Tangled Lives

by Stephanie Harte

  ‘Did you ask Gemma what happened?’ Dad stood up from his chair and went to get two more beers out of the fridge.

  I shook my head. ‘No, she was too distressed to talk about it.’ I knew I had to tread carefully; anyone could see Gemma was teetering on the edge.

  Dad passed me a bottle and then bowed his head. ‘I hope Jethro didn’t take Gemma and Luca to get back at me. There’s been a war raging between our families for years.’

  ‘I know, Dad, but I don’t think Jethro’s the one we have to worry about.’ I stood up, placed my hands behind my head and stretched out my neck.

  ‘What makes you so sure? Jethro was the one who took them, wasn’t he?’ Dad searched my face for the answer to his question.

  ‘I know he did, but he was probably following Alfie’s orders.’ I dropped my hands and cracked my knuckles.

  ‘But why would Alfie take them?’ Dad questioned, his blue eyes full of concern.

  It was a long story and not one I wanted to go into. I’d come to England to get to know my father; I didn’t want the Watsons to dominate the time we had together. I sat back down at the table, picked up my bottle of beer and started peeling the label from it. I didn’t want to tell my dad that Gemma and I had taken Alfie’s money when he’d torched his yacht, knowing we were trapped inside it, and now he wanted that money back.

  21

  Gemma

  No relationship can be sunshine and roses all the time, but since my encounter with Alfie, I found myself increasingly withdrawing from Nathan as I battled to overcome the depression I was experiencing. I felt like nobody understood what I was going through, not even my husband, the person closest to me. That seemed strange as he always assumed the role of my best friend, confidant and emotional support-giver.

  It was difficult to explain. I was experiencing a type of loneliness that couldn’t be cured by spending time around others. The only way I could deal with it was to retreat inside myself. But in the process, I’d ended up distancing myself from the very person who was trying to help me. I knew I was pushing my husband away, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself from doing it. Why do we try to hurt the ones we love the most?

  Life had been good while we were living in Puerto Banús. Nathan and I had spent an idyllic year locked in our own little bubble, blissfully happy together like we were newlyweds again. We couldn’t keep our hands off each other. We’d agreed to put our relationship first after a rocky couple of months derailed our marriage, and it nearly ended in divorce. Everything was going well between us. We were back on track, so when I discovered I was pregnant, it was the icing on the cake.

  Considering Nathan had sat on the fence for years about starting a family, it was amazing to see him with Luca now. He was embracing fatherhood and was determined to be involved in all aspects of Luca’s life. He’d come a long way from the man who was scared he wouldn’t make a good father because he hadn’t had a role model. He’d been worried about nothing; Nathan was a brilliant dad, and that made me love him even more if that was possible.

  Nathan and I both had difficult childhoods. My relationship with my family was non-existent. I knew how much that hurt even though I pretended it didn’t. Now that I was a mother, I sometimes found myself wishing I had a relationship with my mum. But that was a pipe dream. It was never going to happen. Even before we fell out, we didn’t have a natural mother and daughter bond. Despite what I’d like to believe, the female of the species isn’t hardwired to love her offspring. My mum didn’t possess any maternal warmth, and she was the last person I’d go to in a crisis or share a secret or a problem with.

  I envied the bond other women had with their mothers, especially now that Nathan and Rosa were estranged. Since Nathan and I had been a couple, Rosa had been like a mother to me, and I missed her company and that of my surrogate Italian family. Nathan’s relatives were amazing, and they had welcomed me with open arms and showered me with unconditional love and kindness, feelings that were quite alien to me. In the beginning, they’d made me feel at home even though I was a stranger and now that I was part of their family, I knew they would always be there for me, through thick and thin. I loved the traditional values they held. Rosa always said her family was the most important aspect of her life, and I couldn’t agree with her more. I wouldn’t trade Nathan and Luca for the world.

