by Jessie Keane
‘All right, honey, all right . . .’ she crooned, as Ciaran loomed there, ugly and threatening.
Her legs shaking beneath her, Shauna went back to the door.
‘Hold up.’ Ciaran put the gun’s barrels against her chest. She could feel the cold metal burning her skin through her thin top. She shuddered. ‘Where you going?’ he asked.
Shauna was finding it hard to breathe. ‘The . . . the nappies, they’re in the next room, I won’t be a sec,’ she said.
Ciaran didn’t move. He was staring unblinkingly at her face. Then slowly he turned the gun aside.
Heart beating furiously, Shauna went out of the nursery and into the bedroom she shared with Josh. Aware of Ciaran following her, she went over to the wardrobe and made a great show of rummaging around in the bottom of it. Then she heard movement downstairs. She froze, looked back at Ciaran.
‘That’ll be Rowan, coming in ready for our talk with your old man,’ he said, smirking.
Terror gripped her then. They were going to hurt Josh. She’d blown Jeb out and all her apologies after he’d sorted out that mouthy bitch Phil had fallen on deaf ears. This was the result. This was Jeb’s revenge. Connor was still howling, screaming. The sound galvanized her, made her sharpen up. Made her quash the panic that was threatening to overwhelm her. Made her start to think.
They’ll kill Josh and then they’ll rape me, she thought. And Connor. Christ! Would they hurt Connor?
‘Hurry it up,’ said Ciaran.
‘All right,’ she snapped back, and then inside the wardrobe her groping hand found what she was searching for. She touched the end of the tape, yanked it back, flicked off the safety catch and turned with the ready-loaded Magnum in her hand. Ciaran’s face froze and he started to raise the shotgun.
But Shauna fired first.
65
When Josh reached his driveway, he saw a dirty old pickup truck parked in the road outside, and that chilled him, creased his guts with anxiety. Silently he went up the drive. All the lights were on in the house, but he could hear no sounds coming from inside.
Shauna was in there with little Connor, the apple of his eye, already the spitting image of his dad. Not the au pair, she was off visiting relatives this week, thank God.
He passed the front door and went on round the back. He had the key. Going by the windows, he peered in through the film of net curtains and saw no movement inside, nothing. The TV was on in the living room, but there was no one in there and he couldn’t hear the sound except . . . shit! That was Connor, crying. Josh walked on until he was at the back door, which led straight into the kitchen.
Quietly, his hand unsteady, he put the key in the lock and opened the door. Peeked inside. It was all lit up, but there was nothing, no movement. He stepped inside, turned right – and found himself staring straight down the twin barrels of a twelve-bore shotgun.
‘Hello again, Josh Flynn,’ said Rowan Cleaver with a drunken grin. ‘Beat you back, didn’t I.’
Rowan was standing in the doorway that led into the hall, and he was so wide that he nearly filled it. Despite that big shit-eating grin he always wore, Rowan’s manner, his stance, was terrifying. He was mildly drunk, yes – but still dangerous.
‘Yeah,’ said Josh with every appearance of calm, holding a monkey wrench in one hand and a sports bag in the other.
Where is Shauna?
He could hear movement upstairs. Floorboards creaking. Faint voices. And Connor, crying loudly.
‘Damn, you been avoiding me? That was neat, slipping out that way. You left your car there and hitched a ride with someone, didn’t you?’ Rowan laughed. ‘You’re a slippery one, aintcha? Now. That door you just came through? Open it again. Step back outside.’
Whatever they had planned, they were going to make it nice and neat, out in the garden. Josh’s heart was thwacking against his chest wall like a jackhammer. Then it happened. Suddenly there was a huge thundering crash of sound from upstairs. Rowan half-turned, startled.
‘What the fuck?’
Then there were rapid footfalls on the stairs and suddenly there was another massive noise, closer and louder than the first, and Rowan’s head burst open like a smashed watermelon. The shotgun flew out of his hands and clattered down on to the kitchen tiles.
For a moment, all was stillness.
Blood dripped steadily, like a faulty tap.
Rowan’s hand twitched, but there was no doubt; he was dead.
Then, slowly, Shauna appeared in the doorway, arms stretched ahead of her, both hands clasping the smoking Magnum. She looked down at Rowan’s corpse and then over at Josh. Upstairs, Connor was still shrieking. Shauna started to shake.
