by KERRY BARNES
Arthur glared, with his nostrils flared. ‘Where the hell have you been? I’ve called your phone a hundred times. Ya brother needs your support, and I’d have thought you’d have been the first one here!’
The room fell silent as everyone turned to see the expression on Eric’s face. They all had the same thoughts as Arthur.
‘I left my phone in the car. I’d no idea. As soon as I saw the messages, I got here as fast as I could.’
Gloria lifted her head from Arthur’s shoulder, all her anger now centred on Eric. ‘You never let that bloody phone out of your sight. It’s like history repeating itself. Our Mikey needs you, and once again, you’re on the missing list. You expect us to treat you the same as Mikey, but you don’t act the bloody same. Ya never have. You’ve no idea of the meaning “family stick together”, have you?’
With a face like an angry bulldog, Eric retorted, ‘Christ, if it was Mike who arrived late, neither of you would bat an eyelid. You’d just assume he’d had more important things to do!’
Like a coiled spring, Gloria was up on her feet, pointing her finger in Eric’s face. ‘Now you listen to me. If it was your son lying there fighting for his . . . ’ she said, as she choked on her words and cleared her throat, ‘nothing on this earth would’ve stopped Mikey from being right by your side.’
Childishly, Eric snapped back. ‘Well, I don’t have a son, and like I said, I left my phone in the car.’
Gloria was in floods of tears again, and Arthur pulled her away and sat her down, patting her shoulder. ‘Settle down, my love.’ Then he turned to face Eric. His slow, confident words made everyone sit up.
‘Eric, I’m no fool, and the excuses you pull out of your arse really don’t wash with me.’ He straightened his shoulders and raised his eyebrow. For a man in his late sixties, he bore a look of an army general and was treated as such. ‘Your phone may well have been in your car, but I also called your landline, which certainly was working, since it diverted to your answerphone.’
Eric felt hot under the collar. ‘I’m sorry but I didn’t hear it. I must’ve been asleep or in the shower.’
Arthur gave him a slow, disapproving shake of his head.
Before another excuse could leave Eric’s mouth, the door opened, and there, looking exhausted and deflated, stood Mike.
Gloria jumped up from her chair and hurried over to him, flinging her arms around him. ‘Come and sit down, Son. How’s our boy doing?’
Mike almost collapsed on the chair. ‘He’s still in a coma. I guess he’s in the lap of the gods now.’
He rubbed his face to wake himself up and then looked up at his father, who was still standing.
‘Dad, I think you’d better find Jackie—’
‘What!’ screeched Gloria. ‘That good-for-nuffin tramp!’
Mike didn’t have the energy to argue. ‘She’s still his muvver, when all’s said and done, and I don’t know what’s going to happen to Ricky.’ His voice cracked, and he coughed away the emotion trapped in his throat. ‘She should know, anyway.’
‘Yes, Son, of course. Do you have her address?’
‘Yeah, Ricky gave it to me. I was going to see her meself with the divorce papers.’
‘Shall I go now, or shall I wait to see . . . ?’
Mike shook his head. ‘No. Please can you go now?’
Staffie’s eyes filled up. Never had he seen his mate so weak with worry. ‘Arthur, I’ll come with ya.’
***
It was seven o’clock in the morning by the time they reached the site. It was nestled in a quiet place deep in Essex. Arthur was almost asleep at the wheel, and Staffie was sipping a can of Red Bull to keep himself awake.
‘It’s a fucking shit-hole!’ said Arthur, as he looked around. ‘To think our boy grew up in places like this one.’
Staffie had to agree. Most of the caravans seemed clean enough, yet around the perimeter were piles of rubbish, a burned-out car, two old washing machines, and half-dressed toddlers playing in the dirt.
Arthur took a deep breath before he stepped out of the car. No sooner had Staffie joined him than two scruffy-looking men wandered over. ‘Yer got lost, mate?’ called the taller of the two men.
Arthur didn’t answer; he strode towards the caravans.
‘’Ere, I said, ’ave yer got lost?’ the man called out again.
This time Arthur turned to face them. ‘Jackie Menaces. Which one’s her caravan?’