  My family could learn a lot from the Italian culture. Rosa was warm-hearted and generous, whereas my parents cut me off because they were disappointed in my choice of partner. They didn’t approve of Nathan and thought he was a liability. My parents told me that if I married him, they would write me out of their will. What kind of people would do that to their child? That was the last time I ever saw them. I haven’t had any contact with them since that day. Even though at times that was painful, nothing I did was ever good enough for them. It might seem like an extreme measure, but closing the door on our toxic relationship had a positive effect on me.

  Looking back, I feel that experience honestly changed my life for the better. They’d done me a huge favour. I wished I’d cut contact with them sooner. I could have saved myself a lot of heartache.

  Because we’d both had difficult childhoods, we shared common ground. We both wanted everything in our son’s life to be perfect. Neither of us wanted him to grow up the way we had. We believed that if we established a strong parent–baby bond right from the start, it would set Luca up for healthy relationships throughout his life. We were both determined to get this right. Nathan had managed it, but the irrational thoughts that were taking up so much space in my head meant I wasn’t able to access the small piece of rational mind that was available. There was a big difference between being protective towards my son and smothering him. It was essential that I got the balance right for everybody’s sake.

  In the past, I’d been plagued with feelings of inadequacy. My deep-seated fear of failure and not being good enough had always been bubbling under the surface, no matter how many times Nathan bolstered my sense of self-worth. Now that it had been triggered again, I felt like I was drowning. I couldn’t see anything but the waves and the water. I was in danger of going under.

  I was scared of what was about to happen. I wanted to take Luca and run, but deep down, I knew there was no point. Alfie had eyes and ears everywhere. It wouldn’t matter where I went, he would come and find us. Nathan and I thought we’d covered our tracks and left him no leads when we moved to Spain. Life was good while we’d thought we’d vanished into thin air. But in the back of my mind, I’d known all along that something wasn’t right. Somebody had been watching us. If I tried to run away, I was going to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder. Living the life of a fugitive would play havoc with my nerves, and at this moment in time, they were frazzled enough. Waiting for Alfie to make his next move was torture. He was taunting me with his silent presence. Fear dominated every aspect of my life.

  I was still trying to come to terms with the fact that Alfie wasn’t behind bars. How could he be a free man? I knew he’d always considered himself bulletproof, but the police had finally caught up with him and arrested him. That wasn’t something I’d imagined; I’d seen it with my own eyes. Interpol had named Alfie Watson as the gang leader and high-profile member of an international drug-smuggling ring that they had been trying to infiltrate for years.

  Nathan and I thought the case was clear-cut, so we hadn’t bothered to follow his trial. It would have been torturous, and we’d been through enough already. In a desperate bid to move on from the traumatic experience we’d been through, we’d decided to have a news blackout. The media only ever reported on stories that were depressing or shocking anyway, so we wouldn’t be missing much. Our time with Alfie had taught us that it could be extremely stressful reading about yourself in the paper or seeing your image flash up on TV and we’d endured enough stress to last us a lifetime. We’d thought ignorance was bliss until we found out the truth.

  For the last few days, I’d been constantly wa
tching the clock. I hated playing the waiting game, but that was how this business worked. Alfie wanted to make this as agonising for us as possible, and his tactic was working. The passing of time was a powerful tool. While I waited for the dreaded moment to arrive, my confidence was being chipped away. I’d become a prisoner in my own home as the ticking clock dominated every detail of my life. As the stress intensified, it was impossible to get things into perspective. I couldn’t see a way out of this situation.

  My mobile began to ring on the bedside table, and the sound of it made me jump. With fumbling fingers, I swiped at the screen to answer the call. Alfie spoke before I had a chance to say anything.

  ‘Hello, Gemma. Aren’t you going to venture out today?’ His voice was filled with vengeful delight. I could picture him with a smug look on his face, and it made anger rise up within me.

  He wanted me to know he was watching me. ‘Leave me alone, Alfie.’ My words came out sharply; I couldn’t help it. The man had put me through hell.

  Alfie didn’t answer, and the phone went dead.

  22

  Gemma

  ‘Gemma, come out here now and bring the baby with you,’ Alfie shouted at the top of his voice while banging on the front door with his fist.

