlike Freddie, Joey had something to prove.
'Are you sure this is not going to get you a capture, Jimmy?' She asked this every time, and he smiled at her concern. She really was looking out for him and he loved her for that. 'Look, Mag, anything I undertake has a risk and we've
always known that, right? This is no different, except we will be settled at last, we will never have to do a hand's turn again unless we want to. Just relax, if I did get a lump you'd be all right.'
She smiled at him as she always did. He needed to feel she was behind him, and she wasn't. Not really and she never had been. But this was her Jimmy, and she wouldn't go against him and what he wanted to do. He thrived on his work, he was always careful, and he was always honest with her. She knew that if Freddie knew just how much he told her he would panic. But Jimmy trusted her and he had good reason to. She would never, ever do anything to harm him or their life.
'Can anyone connect you to the factories?'
It was a fair question and one he had been expecting. 'Nah, to be honest the Blacks will take care of that side of it once we have established the trade runs. Our main interest at the moment is getting the stuff out to the distributors. So stop worrying, woman, it's all under control.'
This was her cue to let it go. He had that inflection in his voice which told her he had said enough now, and wanted the subject changed. She knew him so well.
He was pouring himself a glass of cold milk, and she watched him as he glanced around the spotlessly clean kitchen. 'The girls in bed?'
She nodded.
'And that mad little fucker's gone home, I trust.'
She grinned, then remembered what her mother had said about him. She decided not to mention anything just yet.
'Did you hear the latest about him?' Jimmy asked.
Maggie shook her head and tried to look innocent. 'No, what?'
'According to Freddie, who thinks it's hilarious, the child, if he can be called that, has been dumping outside people's houses. If they try and tell him off, he drops his kecks and dumps on their doorsteps.'
Maggie shook her head sadly, 'He is out of control, Jimmy. I think he should be put away.'
Jimmy shrugged and finished his milk. 'That might be closer than anyone thinks.'
She frowned. 'What do you mean?'
'According to Freddie, the social workers want him to go to a special unit. It's for troubled kids and although he would be the youngest one there I think even Fred sees that something has got to be done.'
Maggie didn't say anything, though she hoped the boy did go away. If what she had heard was true the sooner he got professional help the better. But she also knew Jackie would never countenance it.
'Is me mum still getting her hair done tomorrow?'
Maggie yawned slightly. It had been a long day. 'She's popping over in the morning.'
Since the day they married, and Freddie Senior topped himself, Jimmy's father rarely had anything to do with his son. He never visited them, and no one ever mentioned it.
Jimmy nodded and rinsed his glass under the cold water tap. He didn't look bothered but she had a feeling he was. He would choose Freddie over anyone, except maybe her.
Though sometimes she even wondered about that.
Freddie was in bed with Stephanie. She was a good-hearted whore and he liked her. She was as thick as two short planks and her sense of humour was childish, but they had a rapport and best of all she never asked him for anything, ever.
If he turned up he turned up, if he kept away for months she never batted an eyelid in his direction. While Pat had worked out of the Ilford house he had kept away from her. Now, though, she was back on his list of things to do and she loved it.
As they lay together smoking a joint they heard the bedsprings in the next room creaking. They started to laugh.
'She don't half get some poke next door,' Stephanie said.
'In more ways than one!'
Stephanie was rolling up now, because she was so stoned and because, when Freddie was like this, he made her happy. He was being his most charming, and his most sexy. She loved the darkness of his skin, the whiteness of his teeth. He was always chewing gum or mints, so his breath was always fresh. She appreciated little things like that, in her job some of the clients' bodily hygiene left a lot to be desired.
Freddie cuddled her to him and she felt safe, safe and happy.
Then he flipped her expertly on to her tummy and, lying on top of her back, he bit her on the back of her head. As she struggled he pushed her face harder and harder into the pillow. As he entered her from behind she was grunting like an animal, and the pain in her head and thighs brought flashing lights into the blackness of the pillow. She could feel her chicken takeaway from earlier in the evening rushing into her mouth, and clogging up her nose as she tried desperately to get it out of her mouth so she could breathe.
She was choking, and the overpowering feeling of helplessness was terrifying in the extreme. She could hear him calling her names, and telling her that she was nothing, a whore, a slut. The words were merging together into one and as she lost consciousness she felt the burning of the food in her nostrils, her mouth open in a silent scream.
Little Freddie heard the front door crash open and still didn't take his eyes off the film he was watching. The Texas Chain Saw Massacre was his favourite video at the moment, and the blood and gore were just starting to spurt everywhere. He saw his Uncle Jimmy flash by in his peripheral vision, and stayed watching the TV.
Freddie was asleep in bed with his third woman of the night – first Pat, then Stephanie and finally his wife. Hearing the noise he opened his eyes blearily. Jackie was still snoring beside him and the duvet had come off the bed, showing her fat body sprawled across him like a beached whale. Her breath was rank and he pushed himself away from her. Then he realised that someone was stomping up his stairs and heard Jimmy's voice swearing and shouting, and it occurred to him that something terrible had happened.
Freddie had smoked some cocaine earlier and, mixed with the brandy, it had badly affected his reaction times. It wasn't until he was dragged bodily from the bed by Jimmy that he started to wake up properly.
'What the fuck's going on!' Jackie was sitting up in the bed, clutching a pillow in front of her to hide her nakedness and watching in amazement as Jimmy started to attack Freddie.
'You fucking vicious cunt! You wanker!'
Never had Jackie seen Jimmy sound so angry nor heard him shout so loudly. What frightened her more was that Freddie was not attempting to fight back in any way. He was just lying on the floor taking it.
Jimmy was kicking him, and when he was finally spent, he looked down on Freddie. Shaking his head in obvious despair, he rubbed his eyes and face, and Jackie saw the tiredness that had come over him.
'You went too fucking far this time. She's dead, Freddie. Dead.'
Jackie heard the word dead, and her whole body went cold. The fear had hit her now. This was serious, really serious and she was terrified that she was going to lose her husband over it.
'Who's dead? What the fuck is going on here, guys?' The fear in her voice communicated itself to her husband, who seemed suddenly to come out of his stupor.
Freddie got up off the dirty floor, and as Jimmy looked around him at the squalor that was Freddie's life and the mess that was his closest relative, he felt himself fighting back the urge to cry. 'Look at the way you live, the way you exist here with this lot. You're like a pack of fucking animals in a lair. This ain't a life, Freddie, you live like fucking parasites, the lot of you.'
The words penetrated Jackie's consciousness and even in her drink-fuddled brain the insult took residence, and a feeling of hot shame swept over her.
'This could destroy us, all we've worked for, everything, and all because you can't fucking control yourself.'
Freddie saw his wife trying to comprehend what had happened. She was staring at them both in horror, then Jackie was kneeling up on the bed and screaming, 'Who is fucking dead, for Christ's sake tell me, will you.'
And a little voice said, from the doorway, 'All the people on the telly, Mum, they're all dead.'
Now Maggie knew exactly what had happened, the fear inside her was growing by the minute. She had gone to the house on Jimmy's direction and taken the girl's belongings and she had then dumped them on a landfill in East Essex. But just the thought of what had happened to that girl made her feel ill.
She understood better than anyone what Freddie was capable of, she just didn't believe that he could really have killed that poor girl in such a mindless, savage way. She had fought him off enough times as a girl, but even she would never have believed this of him.
She still had flashbacks to the times he had tried to corner her in her own home, and she had felt the unease as he stared at her sometimes, with that vacant look she knew meant he was thinking about her in a sexual way. If Jimmy knew the half of it he would have a seizure, and it would cause so much trouble that the reverberations would be felt for generations. Her own father would not take it very well, either, and that was without her mother's attitude. And Jackie, well, if she knew, she would blame her, like she always blamed everyone else except her husband.
Now this had happened, and Maggie had seen the pain and confusion in her sister's eyes this night, she knew that this was going to be in the forefront of her mind for a long time.
If it got out in their own community it would be hard enough for them, but if the filth took him in over it then everything they had worked for would be in vain. It would destroy everyone Freddie had come into contact with, it would taint them all.
Ozzy must never find out about any of it, and she knew from Jimmy's worried expression that this was going to be the make-or-break time.
As Maggie drove back to her house she had the windows open because she felt physically sick, and her head was clammy. She could not believe what she had just done and she wished that Jimmy had kept her out of it. It showed how worried he must be to involve her in this.
She remembered that she was supposed to be doing his mother's hair this morning and sighed. As she pulled up at the traffic lights two young men stared at the beautiful woman in the Mercedes sports car and tried to catch her attention. Even though this happened on a daily basis, she was suddenly convinced that they were following her. She wheelspinned away, and left them in her wake and wondering what the hell was wrong with the blonde in the brand-new Merc.
Jackie was drinking white wine mixed with vodka. It was eleven o'clock in the morning and so it was early even for her. Little Freddie understood that something momentous had happened and was for once in his life being quiet, and it was this that made everything seem even more surreal.
The alcohol was her painkiller, it was her crutch against the world and it was also the reason she got out of bed these days. She knew Freddie didn't want her, not really. The only thing keeping him near her was their son, and now the girls were growing he was suddenly taking an interest in them again. They had trundled along OK until this last event, but now she was frightened, seriously frightened of what this could all become, what it could all cause.
Freddie had killed a brass.
The words kept going round in her head and even though she knew it was true she was still having trouble coming to terms with it. Her hands were shaking and she wasn't sure if it was her usual morning unsteadiness or because she was in shock.
Jimmy had accused him of rape, said it had to be rape because no one would willingly be treated like that. But she was a brass, so she was used to being treated like shit. It was how brasses earned their money, wasn't it? They did what the wives refused to do for their men, at least that is what Freddie had always told her.
They had disposed of her belongings, according to Jimmy, but he had also said they had called an ambulance and pretended that she had been topped by a customer. In her heart she knew this was a load of crap, that this story was for her benefit, concocted by Jimmy when he had calmed down and seen how the news had affected her. He had been brought back to earth by her crying and screaming. But how could she believe this of the man she had loved for so long, who was the only reason she was even sitting at this table, who was everything to her no matter what.
She wasn't that stupid, she could work the truth out for herself, and it was the knowledge that he had done exactly what he had been accused of that frightened her so much.
They had dumped the body, they would have had to.
She wondered how they had shut up the other girls in the house. It must have cost them fortunes. Well, she didn't care how much as long as Freddie was going to walk away from it.
If this Stephanie, or whatever her real name was, had been topped by a punter, she still would have been disposed of. The last thing they needed was anyone scrutinising their working practices.
She gulped at her drink, and as she glanced once more at the clock she wondered if the girls would be back today. She had a feeling that they would be left at Maggie's or her mum's until Easter was over and this could all be sorted out.
She burped, and tasted the tannic cheapness of the wine, then she topped up the glass and drank once more. She needed oblivion and she knew that today of all days it was not to be hers. This was far too serious to anaesthetise with wine or vodka. This needed brandy or even whisky.
As usual, all she could think about was her and her needs. The dead girl was not really anything in her mind, she was just a brass, and who cared about brasses? She hated the woman who had caused all this, and she was sure it had just been an accident. Freddie wouldn't hurt a woman for no reason. A man, yeah, but not a female, not a woman, it was not feasible. He was a womaniser, she knew that much, and womanisers liked women. A man who'd harm them didn't like women. It stood to reason, didn't it, really?
She closed her eyes on her thoughts. She didn't really know what to believe; she only knew what she wanted to believe, what she needed to believe. And that was that her husband could not be the monster that everyone seemed to assume he was. She knew him, had given him four children. If anyone knew about her husband then it was her.
She knew that people thought she was a mug, but that was OK as far as she was concerned. No one knew him like she did. No one saw the kindness that was inside him when he dealt with his kids, or the way he tried to be a good person. The drugs and the drink got to him like they did her. It was an illness.
She clung on to this new thought as if it was a lifeline, which for her of course it was.
She heard the front door open and she turned in fear towards it.
Freddie knew he had fucked up big time. He also knew he had got to get back into everyone's good books and he had to get back into them sooner rather than later. He could suffocate that silly bitch all over again, she was nothing but trouble. Was he going to have to pay for this for the rest of his natural? So he had accidentally topped a brass, a fucking brass, a woman who, for a C-note, would shag a fucking doorpost. He knew Steph, she would shag a Rottweiler for a score and a large lump of dope.
Why hadn't he just gone home? He had asked himself the same question over and over again.
Now he was being made to feel like he was a criminal or something. Anyone would think he had hurt a civilian the way they were all carrying on, and if Pat found out, well, that would be the icing on the cake. Patricia would walk away from him and all that he stood for without a second's thought. As hard as she was, she liked the girls and in her own way she took care of them.
He had been out of his nut, it could have happened to anyone. It wasn't like it was planned or something, it was an accident.
If only he had not smoked the cocaine. Why couldn't he ever leave well alone? Why did he have to always be out of it? The brandy had already softened the edges, so why he had carried on drinking and coking, he didn't know. But Steph was as up for it as he was, only no one was interested in that fact.
She had wanted him there, she was always happy to see him, so why should he be given the bum's rush over a fucking brass? Well, this just all seemed outrageous and over the top as far as he was concerned.
He had enjoyed it, that was the real truth.
But he would swallow, he had no choice really, and when the time was right he would make sure that they all understood once and for all who really was the daddy.
Paul and Liselle watched Freddie as he downed drink after drink. The gossip had reached them, and they were doing what everyone else was doing. Waiting to see what happened before they decided on any action they might take.
The pub was empty except for Freddie, and they were glad about that. But when little Maggie walked in they both knew that trouble was going to come at any second. It was in her eyes, in her walk, in her very demeanour.
'You fucking nutter, you make me sick!' Her voice was low and husky, and Liselle pushed her husband towards their living quarters. She would deal with this. She knew that, no matter what, Freddie would not touch a hair on this girl's head. Not today anyway.
Liselle placed a large Scotch and Coke on the bar in front of Maggie, but she wasn't interested.
'My Jimmy has to sort out your shit all the time, but you have gone too far with this. My sister might fucking think you are the dog's knob but I know you for what you are, and my Jimmy does as well now.'
'Fuck off, Maggie.' He sounded bored, but there was an underlying fear in his voice and both Maggie and Liselle picked it up.
'Go home and have a few kids, might shut your fucking big trap up once and for all.'
'My Jimmy is a decent man, and he is bailing you out as usual. You are a joke, mate, but I warn you now, Freddie. One more fucking stunt like this and he will walk away, and if my sister has any sense she will do the same. You have no respect any more, you have no real rep, you are a bully boy, a fucking ice cream and you have finally gone too far.'
He looked at her, imagining how it would feel to punch her lights out and fuck her until she screamed. But he just smiled and said to Liselle, 'Hark at her, eh? The cunts are in control, the split arses are on the rampage.' He moved towards her quickly and she jumped in fright, which just made him laugh louder.
'Go home, Maggie, before I forget you are a relative.'
'I am no relative of yours, mate. You are fucking scum, and it's only Ozzy's wrath that is keeping you out of the courts. You do realise that, don't you?'
'Piss off, go and cut someone's hair, it's all you are fit for. Go and suck Jimmy's cock, put a smile on his face for once, eh?'
He was laughing once more, and she wondered at a man who could kill someone and not care about it.
'If you ain't careful, Mags, your husband will be bedding the brasses again. He has had his fair share, I can tell you.'
She knew he was lying to her and she spat at him then, and the globule of phlegm hung off his chin.
'Go home yourself, cunt, Jackie's looking for you as always and you never know, you might need an alibi.'
He smiled at her once more but she knew she had scored a major point. He was a real enemy now and she didn't care. That girl was dead, and because of her husband this man was going to walk away from it all. This grieved her.
She left the pub with her head held high and her heart nearly broken.
Freddie wiped his face with his hand and licked off the spittle with relish, much to the disgust of Liselle.
The point had been made and Liselle admired young Maggie for that much at least, even though she knew Freddie would never forgive her.
Jimmy was sitting with Pat, and they were discussing the events of the night before. Both were aware that there was no way Ozzy could ever get even a hint of what had really happened. He would go ballistic and he would be within his rights, they were all aware of that, so this was a serious case of saving their own arses.
Freddie did not know that Patricia had been alerted by one of the other girls, and the fact that he thought he might just walk away from it really annoyed her. She was the main boss, her brother's hologram for when he wasn't there, and he had not been there for a long time thanks to his natural aggression and the judicial system.
'We can't have this ever get out. I have threatened all the girls with death, pain, torture and destruction if they ever open their mouths, whether it is to each other or to their pimps.'
'Pimps?'
Pat wanted to laugh, even Jimmy was a fool where brasses were concerned. Brasses loved their pimps, because every man in their orbit used them for money. At least with the pimp they had a level of respect – all the time they were earning they were treated with decency. That was why Jimmy would never be a good brothel boy. He didn't have the innate cunning needed by pimps to keep the girls in line, or in love, however they looked at it, or the complete disregard for other people that was the main requisite of a man who lived off women. She knew he hated the fact they had the houses, saw himself as above all that. But it was a decent money-spinner and the sooner he accepted that the better off he would be.
'I think he has learned his lesson, Pat, I think he is as frightened as we are about what happened.'
His loyalty knew no bounds. If only Jimmy could hear the way Freddie cunted him when he had had a drink. The way he laughed about his perfect life with his perfect wife. The jealousy was there, and even though she knew in another way Freddie loved and admired his younger counterpart, at times she understood how hard it was for him to see the boy who had looked up to him actually making more of his life than he ever would.
The world they lived in was a funny place. You could be the biggest piece of shit but if you achieved and did not tread on anyone's toes you were fêted. If you fucked up, or someone decided to take what you had and succeeded, then you were forgotten about. It was the way things worked. No one gave a toss who they were earning with as long as they were earning.
Jimmy, she knew, had never understood her relationship with Freddie, and she could not explain, even to herself, the excitement a truly dangerous man generated inside her chest. The knowledge of his exploits and the fact that he treated her with kid gloves was a heady package. Every time she stripped him off and saw the want in him, it made her almost come there and then with the thrill of it all. He was like a wild animal who she had tamed. And now, although of course she would not say this out loud, she practically owned him. She would hint that she knew about the event, make him realise subtly that she had him over a barrel, and watch as he tried his best to make her want him even though he had fucked up big time.
And want him she did, like she had never wanted anyone in her life before.
