by Martina Cole
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.
Chapter Seventeen
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.