  Nathan, Gareth and I exchanged worried glances. It was almost midnight, and we were just about to go to bed when our unwelcome visitor had turned up. When I didn’t answer, Alfie began pounding on the door once more. The whole street must have been able to hear the commotion. Tears sprang from my eyes. Alfie was terrifying when he acted like this. I knew I didn’t have a choice. I’d have to do what he said.

  ‘Nathan, I’m scared.’ After looking into my husband’s eyes, I glanced over to where Luca lay in his Moses basket, with his arms above his head, fast asleep, oblivious to the drama unfolding around him.

  ‘Don’t be. We’re not going to let Alfie anywhere near you.’ Nathan walked out of the living room and down the hall. He was just about to open the front door when Gareth put his hand on his shoulder.

  ‘Let me deal with this,’ Gareth said, stepping in front of his son.

  The sound of the gunshot resonated around the hall as the bullet entered the house. I stood in the living room doorway, holding on to the architrave with my mouth open. It all happened so quickly, one minute we were drinking tea, and the next, all hell had broken loose. I watched helplessly from the other end of the hallway as my father-in-law fell to the floor with blood pouring from his leg. The still-smoking barrel of the gun, sticking through the letterbox, was only inches away and was pointing ominously at him.

  Gareth had scrunched his eyes closed to try to block out the pain. He was writhing in agony on the laminate floor when the front door burst open. Alfie stood in the entrance, dressed in a charcoal grey suit. It was dark outside, but a street light shone brightly behind him. He still had the revolver in his hand as his tall frame stepped over Gareth’s crumpled body before he pushed past Nathan, who was crouched at his father’s side, trying to stem the bleeding with his bare hands. There was so much blood coming from the wound; it ran between Nathan’s fingers. The once-white walls were covered in tiny splatters; it had gone everywhere.

  When Alfie paced down the hall towards me, he trod in Gareth’s blood and left a trail of red footprints behind him. Nathan didn’t attempt to stop him; he was too busy trying to help his father.

  ‘Where’s Luca?’

  I looked at him with wide eyes as I backed myself into the corner. I wanted to drop to the floor and curl into a ball, but what good would that do?

  ‘Gemma, where’s Luca?’

  I could see the gun in Alfie’s hand, and it sent a shiver down my spine. I couldn’t answer him. I was too shocked to speak. Instead, I stood staring at him, trembling like a leaf. The colour drained from my face, and I felt my breath catch in my chest when Alfie turned away from me and walked into the living room where my baby was sleeping.

  He looked over his shoulder at me and laughed. Seeing me white-faced delighted him. Alfie undid the button of his suit and put the gun back into the holster concealed inside his jacket. He bent down and undid the clips that attached Luca’s bassinet to the stand. As he gently lifted the cradle, I sprang across the room to stop him. Placing my hands on the handles, I tried to pull it away from Alfie, but his grip was too tight.

  ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ I shouted. If Alfie thought I was going to stand back and let him take my son, he had another thing coming.

  Alfie repositioned the cradle so he could hold the straps with one hand, then he reached forward and grabbed the sleeve of my jumper tightly. Turning on his heel, he pulled me from the room. I tried to make myself as heavy as possible by digging my feet into the floor, but Alfie trailed me along behind him with ease. As we approached Nathan, he jumped up from his father’s side and tried to block Alfie’s path, but Knuckles was waiting outside the front door, so he came to his boss’s aid. The huge man stepped into the hallway, and using the butt of his gun, he hit Nathan on the back of the head.

  My husband hit the floor with a thud, and it shook me to the core. I screamed at the top of my lungs, but nobody was going to come and help us. The high-pitched noise woke Luca, and he began to cry. Alfie passed the basket containing my wailing son to Knuckles. Alfie’s minder walked over to the Mercedes, opened the front passenger door and placed Luca on the leather seat.

  ‘When we go outside, I don’t want to hear a sound out of you, do you get my drift?’ Alfie was standing so close to me, I could feel his breath on my cheek. ‘Don’t speak until I tell you to.’