She liked to be in control, money did that to a body. When you could keep yourself, make your own decisions and most of the men you met were wary or even scared of you and your connections, it was a natural progression. Now she used the men, they did not use her. She needed sex, nothing more and nothing less. There wasn't a man walking who could give her more than she could give herself, so why bother?
She would have Freddie again. She knew without a doubt that he actually cared about her, and it was probably the nearest that bastard had ever come to loving a woman. She was willing to give him another whirl, and this time he would be so far under her thumb she would leave an imprint.
But until then she had to talk Jimmy round and let him believe that she was only swallowing because of him, that she was willing to keep Freddie on the firm because of all the money they had invested. After all, as she would remind him, Ozzy was her brother and it would mean lying to him, at least by omission if not to his face. He would owe her, Freddie and Jimmy would owe her big time.
She wondered if Jimmy would see through her. He was a clever little fucker and she respected that in him. She was also wary of him because her brother thought the sun shone out of his every orifice, and that included his arse.
She knew that Ozzy had a good head for people and she also knew that as long as Ozzy wanted him, then she wanted him as well.
She knew how to play the game. She wasn't stupid.
'You all right, love?'
Freddie was holding a crying Jackie and she was letting him hold her. Enjoying the feel of him as his strong arms tightened around her.
This was what she wanted, what she needed. He poured her another generous shot of vodka and still holding her he motioned with his head to the glass. Deep down she knew that normally he would have been telling her not to drink, accusing her of being a piss head, a drunkard. Today, she knew it suited him to get her drunk, to get her on his side and as always she was quite happy to let that happen.
If only he knew that no matter what he did she would be there for him. She always had been in the past, hadn't she? No matter what he had done, she had stood by him, defended him, cared about him. Why would that change, unless of course he had really murdered the girl and now he was frightened?
She pushed that thought from her head. He was a man and all men chased strange. Her own father had chased enough of it when she was growing up.
She saw a picture of Jimmy flash into her drink-muddled brain and forced it away again. Freddie joked at times that Jimmy was a bit Stoke-on-Trent, well, maybe he was. That would explain why they were so happy. Her sister and Jimmy were like some kind of parody, like a fucking advert for happy families, or Kellogg's Cornflakes.
That might be why. If Jimmy was a bit of a shirt-lifter, then that explained a lot.
She knew what she was thinking was all wrong, and even worse, she was being completely disloyal to a sister who had always supported her, who had always cleared up her messes. But she needed to think it so she could feel better about herself and her husband's latest escapade. Jackie would sacrifice anyone for her own peace of mind, or her husband's.
She was so pleased that he was with her, trying to make her believe in him. This was exactly what she needed in her life. Freddie knew where his bread was buttered and it was buttered with her and by her.
Freddie held his wife, knowing that the more he was with her the more chance she would believe his side of the story. Also, love her or loathe her, Jackie wouldn't blank him even if she had seen him do it with her own eyes. Whatever he said she took on board.
'You didn't do it deliberately, did you, Freddie?'
He had been expecting this question, it meant that he was nearly home and dry. This was where she convinced herself he was telling her the truth. He had been there, done that so many times that he could have nodded off and still given the correct responses.
He pushed her away from him, making sure she felt vulnerable, making sure she felt his upset by his anger. Felt rejected. He looked as innocent as the day was long, he was all wide eyes and broken heart. She knew she had just done a wrong one and she would have to pay for that.
'Please, Jackie, are you trying to hurt me or what? Are you deliberately trying to make me feel even worse than I do already?'
He was picking up his cigarettes now, and his lighter, he was telling her with his body language that he was going to walk away from her, leave her, maybe for good. He was capable of doing that, even over this, he was capable of leaving her high and dry for days or even weeks on end. He had done that so many times, just walked away from her, from the kids…
He sighed heavily. 'I can't do this any more, Jackie, I just can't take this any more, you know. I try and be honest, be straight…'
She was clinging to him now, her whole body was trying to hold him to her, near to her, keep him in his seat so she could look at him, be with him all night. It had been so long since they had loved properly, since she had felt this good about herself.
She loved it when he needed her, and he needed her so rarely that when he did she would do anything to keep the feelings only he made her feel.
Ozzy had no idea what was going on. He had problems of his own. A new screw had appeared as if by magic on the SSB unit and was under the impression he was there to do a job or something.
He would not be bought off, he would not be told and, worse than that, he was under the mistaken apprehension that he had some kind of sway.
That he might even be listened to.
This was an anomaly for all the men on the unit, who had thought he might just be holding out for a few extra quid. That was not unheard of in the prison system, after all they were all after what they could get and the cons and screws alike understood that.
This guy though, this Harry Parker, really was the unreachable screw. They had all heard of them but this was the first time they had ever come across one. He was rude, arrogant and he could not be bought. It was time for them to do what had to be done and it was Ozzy who decided to do the dirty deed.
When young Harry, as he had become known, walked into the recreation room at seven thirty in the evening, ready to tell everyone to go to bed and have sweet dreams etc, he found the place empty except for Ozzy.
Ozzy smiled at him in a friendly but threatening fashion, and said, 'I think it's time we had a meet, don't you?'
Harry shook his head. The more the screws told him he was a mug the more he was determined to do what he thought was right. His arrogance knew no bounds, not yet anyway.
'No, I don't. I think you had better get your fat arse off the chair and get your fat body into your cell. I am bolting down in-' he looked at his watch then – 'fifteen seconds.' He smiled at Ozzy with that infuriating smile he had, the smile that had made his wife leave him, his family endure him and his friends avoid him.
Ozzy didn't move for a while. He stared the man down before saying reasonably, 'So this can never be resolved, is that what you are saying?'
Harry nodded once more, then he said sarcastically and with the voice of a winner, 'At last.'' Pointing at Ozzy, he said in a most disrespectful manner, 'You don't scare me, none of you. You're all villains and you're all banged up. I am going home to my house and the telly. The sooner you understand that on my watch you all take care and look out for yourselves, the better off you will all be.'
Harry was still smiling his maddening smile he had. It never touched his eyes and it held no real mirth.
'Is that right, you obnoxious little cunt.'
Harry was shocked at the language, even though he had heard worse than that over the years. 'Get up, Ozzy, and don't you ever talk to me like that again. If you do you will be on report.'
Ozzy still sat there quietly and without any thought of moving anywhere.
This threw Harry, who was now getting frightened. The other screws should have been there by now and it occurred to him he might be on his own. He was a bully, but only when he was assured he could be one without ever getting any kind of comeback. He was the man in the pub who caused a fight and then stepped back as someone else finished it for him.
Ozzy understood him, probably better than he knew himself, and getting up he walked to Harry and with a lightning movement he chivved him. The shank he used was very sharp and had been made in the machine shop a few days earlier. It was a Stanley knife blade embedded in a piece of wood that was supposed to have been the bow of a model boat being made for a charity auction.
It was a lethal weapon, and it was also a handy little tool.
Ozzy watched as young Harry put his hand up to his throat, and he watched as he saw the complete bewilderment on the man's face. He really could not believe he had been chivved, he had actually believed that he would not get any retribution whatsoever.
It was amazing, really. Someone should have given him the unofficial rulebook. It was down to the screws to take care of each other, it was not the cons' job to make sure they looked after their own.
There was a horrible gurgling noise coming from old Harry. Ozzy had done this enough times to know it was the end of the line for him, he was going to die on the filthy floor of the rec room. Well, he wouldn't be the first, and definitely not the last.
What a pointless death, and what a pointless cunt to come into a drum like this and really believe that he could get the better of them all. Bring back Esther Rantzen and her jobsworths.
He knelt over the dying man, making sure not to get any of the rapidly growing pool of blood anywhere near his shoes or clothes. Harry's eyes had not glazed over just yet. He was still trying to call out, and the blood was coming out of his severed windpipe in little bursts of red mist.
Ozzy grinned at him then. 'Ta ta, son.'
He stood up and walked sedately from the rec room. Outside the screws were nowhere to be seen, but he expected that. It was as arranged, and if he arranged something then it happened. If only that little fucker had understood that, then things might have been very different.
He was whistling away to himself as he sauntered back to his wing and he waved at friends and pretend friends, who were all aware of what he had done.
He went into the toilets and dropped the chiv in the sink. He was followed seconds later by a gofer by the name of Paulie who poured a kettle of boiling water over it. Then he took it in a clean towel to the top landing, where he dropped the whole thing into the tea urn where it would be boiled and cooled overnight, making sure there was nothing on it that could be traced back to Ozzy or his counterparts.
For a few weeks there would be almost a seg time, which meant a segregation feel to the wing, a serious lock down and investigation. After all, a screw had been panhandled. But then it would all go back to normal and life would resume as before, minus one arrogant little fucker and minus any kind of retaliation.
Jimmy and Maggie were sitting with Stephanie's mother. Jimmy watched as his lovely little wife explained how sorry they were for what had happened to her daughter. They had brought the woman ten grand for her expenses, and the mother, who had sold herself until her daughter had been able to go out and earn for the both of them, was over the moon.
Stephanie's youngest son, a big, hefty four year old, looked suspiciously like Freddie and Jimmy knew that Maggie had noticed this as well. The boy was not a headcase like his father, in fact he was a kind, dear little boy, and Maggie felt the urge to cry as she saw the way he cuddled his grandma and kept asking where his mammy was.
She got the impression that Steph had been a good mother in her own way, and she also had the feeling that the grandma would dump the kids into care without a by-your-leave.
Maggie poured another cup of tea and sighed heavily. She felt annoyed that she had been dragged into all this, and also that her sister seemed to think that this girl's death meant nothing.
As she looked around the scruffy but clean kitchen it was as if the poor girl was in her sights. She had grown up in a kitchen like this, and in a different world this could have been her, her life, and maybe even her death.
She knew, unlike the majority of women on the planet, how easy it was to get caught up in the world of prostitution. She always laughed as she watched women in her salon talking about their lives, women who were literally kept by married men and still did not equate their lives with those of the women who were doing the same thing for any poor fucker with a few quid. And so many of the young girls she saw were the girlfriends of local villains and did not ever think that they were going to get older and might be traded in. In her mind they were no better than the Stephanies of this world, but she had the sense to keep that gem of wisdom to herself.
She had told Freddie exactly what she thought of him, and she knew that he would not let that go, not in a million years. She also felt all the better for saying it to him and getting it off her chest.
He had laughed at her, and she knew that he felt he had got one over on them all. Oh, he might look like he was contrite in the future but he wasn't. Now the shock had worn off he was back to his old self. They had saved his arse and it was all over as far as he was concerned. He had walked away, he always walked away from everything. And she had seen the way her sister had looked at him, as if he was a god.
Maggie had called him scum, and she had told him that if it wasn't for Ozzy she would have seen him rot in hell for what he had done.
Now Jimmy knew what she had done and she didn't care.
Then they had come here to this house full of sadness and hurt and she would never forgive either of them, Freddie or Jimmy, for dragging her into all this.
Freddie saw the murder on the news and smiled. He had known that Ozzy was going to take out the little bastard, and he was only glad that it had been now, and not another day. As luck would have it, he would be all segged up for a while and that meant no visits, no nothing.
He was a lucky man in more ways than one, in fact at times he wondered if he should change his name to Lucky Jackson. If he fell in shit he would come up smelling of Old Spice and dead whores. He laughed at the thought, and Jackie turned around and looked at him askance. He smiled at her, his most charming, his most innocent smile.
As he lay on his sofa, drinking vodka and wine and watching another serial-killer film with his son and wife, he was feeling almost back to his normal self.
The old whore was dead and that was that. It was all about protecting the living now, and he was alive and he was kicking. She was a fucking brass, a Tom, she was lucky to have lasted as long as she had. In fact, he had done the world a favour, she was a fucking blot on the landscape of life. His dad used to say that about him, well, he was dead and all. He had learned the same lesson before he went, and that was not to push him too far because he was not going to let anyone take him for a cunt.
Life was a series of kicks in the teeth, as his old mum had always said, and she was right. But that bitch Maggie was going to pay for the way she had spoken to him, and for the way she had looked at him, and she would pay with change to spare.
He had no reason to let them walk all over him because of a fucking brass, but he was shrewd enough to know that at the moment he had to swallow and wait his turn.
Because his turn would come, he was sure of that, and when it did she had better watch her well-tanned little arse.
In the time since Stephanie had died everything had slowly got back to normal, at least to all outward appearances. Anyone who could be bought off had been bought off, anyone who cared was already a thing of the past and the girls were all too frightened to open up that particular can of worms.
Jimmy had never been the same, and Freddie was more than aware of that. He didn't even stay for a drink with him any more unless he had to, and Freddie was fed up with it all. It was a brass, so what was the big problem? It was certainly a melon scratcher as far as he was concerned, anyone would think it was a real person who had died, someone with a life, or at least a life expectancy.
Jimmy was blanking him. He knew a blank when he got one, and he was getting a bit miffed with it all. It seemed young Jimmy could be one awkward ponce, an observation he had made many years ago. Now, though, it seemed Jimmy was under some kind of impression that what he thought actually mattered.
The atmosphere between them was still rife with accusation and even though they had never once discussed it since the fateful night, the blame was there whenever Jimmy looked at him and it was starting to really give him the hump.
This friendly mugging off had to stop, and Freddie was now ready to address it.
Since the night Jimmy had come to his house all testosterone and anger, he had made a point of keeping his trap shut. He knew that Jimmy had a point and he'd been quite happy to play the game. Now, however, it was over and time to look through the round window. Freddie was aware that it was still too soon to flex his muscles, so he smiled and shook hands and wished Jimmy well.
Outwardly at least.
But he did not have 'wanker' tattooed on his forehead, and he was tired of being treated like one. Inside, he was fuming.
And now he had exactly what he had been waiting for. The fact it had come at such a timely pass just made it seem all the more enjoyable.
The Blacks were kicking off over every little thing, he had seen to that himself. He had been having little digs at every available opportunity, and had made sure they were now both sick of him.
Their main supplier was over from Amsterdam and, oh dear, it seemed he was in Glasgow, which meant little Jimmy had to get his arse up there quick smart. The man was supposed to have been in London, where the main action was to take place. The Blacks were doing their nuts, as was the Amsterdam bloke, and now poor Jimmy had to go and smooth it all over. Well, such was life, eh? He grinned to himself. He had made a point of fucking up the arrangements and the Blacks and he didn't augur well, so Jimmy would have to go.
Maggie was doing her crust because she wanted to go out for their anniversary, and now that was all gone skew-whiff and, judging by the telephone conversation Jimmy had just had with her, she was not a happy bunny.
Well fuck her, and fuck Jimmy.
Freddie smiled again. As Jimmy left to pack a bag and get a flight to Scotland, he stayed in the pub with Paul and Liselle, happier than he had been for ages, and started the serious drinking of the night.
Maggie was fuming, and she made sure that when Jimmy got home she would not be there. She knew he hated coming home to an empty house. He liked her being there all of the time, and she also knew that Jimmy, being Jimmy, had no real idea where his clothes were kept. So she drove to her mother's and smiled grimly at the thought he would have to drag the dressing room apart to find his underclothes.
Well, let him. She was sick to death of him always being available for everyone else in the world, except her. She was so angry with him that she had no interest in his trip, or anything else for that matter. She had talked to Pat, who had been her usual high-handed self about everything. She was another one who thought she was the dog's bollocks and she was nothing, without her brother she was nothing. Like Jackie she was only as good as the man they were embroiled with.
Well, Maggie had her own life and her own businesses… but deep inside she knew she needed Jimmy just as much. They were trying for a baby, and somehow she'd felt sure it would finally happen. This was to have been their special night, and when he told her he had to go to Scotland she had felt like launching him into outer space. She had new underwear, a bottle of champagne being chilled and strawberries and cream waiting to be consumed. All the things the women's magazines told her would make the night sexy, romantic and ultimately exciting.
She smiled wryly Pity the magazines never allowed for when the man in the scenario was a fucking drug-dealing shit-bag who would have to fly to Scotland at the last minute because another couple of drug barons had made a fuck-up of momentous proportions. She supposed they assumed everyone reading their crap were like them, middle class, married to bankers or advertising men, people in suits. No doubt the nearest they got to the criminal fraternity was if they published the crime figures.
At this moment in time Maggie really envied them. Sometimes, when the women came into her salon and talked about their lives, she really loathed them. Not the ones from her world, with their bleached hair and their permatans, but the ones that came in over the weekend. The execs, they had nicknamed them, the ones who talked about their holidays and their jobs. The women who didn't think it normal to discuss a friend's husband's court case, or his latest encounter with the female sex. Who saved up for things, and wanted to get promoted at work because the money would mean they could start a family.
Women whose husbands were not called away at a second's notice, or who didn't put their lives on the line every day and risk a hefty prison sentence.
She had wanted to give Jimmy an ultimatum at one point this night, but she suddenly knew she would be wasting her breath. It had taken this to make her see her life for what it really was.
Nothing she said would stop him going, so she decided that just for once she would not be there like a good little girl. He could sort himself out and he could see how he got on without her doing everything for him. She was being silly, probably being petty, or at least that was what her husband would think. She rarely kicked off and so the fact she had now would mean fuck all to Jimmy.
She knew he had to go, because the bad blood between Freddie and the Blacks stopped him from being able to take any real part in the deals, but it still rankled. Freddie walked away from everything, it was what he did, the ponce. He was a fucking waster, he pulled in serious wedge yet he always had an excuse never to do any of the real collar. She wished he would just once do what he was paid for. Instead of always leaving it to her Jimmy.
Jimmy was Ozzy's right-hand man. He earned well for them and she really loved him. She tried to imagine herself with someone else and she couldn't. There had never been anyone else, never would be, and she knew that was also true for him. She felt bad suddenly, felt disloyal, and in her world loyalty was everything. Her Jimmy was a good provider, and they were young, they had plenty of other nights.
As she pulled up outside her mother's she was sorry she had not stayed behind to see him on his way. Bless him, he was a lovely man, really. The guilt was starting to eat into her thinking now, and she was calming down. She didn't really want him to go off on his own, without her even throwing him a kind word. Anger was a terrible emotion, it made you do things you knew were wrong.
She sat in her Mercedes Sport and she wept for a few minutes. She knew that Jimmy would ring her from Glasgow and she would answer his call, and then everything would be all right once more. But she couldn't let him get on the plane without making her peace with him. Supposing something happened to him?
She loved him, would always love him, and she knew that she was wrong to make him suffer like this. But she wanted a child so badly, and this was their time for making one, making a perfect, gorgeous little Jackson.