The taller gypsy, with his front teeth missing, eyed Arthur up and down. Right away, he registered the smart clothes, the gold watch, and the confident look on the huge man’s face.
‘Who wants to know?’
Arthur, now extremely tired, sighed. ‘Me! Fucking knobhead.’
‘And who’s me?’
Staffie sensed that Arthur was about to let rip, but this just wasn’t the time or the place. Also, he himself was too exhausted to fight. ‘Her boy’s seriously injured and in hospital. We just came to tell her, that’s all.’
The shorter gypsy sized them up. ‘What’s it worth?’
At first, Staffie didn’t grasp what he meant, until it dawned on him what the man was asking. He curled his lip and frowned. ‘You what?’
‘What yer gonna pay me, to tell you where she lives?’
Arthur stopped dead in his tracks. ‘You fucking what? Ya dirty no-good scummy pikey.’
With that, he lunged forward and grabbed the man around the throat and squeezed hard. ‘Now, where is she?’
The taller gypsy suddenly backed off. ‘All right, mate, we don’t want no trouble. There, in that caravan.’
He pointed to the filthy caravan with a mouldy roof and ingrained dirt along the sides.
Arthur dropped the smaller man to the ground and walked ahead, leaving him gasping and clutching his throat.
Arthur didn’t even bother to knock. He ripped the door open and barged inside. Staffie was behind him, silently looking around, ensuring they weren’t about to be jumped.
He’d never ever expected to set his eyes on the bitch again, but there, sprawled out on the disgusting sofa, was a woman in a see-through lace minidress that just about covered her body. For a moment, Arthur couldn’t tell if it was definitely Mike’s wife, Jackie, though. Her dyed black hair was grey at the roots, her skin was yellow, and her cheeks were sallow. What had clearly been a posh caravan at one time now stank of piss, puke, and fags.
Staffie eased inside, squeezing past Arthur to see why his friend was glued to the spot.
‘Fuck me!’ he said slowly. ‘Is that really her?’
Arthur sighed again. ‘No idea.’
As they both gawped at the state of her, she suddenly blinked, and through slurred words, she said, ‘A blow job’s fifty quid. No fucking less.’
The sharp tone in her ugly voice confirmed right away it was her.
Staffie went over to the sink, filled the bowl with water, and literally threw it all over her, making her gasp for air. She sat up, bolt upright, but then swayed, as if she was pissed. ‘What the hell?’ she screamed, trying to focus.
‘Get fucking dressed. You’re coming with me!’ demanded Arthur, now totally repulsed.
‘Are you sure, Arthur? Mike wouldn’t want that thing anywhere near Ricky.’
Arthur’s shoulders slumped at the thought. ‘Well, it’s up to him. We can take her to his place and then let him decide, but right now, with everything on our minds, I don’t wanna push the issue. Let’s just do as Mike asked.’
Jackie was trying to wipe her face and get a clear view of who it was who had just had the audacity to practically drown her. The moment her eyes focused, she felt her heart kicking into overdrive. Arthur Regan, her father-in-law, hadn’t changed a bit and neither had Ted Stafford for that matter. Her past had come back to haunt her. At a stroke, she had a sobering moment: what if they were going to kill her? The shakes that were clearly visible weren’t from a comedown but from pure fear. She tried to cover her body while shrinking back into the
sofa.
‘What the fuck do you two want?’
Arthur looked away. He couldn’t bear to see the woman half-naked with such an ugly, pathetic, and cowardly expression on her face. ‘Ricky’s in hospital, and Mike thinks you ought to know.’
Absorbing those words boosted her confidence – they weren’t going to do away with her then. She was about to put her brave face on and tell them to fuck off, when, suddenly, the prospect of a load of wonga weaved through her fuzzy mind like gold fairy dust.
‘Oh, Jesus! What’s happened? Is he all right?’
Staffie shook his head. ‘Don’t pretend you care, you evil bitch. I couldn’t give a shit about your feelings. Just get yaself presentable and come with us.’
As Arthur’s eyes fell to the floor, he noticed in among the mess was a T-shirt. It was a small lad’s top, obviously used now as a floor cloth. It was ripped and faded, but he still recognized it as the one Gloria had bought Ricky on his sixth birthday. It was part of a Crystal Palace football strip. He gagged and felt the urge to turn and give her a good kicking; instead, and reluctantly, he swallowed and took a deep breath.
