Back in the Game

by Caz Finlay

  Grace walked up the rickety wooden steps leading to Nudge Richards’s portakabin. She and Nudge had been friends for a long time and since Grace had once helped him out of a tricky situation, he was always happy to return the favour in any way he could.

  ‘Grace, love,’ he smiled as he opened the door to her. His large frame almost filling the doorway, he had to step aside to let her in.

  ‘Hiya, Nudge. How are things?’ she asked.

  ‘Not bad, girl. You know how it is. I get by.’

  Nudge owned a successful scrapyard, but was also well known for being able to get his hands on absolutely anything. He could probably get you the Hope Diamond for the right price.

  ‘Fancy a brew?’ Nudge asked as he indicated for her to take a seat.

  ‘Only if you wash the mugs first, Nudge. I don’t fancy getting dysentery.’ She laughed as she took off her coat and sat down.

  ‘For you, girl, I’ll even use the Fairy liquid.’

  When they were both settled with a hot mug of tea, Nudge started to talk. ‘So, I used the information you gave me to do a little digging. I even visited my old mate, Annie, down the knocking shop.’ He grinned.

  Grace shook her head. No doubt information wasn’t the only thing he got in there. ‘And?’ she asked.

  ‘You were right. Bobby White is the one trying to take over Jake’s business.’

  ‘I knew it. It makes sense. But what I can’t figure out is who he is and where the hell he’s come from.’

  ‘Seems to be from all over the place. Some people say Manchester, some Newcastle, Scotland. One fella told me he was from fucking Cornwall!’

  ‘I’ve never even heard of him, and I haven’t been away that long.’

  ‘No. I hadn’t heard of him until recently either. He came to me looking for some crossbows. Not the sort of stuff you can get hold of easily either. The really nasty ones he was after.’

  ‘Did you get them for him?”

  ‘Of course,’ Nudge said with a look of pride on his face.

  ‘So what’s he like?’

  ‘Same as most of them. Arrogant prick. Thinks he’s God’s gift. Fat fucker. Face like the arse end of a bus.’ He laughed at his own joke. ‘Anyway, if you want to get hold of him, he’s got a bar near the Baltic Triangle.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Yep. Some fancy gin place. His wife, Leanne, runs it. She’s from round here like.’

  Grace sipped her tea. Nudge had given her plenty to think about. So now she knew who Bobby was, she just needed to find a way to get one over on him. She needed an edge and she would find one. She always did. Maybe she’d give her old friend Sandra Redman a call? Grace didn’t particularly relish the thought of meeting up with Sandra again, especially given her son Eddie’s antics and the fact that the twins had recently beaten him up. But Sandra worked as a doctor’s receptionist and had always been happy to search the NHS records for information. She was someone else whom Grace had helped out in a time of need and she was always happy to repay the favour. And people like Bobby always had a skeleton or two in their closets.

  Little did Grace know, Bobby had a whole graveyard.

  Chapter 23

  Grace sat in one of the comfortable chairs sipping her gin and tonic and wishing it was a brandy, while she waited for Sandra in Bobby White’s bar, Gin Blossom. She looked around and decided it was a nice enough place, if a little pretentious. Full of hipsters and stockbroker and banker types, Grace thought, rather than the men in suits she was used to. She wondered if Bobby would even show his face in the place, but she’d heard he liked to mix with the cool people and enjoyed being lord of the manor. Besides, she was meeting Sandra anyway and it was a worth a try.

  Twenty minutes late, as usual, Sandra came rushing through the doors, shaking the rain from her coat and long blonde hair as she did. Grace waved to her and she made her way over.

  ‘Hi, stranger,’ Sandra said as she embraced Grace in an awkward fashion, no doubt to try and prevent soaking Grace’s thin dress with rainwater. ‘It’s just started chucking it down out there.’

  ‘I can tell.’ Grace replied. ‘I got you a gin. Elderflower and rosehip,’ she said with a flash of her eyebrows.

  ‘Ooh fancy.’ Sandra took a seat opposite her friend.