She plastered a smile on her face and, turning the car around, she raced back home as fast as she could.
The Blacks were fuming. Freddie had made a point of causing a row and they were now at screaming point.
Freddie had always caused more fights than John Wayne, and now he had made sure that the chemist had come to them instead of coming to London. London, where the fucking gear was going to be made and distributed. According to Freddie, they were also going to be given first dibs on the best gear.
He was a wind-up and he'd been about to find out that they were not going to be mugged off, and what did they end up with?
Little Jimmy.
Now, they liked and respected Jimmy, but they wanted Freddie. They wanted a straightener with him, they wanted him off his home turf, and they wanted him without weapons, because everyone knew he was a weapons master.
They had also heard a rumour that he had taken out a poor working girl, and a working girl with his kiddie, no less. Even without the aggravation already between them, that on its own was enough for them to have a row with him.
He thought he was better than everyone around him, and he was also under the mistaken apprehension that they really had swallowed over the last lot. They were also aware that Freddie was on his last chance, not just with them, but with everyone he had ever come in contact with. The Blacks were decent men, with wives and girlfriends, and kids outside the marriage as well as inside. They took care of their dependants, which is more than they could say about that fucking wanker Jackson.
Word on the street was that even Ozzy had the pox with him. If that was so, then they would not only settle a large score, but get a few Brownie points into the bargain. This was a mission now. Both the brothers were up for it and if that meant taking on Jimmy then so be it. He was a nice lad and a hard lad, but he was also related to that piece of murdering scum. They were wary of Jimmy, however, because by all accounts he was right up Ozzy's arse. Ozzy might be gone but he would never be forgotten.
Looking up from the mess he'd created in the dressing room, Jimmy saw his wife's headlights hit the wall and smiled. He had hoped she would come back. He understood her anger, and he was sorry, but at the end of the day, work was work and he had to sort it all out. It was what he got paid for, what bought their houses and provided their way of life.
She was aware of that, and he knew she was upset because they had already made arrangements. But Ozzy was their employer, and he had to make sure everything went along according to plan with the minimum of fuss and the maximum of efficiency.
He heard Maggie walk into the house and run up the stairs, and he went to the bedroom itself. The dressing room looked like a bomb had dropped on it and he knew she would be angry with him over it.
She was standing there with that dear little face. Her blond hair looked immaculate as ever, and her make-up was not heavy but as always made her look healthy, made her look like the girl next door. The really good-looking and sexy girl next door.
'I am so sorry, babe.'
She knew he meant it.
'So am I, but I was so looking forward to tonight. I really wanted us to have a good one.'
'We will, babe, when I get back from Jockland.'
He was making her laugh, 'Jockland? That's a new one.'
He pulled her into his arms. 'The Blacks are up in arms and it's all because that useless cunt Freddie…' He didn't finish the sentence, he really didn't need to. 'He has wound them up from day one, and now I have to make a point of going there and sorting it all out.'
Maggie looked into his handsome face, saw his deep blue eyes and his dark-skinned handsomeness, and she wanted him like she had never wanted him before.
He kissed her hard on her lips. 'You know I don't want to go, and that if I had a choice I would be here with you, so please, babe, give me a break, eh? This is work, heart, just work and you know thanks to that cunt I am the only one that they listen to.'
She smiled then, a real smile. This was the man she loved, the only man she had ever loved. In her life there had never been anyone else she had ever wanted to be with. Even as a girl, when her friends had spent their time dreaming of pop stars, she had only ever been interested in her Jimmy.
He was everything she had ever wanted and everything she would ever need. As he pushed her on the bed she allowed him to take her as she had always allowed him to take her. Grateful that he wanted her, grateful that she had him in her life and grateful that he was as in love with her as she was with him.
She often wondered if he took a flier with other birds. She knew they stalked him, and why wouldn't they? He was a fucking god in more ways than one. But she pushed the thoughts from her head. What the heart didn't see…
'Sweetheart, we will have the most beautiful baby ever, right? A handsome lovely little baby and it will look just like you.'
'I love you so much, Jimmy.'
He grinned then and kissed her on her lips tenderly. 'You will never know what love is until you feel the love inside me, darling.'
Her heart was swelling up inside her chest with pride. He meant it and she knew he meant it. He was her love, her only love as she was his. He was like the Barry White record she adored. It was their record, they had danced their first dance to it in the youth club. He was her first, her last, her everything.
And he always would be, it was just the way they were. Without him she was nothing, she felt nothing. She was his, and he knew that better than she did.
Freddie was watching the clock, and Liselle wondered what he had going down. After all the years she had run the pub with Paul she could tell when someone was waiting for something to go down. It was a knack she had acquired.
She had watched bank robbers as they waited to go on the off, she had also seen murderers as they waited until their victim left. And more than a few murders had been conceived on these premises, not to mention perpetrated, she knew that better than anyone. She had lied to the filth enough times for her regulars.
This was a rough old pub, and now as she watched Freddie Jackson she knew that he was going to do something he was ashamed of. It was in the cut of his jib, a favoured saying of her father's. He was up to serious skulduggery. People like Freddie did not know any other kind.
Jackie tried her best, there was no doubt about that, but her kids were the biggest bastards in recorded history. Deep in her heart she hated them. They were such hard work.
Her house was far too hot as always. It was also very dirty, and it was extremely smelly. They had eaten fish and chips earlier and the house stank of vinegar and cheap cod. In addition, Little Freddie often urinated where he sat, and consequently every time the heating went on the smell was overpowering.
Now Jackie sat at home and watched her daughters as they watched their favourite movie, Pretty Woman, and she felt like screaming. Why did they love a film about a prostitute? She felt at times that they were mocking her, that they knew what their father had done. Especially Kim, who would look into her mother's eyes and bring her shoulders up to her head in an innocent yet knowing way. Jackie drank her drink quickly. This was all she needed, this lot reminding her of how shit her life was.
Sometimes she wondered why she bothered with any of it. Little Freddie was off his shopping trolley, and it took all her wits to keep him out of care. The girls had no real interest in her whatsoever, and she knew that when they were old enough they would be off. Out of it, and who could blame them?
They would rather be at Maggie's, anyway. They loved it there, thought the house was cool, thought it was the best place in the world. Anyone would think Maggie was their mother the way they carried on about her. About her salons and her clothes and her fucking regular tanning sessions. Who the fuck did this lot think they were?
She was their mother, she was the one who had given birth to them, she was the one who had brought them up. When Freddie had been banged up, she had done everything she could for them all.
But did they thank her for it? Did they fuck. They were the most ungrateful bastards ever to walk the earth, and she had given birth to them all.
Little Freddie spat at her as he walked past to go and get himself some sweets from the kitchen. He often spat at her, he spat at everyone and thought it was funny. But when her hand shot out and slapped him hard across his buttocks he yelped out loud and then, as always, when he was hurting, he attacked her.
Pulling her hair and spitting and screaming at her, calling her names.
In the end she punched him with all her might in the tummy and winded him. He crumpled to the floor, and just once, for the first time ever, he shut the fuck up.
She finally felt the sense of victory he usually felt when he pushed her to the limit of her patience.
His next attack knocked her on to her back and it took all the girls to drag him off his mother.
And the worst of it all was, they were laughing at him as always.
The house was quiet, and Maggie lay in the bath, luxuriating in the absolute happiness she was feeling.
She was glad she had not stayed at her mother's house. Even though the house felt far too big for her when she was alone, she was so glad she had come back to her husband. She knew husband was not a word the women used these days, it was almost a derogatory term, but she was proud that Jimmy was hers, glad he was her husband, her old man, her bit of all right, as her mum would say.
She sipped her wine and lit herself a cigarette, and as she pulled on it she felt the fluttering inside her that she often felt when she remembered making love with Jimmy. It felt like she was going over a steep hill in her Merc, that exciting feel of his hands on her. His tongue, his heavy body on top of hers as he brought her to climax.
She closed her eyes and pulled once more on her cigarette. She had Barry White on the player in her bedroom. His deep baritone was sneaking into her en suite and she was thinking of her Jimmy and his lovemaking when she felt a hand touch her shoulder.
Her eyes flew open and she dropped the cigarette on to her chest. Sitting up in pain and terror, she looked into the laughing face of Freddie Jackson.
'All right, Mags?'
He was grinning at her, and she was astonished to see that he was undressed.
She felt the bile in her stomach rise up as he licked his lips slowly and then, laughing once more, he said, 'What's the matter, sweetheart, you all tired out?'
She felt vulnerable, frightened and worse than anything she felt the utter loneliness of a woman who knew she was completely alone, and completely at someone else's mercy
She sank under the bubbles, ashamed of him seeing her naked, ashamed that she had not protected herself enough and ashamed because she had known in her heart that this day would come and now it was here she wasn't sure she had the strength to fight him off.
And the fact she had not asked him what he was doing there or what he wanted told him all he needed to know.
'Please, Freddie, go home, leave me alone…'
'Oh fuck off, Maggie, you want this as much as I do, and you've made me wait. I ain't waiting any longer.' Then he dragged her from the bath by her hair, lifting her up as if she was nothing, a featherweight.
She screamed, knowing her screams were a waste of time. No one was going to hear her, that was the downside of large, well-built houses. She could feel her feet dragging across the floor, and she was twisting and turning, trying to get free from his grip.
But as she squirmed he was laughing harder and harder, and when he threw her on the bed, the bed she had lovingly made not two hours earlier after the lovemaking with her Jimmy, she was still trying to cover herself up, cover her nakedness, cover her perfectly toned and very attractive body. That only her husband had ever had access to.
He was pushing his knee between her legs, opening them, and she was really crying now, sobbing and begging him to stop and leave her alone before it all went too far.
'Ah, what's the matter, then? You telling me you don't want a bit of cock?'
She could smell him, he stank and she knew instinctively that he had been with someone else already. He had the stink of a dirty woman on him, and she knew it was a deliberate ploy, he wanted her to feel like nothing, and he had achieved his objective.
As he entered her, the burning sensation was like nothing she had ever felt before, it was like he was using an object. The hardness of him, the stench of him, was overpowering. He was above her, and as he tried to kiss her she kept pulling her face away, until he grabbed her hard by the chin and then he kissed her and forced his tongue into her mouth. It tasted horrible, of beer and brandy and dope. His spit was thick from the cocaine and it clung to her lips, making her gag.
It was so invasive she started to retch and she knew he was finding it all hilarious, she knew he could not see what was wrong with her. To him this was just a quick fuck, a way to teach her a lesson. And he had planned it so he could use her and then walk away, knowing she could never tell her husband. Daren't tell her husband, daren't tell anyone.
As he started to pummel into her, she could feel his arms tensing as he got ready to ejaculate, and she tried to force him off her, but he held her down and he talked filth into her ears as she felt the hot wetness of him inside her. She felt his rancid breath and, as his sweat mingled with her tears, she felt him shudder to a halt.
He lay on top of her, he was panting and he was also making sure she could not move away from him just yet.
Never in her life had she felt so disgusted or so used.
'You needed that, didn't you?'
She could hear the laughter in his voice, could hear the triumph, and the complete and utter satisfaction as he kissed her on the tip of her nose before he spoke once again.
'You're not regretting this, are you, Maggie?'
She tried to tip him from her, tried to get away from him, but he was too strong and he was also enjoying himself too much.
'Anyone would think you'd been raped, the way you are carrying on.'
He was goading her, and it was then she realised that she could not win, that he was far stronger than she would ever be. That Jimmy would not understand any of this, that Jimmy would never want her again, not really, no matter what he believed or what she told him.
She knew that Freddie was completely aware of what he was doing, he was loving it, enjoying every second, and he was going to get away with it for no other reason than he sounded so reasonable. Even after what he had done to her, he was sounding like it was a game or something they had planned. He had been so nice to her for so long, they had a kind of truce, and now this would be used against her. She could not compete with that, and she knew it.
This was payback time.
He was staring down at her, and even in her distress she could see how good looking he was, how he would look sheepish and sorry as he blew her family apart. If Jackie ever found out about this, there would be a war.
As if reading her mind he said gently, 'Imagine what Jackie would do if she heard about this, eh?'
He was kissing her forehead this time, as if she was a favoured child. He squeezed her breast hard, making her wince. Then he was pulling himself downwards, she could feel his tongue between her legs, and that was when the vomit finally found its way out of her mouth.
She threw up all over him, all over the bed and all over the brand-new cream-coloured carpet.
She saw him kneeling above her, saw his heavy body, his hairy legs and his yellow toenails and the vomit came up once more. Projectile vomiting. It was all over them both and he was laughing as if it was the funniest thing he had ever seen.
He jumped off the bed. His nakedness made her feel ill, his complete maleness was so at odds with the way Jimmy made her feel. He had violated her, he had taken her strength and turned it against her. She sat on the bed in utter despair, every shred of decency taken from her, and then the phone rang.
She stared at it as if she had never seen a phone before. She knew it was Jimmy, probably phoning her before his flight so he could tell her he loved her. Tell her how much he would miss her. And here she was in her own home, covered in her own vomit and looking at the only person in the world her husband loved as much as he loved her.
'Shall I get that, Mags?'
She was shaking her head in disbelief. He was mocking her, enjoying the fear she was feeling, and she knew there was nothing she could do about it. The phone was still ringing, and she watched as he went to answer it.
Scrambling across the bed she picked it up first. The line was dead and she felt pure relief at knowing she would not have to try and talk to her husband.
'You're a funny little one, ain't you, Maggie. I knew you'd be a good fuck, you had the makings of a fuck bird even when you were a kid. I used to fuck Jackie and think of you. Well, now I don't have to fantasise, do I?'
She caught sight of herself in the wardrobe opposite her bed and then realised that Freddie had watched himself as he had raped her.
She was covered in sick, her breasts were bruised as were the tops of her legs. He had bitten her shoulder, and as she stared at herself she felt the humiliation wash over her once more.
Freddie was sitting on the bedroom chair, the chair she had sat on with Jimmy, where they had made love and watched TV together.
'You look like shit, Maggie. Jackie had a good shag today and she didn't throw up, in fact she loved it. I was thinking of you, I often think of you when I am fucking Jackie, because you are a fucking flash little whore, a flash cunt. You thought you were better than me, didn't you? Well, now you know you ain't.'
'Get out.' It was so hard trying to talk to him, she was shaking inside. 'Jimmy would kill you for this.'
He was laughing again, fondling himself leisurely, shaking his head as if she was a comedian.
The phone rang once more and the sound was loud in the room.
'Shall I get that, then, tell Jimmy you and me had a bit of a drink and it all got out of hand?'
She was shaking her head in terror, and he knew he had her then.
'Please go. Just go.'
She could smell herself, the vomit and the unmistakable smell of Freddie Jackson, a stench she knew would never leave her nostrils.
The answerphone kicked in this time and they could hear Jimmy's voice as it came up the stairs from the hallway.
'Sleep well, my darling, I'll ring tomorrow. Love you, babe.'
Jackie was fuming. She felt betrayed and the feelings of hatred were overpowering.
'You stupid cow, I never said a fucking word.' Freddie was sitting up in the bed smoking a cigarette, and his smirk was sending her off her head. He always thought things like this were funny.
'You called me Maggie. How would you like it if I called you Jimmy?'
He shook his head and stifled a yawn. 'You know what's wrong with that logic, don't you, Jackie? You wouldn't have a cat's chance with Jimmy, but I reckon your little sister would be up for it with me. Ain't you noticed the way she is always nice to me? Always polite and friendly. I married the wrong sister, I should have waited for Maggie to grow up, eh?'
Jackie was temporarily speechless with rage and shock. In her heart she knew he was talking rubbish, but her jealousy was all-consuming and she felt the rot set inside her for ever.
'She wouldn't touch you with a barge pole.'
It was said with all the confidence she could muster.
He stubbed the cigarette out and said loudly, 'If you say so, Jackie, but I have me moments, as you know very well. Women like me, always have. Still, while we are being so honest, I often go round there for Jimmy and think, how lovely to be married to someone with firm tits, no stretch-marks, and a good little business head, because her salons make fortunes.'
Jackie was as quiet as he knew she would be. Once he pointed out her failings she always shut up, because experience had taught her that he would get really personal and vindictive if she didn't.
'You bastard,' was all she said.
He grinned.
After five minutes of painful silence he said conversationally, as if they were just two friends chatting together, 'Jimmy said they are trying for a baby. Do you think they will get one after all this time?' It was an olive branch, he was giving her the opportunity to let the conversation go. Even though he had deliberately called her by her sister's name during sex, he knew the chances were she would shut up to keep the peace and try to talk normally with him. As always, she was more frightened of him walking out on her than of him staying and fighting.
Jackie knew the middle ground and she grasped at it like a drowning man. 'Maggie came off the pill ages ago, eighteen months now. Jimmy doesn't know that, but she said the quack told her it can take a year to get it out of your system. I mean, she ain't getting any younger, is she?'
He smiled once more. Only Jackie would come out with a gem like that.
'Where does that fucking leave you then, Jack? She is gorgeous, old Maggie, and from what Jimmy says she likes the old one-eyed snake.'
'Stop it, Freddie, she is my sister.'
He laughed. 'I know that, mate, but I wish you had a bit of her nous, and a pair of Bristols that had not gone fucking south, and a tight little fanny that wasn't like a fucking gaping wound.'
She went for him then as he expected. He was too tired to wind her up any more, but he knew that now he had put the thought into her head, she would let it take root, and when it finally began to grow the jealousy would do his job for him.
He would pop round to Maggie's and then mention it in front of Jackie, make out like they were close, watch the two of them squirm. He was looking forward to it.
He held Jackie at arm's length until she calmed down and then he did what he always did, he cuddled her until she fell asleep.
Maggie was going to learn the harsh facts of life and Jimmy was going to find out that his little wife was not as happy as he had thought. She wouldn't tell, he knew she wouldn't, she was too scared of the consequences.
Unlike him of course, who would relish them.
Jimmy had taken his crown, and he had taken the only thing Jimmy really cared about.
Maggie looked at the clock. It was six thirty in the morning. She could hear the birds singing and see the light creeping across her bedroom floor. She was still in the bath, the water was stone cold but she could feel nothing. She was numb.
She had changed the bed, disposed of all the bedding, cleaned up and remade it. Washed the carpet, cleaned the room, and scrubbed herself raw.
She was in shock at what had happened.
