by Martina Cole
‘An errand? Pat, do I look stupid? I really need to know the answer to that question.’ The sarcasm was back in her voice and it put his back up as she’d known it would.
‘Leave it, Kate. Let it go, eh?’
She shook her head sadly as she watched him controlling his temper, but she knew he would not tell her anything about Willy.
‘You’ll never learn, will you, Pat? Still the hard man, eh?’
He turned to face her then, hostility in every line of his body. ‘Nah, you’re right as usual, I’ll never learn. A fucking thug me, till I drop down dead. In fact, I love ducking and diving. Gives me a reason to get up in the morning, know what I mean? Only the same could be said of you too, couldn’t it? Think about it, Kate. We’re on opposite sides of the same fucking fence, love. Only you are a self-righteous pain in the arse . . .’
She smiled gently. ‘And what are you then? How about a selfish bully boy who plays with other people’s lives and affections? A ponce in every sense of the word. Living off the earnings of women . . .’
She saw his eyes harden and bit her lip. ‘Have I hit a nerve, Patrick? Only that is exactly where you get your money from these days, isn’t it? Why act so shocked at a simple statement of the truth?’
He wiped one hand across his face and she laughed.
‘Are you by any chance ashamed? Is that it, Pat?’
He pushed her roughly in the chest. The car was like a coffin to him now; he wanted out of it. Wanted her away from him. He had enough on his mind without listening to her going on and on.
‘Do you know something, love? You’re beginning to bore me. I admit, you did me a right favour and I appreciate it big time. But I tell you now, Kate, you’re getting to be a dried-up old cow. Always right, always got a fucking opinion about me and what I do. I sometimes wonder how the hell we ever got together in the first place. Well, let me tell you something, Kate. What I feel for you is beyond anything you could ever feel for me, lady. And shall I tell you why that is? Because unlike you I don’t judge everyone. I take them as I find them.’
They looked at one another, antagonists now, wanting only to hurt.
Kate curled her lip and said, ‘Did it ever occur to you that your outlook on life is exactly why you’re in the shit now?’ She waved one hand at him. ‘Take everyone as you find them, eh? Well, I hope you learn from this lot, I really do. You sound like a schoolboy - a naïve and ignorant schoolboy.’
He was quiet for a moment and Kate was sorry for her outburst. Before she could speak again, try and undo some of the damage, he replied quietly.
‘If I never clap eyes on you again, Kate, it will be too soon. I have finally seen you for what you are, love. Look down your nose at me if that makes you feel better - I couldn’t give a fucking toss any more. As for your big lie: tell them you made a mistake. I can get fifty little birds to lie for me and they’d do it without a backward glance, OK? I don’t need you or your help, lady. I don’t need you full stop.’
‘Oh yes, you do, Pat, because unlike the fifty little birds you can so easily get to lie for you, I at least would be believed!’
She got out of the car and walked away from him. Her heart was beating a tattoo in her chest and her anger was so acute she could have physically struck him for what he had just said. It seemed that overnight they had started to hate one another. How the hell had that happened to them?
She had never wanted to hurt another individual so badly in her whole life before, not even her ex-husband Dan when he had walked out of her life leaving her with a baby and no money because he had cleaned out the bank account. Not even when she found out he was living off his new woman, travelling the world and driving fast cars yet not giving her a halfpenny for their child. Not even then had she felt as angry and hurt as she did now. Over Patrick Kelly, a villain, a thug - and the most decent man she had ever come across.
She cried.
The child was quiet. The woman took his hand once more and pulled him gently towards the lorry park. He was a sweet kid with blue eyes and curly brown hair. He giggled as the woman smiled down at him.
‘Mummy?’
‘Mummy loves you, darling, you know that. But, you see, you get on Mummy’s nerves. She can’t do what she wants when you are around.’
The child didn’t understand what was being said but the sing-song voice was pleasant so he assumed he was being told something lovely and he smiled happily once more.