  ‘I’m sorry I’ve hardly been in touch,’ Grace said. ‘I just—’

  ‘Don’t worry about it.’ Sandra waved her hand dismissively. ‘I know you had to get away. After everything that happened, who could blame you? I’m just glad to see you now. You’re looking so well. And tell me all about this baby girl of yours.’

  Grace told Sandra about Belle and how besotted with her she was.

  ‘She must be one soon then?’ Sandra asked.

  Grace nodded. ‘So how is Eddie?’ she asked. She’d been apprehensive about contacting Sandra after what happened with Eddie. But she’d thought it was worth the risk. Eddie would never tell his mother the truth about why he’d ended up taking a beating that landed him in hospital.

  ‘To be honest, Grace, I rarely see him these days,’ she sighed. ‘I haven’t seen him for weeks. He phones me now and then, but he only turns up when he wants something, usually money. I have no idea where he’s even living. I don’t know what I did wrong with that lad, I really don’t.’ She shook her head.

  ‘You did nothing wrong, Sandra. Maybe it’s his father’s genes coming out in him?’ Grace said, relieved that Sandra didn’t even appear to know that Eddie had been beaten up.

  Sandra bristled and Grace regretted her statement immediately. It was one thing to criticise your own child, but having someone else do it was an entirely different matter.

  ‘I’m sorry, Sandra. I didn’t mean … I’m sure Eddie will get himself sorted soon,’ she said, hoping that it was true. Because the way he was going, he’d end up in an unmarked grave, or floating facedown in the Mersey.

  ‘I know.’ Sandra sniffed. ‘I just worry about him so much. But enough of my troubles. How is Jake doing? It must be hard on him not having you around?’

  ‘Oh, he’s okay,’ Grace lied. ‘He’s taken over Nathan’s club, The Blue Rooms, so he’s trying to make a go of that. I’ve come back to help him out for a few months, just while he learns the ropes.’ Grace would never tell her friend about Jake’s troubles. It was a world Sandra wasn’t a part of and knew little about. No doubt she’d be horrified to learn what Jake really did, and what her own son considered his day job too.

  Grace ordered another round of drinks from the waitress and handed over the cash.

  ‘I’ll pay for these,’ Sandra said but Grace would have none of it. ‘It’s my treat for being such a poor friend lately.’ She was about to ask Sandra a favour and plying her with a few gin and tonics beforehand would probably grease the wheels a little.

  Grace marvelled at how quickly she had been sucked back into her old life – her old ways. Here she was, about to take advantage of a friend, someone she hadn’t seen for ages. It made her feel awkward, but nevertheless, it had to be done. It was for Jake, after all.

  The waitress placed their drinks on the table and Grace was about to ask Sandra to dig up some information on Bobby White when she heard a multitude of voices raised in greeting.

  ‘All right.’

  ‘Nice to see you.’

  ‘Hello, big fella.’

  She craned her neck to see as the recipient walked towards the bar. It had to be Bobby White. Tall. Wide. Slicked-back hair. He certainly walked through the place like he owned it. He had his back to Grace, but then someone tapped his shoulder and he turned around giving Grace a good view of his face.

  She almost shouted his name with delight. She knew him. He was older, and much wider, but she would never have forgotten that face. She smiled.

  ‘What are you looking so pleased about?’ Sandra said.

  ‘What?’ Grace said, for a moment forgetting Sandra was there. ‘Oh, nothing.’ She picked up her glass and raised it towards Sandra. ‘To old friends.’ She
smiled.

  Chapter 24

  Sandra returned the magazine to her handbag as the train trundled slowly along the track. Pressing her head against the window, she watched the rivulets of rain running down the glass and thought about her evening with Grace.

  She loved Grace. She’d missed her when she’d moved away and apart from the odd text message and occasional phone call, they’d barely had any contact. And even though Sandra had understood Grace’s decision, it didn’t make it hurt any less. She wasn’t great at making friends, and Grace was one of the few people she counted as one. Now that Eddie barely had time for her either, she was always lonely. Her husband, Richie, was busy at work or with his hobbies – Airfix and cycling, two things she had absolutely no interest in.

  Poor Eddie. He was so messed up. Whenever she saw him, he was drunk, or on something. She knew he took drugs; she could tell by the way his eyes were always glazed over. She’d tried so hard to help him but he threw it all back in her face.