Freddie had forced one final act on her, and she knew that would haunt her dreams even more than the rape. She could still smell him on her. It was a cloying stench of hate and when the tears finally came, she couldn't stop them.
She knew in her heart she should report him, stop him from ever doing it again, should not collude in this secret. But she also knew that if she did that, her marriage would be over in no time.
Anyone else, a stranger, an acquaintance, and Jimmy would have swallowed. But not Freddie. Jimmy would never be able to get over that. Forced or otherwise, it would cause a death and she was aware that that death could even be hers. Jackie would lose her mind, would never believe this of Freddie. She couldn't, if she did her own life would also be over and there would be no going back for the sisters.
Maggie felt beaten, demoralised and totally defeated, and she was shrewd enough to know that this was what Freddie wanted, and that she was in effect playing into his hands. He had won, and he had beaten her in more ways than one. She would have to play a clever game from now on, make sure she was never alone with him, and make sure he never got the opportunity even to talk to her without other people present.
Her life had gone from pleasure and enjoyment to a fearful journey in a few hours, and she just did not know what she should do for the better. She could only try to save whatever dignity she could, and salvage her life in the aftermath of all this hate. And it was hate that had caused it all. Hate. She had felt it coming off him in waves.
But it was her feeling of utter helplessness that was the worst thing, of knowing she had no way out of her problems, knowing she was in effect owned by someone she hated.
She was still sobbing an hour later when the milkman delivered her milk.
Jimmy was worried. He could not get Maggie on the phone.
The Blacks were being stroppy, the chemist spoke little English and all in all he was fed up. But as always, he was trying to be positive.
Being positive was another one of Ozzy's lectures. He reckoned that the great thinkers had all debated whether positive thinking really worked, and it seemed it did.
'Be serene. It is not what happens to you, it is how you deal with it.' Now that was one of his Maggie's old dear's sayings. Her mother was full of shit, but he liked that one and when he had quoted it to Ozzy they had laughed together.
He felt the rage subside then. He was trying so hard to stay positive while all the time he wanted to be at home with his wife and watch her face as she opened her anniversary present. He had left it for her in the garage, on the seat of her car.
He pictured her going in there all smiling and smartly dressed – she always looked good, old Maggie – and seeing the leather box on the passenger seat of her Merc.
He knew she would be over the moon.
He wished now that he had got a mobile phone. A lot of people were getting them these days. Like Ozzy, he was worried about them since they were too much like evidence, but if he had one now he could phone his Mags and tell her he loved her. No court could hold that against him, surely.
Maggie had a car phone, but he had never called it because it cost a fortune and also because he could never remember the fucking number.
He was not really a gadget person, but he had a feeling that the sooner he became one the happier he would be.
He had left messages on all the answerphones for Maggie, at his home and at the salons, with his number in Glasgow. She had still not rung and he knew she must have found her present by now.
There was no way she wouldn't like it. Maggie loved a bit of tomfoolery, and this was top-notch gear. Hatton Garden, nothing skanked or off a fence. He had never had a dodgy item in his home in his life. Another Ozzy warning: never, ever put skank in your house or your motor, always keep receipts for proof of purchase, and try to make a scene while purchasing anything, nicely if possible, so you were remembered if ever anything came on top.
Also: never live beyond your means, always stash cash away from your drum unless you could prove where it came from, and never, ever get into any kind of dialogue with Old Bill or other lags you didn't know personally or who had a wanker's recommendation.
It was sound advice, and he realised that now more than ever.
If they raided his drum this morning there was nothing in there that could be used against him. Maggie's salons justified their earnings, as did his rented properties and his legitimate businesses of fifteen court bailiffs and two separate security businesses. These were run by a couple of blokes who had come highly recommended, and who were as bent as a corkscrew but who had never in their lives had a serious capture. They were strictly small-time and he gave them a good living, a better living than they could ever have dreamed of, and they were seriously grateful to him because of that.
Ozzy was a wealth of wisdom and he loved him and his sayings.
Never have a dog and bark yourself – ergo, why threaten someone when you could get someone else to do it for you. Unless it was personal, of course.
Never shit on your own doorstep, you only slipped in it and broke something eventually.
And his favourite, like the Hollywood moguls always said, and which was true for the modern-day criminals, never get caught with a dead girl or a live boy.
That one had made him roll up. Until of course Freddie had made the truth of that statement apparent.
He just hoped this latest drama would all be sorted in the next few days so he could go home and have a nice night with his wife.
He loved Maggie and he knew he was lucky to have her. But he wished she would ring so he could relax.
The locksmith was leaving as Lena pulled up outside the house in a cab. She saw her daughter paying the man, and was surprised that she looked so haggard. Maggie wasn't ill surely, she had looked great yesterday, and they were supposed to be going over Lakeside to do a bit of shopping.
She hoped Maggie was OK. She fancied a day out, and she liked Lakeside. It pissed all over the high street as far as she was concerned.
She paid the cab, miffed that Maggie had not come bowling out with the money as usual. In fact she could have sworn that her daughter had not even noticed her. She walked up the drive. This was a lovely place and she never failed to enjoy its splendour. Jackie was a lost cause, a pain in the ring, but Maggie, she was like something from a film, a celebrity or something. She had made such a success of her life and Lena never failed to remind herself that one child at least had managed to wash off the taint of the council house. It was glory by association for her, and she loved every second of it.
She had to knock on the door, which showed her just how preoccupied her daughter must be.
'Who is it?'
Lena was perturbed. 'Who do you think it is, you stupid mare? We had a date, remember. Open the fucking door and get the kettle on.' She was laughing loudly as always, then she stopped, remembering she was in a nice street now and that Jimmy, even more than Maggie, frowned on the effing and blinding she was so used to. She looked around her and then relaxed. This place wasn't overlooked so she was safe.
The door opened slowly and Maggie smiled wanly.
'You look like death warmed up!'
Maggie could have cried. This was the last thing she needed, but in her confusion she had forgotten her mother was supposed to be coming over. 'I feel really rough, Mum.'
'Anniversary hangover, more like!'
Maggie shook her head sadly and she looked on the verge of tears. 'You know Jimmy had to go to Scotland, remember.'
Her voice was quavery, and she sounded blocked up, ill.
Lena was concerned. She looked rough, bless her. She looked awful, in fact.
She bustled about taking her coat off and getting her cigarettes and lighter out of her bag. In the large kitchen she put the kettle on herself, and then sat at the scrubbed pine table. Once she had lit up, she was ready to rock and roll. 'You got the flu, mate, you can see it from here.'
Maggie tried to smile once more. 'I have a really bad headache, Mum, I don't think I can cope with shopping.'
Lena was disappointed but her daughter looked terrible, and she said gently, 'Go to bed and I'll bring you up a cuppa and a bit of breakfast, eh?'
Maggie shook her head. 'Just the tea, thanks.'
'Why was a locksmith here, anyway? You lost your bleeding keys again?'
Maggie sighed heavily, and Lena looked at her in concern once more. The girl was obviously sickening for something, and she seemed worn out and depressed. It was in her eyes, they were dead somehow. Her daughter looked uncannily like her sister, wiped out and grey skinned, and that alone was enough to alert Lena to trouble of some kind. She suddenly felt really worried. Her baby looked very ill, from the dark circles under her eyes to the pasty pallor of her tanned skin. She looked yellow, like she had not slept for days.
'Well, answer me, why change all the locks? What's going on? You ain't had an intruder, have you?'
Maggie broke down crying, tears silently pouring out of her eyes, and she didn't even attempt to stem the flow in any way.
Lena was scared now. She rushed to her daughter and pulled her tightly into her ample arms. 'Here, hold up, girl, you all right? You been burgled or something?'
Her voice was soft, caring, and it was Maggie's undoing. The sympathy on top of the way she was feeling made her start sobbing, low at first, then after a few seconds loud and harsh. She sounded like an animal in pain.
Lena rocked her daughter and tried to whisper the loving words that all mothers used to placate their offspring. Finally, after what seemed an age, Maggie began to calm down, but she still remained with her face buried in her mother's brand-new Marks and Spencer twinset.
'What on earth is wrong? Tell me, love, tell your old mum.'
Maggie was still sobbing, shuddering as if she was cold, even though she was calmer.
'Were you burgled, my love? Did someone break in?'
'No! Don't be silly, Mum.'
Maggie's voice was hard, and Lena was taken aback at the tone of it.
'I just lost me keys, that's all. For fuck's sake, Mum, give it a rest, will you?'
Lena swallowed down her retort. The so-called lost keys were on the hall table, she had seen them as she had come in. Maggie had a distinctive, heavy brass key ring that, on close inspection, spelled her name.
Lena kept her own counsel and made the tea. She knew that once her daughter was ready she would get some kind of explanation. She hoped it wasn't to do with Jimmy, then she dismissed the thought out of hand. Whatever this was, it would not be about him. They were sound as a pound. No, this was something completely different. Maggie looked like shit, and Lena decided that if she had a bad head then maybe that was the cause of her upset. She had had a migraine once, years before and she had never wanted to repeat the experience.
But why the change of the locks? If she had anything happen she would get Lily Law. No reason not to – they were all legal. Not a nicked thing in the house, they were far too shrewd for that.
Lena was nonplussed, but she was also sensible enough not to pry just yet. Maggie was still upset and needed to calm herself down. But this frightened her, this was so out of character for her daughter, and she hoped it was not something too awful, something that could not be rectified.
The only person who could make her daughter feel like this was Jimmy, but he would never hurt her in any way, of that much she was sure.
She sighed deeply, then lit another of her endless cigarettes.
Well, as her old nana would say, it would all come out in the wash.
Jackie was looking at herself in the full-length mirror in her bedroom. She had just had a bath, and she knew that the bath was long overdue.
The drinking stopped her from doing the everyday things, but by the same token she had always been lazy. When her husband had gone away she had lost interest in herself, and she had drunk to blot out her struggle with the children and her struggle with her loneliness. Freddie had never understood that, he had been surrounded by people in the same boat, while she had been too frightened to go to the pub, talk to a man or be seen in any situation which could be misconstrued. Her world had gradually imploded and her best friend had become her drinking partner. Her best friend was vodka when she was flush, wine and cider when she wasn't.
She closed her eyes and savoured her drink once more. It gave her a lift, even more than the pills, although the Valium she also took on a regular basis always ironed out the little wrinkles in her life. It smoothed the edges, made life that bit more bearable.
She had soaked herself for ages, knowing the grime in her toes would take time to dissipate. She had decided that she was going to start looking after herself, and so at eleven thirty in the morning she was sipping white wine mixed with vodka and attempting to put on eye shadow and lipstick.
She could hear the girls whispering in their room. They were laughing, really laughing and the noise was grating on her brain. She had a sneaky feeling they were laughing at her.
'Stop pissing about, for fuck's sake, and go out!'
She could hear the high-pitched anger in her own voice and she hated herself for it.
They were good kids really, she knew they were. She also knew they spent their time living down her drinking, and her fighting. She popped another little yellow pill and swallowed it dry.
The laughter had stopped and the music went on. Even the noise of the Spice Girls was preferable to their skitting and laughing, which always made her feel paranoid, as if they were mocking her. She knew they most probably were. Shouts of 'happy birthday' had been rife earlier when she had got in the bath, which had not helped with her bad humour at all.
Kimberley strolled in a little while later. 'You look nice, Mum, where you going?'
The fact she assumed she was going somewhere depressed Jackie even more. Was this how bad things had got? She looked at her daughter. Kim was turning into a lovely girl and she was poking out in all the right places. They all were, and her jealousy knew no bounds. 'Who are you, the fucking police?'
As she looked into her daughter's eyes she saw the girl's confusion, saw the wonderment at seeing her mother tidy and in make-up when she would normally still be in bed shouting her orders in a raspy voice as she coughed up the cigarettes and vodka from the day before.
'I only asked!'
'Well, fucking don't. Do I have to have a reason to get meself tidied up, then? Is it such a fucking big deal in this house if I decide to look nice?'
Jackie wanted to shut up, but she couldn't. She always had to justify herself to these young people who were watching her, judging her and finding her sadly lacking as a mother, a person, and as a human being.
'Well, shoot me for asking a question, why don't you.'
She flounced off in a temper, and Jackie swallowed down the urge to call her back, to hug her. They hated being hugged by her, and she knew it was because she stank of drink, of despair, and worst of all she stank of hopelessness. Her world had imploded a long time ago, and now she was waiting for it to explode, for Freddie to finally leave her. When that happened she knew it would be the end for her.
Freddie had frightened her the night before. The faceless women she could cope with, but her own sister? Her Maggie, who was probably the only person she had ever trusted around her husband. Because she had never been able to trust him with anyone else, but she had trusted her sister. She had known that no matter what he might want Maggie would not do that to her, but now she was not so sure.
And Maggie was not only young, she was beautiful. She was stunning, and she took great care of herself. At times the envy Jackie had felt towards her had been almost visceral, and she had felt great dismay about her youthful body, and her tight skin.
But Maggie wouldn't touch him with a strangers, would she? The thing was, Jackie wasn't sure any more. Her self-esteem was on the floor, her life was in the toilet and her head was all over the place. She was a mess.
When Freddie wanted something he went all out to get it, and no one knew just how charming he could be when the fancy took him. He would go on an all-out assault, and Maggie would not know what hit her. Jimmy was her world, but if there was trouble between them she knew Freddie would use that to inveigle his way in there. He would see it as a laugh, think it was funny to sleep with Jimmy's wife. Freddie saw all women as fair game and he saw all their men as mugs who were finally shown the true colours of the women they professed to love.
But Maggie? Maggie and Jimmy were set like a jelly, and anyway, Maggie was too shrewd, far too shrewd, surely? Maggie had at least a modicum of loyalty, she was sure of that much.
Or was she?
She knew about that Patricia, knew all about their so-called affair, knew that it was more on his side than hers. Now the Patricias she could cope with, because they was going nowhere. He was great in the kip, but even Jackie knew he was a type and most women did not want his type for any length of time. He was dangerous, he was a fucker, but at the end of the day he was generally hers. The Patricias would finally send him home with his tail between his legs when he stepped over their imaginary line, and then she picked up the pieces.
He needed her then because he felt like she did now. Useless, unwanted, nothing.
Her head was gone, the pills were taking over and she was actually enjoying listening to a Spice Girls record. She lurched into the bedroom and asked them to crank up the sound on the stereo, and they all laughed as Little Freddie mimicked her every word.
As she started to tell him off, he did a pretty good impression of her, and she was getting more and more annoyed at every word he uttered.
Then he jumped off the bed and did a passable imitation of her walking when she was drunk.
She tried to smack him, but Roxy dragged him on her lap and the girls were all roaring at her once more. Little Freddie was pretending to stick his fingers down his throat and pretending she made him sick, which once more set the girls off in hysterics.
Christ, but at times she hated that fucking child.
Freddie was watching Patricia and she knew he was.
She looked lovely, and she knew that as well. Even though she was not really that good looking, her confidence, immaculate dress sense and air of leadership made her more than attractive in the eyes of most of the men in her orbit.
Used as they were to women being totally dependent on their men, she was an anomaly, and also a fuck-off businesswoman whose brother was madder than the maddest person who was ever declared mad. This same brother gave her carte blanche with most of his business dealings, which in their world made her an honorary man. It also made her rich as Croesus, and once more that was something that held an attraction in itself. Her reputation as a good fuck who wanted no emotional ties was also a big draw in their circle. Most women wanted to be the new bird, the overtaker, while she had no interest in filling anyone's shoes. So a lot of men wanted her, and they wanted her for a variety of reasons.
But none wanted her more than Freddie Jackson, who would see her on his arm as a reflection on himself. Would see her as a step-up, and who would walk away from Jackie and even Little Freddie if that was what it took to get her full time.
She played him, and they both knew that. She let him think it was a possibility, then she would make him more than aware of the absurdity of the situation.
But today, Freddie looked like the cat who had got the cream and she knew by his whole demeanour that he was full of himself, puffed up like a third-rate brass on a bender with the army.
Patricia's flat was fantastic, and Freddie loved it here. It was new, a penthouse and he liked it so much he imagined himself as its lord and master. It was spotless, and the fridge was always full of beer and decent food, and the bed was always sweet smelling and crease free.
She had a nice drum, and he envied her that. He also envied the fact he was not the only man in her life. But he consoled himself with the fact that of them all, he was the most constant.
She made him shower before they slept together, and even though he knew it was an insult to him, he did it. If any other woman had ever asked him to do that he would have decked them. But with Pat, you either did it her way, or not at all.
It made such a change from the whining cunts he was normally involved with, who wanted sexual gymnastics and then wanted his loyalty and his love.
As if.
Yet he would give it to this woman without a second's thought, he would watch his step and even give up the strange, because the Patricias of this world did not believe in second chances. Once you fucked up it was over, and that was that.
If she knew what he had done the night before she would freak. She liked Maggie, everyone liked Maggie. In fact, Maggie was a lot like Pat – she was a grafter and she knew her own worth.
It was strange that he wanted to bring Maggie down but not Pat, but he understood the reasoning behind destroying Maggie. It was because, between them, Maggie and Jimmy were everything he wanted to be. He had spoken the truth the night before when he had told Jackie that he should have waited, that he had married the wrong sister. But it went deeper than that. He saw the way they lived, the way they interacted, the way they were admired and respected by their peers.
Jimmy was Ozzy's eyes and ears. It was Freddie who had been banged up with Ozzy. But Jimmy was now Ozzy's blue-eyed boy, little Jimmy who he had schooled and loved.
Maggie was also a law unto herself, with her salons and her fucking high-handed ways. Even his girls looked up to the two of them. To a man younger than him by nearly a decade. They all treated them like they were visiting royalty and he was like the fucking hired help.
Well, he had started a train in motion and now he was going to sit back and watch what happened. Maggie was his and he knew it. Jimmy was an unknown quantity, but she would never spill the beans on their little encounter.
He also knew that the fact she would hide it would be her downfall, because once she lied to her precious Jimmy their whole life would begin to collapse.
Jimmy worshipped her. Mug that he was, he saw her as the most important thing in his life, and their life was good. They had the life Freddie had expected, but thanks to Jackie and his kids, and his drinking and his drugging, and his disregard for anything and everyone in his orbit, that life had never materialised.
Ozzy, he knew from little things Patricia had let slip, saw him as the underdog now. He was no more than a heavy, it was little Jimmy who called the shots. Well, Jimmy was getting far too big for his boots, boots which, incidentally, Freddie had fitted him with many years before.
