An Old Score

by Edie Baylis

  Reaching the shop, Teagan immediately spotted Joe’s blue Vauxhall parked outside and as she approached the car, Joe leaned across the passenger seat, opening the door from the inside.

  ‘Get in,’ he mumbled.

  Teagan hesitated, then straight away noticing the strong smell of stale alcohol. She glanced at Joe – he looked horrific – more unkempt and terrified than ever.

  ‘Thanks for coming,’ Joe turned his bloodshot eyes towards Teagan.

  Teagan nodded, unsure of what to say or furthermore, do. She had no idea what Joe was going to say, if anything and she bit back her anger towards him. This felt so wrong. Everything about it was wrong. ‘I’m sorry about Alan,’ she murmured, wondering whether she should reach out and touch Joe’s arm.

  ‘Yeah, me too,’ Joe said, surreptitiously glancing at the handbag Teagan clutched on her lap. If she would only put it to one side he stood a chance of getting his hand in. The keys had to be in there.

  ‘I can’t stay long,’ Teagan said, her fingers playing with the strap of her bag. ‘I’m not sure... not sure what you wanted to talk to me about? I...’

  ‘I can’t believe Alan’s dead,’ Joe cried, remembering his plan. ‘Oh, Teag, it was awful! I just don’t know how I’m going to cope.’

  ‘How much did you owe them, Joe?’ Teagan asked, her promise to keep her thoughts to herself about his underhand ways, deserting her.

  ‘W-What? How much did I owe who?’ Joe gibbered, confused.

  ‘Look, I know what you’ve done. I know these... these men who attacked Alan were something to do with you,’ Teagan continued. ‘How many times have I said that drug shit you do would eventually get you grief, but this... this time you’ve gone too far.’

  ‘Wait! Me? You think this is m...’

  ‘You dragged me into it? And you won’t even admit it - even now! I can’t believe what you’ve done, Joe. I really can’t!’ Teagan ranted. ‘You hate me that much, you’d lay the blame at my feet for your lies and your drugs? You told those men I was something to do with the money you owe them, didn’t you? Just goddamn admit it. You must have done. And to risk an old lady’s well-being too? You’re truly despicable!’

  Joe blinked, for a moment at a loss as to what to say. She thought all of this was to do with drugs? His drugs? ‘I...’

  ‘And you thought by saying I’d got their money was a good idea? Buy you more time, yes?’ Teagan’s voice raised to screaming pitch. ‘You put me at risk and you have the cheek to ask for keys so these men can turn over a house – someone else’s house – looking for something that doesn’t even exist because you thought it would get you off the hook?’

  Raising her hand, Teagan slapped Joe around the face. ‘How could you? How the hell could you do that to me? To Dulcie?’ Why? Why Joe?’ Against her will, tears of frustration, anger and hurt spilt from her eyes.

  Joe was about to launch at Teagan with both barrels and vehemently deny everything being as for once, this one was not on him. But then he thought better of it. What did it really matter if Teagan hated him? It didn’t matter a jot – it wasn’t like he cared. Although he resented taking the flack for something that wasn’t down to him, it could be a way of working this to get what he needed. Galling it may be, but if it meant this was done and dusted, then it was worth the injustice. When push came to shove, Teagan was invariably soft where he was concerned and despite her lack of playing ball of late, he suspected she might relent a little in the required ways if he played his cards right.

  Joe raised his hand to his stinging cheek and looked down at his lap morosely, watching out of the corner of his eye as Teagan dabbed her face with a tissue from her handbag, holding his breath as she lifted it off her lap and placed it in the footwell. Yes! She’d put it down.

  Joe turned to Teagan. ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t think this would happen. I-I thought if I gave those nutters the blag that I’d stashed a shed load of weed at that old woman’s house it would work,’ he lied, sniffing loudly. ‘And you’re right. I did it to buy some time. I-I really had no idea they would demand the keys and come after you and the lady, I really didn’t.’