  I didn’t answer him, but I nodded, so he knew I’d understood the order. Dry-mouthed fear had taken my voice again. I tried to hold back my tears as I stepped over the bodies of my husband and father-in-law lying in the narrow hallway. A feeling of nausea came over me, and I thought I was going to be sick. I was now at the mercy of this cold-blooded killer. There was no telling what he might do. The thought of that sent my pulse rate soaring, and my head started to spin.

  I looked up at Alfie with panic-filled eyes. The man was a lunatic; there was no disputing that. ‘Please don’t take us away,’ I begged. A feeling of helplessness washed over me, and I couldn’t hold the tears back any longer. They began streaming down my face.

  Gareth’s rented two-bedroom house in Crofts Way was situated just off the high street. I couldn’t help noticing it was unusually quiet tonight. In fact, it was more than quiet; it was completely deserted. Under normal circumstances, I would have expected the sound of a gun firing in a residential area to have drawn a crowd, even in the East End of London, but there wasn’t a soul to be seen. I suppose with Knuckles’ huge frame standing guard outside the front door as a deterrent, anyone who might have been curious to see what was happening had decided to stay away for their own safety. There wasn’t a single curtain in the road twitching.

  The appalling crimes that Alfie had just committed hadn’t produced a single witness apart from myself that was. How was that even possible in a busy London suburb? I knew it was no coincidence. Alfie was well known in the area, and anybody with any sense would stay well out of his way unless they were looking for trouble. If anybody attempted to cross him, he would take on the role of judge and jury and determine the unfortunate person’s fate. He had a reputation for dishing out such brutal punishments that only a fool would be prepared to step out of line.

  As Alfie bundled me into the car, I felt an agonising pain in my chest. But it wasn’t a physical pain, it was an emotional one. Having to leave Nathan and Gareth behind, not knowing what was going to happen to them, was tearing me apart. Would this be the last time I’d see my husband and father-in-law?

  23

  Gemma

  ‘Take a seat in here, Gemma, and Knuckles will get you a drink,’ Jethro said, leading me towards a dark purple armchair in the corner of the living room next to the fireplace.

  ‘I don’t want anything, thank you,’ I replied, trying to hold back
my tears. My head was throbbing; I’d been silently crying since we left Gareth’s house. I was on edge. I knew I was at breaking point, but I’d have to pull myself together, put on a tough exterior and adopt an empowered frame of mind. If I was going to take on the Watsons, I’d need to regain my mental strength, but at this moment in time, that would be easier said than done.

  Knuckles brought Luca’s carrycot in and put it down by the side of my chair. He was fast asleep, but I lifted him out anyway and held him in the crook of my arm. I wanted to keep my son close to me.

  I tried to hide in the shadows, as I watched Alfie striding around the bar area with a tumbler of neat Jack Daniel’s clenched in his hand.

  ‘What’s the matter, Alf? It’s obvious something’s bothering you by the way you’re behaving.’ Jethro lifted a cut-glass gin balloon to his mouth and took a sip of his drink.

  ‘The fuckers wouldn’t let me in, so what was I meant to do?’ Alfie glared at his father before looking down and swirling the drink in his glass.

  Jethro let out a slow breath like he was blowing away his frustration. Alfie was expecting his dad to read between the lines and work out for himself what had happened this evening. But even in the violent circles they moved in, I doubted very much he would guess what Alfie had done.

  ‘You’re going to have to elaborate. I’m not a mind reader, Alf.’

  ‘I fired my gun through the letterbox to scare them, and I ended up shooting Gareth in the leg.’

  Jethro rolled his eyes. ‘Couldn’t you have forced the door in instead?’

  So it wasn’t just me who thought Alfie’s behaviour was insane even by his standards. Jethro thought it too. Only a psychotic lunatic would do a thing like that. What kind of man puts a gun through a person’s letterbox and fires a shot when there’s a baby in the house just because they didn’t open the door?