He had come out of nick full of hope and dreams. He had spent night after night in his cell planning his new life, and he knew in his heart that he had thrown it all away. He had fucked everything with a pulse, he had ponced off everyone he knew and he had basically handed the reins over to a young man who had once seen him as the epitome of everything he had wanted to be himself.
Freddie had blown it, and he was aware that it was far too late to regain any kind of foothold. He was just a heavy now, a well-respected and well-treated heavy, but a heavy all the same. His father had pointed this out to him all those years ago, when Jimmy and Maggie had married with all their pomp and ceremony, and he had known then that what his father said had been true. Well, he had shown him!
He had been due his pension, he had been due his lifestyle, and he had let it slip through his fingers.
Knowing he had fucked it up himself did not make his little cousin's rise to power any easier. All the contacts they used were his friends, all the main people were their social equals. He knew he was now only tolerated, and it was this that he could not take any more.
Hatred was preferable to toleration, and the worst of it all was that even little Jimmy barely tolerated him these days. Yet for all that, it was his rep, his fighting ability and his ruthlessness, that kept the pretenders to their thrones at bay.
Jealousy was a terrible force. It ate at people and it made them dislike and distrust the people they loved. It caused the unsuccessful parties to question their own lives, and look too harshly at their families and their so-called friends. It made for paranoia and it made for dangerous bedfellows.
Well, Jimmy Jackson might be making a name for himself, but his little love nest was now tainted and that would have a domino effect on the rest of their lives.
He would bring the flash little fucker down from the inside, and watch as he saw his life crumble, much the same as he had himself.
'Are you all right, Freddie?'
Pat's voice was coming from far away, and he knew he was on a coke trip. He had been snorting it for hours like a man with a nose bigger than Barry Manilow.
He sighed and said sadly, 'I think things are a bit off at Chez Jimmy's. Maggie has been fit to be tied since he had to go up to Jockland.'
'Well, you can't blame her, it was on their anniversary.'
She dismissed him and once more he felt the anger rising inside him. He swallowed it down and said, with as much kindness as he could muster, 'I think he is firing blanks. Jackie was telling me Maggie stopped the pill eighteen months ago and there's still no sign of a baby.'
Patricia looked at him in absolute amazement. 'Who are you now, fucking Marge Proops? Who gives a fuck!'
But he knew this would be relayed back to Ozzy, and that was exactly what he wanted. In future, he was going to become the stable one, the one who sorted things, even if it meant being nice to that pair of wankers otherwise known as the Blacks of Glasgow.
Jimmy would soon find out. No one mugged him off, and he didn't care who they were.
'Please, Mags, tell me what is wrong with you, mate.'
Maggie shrugged. 'I am just tired, that's all.'
She walked past her husband and looked out of her office door. She watched the goings on in the salon as if they were of paramount importance. She had no interest really, the salons pretty much ran themselves, but if it took her eyes away from Jimmy's then that was OK as far as she was concerned.
She could not look him in the eye any more.
If he touched her she wanted to cry, and if he didn't she wanted to cry.
Jimmy observed her warily She had not been the same since he had gone to Scotland. He had explained over and over again that he had not really had any option. The Blacks spent their time dreaming of taking out Freddie, and so he was the natural choice as go-between. Thanks to him, Jimmy, the Blacks and the poor little chemist from Amsterdam, who now resided in Ilford with a young girl called LaToya and a bad crack habit, they were all quids in.
But she had not recovered, and no matter how much he tried to talk to her, or tried to love her, she was different. It was as if she was in another dimension, and it was starting to frighten him. He didn't know what to do about it.
'I am all right, Jimmy, for fuck's sake leave me alone, will you!'
He sighed heavily. 'You sure you are all right?'
She didn't answer him and he didn't know how to break the crashing silence between them.
Glenford Prentiss smiled his gap-toothed smile and Jimmy returned it. They had become good friends over the years, and they were close, as close as they would ever be to anyone, considering their line of work.
'Come on, Jimmy, you need to talk to someone, man. You looking stressed, you looking like a man with a problem he can't resolve by himself.'
Glenford knew he might be overstepping the mark but he was worried about Jimmy. He looked terrible. This man had gone down in drug folklore. He had flooded the market with ecstasy. From the raves all over the country to the blues on the Railton Road, he had made it accessible to everyone. The price was low, the product was good, and the money was rolling in. Jimmy should be over the moon, and yet here he was with a face like a wet night in Montego Bay.
Jimmy was stoned. This was not a usual occurrence for him and he felt the dragging heaviness of the skunk. He had never really been into skunk, it was a heavy, potent puff. He was more a Lebanese gold kind of man. He liked to mellow out, chill out, and finally go off to sleep.
Skunk, however, was a different thing altogether. It could make you hallucinate if you smoked enough, it was a chemically controlled puff, and he usually avoided it. But everything was a massive fuck-up at the moment, and as he was spending the evening with Glenford he decided to have a blow and maybe sort his head out.
It was a mistake.
'Come on, man, a few Red Stripes and you will become loquacious, the words will be tripping off your tongue.'
He was laughing. Glenford had done a serious lump as a young man, and he had spent his time with a dictionary and his right hand. That was his favourite story, and even though Jimmy had laughed like everyone else he knew there was more than a grain of truth in it. When Glenford was in the mood he could talk for England. He used words that were so alien to the people listening but were said with such aplomb, and in such circumstances, that they were almost like listening to music.
He was a wordsmith, and he had once confided to Jimmy, while very stoned, that his hero was, of all people, Les Dawson. The man, he assured Jimmy, had been the most exciting wordsmith of them all. He said that this man had been underrated, and was in his opinion the last great humorist and talker other than Spike Milligan.
This had caused Jimmy to laugh himself nearly unconscious, but then when he had watched the tapes with Glenford he had been inclined to agree. Les Dawson was humorous, and he was also imaginative. Like Glenford, Jimmy had realised the man's total command of the English language. Without the puff though, Jimmy wasn't so sure. Glenford was also a Monty Python aficionado. He could repeat any sketch, any line from any film and he also knew every anecdote about the Python team that was in the public domain.
Now Jimmy wanted his friend to start on about Les Dawson, or his new idols Bill Hicks and Eddie Murphy.
Anything was preferable to thinking about his own situation.
'Maggie ain't right, and she ain't been right for a while.'
Lena was voicing the opinion of everyone around her, but unlike everyone, she was saying it out loud.
Jackie shrugged as always when faced with any kind of problem that did not involve her or her life. Consequently, she was exasperated as she cried out, 'She's all right. Fuck me, Mum, she's coining it in, so she can't be that fucking in a state, can she?'
Lena regretted speaking now. She knew Jackie was so jealous of her little sister that anything said about her was derided, or just plain dismissed. But Lena was worried, very worried. Her youngest had gone from a happy, caring woman to a nervous wreck seemingly overnight.
It was as if all the joy had been milked from her, along with her happiness and her natural energy, and all that was left was a husk, a living, breathing husk that was like a pale imitation of the girl she had been.
She went through the motions, she smiled, she worked and she did everything she had always done. But somehow, it was like she had been replaced by a clone.
The girl was not right, and Lena was terrified that something very sinister was going on. So she tried once more in case her elder daughter might have noticed something.
'Has she said anything to you, Jackie?'
Jackie sighed, then said sarcastically, 'Like what exactly, Mum? How you are getting on her fucking tits because you are never off her fucking doorstep? Do you think that maybe you might have overstayed your welcome there?'
Lena closed her eyes and suppressed her anger, as well as the urge to smack her eldest daughter right across her fat, bloated face. Instead she goaded her with words, because she knew that words hurt this daughter more than a baseball bat across her thick skull.
'You are a bitter pill, ain't you, Jackie? You jealous fucking mare. She ain't crossed this door for weeks and you don't even care, do you?' Lena got up and, putting on her coat, she left without another word. But she felt Jackie's anger and she knew it was misplaced.
Jackie knew that she should have swallowed the criticism, and that her mother had an actual point. They were family after all. Instead, she was just glad that her mother had gone and left her in peace.
Since Freddie had become so enamoured of her Maggie, she had been grateful for her sister's absence from her life. Jackie still went there at weekends, and ate her food and drank her drink, but the fact that Maggie didn't come to her house any more didn't really bother her. She had only come to spy anyway, spy and give her lectures dressed up as the ramblings of a worried sister.
Jackie closed her eyes and stopped herself from yelling out loud that her husband was lusting after Maggie, and she was frightened that maybe Maggie might be lusting after him back.
All she heard these days was how he had popped in to see Jimmy, and how Maggie had made him coffee or a sandwich, and how well she looked, how lovely she was. How nice she kept the house. Each compliment was said in a nice conversational way. No one listening would realise that he was on a love job, and each compliment stabbed her like a hot knife because she knew that he wanted Maggie.
In Jackie's mind, most of the women in their world wanted a Freddie, so it stood to reason that Maggie with her safe life and her boring husband would want him too. In her darker, more honest and sober moments she brushed these feelings away, knowing they were stupid and completely unfounded. She loved Maggie, and she knew that Maggie was probably the only person who genuinely loved her, the only person she could really trust.
She knew she had treated Maggie like shit over the years. She had put everyone else above her little sister, she had borrowed money off her, and then she had run her down, often to people who she knew were doing the exact same thing to her. Justifying their own existences. Who, like her, could not comprehend a woman in their world who seemed to have it all sussed, who was happy with herself, and who was with a man who was not trying it on with any woman with a pulse or a social security book.
Jackie trusted people who she knew in her heart had no real regard for her, were not really friends. They were disloyal, they were all without jobs, lives or any kind of structure to their days, but what they did have going for them was that they were like her.
They were aimless, and full of their own self-importance. They relied on the men in their lives for their self-esteem, and they had no real concept of friendship or honour. Most of her so-called mates were only still friendly because they knew too much about one another and they were frightened to fall out in case the loose lips and two-faced talk suddenly became about them and their lives.
Maggie had once said, in a rare moment of anger, 'At least with my friends I ain't afraid to be the first to leave.'
That had hurt Jackie, because she knew that it was true. As soon as one of her cronies left her house she was pulled to pieces, run down shamelessly and spoken about as if she was a dire enemy. It was their way, and Jackie knew that she was saved from the worst of that treatment because her old man was a nut nut.
So she was a big fish on their estate, and she revelled in the fact she was more or less safe from it all. She also joked about Freddie, ridiculed him, and that made her an important part of their infrastructure. Jackie was the pivot that their world needed to turn on, she was a friend by association with most of her estate. If Freddie ever dumped her she would be finished. She knew it and they all knew it, and if it did happen no one would be more thrilled than her 'best mates'.
Jackie was the main wife, and she told her friends how her sister Maggie was stuck up her own arse, and, because she had a few quid, acted like she was some kind of fucking celebrity. She also pointed out that her Freddie earned good wedge, but unlike her little sister she knew where she came from and did not feel the need to rub her good fortune in everyone's faces. Or leave her roots.
She felt awful at times because of what she said, but she still said it. Especially when her husband was in earshot, though never when her mother was in the vicinity. Lena would scalp her for it.
Her girls held it against her and all. They loved Mags, they thought she was the dog's knob, and this just made Jackie feel more angry and more resolute about putting her in her place. She was the one who should be looked up to, and Maggie had looked up to her once. And she still should, she was the elder sister, she should have her sister's respect for that alone.
Every now and again the total disloyalty she showed towards the woman who made sure she had money, who made sure she was OK, who made sure her hair was done and her clothes were half decent, overwhelmed her.
Maggie, she knew, had actually fought with people who had even remotely criticised her. Maggie never slagged her off, she just tried talking to her about her so-called drink problem, and about Little Freddie's carrying on. Unlike everyone else she had always tried to defend her on the one hand, while helping her in a positive way on the other. And Maggie, as little as she was, could have a row, a real row, a punch up if it was called for. Jackie knew that she was a fighter because of her personality while Maggie only ever fought because of a principle or because it was a last resort. And when Maggie did have a row, she was like a fucking maniac. And Maggie had fronted up enough people over her through the years, that Jackie knew she should do the same for her.
But Maggie was also the thorn in her side. Every time she looked at her she saw her own wasted life, saw her own youth that she had stupidly let pass her by with pregnancy and a penchant for self-destruction. More to the point, she now saw her only chance of happiness with her husband slipping away from her.
Because if Freddie wanted her little sister she could not compete, and whether Maggie wanted him back did not really matter any more. He wanted her, and that was enough for Jackie.
When she looked at Mags, she saw a young woman with a good job, a business head, a good marriage to a man who adored her and worst of all, someone her own children as well as her husband thought was far superior to her.
Maggie was everything she wanted to be, and for that alone, she could never forgive her.
'Let it go, Glenford. I am just tired, that's all. The bloke we hired from Amsterdam is turning out gear like he is a fucking limited company. And we have sewn up the market, and, you know what, we stand to make a fucking fortune.'
Glenford grinned, but he wasn't happy. He knew all this, he didn't need his friend to keep on repeating it.
He skinned up again. This time he made a twist, the Jamaican joint. This was when the papers were wrapped around a piece of conical wood and then, once the papers were removed, filled with just grass or in this case skunk. Once lit, it went up like a bonfire and then it burned lazily, and a few tokes could lay out Mike Tyson.
When it was offered to him Jimmy shook his head and said gently, 'Oh no, mate, I have to get home soon.'
He knew he was stoned out of his box, and there was no way he was driving anywhere. He would have to cab it and then pick his car up the next day.
'How's Maggie?'
Glenford had the throaty, deep rasp of a stoned Rasta, and this made Jimmy laugh. Beenie Man came on the sound system, and he lay back and listened to him intently. 'She's all right.'
Glenford shrugged and toked deeply once more. 'She looks troubled, and so do you. If you want to tell me what is the problem, you know that I will keep it quiet and within these four walls.'
Jimmy already knew that and he smiled his thanks but he didn't say anything.
Eventually, Glenford spoke again. 'You are a damn fool, boy. When me and Clarice were waging war, I keep it to meself. She living now with a white boy with a proper job, and me kids talk like fucking bankers. And now there's me with me little girl, and she lovely, but me Clarice, she the one, the only one me really interested in. But I fucked it big time, and I accepted that in the end. They go peculiar you know, it's the life we live, the uncertainty, the whole concept of the criminal lifestyle. It wear the decent women down, they want serious security, and them want the arms they loving around them every night. Well, she got that now, she got what she wanted, but I know deep in here-' he banged his fist against his chest – 'she would rather my arms than the blue-eyed fucker she got now. But you see, with decent women, they do what's best for them in the end, or in her case what was best for the kids. My kids, and I respect that, and him a good man, she whiter than him, she a natural blonde, collar and cuffs, if you know what me saying. But he love my kids and they got one of they own now, but I know one day, she will come back, when I am out of this life and retired.'
He took another deep toke on his newly lit twist and then he laughed even as he said seriously, 'You see, Jimmy boy, if me don't believe that, me life not worth it, is it?'
Jimmy looked at his friend and smiled, and they both knew that this was the final piece of their friendship falling into place. Neither had ever really trusted anyone with their deepest feelings before, but now they were willing to do just that.
'She ain't right, Glenford. She has become like a different person. Her nerves are so bad, every knock at the door she jumps, it's like she is waiting for something, but she won't tell me what.'
Glenford shook his head as if he understood perfectly. 'That's what me trying to tell you, it's the life, boy. They get to an age and a state of mind, and they frightened of the consequences of our chosen professions.'
Jimmy pondered his words for a while, then said sadly, 'Nah, it ain't that, Glenford. We are legal, mate, and if I get a capture it's through a grass. This goes deeper. Something's happened to her and I can't get to the bottom of it. I don't know what to do, and I try and make her talk to me and she goes into one.'
Glenford was suddenly alert. Unlike Jimmy he had the knack of shaking off even the most severe of stoneds. Not an easy feat by anyone's standard. 'What could have happened to her?'
Jimmy sighed. 'I don't know, but I'll find out. It started when I went to Glasgow, and she ain't been the same since.'
Glenford was silent, but his mind was now working fifty to the dozen. He was a great believer in never saying anything to anyone until you had all the facts. He was annoyed now for getting so stoned, because something Jimmy just said had struck a chord with him. But he was gone and he knew this was too important to try and suss out now. So he got up from his chair unsteadily and did what he always did when he was rocking and he needed to remember something.
He went to his kitchen and he wrote it down in his notebook.
Then he got two more cans of Red Stripe, returned to the lounge and sat with his friend and buzzed happily.
'Come on, Maggie, we're all waiting for you!'
Dianna's voice was loud in the salon and everyone automatically turned towards it. Dianna knew that would be the case and she winked at Kimberley as Maggie finally emerged from her office.
This salon in Chingford, Essex, was the biggest of them all, and it was Maggie's baby. The girls, like Maggie, knew that this was the forerunner to the others now. It had worked so well that she was now investing a lot of money to bring the others up to spec. It not only had the hairdressing salon, it had sun beds, a nail parlour, and they were also offering waxing – legs, eyebrows and bikini, anything that was required. It offered facials, Reiki, massage and even a slimming clinic once a month where a doctor prescribed anything the clients needed.
It was a goldmine.
Maggie offered wine, spritzers, frappés and cappuccinos. She also let her customers snort to their hearts' content in her toilets, as long as they did it discreetly.
It was, to all intents and purposes, the place to be.
Dianna and Kimberley were now there all the time, Kim as a hairdresser, along with her college course in beauty, and Dianna as a trainee.
But Maggie was not her usual self, and they were determined to get her out of her shell today if it killed them.
Maggie wanted them there not just because she loved them, which she did, but also because they kept Freddie away. He was nervous of his girls, who had sussed him out at a very young age. They loved him in a haphazard, 'Oh, he is me dad, and what can I do about it?' kind of way. But Maggie knew that he loved them, and like he loved any woman in his orbit, he owned them. She also believed that he would be frightened of them knowing about what had happened. Unlike their mother, they would be inclined to believe her side of the story.
She had been a big part of their lives for so long. They knew her so well and they trusted her. They respected her, and their father had destroyed her.
Now as she looked around her, saw the busy salon bustling with people, pumping out loud music and coining in money, she felt the urge to scream.
'Come on, Maggie. Everyone keeps asking where you are lately, we can't keep telling them you're doing the books, can we?'