‘Oh my Christ,’ she moaned, and stepped around Rowan’s body and slumped into a chair, the gun still clutched in one hand.
‘Shaun . . .’ Josh could barely speak.
‘Ciaran came to the door and barged his way in,’ she said numbly. ‘Connor was crying upstairs and I said I had to go up and see to him. I didn’t think he was going to let me. But he did. I’ve seen the yogger up there so I got it out of the wardrobe . . .’ She was babbling, half-crying with the aftermath of terror. She’d used the old gypsy word for gun and in her panicked state she hadn’t even noticed. ‘Josh, I was afraid he wouldn’t let me go up there.’
Josh dropped the wrench and his bag and came over to her. He took the gun from her hand, put on the safety, laid it on the kitchen counter. Fell to his knees in the mess and the blood and hugged her. For that moment he forgot all he’d been told. She’d saved him. She’d saved them all.
‘You did good,’ said Josh. He was shaking too. ‘You all right?’
‘What the hell are we going to do with the . . . the bodies?’ The metal stink of blood was hot and horrible in the kitchen. ‘God, I feel sick,’ said Shauna, and staggered to the sink and threw up.
Josh watched his wife and now Rowan’s words came back to him. Jeb had been sneaking around here, maybe watching him go and then coming into the house and fucking Shauna. He thought of the baby, upstairs. His child here, while they were at it in the bedroom. Still, he had no doubt that Connor was his. Connor was the image of Josh, any fool could see that.
‘You’ve had a shock,’ said Josh. ‘We both have.’ He stood up, looking down at the corpse. Another one, upstairs. They were going to have to be smart here. Clean everything away. Do it just right. ‘We’re going to need bleach, and some of that stuff for the floors. Scrubbing brushes. Cloths. A tarpaulin, I’ve got one out in the shed. And their truck out front? I’ve got to get rid of that.’
‘It’s not just that,’ said Shauna, wiping her mouth, flushing out the sink with fresh water.
‘What?’ His head was reeling. All that Rowan had told him about her. And all that had happened here tonight. It was too much.
‘It’s not just shock, Josh. Oh Jesus. Oh Christ what a day!’ Shauna took a gulping breath and looked at him. ‘I’m pregnant again, Josh,’ Shauna told him. ‘I saw the doctor late this afternoon. We’re going to have another baby.’
66
They had done all they could. Cleaned the place. Stashed the bodies. Josh had taken Ciaran’s pickup with Shauna following in her BMW and driven it off to the wilds and set light to it. Then they’d gone back home and looked for Rowan’s truck. It had to be there. They searched up and down the roads and were exhausted, nearly sunk in despair, when finally they found it. That too they took off and destroyed, then they went home again.
Next morning they sat at the breakfast table. They’d managed coffee, but neither of them could face eating. Josh stared at Shauna bleakly. ‘They came here to kill me, didn’t they?’ He stared at her face. ‘But why? That’s what I don’t get.’
Shauna shrugged. ‘Over you taking off and not going on losing fights for them, I guess. Those boys can sure hold a grudge.’
‘What, after all this time?’ Josh’s eyes searched hers. Shauna was lying, snatching at straws to cover her own tracks.
&n
bsp; The best fuck any of us ever had, Rowan had told him. How’s that sexy missus of yours?
‘People do bear grudges,’ she said.
‘Yeah. Maybe.’ He stared at her. His wife. Yet she was a total stranger to him. He thought then of Connor, who was the picture of Josh at the same age. Yes, Connor was his. But now Shauna was up the gut again, and . . . Christ. He couldn’t be sure this new kid was his. He doubted her now. Doubted everything.
Days later, when Josh was off down the gym training, Jeb Cleaver turned up at the door. He stood there, wide and tall. For the first time ever, Shauna felt afraid of him. Jeb Cleaver, who she’d been leading around by the cock for the best part of both their lives. Now he looked at her and there was something different in his eyes, something threatening. Thank God the nanny was out with Connor, and wouldn’t be back for over an hour.
‘What do you want?’ she asked coldly, managing – just – to keep her voice steady. ‘I told you: we’re over.’
He’s looking for them. For Ciaran and Rowan.