  He dared a glimpse at Teagan to gauge her expression, but was dismayed to see her about to launch into another tirade. Quick. Make it better. Grovel more. ‘I know we’re not together any longer – again, entirely my fault, but believe me, Teag, I didn’t want this to involve you. I’ve been really stupid. I-I still care about you,’ Joe said softly, before bursting into loud sobs with shook his entire body. ‘It’s my fault. All of it. W-What happened to Alan... He’s dead because of me...’

  Teagan listened to Joe and a small pang of pity fluttered.

  ‘I’ll never ever forgive myself for what happened to Alan. I’m only glad nothing happened to you or your lady.’ Lady, my arse, Joe thought. It was just a shame it hadn’t happened to that vicious old bag. He hadn’t forgotten the way she’d spoken to him and neither would he. More to the point, this was all genuinely to do with her, but Teagan would never believe that so he had to pray that this would work.

  He watched Teagan cross her ankles, moving her right foot over her handbag and wondered how he could get to the bag without her seeing.

  Reaching out, he touched Teagan’s knee. ‘I really am sorry - for everything. You’ve no idea how much. I should never have tried to pass them onto you. I didn’t think they’d dream of coming to the house until they demanded the keys and then... well, we all know what happened when I couldn’t get them the keys and...’

  ‘Don’t you dare blame me for what happened to Alan!’ Teagan shrieked.

  ‘No, no, sorry – I wasn’t.’ Joe grasped for Teagan’s hand. ‘I didn’t mean it like that. I know all of this is down to me. At least it’s all over now.’

  Teagan stared at Joe’s hand on hers, but didn’t pull away. ‘Over? How is it all over?’ She eyed him suspiciously, hoping he wasn’t going to try to get her to change her mind about the keys. He’d have a very long wait. ‘I feel it’s time I went to the police about this.’

  ‘No!’ Joe yelped. Fuck! ‘It’s all sorted now. That’s what I wanted to tell you.’ Think, think, THINK. ‘I got hold of the men and admitted I lied. I told them the weed wasn’t at yours and never had been.’ He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead. ‘To be honest, I’m lucky they didn’t kill me. I’ve said I’ve got the money and they’ve given me a week to get it to them,’ he lied.

  ‘Oh my God! It gets worse! You’re now asking me to find the money for your drugs to pay them?’ Teagan cried. ‘You can forget it.’

  ‘No, Christ! I wasn’t saying that. I’ve sorted it, like I said,’ Joe blathered, fast running out of steam. ‘I got a loan, so yes it’s all done, but please don’t go to the police... it will drop me in it with the drugs.’ He looked deep into Teagan’s eyes. ‘I am so very sorry and I hope that one day you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me.’ He forced out a lone tear. ‘It’s going to be bad enough burying Alan without losing your friendship too.’

  Teagan watched Joe tremble and her heart softened. So, it was all done? Yes, what he’d done was unforgiveable, but that was him all over, wasn’t it? He wasn’t a nasty person, he just never seemed to think things through. Pity overwhelmed her. ‘It’ll be alright,’ she said, leaning towards him.

  As Joe pulled Teagan into a hug he clung to her making sure he was shaking enough for her to feel. ‘Thank you. That means so much.’

  Whilst Teagan stroked Joe’s tangled hair, he let his right hand drop down into the footwell and into Teagan’s bag.

  Thirty Four

  MIKE EYED HELEN NERVOUSLY as she sat opposite, her eyes running over his office décor. He couldn’t make out whether she was appraising it or thought it shit – not that it mattered. She wasn’t here to evaluate his interior decorating choices; neither was she here to buy a motor.

  He fumbled with the cup of tea he’d fetched from his machine. This was awkward. Was Heath driving this conversation or him?

/>   ‘So, Mr Pointer,’ Helen said, saving Mike the need to start talking. ‘Your son...’ She raised an eyebrow, ‘who, up until yesterday, I knew to be Darren Harding, tells me you have something of interest to me?’

  Heath, ever the confident one, took the opportunity to step in. ‘Yes, sorry about that. It was the only way we could think of to get your attention. And more importantly, to weigh you up.’

  Helen frowned. ‘Weigh me up?’

  Heath’s easy grin hid his internal angst. ‘We needed to decide how to play this.’