She looked into Kimberley's face, and, as had been the case since the girl had hit her teens, she saw herself. Kimberley looked like her, she could see it plain as anything and people remarked about it. She had her father's darkness, his dark hair and his sallow skin, but she had Maggie's fine bone structure that was at odds with Jackie's heaviness.
The thought of Jackie sent her heart racing.
'All right, Mags, long time no see. You sick or something, girl? You look dog rough!'
Maggie smiled widely at the woman who'd spoken. She was sitting there all tanned skin and streaked hair, having a manicure and a pedicure in the new and expensive black leather pedicure chair, with its own heated little foot bath, and its own drink holder, and once more Maggie wanted to scream. To tell this woman what a vacuous prat she was, how she loathed her selfish existence like she loathed the men like Freddie, because a lot of these women were with Freddie wannabes. Were with men who would shag a table leg if it was available, and who would not even have the decency or the sense to wear a condom. She knew women in this salon who had been given everything from a dose of clap to herpes from a foray their men had made to Thailand. Suddenly, all the gossip was like the Old Testament to her, like some kind of revelation. It showed her life and what it had become because she had once tried to save her sister's sanity, and tried to make her marriage whole. Look what it had got her.
She felt an urge to tell everyone to fuck off, but she didn't, she had taken to doing all her swearing in her head lately. It eased her somehow, but she was not sure for how long it would work.
Instead, she said as gaily as she could to the bleached-blond no neck who was apparently waiting for her answer, 'You only want me because I do the strongest drinks!'
All the women in the salon laughed. Maggie looked around at the perfect teeth and the perfectly toned bodies, and she broke down and cried.
Kimberley, who had a very good shit detector inherited from her grandmother, walked her back in the office before too many people saw what had happened.
Maggie held on to her young niece for dear life, and she sobbed her heart out. She was talking incoherently, and all Kimberley could make out was her saying over and over again, 'I am so sorry, sweetheart, so very sorry.'
When she finally calmed down, she still would not let on what the hell was wrong with her.
Freddie and Jimmy were at a house in North London. It was a large property in a nice tree-lined avenue. It had his and hers BMWs in the drive, and it had the air of an expensive and extended family.
Also in the drive were mountain bikes, slung down on to the concrete with no regard whatsoever, and a child's electric car. Judging by the state of its paintwork and the fact that it was full of leaves, it had obviously been dumped there a good while ago and left out in the recent rainy spell. Jimmy, who still knew the value of a pound, could not for the life of him comprehend how anyone with half a brain could have left over five hundred quid's worth of children's toy out unless they were either stupid, or, as seemed to be the case here, they thought they were always going to earn a serious crust.
There was also a double garage that had a door that was open halfway. That again was a mug's game – why would you invite thieves into your yard? Jimmy knew that the electric door was fucked, but even in the twilight he could see freezers, and he also counted three different lawn mowers, one a ride as you cut, and other expensive gardening equipment. Even he didn't have all that in his sheds, and his garden was like the fucking Serengeti in comparison to this fucking mong's.
Jimmy was angry, angrier than he had been for years. Well, he had some news for this ice cream, and he hoped that he took it on board sooner rather than later, and did not attempt to talk his way out of it. Because he was not a happy bunny at all, and this little reprimand was just what he needed to let off a bit of steam.
Freddie tapped on the front door lightly with his keeper ring. He always wore the ring, even though he knew that Jimmy thought it was dreck. Jimmy hated the way he wore so much gold. It was as if Freddie was advertising his wealth to the world, and it aggravated him. Keeper rings were for bully boys and fucking pub fighters. They were for teenagers who thought they were hard nuts, they were not for grown-ups and serious businessmen. But they did a lot of damage and so tonight Jimmy was willing to let the matter go, but he still thought that it made Freddie look cheap.
The porch on the house was a recent addition. It had leaded light windows, roses and green leaves, which matched the rest of the house. All the windows were recent by the look of it, as were the doors. The house was like a fucking new NHBC home, except it was a good twenty-five years into its life expectancy. The man who owned it had gone mad with his renovations, and at any other time Jimmy would have spent a good couple of hours, and a few beers, happily discussing all that with him. Unfortunately the man had gone a bit too mad, and had eaten into their profit to fund this marvellous but, in all honesty, overdone, pile of fucking stones.
Now Lenny Brewster was about to find out that he had been well and truly sussed, and that Jimmy and Freddie were not about to swallow it.
Lenny had seen the two men come up his drive. His wife, who was making a cup of tea and a bacon sandwich when the knock came on the door, noticed his unusual demeanour. He looked nervous. He looked positively/jutted, as they said in her world, absolutely terrified and guilty as if he had just had the biggest capture of his life.
He was a spinner, a storyteller, and she accepted that, but in fairness he was earning like a drug dealer in a maximum security jail. The poke was constant and it was in large amounts. She knew he worked for the Jacksons, but until now she had never had any dealings with them. Lenny had given her the impression that they needed him, that he was a key player in their nefarious businesses.
Now though, like many a woman before her, she was seeing her old man as he really was and it frightened her. More so because she had, that very day, put a down payment on a Caribbean cruise and told everyone she had ever known in her life that they were going on it, first class, in a luxury suite with portholes and a large sitting room.
'Shall I get that, Lenny?'
He nodded and attempted to smile at her.
As she opened the door Freddie said, with all the considerable charm he possessed, 'Is that bacon I can smell wafting out of your gaff?'
She smiled at him happily. He was just her cup of tea, was Freddie. She was always up for a night out, since her old man was not the most exciting shag in Christendom, so within seconds they understood each other perfectly.
Jimmy watched the little display with his usual half smile of disbelief. Freddie could pull in a mosque, he would lay money on that.
He saw Lenny come slowly into the hall. 'All right, Len?'
Jimmy's voice was friendly, but there was an underlying warning and Lenny was trying to decide what to do about it all. So he smiled, and said to his wife, 'Come on, June, make a fucking brew. Anyone want a sandwich?'
Freddie grinned. 'I'll have whatever is going, mate. Got a beer?'
June smiled and she looked at Jimmy who shook his head. Then Lenny walked them through the newly decorated hallway and sitting room into the large conservatory at the back of the house.
Jimmy and Freddie looked round them in a pleasant but distinct way. They made eye contact and raised their eyebrows theatrically to let Lenny know that they were surprised at this outlay on the wages he was pulling in. Even though they were paying him a good wedge, he could see they both felt that this house was far in excess of what he should be living in. And he knew they were right.
'So what can I do for you, then?'
'Come on, Lenny, play the white man. You know why we are here. Why would we bother to come and see a lowlife like you unless we knew you were having us over, eh?'
Jimmy's voice was low, but it was reasonable.
Lenny decided to front it out, he had no other choice as far as he was concerned. He had an expensive wife, six kids and he also had his rep. He had worked for Ozzy when he had still been on the outside and surely that should count for something.
'I had a dip. So what? I needed the money.' He looked at Freddie as he said this in as reasonable a voice as he could manage. 'I am shifting three times the gear I was this time last year. I have asked you over and over for a bigger cut, and you just blah blah me.'
He waited for a reply and when none was forthcoming he said, with what he felt was justifiable anger, 'I have brought in fortunes for you lot, and you know that.'
Still there was no answer. Freddie and Jimmy just looked at him without any kind of expression on their faces, and it was this that made him lose his temper.
'I was on the streets working for Ozzy when you were still nicking cars and drinking pints of fucking Coca-Cola in the pub. I have earned my place in this firm. You should have given me my due, and then I would not have felt the need to take it.' Lenny was smiling at them now, he looked relieved to have said his piece, almost relaxed, and Jimmy saw for the first time a look of defiance. It was as if he was standing there thinking, well, it's done now, what can they do about it? He would swallow a hiding, and he thought that would be that, it would all be over and they would be quits. Lenny was a bigger mug than he had first thought if he believed that.
But before Jimmy could say a word, Freddie attacked him, and when Lenny hit the deck heavily on his hands and knees, he saw that Freddie had more or less gutted him with a boning knife.
Lenny was trying to keep his insides from popping out, and the blood was thick and pumping fast, streaming through his fingers, and making a terrible mess on the newly tiled floor of the conservatory.
Jimmy could not believe what Freddie had done. This was all they needed.
Freddie was grinning, that mad, lopsided grin that had always got him out of everything since he had been a kid. He was like a small child who had been caught pinching from his mother's purse.
But he wasn't a kid and he had just murdered Lenny, in his own home, in cold blood. And just because Lenny had fronted them. This was like a nightmare. This was what life sentences were caused by – acting first and thinking later. In many cases, ten or fifteen fucking years later, the person concerned was still thinking of that one moment of fucking madness.
Jimmy grabbed Freddie by his jacket and shirt, and he slammed him into the wall of the house with all the strength he could muster. The noise echoed around the conservatory, the glass was steamed up now, and the floor was covered in the deep red blood of Lenny, who had now dropped forward on to his face.
He was brown bread all right, and his wife was in her kitchen waiting to feed them bacon sandwiches and cups of bastard tea.
Freddie was giggling, he was laughing as if this was some kind of joke. Jimmy held him hard and fast as he tried to push Jimmy's hands away from him, trying to get clear of the wall. But Jimmy was not having any of it. Freddie could not move and he was using all his strength to try to change that fact.
It was only now that Freddie finally understood just how strong and how tall Jimmy actually was. He was as strong as an ox, and Freddie, who had always been the strong arm of the duo, realised that Jimmy was not only younger, but also he was bigger, healthier and faster than him.
The difference between them, Freddie finally acknowledged to himself, was that Jimmy had a controlled strength, a strength that went deeper than the physical. He was strong in his mind as well as his body. Jimmy used his nous, and he used it wisely, whereas Freddie used just his strength all day every day, to get what he wanted. No matter how trivial it might be.
Jimmy slammed his cousin's head into the brick wall over and over again. He knew he had drawn blood but he was past caring. This was the one thing he had always dreaded, this was a long time in stir if it all came on top, and it was a pointless nicking, devoid of any kind of principle or reasoning. A completely unnecessary death that could destroy the rest of their lives.
He chinned Freddie then with all the force he could muster. He hit him so hard that he had to hold him up to stop him toppling into the blood that had spread over the floor.
'You fucking cunt, Freddie, you stupid fucking cunt!'
Then June walked into the carnage and all hell broke loose.
Jackie could hear the girls talking, and she listened as she always did to their gossip about the salons and her sister Maggie. They were in the kitchen, chatting and eating a late supper.
Jackie was in her lounge as usual, with a large drink, her cigarettes, a bag full of sweets and her prescription medication on the small glass table by her chair. Her other medication, her real medication was in her purse, but she liked people to see her antidepressants because she felt it spoke volumes about her life and the way she lived it.
Maggie had once pointed out that her world was so small, it was peopled by her and her alone. Well, by the sounds of it Maggie was finally learning the facts of life.
'She was crying her eyes out, and I didn't know what to do!'
Roxanna, who was looking more like Maggie every day, was listening to her sister with wide-open eyes, and pulling on her cigarette in short nervous little puffs as she heard this terrible news about her lovely auntie.
Little Freddie was watching a video as usual. The sound of the gunfire was loud, and, seeing his mother listening to the girls, he turned the sound up even more. When Jackie snatched the remote from him and turned the volume down, he kicked her hard in the chest. The pain was excruciating and she also lost the majority of the drink in her glass.
Jackie hit him with the flat of her hand and put all her considerable strength into it. Any other child would have screamed, but he laughed at her and let rip with a string of expletives even she was shocked to hear.
'You little fucker!'
He was still laughing at her, and his eyes told her exactly what he thought of her.
She stood up unsteadily and caught sight of herself in the mirror above the fireplace. Her nightdress was grubby, her hair was like rats' tails and she was bloated, her face and her body suddenly looking huge.
She walked to the mirror and stared at herself. She saw the thinness of her hair, which had once been luxuriant, and the sallow tint to her skin. Her back ached constantly, and she had trouble even eating her sweets, which for years had been her staple diet.
On the mantelpiece was an old photo of her and Freddie from when they were courting and she picked it up and looked at it properly, for the first time in years. She had been a beauty, and she had never really known that. But now, seeing herself in her little dress, with her happy smiling face, it was as if she was looking at a stranger.
She could hear Little Freddie cussing with the men on the video, word for word. As she walked out into the hallway, the girls were still in the kitchen and she went in and smiled at them. 'Had a good day, babes?'
It was forced and they knew it. She could not give a toss what they had done, but as always they humoured her.
'Great, Mum, and you?'
This from Kimberley who had sarcasm down to a fine art.
She overlooked the insult and said in a friendly way, 'What's all this about Maggie crying in the salon, then?' She sounded worried and interested and Dianna shook her head in disbelief. They knew what was going on with her mum and Maggie, they could hear everything that went on in this house and it amazed them that their mother didn't realise that.
Kimberley shrugged. 'Dunno, Mum, she wouldn't say.'
It was said with loyalty and also in such a way as to make her mother aware that they would not discuss it any further with her.
Jackie felt the anger that was always boiling away beneath the surface start to rise, but she kept it down and said in a quiet voice, 'She ain't right, and she is my little sister. Maybe I should go round and see her, what do you think? Woman to woman, like.'
The three girls just stared at her with expressionless faces, and she saw how good looking they were, how nice and tidy they were, and how they had no interest whatsoever in what she was saying.
She felt like an outsider in her own home, and it hurt. 'You fucking lairy little mares. I fucking do everything for you lot and you treat me like a fucking ear hole, like a no neck.'
Kimberley picked up her handbag and the others followed suit. Leaving their sandwiches and their teas, they tried to troop past her to go to bed.
She pushed them all back into the kitchen and stood in the doorway. 'You will answer me, or I will fucking deck you one by one.'
Kimberley sighed and said quietly, 'You're drunk, Mum. Go to bed and let us be, eh?'
It was said in such a reasonable way that for a few seconds Jackie actually considered doing just that. But then her temper and her paranoia kicked in as usual.
'Bollocks, I want to know what the fucking drama was in that salon. Was your father there? Does he ever go in there?' She could hear herself and she knew she sounded like a fool, but she couldn't stop.
'Why would he go in there, Mum?'
This from Roxanna, who was sick and tired of this woman and her histrionics.
Jackie laughed then. 'You don't want to know, babe, but listen to me and listen good. She is getting what she fucking deserves. You think she is so fucking great-'
'Oh, Mum, will you stop it!' Dianna's voice was so loud and so determined that Jackie was speechless. 'Maggie loves you, she never says a bad thing about you, and all you can do is fucking try and slag her off.'
Jackie looked at the three faces that were turned to her and saw the confusion, the hurt and the disgust in them. Then, with her voice full of self-pity and tears, she said, 'She has turned you against me, ain't she?'
Kimberley shook her head in utter despair. 'Oh, Mum, you've done that all on your own. Now go to bed, please. Will you stop this and leave us alone?'
'You think Maggie is so great, and that I am such a bad person. Oh, I know what's going on with you lot.'
Once more they looked at her with pity and irritation, and it was this that made her scream at them, 'She is a cunt, and she is trying to fucking ruin me and my life.'
She knew she should shut up but her hurt was so bad that she wanted to make them hurt too, make them feel how she was feeling.
'Stop it, Mum! Listen to yourself, you're drunk. Go to bed and sleep it off, will you.' Roxanna, her little girl, her baby daughter, was looking at her and she could see the contempt in her face, had just heard it in her words.
'What about me, girls? Can't you see what I am going through? Can't you try and spare a bit of your sympathy for your own mother?'
Jackie was nearly crying now with fury, shame and alcohol. She had been drinking all day and all night.
Kimberley pushed her sisters behind her protectively, she knew her mother was capable of violence when she was like this, but she couldn't stop herself from saying loudly, and with utter disregard for Jackie's feelings, real and imagined, 'Not everything is about you, Mum. If you could only see that then your life would be so much easier. Maggie is lovely, she has never said anything about you that we couldn't repeat to your face. She sticks up for you, she won't let us say a fucking dicky bird about you or your drinking or your bloody hatefulness. She is the only person who really cares about you and as usual, you can't see it. You eat her food and you drink her drink and you use her like you do everyone. But she is the only person who has ever been there for us, and you had better start to understand that and accept it. So, for the last time, Mum, go to bed.'
They left the kitchen then and she didn't attempt to stop them. Instead, she opened the fridge and took out another bottle of wine.
Her husband and her girls – Maggie had taken them all.
June Brewster was in a state of shock, but she was still sensible enough to know that Jimmy Jackson was not the main culprit here, and that he was the one she needed to sort this out with. Freddie Jackson was a murdering ponce, but she had already heard that expression in connection with him, many times before. She knew the score, she knew the life they were involved in. She had lived it long enough and she was a realist like many a blagger's wife before her.
When she had walked into the conservatory, she had screamed once, then she had contained herself as best she could. She had not phoned the filth, which she knew had endeared her to Jimmy Jackson.
He was also much calmer now, though when she had entered the conservatory she had seen the utter contempt he had for Freddie Jackson on his face.
Freddie had fucked up, and it was only her rep as a close-talking wife that had kept her on their good side. Married to Lenny, she had more secrets than the Dalai Lama, but they knew she had always kept them close to her chest.
Lenny had said once that it was young Jimmy Jackson who was the real brains of the outfit, and after tonight's debacle she was inclined to agree with him. Jimmy was already on the blower trying to salvage something for all of them. She knew she would get her comp, which had better be huge, but she wanted the life-insurance money on top, so now they had to make poor Lenny look like he had died in far less suspicious circumstances.
Jimmy was talking sixteen to the dozen, and in between his talking and scheming he was pouring her brandies, trying in his own way to lighten her burden.
But how could he?
Lenny was a ponce, she knew that better than anyone, but he was her old man and they had been together for the duration, over twenty years. Even though the last child was suspiciously dark in comparison to the other five, he had swallowed, he had given her the benefit of the doubt. So she had never gone on holiday to Tunisia again with her sisters, big deal. Lenny had neglected her shamefully and he knew it. In fact, it seemed that her ducking and diving with a young waiter with a six-pack stomach, a large cock and hardly any English had made Lenny realise what he had in her. So they had got over it somehow. In fact, the child, a daughter, had been the apple of Lenny's eye. They already had the five boys, and she was a very beautiful little girl who worshipped her dad.
Now she was on her Jack Jones with six kids and a house that they had only been doing up because she had insisted on it. Lenny, being a thieving toerag, had skanked off these two fucking Faces, and now he was dead, and all she could think about was Tunisia and the young fellow who had given her back her confidence and her sex drive.