No one saw them as they reached a large artic.
No one saw the woman deposit the child in the back of the lorry.
As she strolled out of the lorry park she saw two men walking towards her. They glanced in her direction and she turned her face away from them. Her long blonde hair caught on the wind and she pulled her jacket tightly around her even though it was still quite warm.
She was humming as she walked to her car. She felt lighter than she had in days.
Jackie Palmer was a good-looking girl. Her use of thick eyeliner and false eyelashes gave her a look of permanent surprise, opening her already wide brown eyes even further. The effect was striking to say the least. She was worth a second look, and she knew it.
As she sashayed towards her council house she grinned which marred her appearance somewhat. Her teeth, never her best feature, were a dull grey colour. Four children in four years had taken its toll on them.
She was happy, though. She had a new bloke, a few quid and a part-time job that more than paid the bills. She had been working in the massage parlour for all of three months and was not enjoying the work so much as the benefits it afforded her. New clothes when she wanted, a few recreational drugs for the weekend and some things for the home. She had to be careful what she bought, though, because she was still under a supervision order from Social Services. Jackie shrugged off her annoyance at the thought. In a few months it would be OK. She was giving them all the old fanny they needed to leave her alone and in peace to get on with her lucrative new way of life.
As she let herself into the house she was amazed by how peaceful it was. Her sister had started taking the kids to her house and it had been like a new lease of life to Jackie. She’d lied to Louise, telling her she got home two hours later than she actually did. That way she could bathe, have a drink and get herself something to eat before the four maniacs descended on her.
When she had had the first child at eighteen she had thought she was so clever. She got a flat and coped very well. But loneliness had set in and she started picking up men to while away a few hours. None of them stayed long but they generally left her with a new baby. At times she wondered how she could have been so stupid. She loved the kids, as much as they drove her mad, but it was hard to be young and attractive and to be tied down so early in life. Never having had a job, a proper boyfriend, or even a real family. All the kids had different fathers and it showed. Not just in their looks but in the colour of their skin and their different personalities.
She could still hear her mother’s voice as she expressed her disgust and horror at yet another fatherless child, another pregnancy to leave her daughter drained and needing all the help she could get.
Her mother had recently met a man and gone to live with him in Kent. Jackie knew it was because of her, and her sister and brother never failed to confirm it whenever the subject of their mother and her defection from the family came into the conversation. Which it did, frequently.
Running a bath, Jackie made herself some tea and toast, taking off her make-up as she did so. She could do without the kids, she really could. But they were in the world and they were hers, her responsibility, as everyone kept pointing out to her.
Sighing, she tied up her heavy blond hair and took the tea and toast into the bathroom with the newspaper and the radio for company.
This was her time, and she made sure she enjoyed it.
Jackie’s sister Louise looked at the clock. Gathering up her own two children and three of Jackie’s, she started the short walk to playschool to p
ick up little Martin. As she neared the gate she yawned. She was late as usual, and knackered. By the time she had got this lot into their coats and hats, and stopped them fighting, arguing and playing up, it was a hard job to get anywhere on time.
She stood outside and watched as the kids were taken home by parents and relatives. She smiled a greeting to a few of the mums she knew. The five children with her ran to the playground in the nursery yard and she watched them as they jumped boisterously all over the equipment. Mrs Walden would tell them off as usual and they would ignore her as usual.
Soon all the other mothers were gone and still Martin was nowhere to be seen. Walking to the double doors at the entrance to the church hall, Louise peeked inside.
Mrs Walden looked at her in surprise. ‘Hello, Mrs Ashton, can I help you?’
Louise stared at her as if she had grown another head.
‘You certainly can. You can tell me where little Martin is.’
‘His mother picked him up a couple of hours ago,’ Mrs Walden said, surprised. ‘Didn’t even come inside, just took him from the play area.’
The tone of voice said, ‘Trust Jackie to do something like that without telling anyone.’ She had a downer on Jackie, did Mrs Walden, but she wasn’t alone in that and Louise was used to it. She actually agreed with people’s opinion of her sister though she would never state that openly. Family was family, after all.