  Helen sighed, not in the mood for games. ‘Let’s not beat around the bush. Please just get to the point – presuming there is one?’

  The smile refused to leave Heath’s face. Helen may be playing aloof, but she wouldn’t be here if she wasn’t interested in what was in it for her. ‘Like I touched on last night, we believe you’re sitting on something very valuable. Something we think you may find handy?’

  He paused, seeing no change of expression on Helen’s face. She was good, he had to give her that. ‘It seems your mother was a bit of a dark horse. She’s in possession of what we want. Or rather, I should say, what we’re prepared to split with you.’

  Sitting back in the leather chair, Helen laughed coldly. ‘My mother? If my mother has something worth anything, then please enlighten me why I would split it with you?’

  Were these two after the house? It would fetch a sizable amount, but nowhere near millions. It was the only thing worth anything and even so, there was no way she would split the proceeds with them. Why on earth would she?

  Heath smiled and opened a folder on the desk. ‘Before I tell you what it is your mother has, presuming of course you’re not already aware?’ He glanced at his father. ‘And I’m making the assumption that you’re not, otherwise I think Shepherd, Percival and Proctor would not have been trading at a considerable loss these past few years.’

  Cheeks burning, Helen cursed her body’s inability to hide her embarrassment. ‘That, Mr... Pointer, is of no consequence, or I might add, business of yours.’

  ‘No, you’re right,’ Mike intervened, finally finding his voice. ‘But it does show that it’s unlikely you’re aware of what’s right under your nose. Secondly, due to, shall we say your personal shortfall where finances are concerned, you’re more likely to be open to our proposition.’

  Helen glanced at the printout that Heath held out to her. Something about a robbery. ‘What has this got to do with my mother?’ She sneered and laughed sarcastically. These people were timewasters. Obviously unhinged. ‘Don’t be absurd. Why would my mother have anything to do with a couple of stolen televisions or something?’

  ‘You haven’t looked properly. Your mother – Dulcie Adams, received the spoils of this robbery to look after. And those spoils weren’t televisions!’ Heath pointed to the small print of the newspaper cutting. ‘They were pink diamonds.’

  Rolling her eyes, Helen squinted at the printout. She frowned. It did say pink diamonds. She’d never heard of pink diamonds. She glanced at the date of the article – 3rd April 1965.

  ‘And look at this...’ Heath pushed the typed-up notes he’d made across the desk.

  Helen scanned the piece of paper. Worth £15 million? £15 million sterling? ‘Is this a joke?’ She looked between Mike and Heath suspiciously. This had to be a wind up. What were these two really playing at?

  ‘It’s no joke,’ Heath said, his smile returning. ‘That’s only a rough estimate, but as you can see, your mother is sitting on a fortune and these are somewhere in her house.’

  Nausea, combined with a rush of excitement flowed through Helen. Could this be correct? No, it was ludicrous. But if it wasn’t...?

  Helen could feel buzzing in the base of her feet. If this was true then she’d be sorted for life, the next one and probably the one after that. Her eyes narrowed. ‘Why do you believe my mother has this?’ she cried. ‘Do you not think, if that were the case, I’d be aware of it by now?’ Well, she would, wouldn’t she? By now something would have been said, surely? ‘And furthermore, if this is true, which I very much doubt, then please explain why it means either of you believe you are owed any part of it?’

  Mike glanced at Heath before meeting eyes with Helen. ‘This is the awkward part...’

  Helen sighed audibly. She’d almost believed all this for a moment then. Wishful thinking, most likely.

  Heath saw his father’s reticence and embarrassment. Personally, he felt no awkwardness towards Helen Shepherd - she had as much empathy as a manhole cover. ‘Your mother was left the stolen goods by her lover...’

  Helen laughed. She’d heard it all now. ‘Her what?’

  ‘Her lover – Michael Pointer. Michael Pointer was involved in the robbery and he was having an affair with Dulcie.’

  ‘Oh come on!’ Helen spat. ‘You must think me insane if you beli...’