‘You seen my brothers?’ he asked, his eyes unblinking as they stared into hers.
‘What?’ Shauna gave him a blank look. Her heart was beating hard and she could feel a trickle of sweat worming its way down her back.
‘Ciaran. Rowan. They went out a few nights since and they ain’t been back.’
‘What’s that got to do with me?’
‘Nothing,’ he said. Staring at her like he wanted to pick her brains apart.
‘I haven’t seen them. Why would I?’
Jeb shrugged and smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes. ‘Can’t run a pig farm with two men. Pa and me, we’re fully stretched and here they are, going off on a bender or some such foolishness.’
‘That’s got nothing to do with me,’ said Shauna.
‘No, course. Only there’s this, you see. We had all sort of agreed between us that – painful but true – your old man should go.’
Now Shauna was really sweating. She could smell the fear on herself. She wondered if he could, too.
‘You weren’t going to play nice with me any more, that was plain. So we thought that you’d be nicer if you didn’t have that fucking Flynn bloke with you. Ciaran and Rowan were going to do whatever needed doing, but they ain’t been back home. We ain’t seen them since they left that night. Ain’t that funny? And I just seen Josh Flynn drive off, whole and well.’
‘Well, they haven’t been here. Maybe Ciaran and Rowan went on a real bender of a pub crawl. Maybe they got rat-arsed,’ said Shauna. She gulped down a breath. ‘It wouldn’t be the first time, would it? Listen. I don’t care where they are or what they’re up to, I haven’t seen them. And I don’t want you coming round here, not any more. I told you. Take it in will you? We’re finished. I’ll pay you for any jobs you do, but that’s it. All the rest of it? That’s over.’
Jeb said nothing for a full minute. He just stood there, a half-smile on his lips, his eyes on her face. Then he reached out a hand, quick as a viper. He grabbed her throat and yanked her toward him. Shauna let out a half-strangled cry. She was nose to nose with Jeb now, her feet almost dangling off the floor. In panic, she grabbed the front of his coat, clawed at him.
‘Now you listen,’ he said right into her face. ‘All right? They were coming here and now they’re nowhere to be found? That’s fucking odd, I’d say. But you know what? I’ll tell you what, and you should be grateful for it, you scheming bitch. Fact is, I don’t much care. That pair of whoresons have been kicking me around for most of my life and so, who gives a fuck? Not me.’
Shauna tried to speak: couldn’t.
‘But you want to keep ol’ Josh safe?’ Jeb went on. ‘You keep on being nice to me, Shauna. You be very nice indeed. Starting now. This ain’t over – and you know what? It’s better now, because it’ll be just you and me, real cosy. No brothers to worry about. And if you think about changing that one more time, just think again, OK? Because I’ll kill him. I’ll kill Josh Flynn, I swear it. And the kid.’
He grabbed her chin again, looked into her eyes as he slammed the front door shut behind him. Then he pushed her ahead of him into the kitchen, hustled her over to the sink and leaned her over it.
‘Jeb, stop . . .’ she gasped out. I’m pregnant. Don’t be rough. Don’t hurt the baby. But the words wouldn’t come.
‘Shut up,’ said Jeb, yanking down her pants, unzipping his fly.
Shauna shut up, let him do it, thinking of the baby inside her, knowing she couldn’t fight this. She mustn’t.
It seemed to go on for a long, long time. But it was only minutes.
When Jeb was finished, he pulled out of her, zipped up.
‘Now!’ said Jeb. ‘You are going to learn your lesson and fall in line. You got that?’
Shauna turned, straightened, shivering with shock.
‘Got it?’ said Jeb, staring into her eyes.
‘Yeah,’ said Shauna. ‘I got it.’
67
Seven months later, when the two eldest Cleaver brothers had rotted away almost to nothing, lying weighted down safely in the middle of the deep, wide riverbed at the bottom of the garden, there were big changes for the Flynn family. Josh started promoting as well as boxing; they moved house; and their daughter Aysha was born.
Aysha Flynn made her appearance in the world via a home birth, and Shauna was up and about within hours, making tea in her dressing gown in their brand-new kitchen while the dirty sheets whirled clean in the laundry room. Josh marvelled at her powers of recovery; she had babies like most women shucked peas. Shauna shrugged everything off; illness, concern, even her conscience.