  Of course, he hadn’t had it easy growing up; with no father around and little money, it had been hard for him. Not like Grace’s son, Jake. Nathan had seemed to dote on that kid and he always had the best of everything. Why was he any different to Eddie? Just because he had a different mother. Eddie was as much Nathan’s son as Jake was. And now Eddie was struggling to make ends meet, while Jake was living the high life as a club owner. A club that Eddie should rightfully have half of.

  Sandra shook her head in despair. Her jealousy of Grace Sumner was how Eddie came to be born in the first place. She’d tried to let it go, but the alcohol was making her feel melancholy. By the time the train pulled into Seaforth station, she felt like the whole world was against her.

  When she let herself into her house, and realised Richie was still out, Sandra could have cried with loneliness. Instead, she opened herself a bottle of wine and poured a large glass. Turning on the television, she curled up on the sofa to watch her favourite soaps on catch-up. That always made her feel better. Sometimes she felt like soap characters were the only ones with lives more messed up than hers.

  Sandra was nodding off when she heard the knock at the door. She had finished half a bottle of wine and was feeling decidedly drunk. Her head spun as she stood up from the sofa. She cursed under her breath. Richie must have forgotten his key.

  Instead, she was greeted by Eddie’s face when she opened the door.

  ‘Hiya, Mum,’ he slurred.

  ‘Eddie,’ she sighed. ‘What do you want at this hour?’

  ‘Is that any way to speak to your only son?’ he snapped as he pushed his way past her.

  Sandra followed him into the kitchen where he was inspecting the half bottle of wine on the worktop. He poured the remaining contents into a coffee mug and began to drink it.

  ‘Where have you been anyway?’ Sandra asked. ‘I haven’t seen you for weeks. Is that a black eye?’

  ‘Fucking hell, Ma. Stop with the twenty questions, will you?’ he snapped. ‘And you wonder why I never come round here. You’re always on my case.’

  ‘I’m just worried about you.’

  ‘Well, in that case, have you got fifty quid to lend me until next week?’

  Sandra shook her head. ‘You still haven’t paid me back from the last three times I’ve lent you money.’

  ‘So you’re keeping count then?’ he snarled. ‘I’m your fucking son! Would you rather I starved?’

  Sandra felt the colour flushing her cheeks. She was so angry she felt like slapping him. The alcohol. Eddie. Her conversation with Grace. It was all making her head spin.

  ‘Well, you’re not just my son,’ she snapped. ‘Perhaps you should go after some of your bloody father’s fortune.’

  Eddie lowered the mug from his lips and stared at her, his mouth open in surprise. ‘You told me you never knew who my dad was,’ he growled.

  Sandra regretted the words the instant they’d left her mouth. What had she done? But then, fuelled by the alcohol, she convinced herself that no harm could come from revealing the truth now. Nathan was dead. He couldn’t hurt her any more. He couldn’t hurt Eddie. And Eddie deserved half of that club.

  ‘Well, I do. It was Nathan Conlon,’ she said, her arms across her chest and her jaw set defiantly.

  ‘What?’ Eddie screamed and threw the coffee mug he was holding across the kitchen. Sandra ducked out of the way and it smashed against the wall.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ he yelled in her face, the anger radiating from him in waves.

  ‘Eddie?’ she pleaded.

  ‘You fucking bitch!’ he snarled as he started to stomp around the kitchen, smashing everything in sight.

  ‘Eddie, please, stop!’ Sandra wailed, but it was as though he couldn’t hear her.

  Finally, he stopped ranting and turned to her. ‘I’ll never forgive you for this,’ he spat. Then he was gone, slamming the door behind him so hard it almost came off its hinges. Sandra sank to the floor and began to sob.

  What had she done?

  Chapter 25

  Grace sat in the rocking chair in Belle’s bedroom, watching her daughter sleep. Listening to her baby’s soft snores was one of her favourite things to do, especially when she couldn’t sleep herself. Tonight she was full of adrenaline. She couldn’t believe her luck. Who would have thought Bobby White would actually turn out to be Robert Whitehead? She wondered how she hadn’t made the connection before – but then neither had anyone else.