Once they were outside the caravan, leaving Jackie to get herself cleaned up, Arthur turned to Staffie. ‘You know what? I’ve never hated a woman so much. What she put our family through, it’s unforgivable. I would’ve left her there, but I can’t get Mike’s terrified face out of my head. And, he must have his reasons for having that cunt up the hospital.’
As they walked towards the car, Jackie called after them. ‘Wait up! I’m coming.’
‘’Course you are, ya gold-digging bitch,’ mumbled Staffie, under his breath.
Still unsteady from an all-night drinking spree, Jackie hobbled over to them. She’d managed to find an old tracksuit to put on and to grab her bag with enough Flakka concealed in it to see her all right for a few days. She’d paid Leon by selling herself but now he wasn’t answering his phone. Over the last few weeks, she’d successfully managed to control her intake. Just a small snort a few times a day had her sober enough to function but drugged enough not to give a shit. Once the Flakka had run out, though, she would need to source more or end up going cold turkey. The latter option had her petrified.
Arthur got into the driver’s seat while Staffie sat beside him. Under normal circumstances, they would have held the door open for the woman, but Jackie hardly deserved the status of a lady – she was a whore of the lowest kind.
As he pulled away from the site, he almost heaved. Staffie glanced over at Arthur and knew from his expression that he could smell the obnoxious odour permeating from the back of the car. Quickly, he found an air freshener from the glove compartment; with no warning, he sprayed Jackie. ‘Ya fucking stink, woman.’
Jackie held her tongue. She decided to take whatever was thrown at her, as long as she could get her hands on some of their wealth, or even worm her way back into Mike’s affections, although that would take some seriously hard work. The thought of living in that lovely big house of his with the pool and money to do whatever she wanted was becoming more appealing by the second. Why she’d left him in the first place, she was hard-pressed to remember exactly. But one thing she knew: she was Ricky’s mother, and that was something none of his bits of fluff could say.
Jackie leaned forward. ‘So how bad is he? I mean, what’s happened?’
Staffie twisted around to face her. ‘Christ, girl, have you eaten shit for breakfast? Your breath stinks.’
Jackie shrank back in her seat. ‘Is Ricky okay? I thought he was in prison.’
‘Shut it. I don’t wanna hear your fucking voice. Mike can talk to ya, ’cos I won’t,’ said Arthur.
She decided to keep her mouth shut. If the truth be known, she was more afraid of Mike’s father than her husband. Although physically he wasn’t quite as big as Mike, he had this knack of giving someone the silent treatment when he felt like it. Today was obviously one of those moments. She knew if she wasn’t careful, he would pull over and eject her physically from the car and drive off. ‘Play it low-key, girl,’ she said, under her breath.
As they reached Kent, a call came through. It was Gloria. ‘Arthur, the doctors have decided to put Ricky in some kind of chemical coma. They said it’s the best thing to do. Mike’s going home. The doctor said he’s no good to anyone without a wink of sleep. Where are ya? Did ya find that bitch?’
Jackie felt her jaw tighten with rage. What? There was only so much slander she could take. Her frustration at keeping quiet was now going through the roof.
‘Yep, so I guess I’ll take her over to Mike’s then. She needs a good fucking bath, anyway.’
‘What?’
‘Never mind, Glor. I’ll see you back at home. You probably need some rest too.’
***
Several hours later, Arthur arrived at Mike’s place. He used the remote device that he always had in his car to enter the property and drove up the long sweeping drive. When Arthur set foot inside the Georgian mansion, he could see that Mike was crashed out on the sofa with Gloria’s knock-out pills by his side. He smiled. His wife thought of everything and carried as much in her large bag.
Arthur turned to face Jackie and said quietly, ‘Don’t you fucking dare wake him up. Got it?’
She nodded, but her eyes were gazing around the room like one of those estate agents. Nothing had changed except for the updated décor, which no doubt his parents had been fussing over while he was away in stir. She’d actually forgotten how big and beautiful this house really was.