But God how she loved her babies. He could see that, as she hefted Connor on to her hip in the upstairs nursery and cooed into the lavishly constructed cradle – new, not second-hand of course – containing the baby girl. Josh watched Shauna, saw her face glowing with satisfaction. She smiled across at him and then glanced around this beautifully furnished room in their new home, letting her gaze linger on the window where the sun streamed in like a blessing.
‘A little sister for Connor,’ she said to Josh. ‘Life’s just perfect.’
Josh looked at her. For Shauna, maybe it was.
But for him?
No.
It was far from that.
Now, when he looked at his wife and at the new baby – who was dark-haired and dark-eyed, like Shauna, and like Jeb Cleaver too – he saw lies. He saw secrets. His life had gone bad the instant he lost Claire, lost the happy Romany way of life he should have lived with her. And now, trapped with this manipulative woman he barely knew and certainly didn’t trust, it was too late; there was no going back.
BOOK TWO
68
December 1999
Shauna Flynn looked around her vast sitting room. The fire was banked up and crackling cheerily against the winter cold, and she had just finished decorating a huge twelve-foot Christmas tree in tasteful tones of gold and silver. She’d had the decorators in recently, painting all the walls in neutral taupes and creams, so that in spring she could add primrose-yellow and soft sky-blue and sugar-pink cushions and rugs and paintings. In summer, she would accessorize with forest greens and lime and mint. But now it was winter, and she’d put red plaid throws on the huge cream sofas, and added scarlet rugs and a feature wall of deep berry-red around the fireplace.
She was made up with this house. She loved it. It was far better than the four they’d lived in since leaving the riverside place. They’d traded one in for another, climbing up the property ladder until now they were sitting on a goldmine. Their first real family home – the old one by the river – couldn’t compare to this. And it had held terrible memories. She’d been glad to leave it. Every time she’d looked at it after that long-ago night when Ciaran and Rowan had come to call, she saw not a picturesque scene but something tainted and hateful.
This house looked out on to lawns and then to woodland. Although it wasn’t far from that first house on the riverside,
it was far enough. So she still kept her ‘friends’, such as they were – Chloe, her ex-next-door-neighbour, and Tanya. She still felt they just tolerated her, after all that bitch Phil had told them. But Phil was history. And ever since those days, Shauna had donated freely to all Tanya and Chloe’s favourite charities, made herself indispensable to them as a fundraiser, made sure everyone saw what a good upright pillar of the community she was – so now she was in, she was a well-established part of their circle, and that was all she cared about.
Josh had upped the security here after a spate of robberies in the area. There was a state-of-the-art alarm system installed in this house, and electronic gates. Of course that didn’t keep out Jeb Cleaver. Living the high life, enjoying her standing in the community, Jeb was like the evil fairy in Shauna’s perfect tale of bliss. Over the years he’d haunted her. He called on her whenever he could, whenever he wanted to. Anytime Josh was gone – and he was gone a lot – Jeb was likely to show up. And then he expected sex. And she had to give out. Or else. She had to toe the line. He always casually dropped her kids’ names into the conversation, and to hear Connor’s and Aysha’s names on his lips made her want to heave. She idolized her kids and she had to keep them safe.
Sometimes – this was the worst thing – she even enjoyed it when Jeb took her, and that made her feel disgusted at her own animal appetites. It was worse when he was slow about it, taking his time, really grinding away at her like he had all day. She couldn’t stand it then, couldn’t resist, because Josh had been neglecting her too long in that department. Sometimes it made her sick with rage that Jeb still had such a powerful hold on her. At those times, she thought of the Magnum tucked away upstairs in the wardrobe and wondered what it might feel like to blow his head to fuck, like she’d done with his brothers.
Josh was away fighting but he had promised he would be home on Christmas Eve. She still loved him, lived for him. But she knew it didn’t cut both ways. She hated him leaving her, but he didn’t seem to have any problem with it. Every time he went away on a bout or a promo tour of England or the USA with his team of boxers – who were mostly hard bastards from Linus Pole’s boxing booths – she tucked little notes into his bag to remind him that she was here, at home, waiting. I love you, said the notes. I need you. I want you. Not that he ever did anything in return. He didn’t even remember their anniversaries, the bastard, so over the years she’d stopped bothering with parties and gifts.