‘She might have rung, I’ve been out,’ she lied.
Louise turned and walked from the building. Collecting the kids, she swore that this time she was going to give Jackie a fair whack of tongue. Why hadn’t she just rung up and let her sister know? That was Jackie all over. Selfish bleeding cow she was.
Louise’s annoyance communicated itself to the children who walked sedately beside her all the way home.
Jenny and Kate were trying to make sense of the statements from Mary Parkes and Kerry Alston.
The Alston children were currently being interviewed but there wasn’t much to go on from them. In fact they were well schooled in keeping things quiet and as secret as possible. It seemed they just wanted their mummy. Kate was constantly astounded at the resilience of small children.
Regina Carlton had lost it. The doctors said she had suffered a nervous breakdown. Her children were in the care of the courts and she was not fit to be interviewed.
‘If this Kevin was one of the men, then he must have known some of the others apart from Davey Carling, it stands to reason,’ Jenny said. ‘Mary Parkes knew him, so the chances are she knew some of the others, too. Knew them well if the pictures are anything to go by. So we have to concentrate on her now. Kerry’s too shrewd, that’s the trouble. She knows she will go down but she isn’t going down for everything if she can help it. So, what we find out, we use against her. Then she’ll more than likely do a deal though I ain’t offering her one just yet. Let her sweat for a bit.
‘Most of the female paedophiles do deals,’ she told Kate. ‘One in three are women. Hard to believe, isn’t it? That a woman is capable of doing something like that, especially with her own kids. They walk away from the courts because the male-dominated justice system can’t comprehend that we are capable of such acts. Did you know, Kate, even the FBI think women need to be led into crimes like this? It’s as if their very sex makes them innocent somehow. Yet some of the most predatory paedophiles I ever encountered were women. Look at Myra Hindley. If her voice hadn’t been on the tape-recording of the rape of poor little Lesley Anne Downey, she would have walked away from it all as just a girl who’d been led into trouble by a man. Well, she was willing enough or she would never have picked up the kids for him, I’d lay my last penny on that.’
Kate listened to Jenny with morbid fascination. She was a walking encyclopaedia of sexual crime. It was her own personal crusade. Be it paedophiles or rapists, she had the facts, the stats, and anything else she needed filed away in her brain.
Kate’s phone rang and she answered it. Replacing the receiver she announced: ‘Mary Parkes’s mother is outside, she wants to talk to us.’
Jenny raised her eyebrows. ‘Let’s hope she has new evidence for us. I’d love something over that little madam. You know, Kate, I never thought I’d ever say this about a child, but that girl is bad and I don’t think it was just learned behaviour. I think she has a kink in her nature. Do you know what I mean?’
Kate nodded. She agreed with what Jenny had said whole-heartedly.
Five minutes later they were listening in amazement to what Mary Parkes’s mother had to tell them. Even Jenny was subdued as she took on board the full extent of the young girl’s involvement in the crimes.
The woman was talking about her eleven-year-old daughter as if she was a mature and hardened criminal.
‘It was something she said when I visited her to tell her about her father . . . about what he had done.’
Trisha’s voice faltered and she sipped from a glass of water before continuing.
‘She said to me, “It wasn’t only Kevin he should have killed, it was his brother.” Well, I wasn’t even aware that Kevin had a brother. I visited my husband on remand and he told me there is one and that he lives in East London somewhere. His name is Jeremy Blankley but he uses aliases. Sometimes Carter, sometimes McCann. I don’t know if this will be of any help to you, but I thought I should let you know.’
Kate saw the distress on the woman’s face and her heart went out to her. Trisha Parkes had so much to deal with, so much to try and come to terms with, not least the loss of a child.
‘I’ve told Social Services that I will not have Mary back in my home. I’m not visiting her, or having anything to do with her. My girl was raised to know right from wrong. She knew what she was doing all right. Just thinking about it turns my stomach.’ The woman was unable to continue.