Staffie was appraising Jackie. He could even read her thoughts. He knew her brain was in money calculator mode. Staffie glared at her. ‘If you so much as pop a fucking fork in your bag, I will promise you this. I’ll cut your cold heart right out of your chest. You’re only here to see Ricky at Mike’s request, so don’t go getting ideas above your station.’
He might as well have been talking to someone in the next room: Jackie wasn’t listening. She was back home, where she should be – in her eyes anyway.
‘Do you think it’ll be all right if I take a shower and get cleaned up ready for Ricky?’ She tried to put on a sweet, demure voice but it wasn’t washing with Staffie.
‘Don’t put on an act, Jackie. I know you and what you’re all about, girl. Go and have ya shower, but if you touch anything, there’ll be hell to pay.’
‘I’m not going to, I promise.’
Arthur huffed. ‘Liar! As if you would ever keep a fucking promise. Just go and get yaself sorted. I’ll be back later.’
No sooner were they out of the door than Jackie went mooching around the house. The first stop was obviously Mike’s bedroom. She opened the drawers to see if he’d any money stashed away. Nada. There wasn’t even a single gold watch lying about either. Then she heard a sound downstairs and so she hurried into the shower; she thought perhaps Arthur had returned.
***
Unbeknown to anyone, not least Jackie, Gloria had called Zara and filled her in about Ricky. She was so concerned about him that she forgot to tell Zara that Arthur had gone to find Jackie. Gloria did, however, inform Zara that Mike was on his way home for a nap.
Aware of how badly Mike would take it, Zara hurried straight over to be by his side to show her support. Their squabble was nothing compared to this situation, and so she put her grievances aside and used the spare key Mike had given her to let herself in.
She didn’t know exactly how she felt as she entered the house. She was nervous, certainly, after the frosty encounter a few days ago, but the overriding emotion was disbelief and horror at the news about Ricky. It was wicked what had been done to him.
She stopped at the entrance to the lounge, and her heart went out to Mike. His face was drenched in anguish even though he was sound asleep. She crept over and kissed his forehead and moved away before a tear landed on him. Quietly, she tiptoed to the kitchen where she placed her bag on the worktop and prepared some filter coffee. While she waited, she pondered over the last few w
eeks and felt so sad. Perhaps she was wrong to have doubted Mike’s fidelity. Why hadn’t she given him the benefit of the doubt? After all, would he really cheat on her? Surely not. She’d been over that scene of seeing this younger woman half-naked – it must have been a thousand times in her head – and she knew she wouldn’t be human if she didn’t deduce from that that Mike was two-timing her. But now, she wasn’t so sure. Their last meeting had cast doubt in her mind that she was right to accuse him of playing away, and, in any case, what did it matter now? His son was at death’s door, and he wouldn’t want all that other stuff being thrown in his face again, when, quite rightly, he had greater concerns – namely, his son’s life at stake. She would put her personal issues aside and be there for him. She loved him with all her being, and, right now, it was breaking her heart to see him like that.
Just as she poured the coffee, she heard someone walking down the stairs. She froze and waited; perhaps one of the lads was here? She had become too twitchy lately. But then, like a bolt out of the blue, a leggy woman appeared, dressed only in one of Mike’s shirts and with her hair wrapped in a towel. The sight of her completely threw Zara.
Although Jackie was just as shocked to see Zara, she knew exactly who she was because she’d seen a photo. She was the only woman Jackie could never live up to – Mike’s ex, or was she?
Leaning against the doorframe, Jackie raised her eyebrow, in pretence. ‘And who are you?’
Zara was similarly stunned for a moment, but without the benefit of knowing who this woman was. She just stood gawking, taking the sight in. ‘Um, who are you?’
Jackie took her time to respond. Then, with a cold, hard smirk and a raised brow, Jackie slowly looked Zara up and down. When her eyes landed on the prosthetic hand, she glared for a while, before displaying a malevolent, satisfied smile. ‘Mike’s wife, that’s who.’
‘What the hell are you doing here?’ asked Zara, totally stunned.
Jackie was in her element; she could see the anger and jealousy pulse through Zara’s eyes.
‘Mike asked me to come back, start again, put everything behind us, for our son’s sake. So, now, it’s your turn to tell me what you’re doing here and who you are. What the fuck are you doing letting yourself into my home?’