She was seeing him in her mind's eye, with his tight little arse and his muscle-bound arms, a smile that was whiter than a Colgate advert, and his soft dark hair that was long, thick and tied back in a ponytail. She had thought about him every time she had slept with Lenny, because Lenny had stopped ringing her bells many years before. He had slept around and he had left her to basically bring the kids up alone, and it had hurt her. It had made her resent him, and she had often had a flier with a bloke on the quiet.
All the time she had been cooking the bacon sandwiches she had been thinking about Freddie Jackson, and pondering his prowess in the kip, and now he had killed her husband, the father of nearly all her kids. The man who, even though she was getting battered around the edges, and so her chances for romance were getting less and less, had pledged his undying love for her, had taken in a child that was not his, and who had ripped these two fucking lunatics off to give her the house of her dreams.
How many times had she imagined him popping off over the years, and her being her own boss, being in a position to go away on holiday and shag herself stupid with men she would never see again? How many times had she wished for Lenny's demise? Now she had got it, and what she really wanted at this moment in time was for her Tunisian waiter to take her in his arms and give her the rogering of a lifetime.
She had actually been contemplating shagging Freddie Jackson, and now she was contemplating shagging someone else. Her head was going mad, she was thinking of all the wrong things, but with six kids hanging around her neck, she needed money, and she needed the insurance. She needed the house paid off and the loans off her back, not only for the cars, but also for the building work and the new furniture. She needed to focus on that now, and then when it was all over, she could fall apart in peace. Maybe in Tunisia, where the sun shone every day and where her mother phoned her and told her that the kids were fine, and where she could pretend to be footloose and fancy free, and where maybe she might forget about this night and what it entailed.
Every time she thought of Lenny on the floor in all that blood, she felt ill with the worry and the fear of what was going to be the upshot.
Freddie Jackson was eating the bacon sandwiches she had made earlier, and it freaked her out. He was drinking his tea and acting as if this was a normal evening. He had even winked at her. She had four kids in bed, and her eldest two were due round the next day and her husband, the stupid thieving fucker, was dead as a doornail in her new conservatory.
It was surreal, and yet she knew it was really happening because her brain had acknowledged it and was now helping her to try to make some kind of sense out of it. She knew to an outsider she would seem mercenary, cold-blooded, and even hard and uncaring. But she had no intention of falling out with the Jacksons or with Ozzy himself. She had already seen what they were capable of if provoked.
She had six kids aged three to nineteen, and she had to keep her head above water. Get your priorities right had been Lenny's mantra, and that was exactly what she was attempting to do.
Maggie lay in the big bed alone, and wondered what time Jimmy would finally get home. It was three in the morning, and he had left a message saying that he had a bit of business to attend to, that she was not to worry and he would be home as soon as he could.
He was so thoughtful, and she knew he was worried about her and the way she was acting, but she couldn't do anything to allay his fears.
She was wide awake as was usual these days, but she had listened to his message without picking up the phone and talking to him since he would have guessed she hadn't slept yet. She didn't want him home yet, not really. He wanted to hug her, and kiss her, and try to make her happy. He wanted to love her, and she wasn't ready for that. Didn't want any of that, because with Jimmy a cuddle always had to end in sex. Now she just allowed him to take her, and she knew he was aware she was just letting him, that she was not joining in any more.
From the first time they had made love, she had enjoyed it. She had not climaxed then, but she had loved the feeling of him inside her, even though it had hurt. She mirrored his own excitement, and had felt a natural reaction as he had reached his orgasm. He had known that, and she knew he had loved her for it.
At fourteen she had been made aware of what sex was really all about, that it was not just for procreation, not just a quick release, but was the joining of two people who could not get close enough to each other, but who tried to with each encounter they had together. For every deep thrust that Jimmy had penetrated her with, she had arched her back up to meet him with the same fervour and excitement as he felt for her.
Now he kissed her and it felt wrong. His hands on her body no longer felt gentle, his tongue between her legs made her want to gag, because it felt thick and harsh, and coated with white scum like Freddie's had been that night. And even though she knew it wasn't Freddie, that it was her husband, who she loved, the feeling would not go away.
She could still smell him, and she could still feel him, and because of that night she had to live with the knowledge that Jimmy was no longer the only person to have had access to her. She had been proud of that, and she knew he was still proud of it. Only it wasn't true any more.
In the bathroom, where they had lain in the bath and laughed and joked and loved together, she saw only herself on her knees, with Freddie's hands in her hair as he painfully forced her to take him into her mouth. The floor was clean and tidy, but she still saw the long blond hairs that he had ripped from her scalp as she attempted to stop him.
It was ruined, and she could not make it better, not now, nor at any time in the future. Everything that they had worked for together was destroyed and Freddie had deliberately set out to cause that heartbreak. Jimmy's lovemaking was nothing to her any more. She loathed it, and she knew he had realised that, but he was also trying to make it all better somehow, and she knew it could never be fixed.
The deceit was killing her, and Freddie used every opportunity to bait her, to taunt her, like the bed. Taking the bed. Jackie was not thrilled about it, she could tell that much, and she had a feeling that her sister was going to work it all out.
She felt the burn of tears once more and fought to keep them at bay. If Jimmy came in and saw her crying it would start him off again with the questions and the kindness. It was the kindness she couldn't bear.
Maggie didn't sleep any more. She was tired out physically and mentally, but as soon as she got into bed she was wide awake. This new bed was not as comfortable as the old one. Jimmy hated it, but she had insisted that she wanted this one, and as usual he had relented.
When Freddie had asked for the old bed, and Jimmy had given it to him without thinking, she had nearly gone mad with grief. She knew he was lying there night after night remembering what had taken place on it. He had told her over and over that he had never had such a good night's rest, and she had sat at the dining-room table and nodded at him, all the while wanting to vomit up her dinner, and scream with frustration and anger.
Maggie felt the familiar crashing of her heart, and she forced herself to breathe deeply. Panic attacks, the doctor called them, guilt attacks was what she called them. And the guilt weighed on her heavily, because she had brought this on herself and that was so hard to accept. If she had not confronted him, spat at him, maybe this would not have happened. She was OK for days at a time, then it came on top once more. A word, a sentence, a TV programme, or Freddie staring at her with that smirk he had, brought it all back. She didn't know how much longer she could keep herself together.
She had taken to swearing out loud when she was by herself. She broke things, smashed them against the wall, and for a few minutes her pain would subside.
But it always came back.
'You have got to be some kind of fucking twat. What on earth were you thinking of?' They were sitting in the car. Jimmy was trying to get some sense out of Freddie, but it was a waste of time.
Freddie was on one of his quiet times. He had them after he had fucked up big time and normally Jimmy left him to it, but this time it had been too close for comfort and he wanted an explanation.
'Lenny was a fucking twonk, but he did not deserve that, and you know it. And if he had asked you for a ruffle, why didn't you give it to him? I was under the impression he had been weighed out, given a rise for his services. I didn't know he was still on the same earn. That means you were fucking having me over then, don't it? Because if he was still on the same poke then you had to be fucking pocketing the difference, didn't you? Pennies and fucking halfpennies to what we fucking rake in, and now you have killed him over your own petty greed.'
Freddie was still quiet. He lit another cigarette and smoked it calmly while watching Jimmy. He had a wary look in his eye but apart from that, he didn't seem to have a care in the world.
Jimmy was bewildered with it all. 'His wife and kids were in that house. Suppose his wife had fucking monged out, what would you have done, eh? Killed the whole family? Come on, Freddie, I am genuinely interested in what you have to say for yourself.'
Freddie shrugged nonchalantly. 'I lost me temper, that's all.'
Jimmy looked at him. The respect was finally gone, and they both knew it this time.
'You lost it because he had you bang to fucking rights. We should never have been there. He was earning us a fucking good crust, and you were taking his fucking poke. He was a good earner, and he was a friend of Ozzy's. What am I supposed to tell him?'
The mention of Ozzy brought Freddie's full attention, as Jimmy knew it would. He hated using Ozzy like that, but it seemed it was the only way he was going to get this sorted out. Because Freddie had to understand that this could never happen again. It was so fucking dangerous. They could get a life sentence for something that was completely senseless.
'You telling Ozzy, then?'
It was a threat and a statement in one.
Jimmy laughed then, a tired, annoyed laugh. 'Well, he'll have to fucking know. One of his oldest mates and biggest earners is dead, his wife is widowed with six fucking chavvies, and we will have to explain what happened. That is how it works, Freddie, you ain't a law unto yourself, see. We have to explain away things, especially dead fucking blokes who we are getting a good living from, and who are mysteriously gutted like a fish in their fucking own house.'
Freddie had heard enough. His anger was evident. 'Are you having a fucking laugh, mate?' He was stretching his eyes to their utmost. 'Are you telling me that you are going to tell Ozzy the score? Is that what you are trying to say?'
Jimmy was getting angry himself now, and Freddie was reminded of just how strong and fit he actually was.
'I would never do that to you, but I should! You need a fucking lesson, Freddie, you are an accident waiting to happen. Do you want another fucking lump, because I certainly don't want even a remand, let alone a ten or an eighteen.'
Freddie snorted in derision. 'You wouldn't last five fucking minutes in nick, mate…'
He had gone too far. He stopped talking and Jimmy stared at him for long moments before he started up the car.
As he drove along a Sussex country lane, Jimmy could feel the anger welling up inside him again. He stopped the car once more, and he said quietly, 'This has got to stop, Freddie, because I can't be around you any more. You killed that girl and she had your baby. I weighed her mother out for the funeral and the kid and you should have done that, it was your mess, your fucking balls-up. You're a fucking liability, mate. You seem to think you can do what you like, but I tell you now, one day, Freddie, your luck will run out and you will get sent down. And I for one won't give a flying fuck.'
Freddie had listened to him with half an ear but he was thinking about other things. He had a knack of doing that. When he'd made a big fuck-up, he had a clever way of forgetting about it by concentrating on something else he had done, something less important. But even he knew that Jimmy was just about finished with him, and that if that happened, he would not last long on his own.
Jimmy was Ozzy's boy now, and Freddie had been rowed out over the years. It was like he had never existed for Ozzy, like he was the younger man, the kid who had been taken under the wing, except this kid had cut his teeth under his wing and had since bitten it off and spat it out.
He was Freddie Jackson, he was the one who had started this off, and he was now like the fucking gofer.
But for all his anger, and his jealousy, Freddie was also aware that he could never run the different businesses. He had never bothered to listen to the ins and outs of them, he had no interest in minutiae, but Jimmy thrived on it. He should have made himself take more of an active part in the day-to-day running of everything, but he had never needed to. Jimmy had taken to it like a duck to water and he had been stupid enough to believe that he would never go against him. That Jimmy would run things in his own way, but that he, Freddie, the reason they had the fucking work in the first place, would be the key player. The main man, the overseer, the fucking plantation owner. But instead he had gradually been replaced.
He had expected gratitude, he had expected his little Jimmy to be grateful for their good fortune, he had expected his fucking due! Well, he knew different now and he would learn from that.
He had already started his revenge, but he could wait until he was back in the fold. He had plenty of practice at waiting. Plus, he now had something to use against Jimmy and, one day, when the time was right, he would use it. Jimmy would fuck up eventually, he would see to that personally, and when he did it would be of catastrophic proportions. He would see to that as well.
For now, though, he needed to stay in Ozzy's good books and get back on side with Jimmy. He had to help him dispose of Lenny, who was going to be crushed by a farm implement in, of all places, Guernsey. They owned a doctor there who was happy to write out a death certificate and who would make sure the body was cremated sooner rather than later. The main problem was getting the body over there, which is why they were in Sussex going to see a bloke with a boat and a penchant for doing literally anything for money and a decent bit of gear.
Right now, Freddie had to make like he was sorry for his little outburst. But Jimmy would regret taking what was his. Freddie was the taker, he was the one who'd given them the means to take in the first place.
Jimmy, sitting beside him silently, sighed heavily. Then he got out a small packet and cut a couple of lines on the dashboard. He snorted his quickly, aware that Freddie was trying to hide his amazement at what he was witnessing.
'I need this. I am knackered, Fred, and I have to go and visit Ozzy tomorrow, remember.'
Freddie had forgotten that and now he knew it was imperative that he made some kind of peace.
'I am sorry, Jimmy, I could fucking cut me hands off. I lost it, mate, the gear, the drink and fucking Jackie, she's off her tree again…' He left the sentence unfinished, then continued after a few seconds, his voice all pain-filled and sorrowful. 'Little Freddie, well, he's off his fucking trolley, you know that. I have to deal with it on a daily basis. He's out of hand, Jimmy. I can't fucking cope with it all.'
He snorted the line quickly and watched as Jimmy started to cut them another two.
'Are things that bad then, Freddie?'
Jimmy was trying to understand, trying to think the best of him, trying to make some sense out of it all. He loved Freddie, but for a long time he had not liked him. Since Stephanie's death and Freddie's utter disregard for what he had done there had been a wall between them, and now everything they had achieved was at risk.
'Oh, Jimmy, you don't know the half of it. He is seeing a fucking shrink. My little boy is seeing a fucking Looney Tunes expert and the geezer reckons he is borderline fucking psychotic. Jackie is drunk all the time, the girls avoid her like the plague, and poor Little Freddie is on course for the nut house. I can't cope with it any more. I was telling your Maggie about it all the other day and she understood what I was going through because she ain't all that great herself, is she?'
Jimmy stopped cutting the coke and turned to look at Freddie. 'What do you mean? What did she say?'
Freddie could hear the want in his voice, could feel the man's need to know what was wrong with his wife, and he said quietly, 'I don't know, mate. She is down, depressed, but you know that yourself, don't you? I ain't said nothing out of respect like, but it makes you wonder, don't it?'
Jimmy frowned. 'Wonder what?'
Freddie lit another cigarette from the butt of the previous one and then he shrugged, looking all concerned and innocent. 'Well, you know, if it runs in the family. Jackie with her drinking and everything, your Maggie with everything a woman could want, the looks, the nous and the house of her dreams, yet she is still not happy. Then my Little Freddie-'
'What the fuck are you trying to say?'
Freddie had him now, and he knew it. 'Don't get annoyed. I am just saying, she ain't right and you know she ain't. Jackie was telling me a while ago that she had been off the pill for yonks and that you were trying for a kiddie, so maybe that's what is wrong with her.'
It was obvious to Freddie that Jimmy knew nothing about any of this.
'Fuck off, Freddie, you talk out of your arse. We have a fucking dead body in the boot and you are talking about things you know nothing about. Let's concentrate on the job in hand, eh?'
But the damage was done, the seed was planted.
Freddie was contrite now, embarrassed. He held up his hands in supplication, his whole demeanour was now one of abject sorrow and remorse.
'I was only saying, mate, that was all. Just trying to let you know I understand what's going on. Women talk, they tell other birds what they would never dream of telling us. I'm sorry if I spoke out of turn, and you are right. I made a major fuck-up tonight and it has to be sorted, so let's snort this and get this show on the road.'
Jimmy nodded, but he was troubled. He was already worried out of his mind and this new revelation had not helped allay any of his fears.
Ozzy was frowning, and Jimmy was trying to make the news he had to impart as palatable as possible. This was not the easiest task he had ever undertaken but at the end of the day, Freddie was his closest male blood relative, and the person who had given him the opportunity to work and earn for Ozzy in the first place. Freddie had explained that much on the journey down to the Isle of Wight, and Jimmy had to agree with him.
Freddie was outside the nick asleep in the car. He had promised to drive them home so that Jimmy could get a few hours' shuteye himself.
'So Freddie has killed my mate, is that what you are fucking rambling on about?'
Jimmy nodded. For the first time in years he seemed nervous, and Ozzy was reminded of the young man who had walked in all those years ago. A young man who Ozzy had educated and then watched grow in stature and in confidence. He guessed, in fact he had no doubt, that the death of Lenny was not a lawful, or indeed a righteous act. If it had been, Jimmy would have reported it with the minimum of fuss and with the facts all in place, confident that it would be understood and forgotten about in minutes.
'Lenny Brewster was my old mucker. He was a wanker at times, but then we are all guilty of that as you know. But what I want to ascertain is why he was wiped out. If it was for a good cause then I am with you. If it was because that mad cunt Freddie lost that famous temper of his then I want to know that, Jimmy. The truth, so they say, is good for the soul. Now stop fucking about and tell me what actually happened.'
Jimmy really did not need this, but he had to sort it out or Freddie could be dead by the evening. Ozzy had a long arm, and he had a short fuse. He decided to tell him the truth, more or less.
'Look Oz, Lenny was having us over. He was taking his wedge and still ripping us off. We went round his gaff to sort it and he went mad. Said he was your mate, he knew you way back when, all the old shit, and then it went off and Freddie done him. Bosh, bosh, simple as that.'
'Well, if that was the case, why were you dithering? Why the fucking cloak and dagger?'
Jimmy shrugged, and Ozzy saw the sheer power of this young man and knew he had made a good choice.
'He was your mate. I think he felt he had a right to take what he wanted, and Freddie was only going to give him a dig. It just all got out of hand. He was a lairy old fucker.'
Ozzy nodded knowingly. 'Lenny was always a cunt to himself, but he was a good earner, you said yourself how good he was. So why was he feeling the need to cream anything off the top?'
Jimmy was impressed. He realised that Ozzy had sussed it out and he hated himself for lying to him. But what could he do?
Ozzy could see the confusion and the divided loyalty on the boy's face and he liked him even more for that. Freddie was on a death wish, of that he had no doubt. Even in stir he had caused untold aggravation with people he should have left in peace. It was what people like Freddie did. Their whole life was a series of events, and they caused most of them because without the upset and the danger they didn't feel alive. It was this trait that had made Ozzy take Freddie on in the first place, had been the reason he had found him so useful, but this was also what had made him overlook Freddie in favour of this lad here when the opportunity had arisen.
Ozzy knew all about his antagonising the Blacks at every opportunity. He knew all about the dead girl, and he knew about the other little occasions that Freddie thought were secret and therefore unknown to the general population.
Ozzy had a network of people who, in one way or another, answered to him directly, and Jimmy had no real concept of just how intricate that network was. Even Jimmy himself was watched and observed by people he had no idea were on Ozzy's payroll. That was how it all worked.
Ozzy was away for the duration. He knew that now, and his brief had explained it to him in simple terms. They had no intention of letting him walk out without a fight and without him doing a complete turnaround. That meant either becoming a born-again Christian, or doing degrees in sociology or psychology and acting like one of the Guardian-reading lifers he loathed so much.