‘We appreciate how difficult this must be for you, Mrs Parkes,’ Kate said sincerely, ‘but anything that you think may help is greatly appreciated by us.’
Trisha forced a smile, then said huskily, ‘I thought I had a good life in some respects. Lenny was a waster, but he was a good man for all that. My son Ian is a diamond, a good kid. But my Mary . . .’ She shook her head sadly.
Jenny offered her a cigarette and lit it for her. ‘Did Mary ever stay overnight anywhere?’ she asked.
‘Sometimes she stayed round her friend Sheila’s, mainly weekends. Or so she said. But now I think she was staying at that Kerry’s drum. But really you’d have to ask Mary where she was. She told me nothing, love. Well, she knew I was on to her, didn’t she?’
Trisha looked straight into Jenny’s face as she said seriously, ‘I never cared where she was, to be honest. The house was so different without her there. Lighter somehow. That’s a terrible thing to say about your own child, I know, but I’m glad I don’t have to deal with her any more.’
She stood up abruptly. ‘I have to go, I’ve said what I came to say. Now I just want to get on with me life.’
Jackie opened the front door with a wide smile on her face. Louise looked at her sister with a mixture of disgust and outright jealousy. Louise was older, and although she had a look of Jackie, she didn’t have the latter’s attractiveness. This hurt at times. She knew that her husband, Denny, looked at her sister in a way he had not looked at her in years. Yes, Jackie had it in the looks department. For all the good it did her. Dumped over and over again.
Louise pushed her none too gently in the chest and said loudly, ‘Thanks a fucking bunch, Jack. Why didn’t you give me a ring?’
Jackie saw the old animosity burning in her sister’s eyes and pushed her back angrily.
‘What the fuck would I want to ring you for?’
Louise ushered the children into the lounge. Opening her shopping bag, she brought out a bag of sweets and distributed them as she carried on talking.
‘How about ringing me up to save me a fucking journey? Dragging this lot about is no joke, you know.’
Jackie stared at her as if she
had gone mad. ‘Who’s rattled your cage, Lou? Denny on the missing list again, is he? And where’s my little Martin?’ Jackie’s eyes were scanning the crowded room.
‘What do you mean, where’s Martin?’ Louise said irritably. ‘You picked him up! That’s why I’m so fucking livid. I walked all the way there with this lot—’
‘What are you talking about?’ Jackie interrupted her. ‘I never picked up anyone. I assumed Martin was with you. That’s what I pay you for, ain’t it? To look after me chavvies while I work.’
Louise paled. ‘Don’t fucking wind me up, Jack. I just been to the playschool and that old witch told me you took him from the playground.’
They looked at one another then, all animosity forgotten.
‘Tell me you picked him up, Jack. Don’t fuck about, this ain’t funny.’ There was a frantic note in Louise’s voice now. ‘You are such a wind-up, Jack.’
She was trying to smile and Jackie was staring at her sister in utter dismay.
‘Louise, mate, I ain’t been near the playschool.’
There was fear in her voice. The children picked up on it and started to whine. Louise pulled her sister over to a chair and sat her down.
‘I’ll phone the school, they must have made a mistake. Now calm down and I’ll sort this out, OK?’
Jackie felt her breath catching in her chest and knew she was near to panic. She had a pain in her stomach, a dull ache that was spreading all over her body. Something was dreadfully wrong, it was a mother’s instinct. She knew her boy was in trouble. It wasn’t a conscious thought, more a feeling that was growing stronger by the second. Martin was in danger somewhere and he wanted his mummy. She knew all this in a matter of seconds.
When Louise came off the phone she was quietly crying, big fat tears of anguish and terror.
‘She said you picked him up, Jack. We’d better get Old Bill, eh?’
Jackie started sobbing. The other children gathered round her, upset themselves now at this show of emotion from their mother and aunt.