  ‘She had a son – Michael’s son – born in June 1965.’ Heath glanced at Mike again. ‘Making him my father’s half-brother.’ He pushed the printed out details he’d downloaded from Ancestry into Helen’s hands. ‘Robert Adams is my father’s half-brother, so that’s why we’re owed the money.’

  With a sickening feeling Helen scanned the sheaf of documents with shaking fingers. Remembering her mother saying loud and clear, ‘Michael is that you?’, when she’d seen Heath last night, she went cold.

  She jerked her head up to look at Heath, then her eyes darted to Mike. She’d hardly even bothered looking at him since she’d arrived, and she’d never really properly looked at Heath before either. How had she missed it? The man in front of her was strikingly similar-looking to her brother. And Heath, although not so similar, did have the same cold blue eyes as Robert. Whatever it was, it was there. Definitely there.

  Jesus Christ, this was true, wasn’t it?

  HELEN WASN’T SURE how she’d got to the layby she found herself in. She must have driven on autopilot because she sure as hell couldn’t remember physically getting there. She also hadn’t a clear memory of how she’d left things with Mike and Heath Pointer, apart from remembering agreeing to something and saying she’d be in touch.

  Grabbing a tissue from her handbag, Helen mopped at the perspiration on her forehead and slapped the air conditioning button up to high. Leaning back against the headrest, she breathed in slowly, the shock of the past hour starting to subside.

  Helen took a swig out of the tepid water from the bottle perched in her drinks holder. She didn’t know what had made her say it or why she’d said it so quickly in response to their wish to locate Robert, which so far, they’d been unable to do.

  But she knew why she’d said Robert was dead. Because he wasn’t having any part of this. It was hers – it was the least her lying bitch of a mother owed her.

  This afternoon had also brought back something very vividly; something she’d completely forgotten about, like a slap in the face. The truth had been out there all along, yet she’d never noticed it. Now everything fell into place.

  That day – she could remember it so clearly – she’d been fifteen years old and whilst looking for something else, she’d found Robert’s birth certificate.

  Helen bit down on her lip. She could see it in her mind like it was yesterday. Robert’s birth certificate had a blank in the place of ‘father’, whereas hers had clearly stated Peter Adams. She’d asked her mother about it the minute she’d got in that day and had accepted the explanation that because their father had died just before Robert’s birth, he hadn’t been there to be entered on the birth certificate.

  God, she’d been so naïve.

  Her mother had lied to both her and Robert on just about everything their whole lives.

  Helen pulled the copies of the paperwork Heath had given her from her handbag and stared at Michael Pointer’s death certificate, the newspaper articles and all the notes Heath had made about the robbery. There was also a newspaper article about her mother leaving The Feathers Club in Soho and on top of this
she could recall almost word for word what Mike had said was relayed to him on his own mother’s death bed – his father’s affair... This man – Robert’s father had given the spoils from the robbery to his fancy bit... Her mother... Dulcie.

  Her lips pursed. Robert had always been the favourite out of the two of them and now she understood why. Because he was the child of that man her mother had really wanted.

  Anger throbbed as the truth sank in. Her father, Peter Adams, hadn’t been killed in an accident. Her mother’s lover – Robert’s father, must have arranged it. It was obvious.

  Bile rose up her throat.

  Would she ever tell Robert his father was not who he’d always believed him to be?

  No. Not yet anyway. The only time she would let Robert know that his life was even more of a lie than hers was when it benefitted her.

  Yes, Robert would find out eventually and her mother would also eventually realise her stack of dirty secrets had been discovered, but by that point it would be too late because she’d be banged up in a home for nutty old folks and the money from the sale of Footlights would be hers.

  It was the least the treacherous old cow owed her.

  Now she had even more reason to shaft that lying old witch and get the woman – that bitch, who had the cheek to call herself a mother, out of her life for good.

  Her eyes flickered as an image of her father flashed into her mind. She had to try hard to remember what he even looked like now. No wonder her mother hadn’t any photographs of him in the house.

  Helen angrily shoved the paperwork back in her handbag. Well, bollocks to Robert if he thought he would be getting a penny of his new father’s spoils.