  Robert had changed a lot, but then it had been almost twelve years since she’d last seen him. Grace had first met Robert when he’d worked for Solomon Shepherd. Robert had been twenty years old at the time and one of Sol’s many minions. But even then he’d had his sights set on bigger things. The trouble for Robert was that he went entirely the wrong way about it.

  Sol had one child, a daughter, Chantelle. Fourteen years old and the apple of her daddy’s eye. His little princess. When she’d told him she was five months pregnant he had been intent on murdering every red-blooded male in Manchester in an attempt to find out who had taken such a liberty with his baby girl.

  But Chantelle would never tell him. And no one else knew. That was until Chantelle confided in Grace one rainy afternoon when she had found the young girl in tears. The poor girl had been terrified. Of her father, who had sworn she was going to give the child up for adoption, and also of the thought of having to give birth. Grace had comforted her and talked about her own experience of having a baby, assuring her she’d be fine and that her father would come round once he met his grandchild.

  Grace had always had a way of getting information from people – even when she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to be the one to know who the father was, and either send him to a painful and drawn-out death or have to keep it from Sol. But Chantelle had told her anyway. It was Robert Whitehead. Chantelle had told Robert she was sixteen when they’d first met and he’d believed her. She loved him, he loved her, and Chantelle believed that once the baby was born they were going to run off into the sunset together. Grace, on the other hand, knew that such fairy tales rarely came true.

  Two weeks later Chantelle went into labour, but in her youth and naiveté, as well as the fear of her father’s wrath whenever the baby was mentioned, she hadn’t mentioned that she hadn’t felt the baby move for weeks and Chantelle’s beautiful little girl was stillborn. Consumed with guilt, and anger at her father and Robert, Chantelle started popping pills like Smarties. A few months later she was dead too.

  Grace had had nothing against Robert at the time. She’d thought he was a creep for sleeping with a fourteen-year-old girl, and a coward for abandoning her and their baby, but Sol would have flayed him alive and fed his testicles to his dogs before he let Robert and Chantelle be together. Grace knew that for a fact. So, she never told a soul. What would have been the point? It wouldn’t have saved poor Chantelle or her baby.

  Sol, on the other hand, had never got over the death of his daughter and granddaughter and would give hi
s granny and his mother to find out who the father was. Because as far as Sol was concerned, that man was directly responsible for their deaths.

  Robert had left Sol’s employ shortly after and had never been heard from again. And now Grace knew why. He’d reinvented himself as Bobby White. And now Grace had her edge. As tragic as the whole situation was, Grace was not above using it to her advantage.

  Chapter 26

  Grace walked into the small office at the back of Gin Blossom and knocked on the open door to get Bobby’s attention.

  He looked up, a mixture of shock and confusion on his face. ‘What are you doing here?’ he snapped.

  ‘Oh, so you do remember me then, Bobby? Or should I say Robert?’

  Bobby flinched at the mention of his name but he quickly regained his composure. ‘I know who you are. Who doesn’t? But how do you know me?’

  Grace walked into his office and sat down. ‘I worked with Solomon Shepherd a long time ago. When you worked for him too. Don’t you remember me?’

  He shook his head. ‘Those were crazy times. It was a lifetime ago, that.’

  Grace nodded sympathetically. ‘Yeah, and you were more interested in fourteen-year-old girls back then, weren’t you?’

  Bobby stood up and closed his office door. The colour had drained from his face. ‘I don’t know what you’re on about,’ he snapped.

  ‘Oh, I think you do, Robert. Unless there was more than one fourteen-year-old girl? Are you that much of a perv? I assumed it was only the one and you’d thought she was older?’

  ‘Of course there was only one,’ he snapped. ‘She told me she was sixteen. How do you even know that?’

  ‘Chantelle told me. She told me everything.’

  ‘You’ve got no proof,’ he growled.

  Grace laughed. ‘Do you think Sol is interested in proof? You had means and motive, Bobby boy. He’ll skin you alive when he finds out, and that would just be for starters. Do you remember how livid he was when he found out she was pregnant?’