Because he refused to show any remorse for his crimes, he knew his parole was a long way off, but this suited him. He had been away so long he was now at ease with his environment. He was happy enough because that was what you had to do to survive a big lump. He was cutting his nose off really, because if he would only feign remorse and regret, and kiss the parole board's collective arses, he would be out sooner rather than later. But it was his pride and his standing that stopped him from doing that now. Plus he liked it in here.
'Look, Ozzy, it happened and I dealt with it, OK?' Ozzy smiled then. 'Did you listen to yourself just now?' Jimmy shook his head, glad that Ozzy had a smile back in his voice.
'You said, "it happened and I dealt with it", right?' Jimmy nodded, intrigued. He loved it when Ozzy gave him a lesson in life, and this was what he was going to get now.
'Those words tell me that you had to sort out a mess, a mess that was caused by Freddie Jackson having a mad half-hour and therefore killing poor Lenny for fuck all. Was Freddie doing him out of his few quid? Because Lenny would argue the toss with Man Mountain Dean over a fifty pence piece if he thought he was being had over. Also, Lenny would not take on Freddie or yourself unless he thought he had just cause, which brings us back to money and a fair wage for a good job. He was an earner, he was also my old mate, so he had a right to expect a bit of leeway. Now I ask you one last time, son. Did Freddie do a wrong one, or was it really just a tear-up that got out of hand?'
Jimmy sighed and, pushing his fingers through his thick dark hair, he said quietly, 'He asked for it, Oz. He asked for it and he got it. What more can I say?'
Ozzy shrugged, knowing he was lying, but understanding why. 'Subject closed, then. One last thing, though. Is his old woman after comp?'
'Yes.'
'Cheeky mare, but give it to her because she has always had the knack of keeping her trap shut. Do not give her reason to open it, OK?'
Jimmy knew he was being told that if he didn't want Ozzy to find out the truth for sure, then he should pay her a decent sum.
'Tell Freddie I will let this one go, but tell him one more casualty and he will regret it big time.'
Jimmy was nodding again, but he was quiet, and Ozzy admired his acumen. 'Look, Jimmy, remember when a friend of mine left stir and came to you and Freddie, and the two of them became bosom pals?'
Jimmy looked wary. Bobby Blaine had been on course for a lump from the day of his release.
'Well, he is back inside, not something I was surprised about, but he had a few little anecdotes about Freddie that troubled me. Now, while Freddie is of use to me and mine he is safe. You have given him the benefit of the doubt and I respect that, but if he oversteps the line again, or becomes a liability in any way, shape or form, then I will expect you to sort it out for me once and for all. Do you understand what I am saying?'
Jimmy nodded once more and Ozzy could see that he was capable of doing what was needed. That was all he'd been interested in, really, and now he had his answer.
'Come on, Maggie, cheer up.'
Roxanna was smiling and Maggie forced herself to smile back. Rox was a good Saturday girl, and she used her so she would never be alone.
'Have you been sick again?'
'I feel a bit off, that's all. Nothing to worry about.'
Roxanna looked at her aunt closely. The hair was perfect, the make-up was perfect, but she looked wrong somehow, looked dilapidated, looked all frayed around the edges.
They were in the salon in Leigh-on-Sea. It had just been refurbished in chrome and glass and it was looking fantastic. It overlooked the sea and today, even though it was cloudy and dark outside, the salon, named 'Roxy's' in honour of Maggie's favourite niece, looked inviting, sophisticated and, as was important in Essex, expensive.
Although it wasn't cheap it wasn't actually that pricey, which was the secret to making money in Essex and East London. If it looked good, and if it looked high-priced then you were laughing all the way to the proverbial bank.
As she looked at her newest addition to her chain, Maggie felt nothing. Her usual pride was lost inside her. But she was getting to be such a good actress that no one really noticed. Even her mother had got off her case. She was smiling, she was talking, she was to all intents and purposes back to herself.
But Jimmy knew that despite their success, and the love they had, they couldn't talk any more.
He had stayed out all night again, and she had been pleased, relieved that he wasn't there. Because he was with Freddie, she had even managed to sleep a bit, relaxed in the knowledge that Freddie wasn't going to pop round, or ring her up to talk to her about nothing in particular, while all the time terrorising her.
Roxanna had put the kettle on and made them both coffee. As Maggie sipped hers the urge to vomit was so strong she retched over one of the brand-new glass basins. Her coffee went everywhere, and she dropped the mug on to the floor as she dry-retched over and over again.
Roxanna put her own coffee down gently and went out the back. When she returned with the cleaning equipment, she saw her aunt sitting on one of the new black leather barber's chairs and she said softly, 'Why don't you just do a test, eh? You must know you're pregnant, Auntie Mags?'
Roxy was always with her lately. And the poor girl thought it was because she loved her so much, but that was a lie. She did love her, but she was also her insurance against Freddie. All the time Roxanna was there, he had to keep himself at arm's length.
Now this closeness had been the cause of Rox guessing her condition.
Maggie looked at her niece, and the girl could see the fear in her eyes. Going to her, Roxanna hugged her tightly and said in utter bewilderment, 'What on earth is wrong with you? Please tell me, Mags, I swear I won't say a word. Are you scared of being pregnant? Is that it, mate?'
Maggie pulled herself together. What she had feared more than anything had just been spoken of out loud, and that had somehow made it true. She had forced herself not to think about it, she had pushed the very notion from her head, and she had concentrated on trying to act as normal as possible. Now Rox had made her face up to the one thing she had never wanted to acknowledge.
She was pregnant, and it had to be Freddie's. Even though Jimmy had loved her on the same night Freddie had raped her, he had also loved her over and over for more than a year since she'd stopped the pill, and nothing had happened. Now, the thing she had wanted more than life itself had happened. The thing she had prayed for, dreamed of and wanted so badly, had finally been given to her and she didn't want it.
She felt as if she was being invaded by an alien, and every thought of this child brought nothing but terror and despair.
She hated it already, and now her heart, her little Rox, was looking at her as if she was mad. Maybe, just maybe she was. But her secret was out now and all hell would break loose.
Lena looked at her husband as he spoke and stifled the urge to smash him over the head with the nearest blunt instrument she could lay her hands on.
'You silly little mare, is that what you had your mother nearly in bits over, eh? A bleeding baby! You women and your hormones. I told her it was something and nothing, didn't I, Lena?'
Lena gave Joseph such a look it would have floored a lesser man, and he finally took the hint and shut up. Opening his paper, he studied the racing form and not for the first time wondered at the antics of females. Maggie was having a baby, but anyone would think she had terminal cancer by the look on her boat race.
He sighed and concentrated on his horses. They at least were consistent. They ran, they lost and they didn't answer back.
Lena handed her daughter a cup of tea, and sat down next to her.
'You look like the girl who lost a fiver and found a penny. Please, my love, tell me what is so bad about having a baby. I thought it was what you wanted.'
'It is, Mum. I think I am just whacked out what with the new salon and everything.'
As Maggie had predicted, Rox had started to spread the news. It was now three in the afternoon and her mother and father had already been informed. Now she had to face Jimmy and Jackie and him. Oh, he would be round their house so fast, she knew he would. And so she had to pull herself together and make him believe it was Jimmy's, even though she was certain it must be Freddie's.
It felt like Freddie's baby, it felt evil and wrong to her. It felt like an interloper. It had been planted inside her with hate, and that was all she felt for it.
She wished it dead with all her being, but she couldn't say that. She was going to have to tell Jimmy she was over the moon about it, and watch him celebrate his fatherhood. And she would do it, because if Freddie guessed the truth then her life really would be over.
Jimmy was holding his wife in his arms and telling her how much he loved her. All her moods and her funny behaviour should now be forgotten, because it could all be put down to her condition.
She was having their baby, and even though he was worried about why she had kept it to herself for so long, he was thrilled.
All the family was coming round later, and he had bought champagne to toast the happy event. The girls were there already making sandwiches, and his wife was sitting on their bed and not saying a word.
After the night he had experienced, and his visit with Ozzy, this news had been a godsend. He had needed this, had needed something good to happen. Yet she had told him over the phone, just blurted it out. He had been speechless with wonderment and happiness, but now he felt once more that there was something radically wrong with her. She was like a robot, smiling and chatting, except the smile did not reach her eyes and her chat was forced. This all felt off kilter. It was like he was part of a play or it was a game. He loved this woman with all his being, but he didn't know her any more. They were both pretending that nothing was wrong, and he hoped against hope that it was just her hormones, as Lena had told him earlier.
She knew he had been worried about Maggie, because he had gone to talk to her a while back, had asked her if she had said anything, if he had done something maybe that he hadn't realised, and upset her.
But Lena had assured him then that it was just a blip, that all marriages had them, that the romance couldn't last and Maggie was probably tired from the work in the salons. Jimmy had grabbed that excuse with both hands, believing she was right because he'd needed to believe it. But now, here she was, sitting on the bed he had not wanted but she had insisted on getting, carrying their child, the thing that they had wanted more than anything else in the world, and she looked like death warmed up.
He was frightened. Kneeling down, he took her hands in his, and he said gently, 'Are you all right, Mags? Are you happy we're having a baby?' She looked into his eyes. He was so good looking, and he had been all she had wanted. He needed her to tell him what he wanted to hear, and she knew that she had to be convincing.
Abortion was not an option because of her Catholic upbringing, but a plan formed in her mind as she forced a warm smile and said, ''Course I am, mate, but I have got morning, noon and night sickness. I just feel so bloody rough.'
He kissed her gently on the lips and for the first time in ages she didn't pull away.
'I love you, Maggie, you are everything to me. You know that, don't you?'
She felt her eyes fill with tears, and she nodded her head and said sadly, 'I know, mate, I know.'
Jackie was delighted. Now that Maggie was in the club she could relax a bit. She knew from bitter experience that Freddie didn't enjoy pregnant women, in fact she had been ignored to the point of fighting when she had been carrying Little Freddie.
She wanted this so much because now she could be friends again with Maggie, proper friends, like before. All her little sister's power was gone. She was now a pregnant woman and Jackie could again play the older sister, giving her advice, helping her understand what was happening, and being the know-all. This was what she craved, what she needed. This was something she had already done, and Maggie, for all her cleverness and her salons, had never experienced.
The girls were already at Maggie's. Jackie was in the car with her two Freddies and she wasn't even bothered by the fact that her husband was ignoring her. In fact, he looked annoyed, but then again Little Freddie had thrown his gold lighter out of the car window earlier.
Maggie, her lovely little Maggie, was out of bounds, and that was all that mattered.
Tight me a fag, Jack, and clump that fucker before he falls out the window, will you?'
She turned in her seat and punched Little Freddie in the arm. Any other child would have screamed in pain. It was a serious and heavy punch that had all her strength behind it since any other kind of punch would have been useless.
Little Freddie grabbed her hair and tried to drag her into the back seat, all the time effing and blinding at her.
Freddie watched his wife and son and wondered at a life where everything was shit. Complete and utter shit. He let go of the steering wheel with one hand and he hit his son with such force the child was knocked back against the leather upholstery and badly winded. Once more, the boy did not cry out or express anything that could indicate he had been hurt.
He had let go of his mother's hair, though, and Jackie sat back up in her seat and tried to tidy herself up. She had really made an effort tonight and she was pleased with how she looked.
'Light the fucking fag, Jack, and you, little boy, had better watch yourself because I ain't in the fucking mood for all this, right?' He looked at his son in the mirror on the dash. Little Freddie nodded, but his eyes were slits and his face was dark with anger.
Freddie was annoyed, and he was tired, but as they pulled up on the drive of Jimmy and Maggie's lovely detached residence and went inside, his mood lifted without the aid of narcotics.
Maddie was there as always, and she was thrilled for the young couple. As she said to Lena, it was a new life and a new era.
Lena hugged her. She actually liked Maddie these days. She was a long way from the woman she had been when her husband was alive.
Jimmy's mum and dad were there for once, and quiet as always. Deirdre was taking everything in but not saying a word unless asked a question directly. Lena had gone right off them a long time ago, but like everything else in life, you had to smile and be nice because they were always going to be around.
Lena noticed that Maggie was looking better. She seemed happier than she had for ages, her make-up was perfect and she had dressed in a lovely white dress. It was fitted, and in it her little bump was evident and this alone cheered her. Jimmy and Maggie would produce a beautiful child, she was sure of that. Unlike Freddie and Jackie, who had gorgeous children but didn't appreciate them, she knew that these two would make wonderful parents.
Especially her Maggie, because even though Jimmy was a Face, and a ducker and diver, he had more than provided for his family. Even if he had a capture her daughter would be all right financially. Unlike that ponce, who had just walked in like he owned the place, and who had left her oldest child without a pot to piss in and a belly full of arms and legs.
Freddie had bought a magnum of champagne. He walked straight up to Maggie and, giving it to her, he said loudly, 'Congratulations. We were all beginning to think he was firing blanks!'
Maggie smiled her brightest smile and said gaily, 'Well, you were wrong, Freddie. My Jimmy is all man.'
Jimmy was beside her by then, and as he slipped his arm around his tiny wife's waist Freddie said in a jocular voice, 'Sure you didn't have any help with it, Jim?'
But he was looking at Maggie as he spoke and she couldn't meet his eyes. Instead she hugged her husband and buried her face in his sweet-smelling shirt.
'Fucking cheek, like I would need any help in that department.'
Anyone who knew them would not guess that they were both pretending that everything was all right. Jimmy wanted to throw Freddie from his home, but he couldn't.
'I thought she might have changed her man for the night, that's what the old biddies used to say, ain't it, Mum?'
Maddie nodded, happy he had noticed her and brought her into the conversation.
Freddie raised his voice as he continued, 'Remember the other old saying, Jimmy, it's a wise child that knows its mother, and a very wise child that knows its father!'
Everyone laughed. As Jackie watched the little tableau, she felt the jealousy rise inside her. He had never ever made a fuss like that of her, and she had been through it five times if she included the baby she had lost.
Maggie went over to her, and hugged her. 'All right, Jack?'
Jackie tried to ignore her anger, and hugged her little sister with all the warmth she could muster. 'I am so pleased for you, Mags. Kids are the best thing that can happen to you.'
As she said that, Little Freddie kicked Lena in the shins and the slap she gave him was loud in the room, and knocked him off his feet. He was battered on a regular basis and consequently he was as hard as nails.
'You little fucker! You try that again and I'll skin you alive.'
Little Freddie was laughing his head off at his grandmother and as Maggie looked around her at the smiling faces she felt she was going to go mad.
She was sitting on the toilet seat and gathering herself together when Freddie finally managed to catch her on her own. The lock on the bathroom door could be opened from the outside if necessary. He had watched her covertly, and waited patiently all night to get her alone. He walked in and saw the fear come into her eyes at his presence.
'Calm down. I didn't know you were in here, did I?'
Maggie stood up quickly, and he looked down at her and marvelled at how little she was. He was a big man, and she was tiny even to most people of average height. This was one of the things that attracted him to her.
He remembered the feel of her, remembered how tiny her waist was, how full her breasts and how small her hands were in his. She was lovely, and he had never enjoyed a woman so much in his life.
As he looked her over she felt a rage inside her that made her almost happy. She had felt nothing for so long that any feeling was welcome.
'Get out, Freddie, or I am going to scream the place down.'
He smiled at her, holding his arm out as if inviting her to leave. 'Feel free, scream away.'
She pushed past him then, and he grabbed her arm, hurting her. But he made sure he didn't mark her, and she knew then that he was frightened of Jimmy.
After the debacle at Lenny's, Jimmy was on the edge. He had smoothed it all over with Oz, but Freddie knew that there had been a lot said this day that he would never know about. Jimmy had to have been given the hard word, he was sure of that much. He wasn't silly, he knew Ozzy was germed up on everyone he had on his payroll. So he was dicing with death doing this, because if Jimmy caught them there would be murders.
But this was too good a chance to miss. 'You sure you ain't got anything to tell me?'
He was giving her that smile which made the object of his mirth feel like they were nothing, a nobody.
'I'm sure. What on earth would I have to tell a piece of shit like you, Freddie?' She sounded strong and she was grateful that at least the anger was working for her, it was making her want to fight him.
'Funny you are pregnant now though, don't you think? Jackie told me about when you came off the pill.'
She didn't answer him, just raised her eyebrows as if he was a complete idiot.
'I mean, you have to see it from my point of view, don't ya? This could be another little Freddie, couldn't it?'
He was goading her, but she swallowed her fear as she shrugged his hand off her arm. 'You really think you are something special, don't you? Well, I am well over three months, mate, so stop congratulating yourself. Now get out of my way or this time I will cause fucking ructions. I know all about Lenny, Jimmy tells me everything. Unlike you and my sister, we have a good marriage. You or fifty like you couldn't ruin it for us, Freddie. You are nothing but a thug, and you can't hurt me any more.'
She was staring into his eyes and she looked triumphant when she saw the shock on his face at her words. 'You are nothing to me, and this baby is a little Jimmy. It will be decent, and it will be educated, and it will be as far from the animal called Little Freddie that you two dragged into the world as is humanly possible. Now get out of my way.'
He stepped aside this time and she opened the door. Her head was splitting, but she walked away from him with her head held high and her back straight and she made her way down the stairs and back to the party with a smile on her face and a cheery word for whoever spoke to her.
It was what she had dreaded more than anything, and it had happened, and she was still there. Her world had not collapsed and the fear was lessening now she had faced him. This was how she was going to play it, and having started this deceit she had to see it through to the bitter end.
Freddie had already destroyed so much that she held dear, but he would not find out that he must have fathered the child her husband believed was his. And it would never occur to Jimmy that it wasn't his. He trusted her, and he had once had every reason to trust her.
This child had been forced on her, and she was going to have to pretend that she wanted it, loved it and cared for it. She had to front this out and she was determined to do just that.
If Freddie even had an inkling that she thought it was his he would never let her forget it, and Jimmy would be completely destroyed if the truth came out. And she now realised that was what all this was really about. Jimmy had climbed up the tree of success while Freddie was still on the lowest branches.
He was a vindictive and dangerous adversary, but she had to protect herself, her husband and her sanity.
She prayed that night and every night that the child inside her would die.
She was delivered of a son on the first of November 1996.
He was named James Jackson Junior, and his mother cried for three days after the birth.