Blood Daughter: Flesh and Blood Trilogy Book Three (Flesh and Blood series)

by Dreda Say Mitchell

  Nicky’s aching, quiet voice intruded on her memories. ‘There must be some bad luck about me to lose two dads in my life.’

  Her mind screamed for him to stop. The tears were hot behind her eyes, threatening to spill any moment down her face. By the time they reached the plush Notting Hill villa, Flo‘s jaw was strained as she desperately held the pain back.

  Nicky must’ve noticed how tightly her hands held the steering wheel. He asked, ‘You alright babe?’

  It took Flo a couple of seconds to answer as she swallowed and pushed her dad from her mind. Then she turned to him with a too-brilliant smile. ‘I’m fine.’ She took his hand in hers and squeezed and for the first time since she’d met Dee’s son she really did want to give him comfort.

  As soon as they got inside Flo introduced him to The Commander who was bent over his model of the Titanic. ‘Commander – this is Nicky. He’s gonna – oops, sorry – going to be staying with me.’ She couldn’t bring herself to say ‘boyfriend’ or resist adding ‘for a while’.

  The Commander looked up with a beaming smile. He got up so slowly Flo could almost hear his bones creaking. She hated to think of her granddad in pain. He approached Nicky and held out his hand. ‘Nicky Black. Really wonderful to have you here son.’

  She was surprised The Commander remembered Nicky’s surname. A small smile played on her lips at that; her granddad might be getting on in years but his mind was as sharp as ever.

  ‘That’s a very distinctive aftershave you’re wearing,’ he noted, eyebrows lifting.

  If it had been any other old man, Flo might have believed he really meant it. But she knew the Commander had been in just about every opium den and knocking shop in just about every port, on just about every continent. He knew herbal when he smelt it.

  ‘I need a place to crash,’ Nicky said. ‘My old man just died and I need a bit of space.’

  The Commander patted him on the shoulder sympathetically. ‘Yes, it’s never easy losing a loved one. Stay as long as you like.’ He drifted back to his chair and got on with his model.

  Grabbing Nicky’s hand Flo drew him into the hallway. ‘Great drum your grandpops has.’ His gaze wandered around curiously.

  ‘Don’t ever call him grandpops. He likes everyone to call him The Commander.’

  Nicky twisted at her words so quickly that he knocked into HMS Grenada’s bell and it pealed loudly. ‘What the hell is that?’ he asked.

  ‘He’s bonkers about ships. The bell belonged to the ship he commanded, hence the name Commander.’

  When they got upstairs Jezebel was on the landing to greet them. Over the weeks, the cat and Flo had come to an understanding. Flo had to keep out of the cat’s room unless she was out. When Jezebel came back, Flo was expected to leave immediately. In return, the Persian was allowed into Flo’s room to sharpen her claws on the furniture but she too was expected to be about her business when Flo came back. A certain mutual respect had developed on the grounds that it took one to know one. Jezebel turned her head towards her and tilted it slightly. Of course she couldn’t say ‘Look what the cat’s dragged in’ but that was what her squinty look clearly meant.

  ‘I didn’t know you had a cat.’ He smiled at it. ‘Pretty thing.’

  As if knowing she’d been complimented the cat prowled over to him and rubbed herself against his leg, purring.

  You’ve got my room, now you want my man as well! Flo dragged Nicky sharply away and closed the door to her room. Nicky flopped down on the bed. ‘I could sleep for ever,’ he told her quietly. He reached out his hand. ‘At least I’ve got you.’

  But she didn’t take it. Instead, Flo decided it was time to get down to business. Her voice was chilly. ‘Yeah, but you won’t have for long if we don’t get some money together.’

  ‘Money?’ He sounded like it was the first time that he’d ever heard the word.

  ‘Yeah, you know; pounds, shillings and pence, dough, bread, bunce, lolly.’

  He had a think. ‘Yeah, you’re right. I’ll get a job.’

  Tempted as she was to say that there weren’t many openings in the London job market for a dope-smoking, college dropout, Flo decided to keep the conversation business-like. ‘No, that’s not going to work. We can’t stay here forever and do you know what it costs to rent a decent flat in this city and to afford the lifestyle I’ve become accustomed to? We aren’t going to get that kind of cash with you putting on a paper hat and flogging burgers to chavs. No, we’ll have to try something else, something a bit more ambitious.’

  He leaned on his elbow and sighed heavily. ‘Are you talking about me putting the screws on my mum to get a share of Nanna Babs’ houses?’

  That shook Flo up. Nicky was meant to be a lovesick teen she could bend to her will. ‘Um . . . well . . .’ she spluttered.

  ‘I weren’t born yesterday. When we started going out I always suspected you were after something—’

  ‘I do like you.’ And she did, that was the truth. But Nicky was also business and if there was one thing Stanley Miller had taught her it was never confuse the two.

  ‘I like you too baby. You know how to have a laugh. But you’ve got to understand there’s fuck all I can do to work on my mum. When it comes to Nanna Babs she’s really protective and that includes anything that belongs to her.’

  Flo slammed out, ‘But those houses were my dad’s. It’s not fair that I’m cut out. I was his daughter too.’

  She could feel her temper rising and rising. Those houses were the last piece of her dad she had. She couldn’t lose them; it was the horror of losing Stan all over again.

  ‘I’ll go if you want me to,’ Nicky offered.

  Flo looked at him. Now he was of no use to her she should make him sling his hook.

  ‘Florence dear,’ The Commander called from downstairs, ‘can you come down for a moment. My matchsticks have fallen on the floor and my old legs are rather tired.’

  Her mind still on Nicky, she left the room. Ten minutes later she found him at the foot of the stairs with his belongings. Jezebel lurked behind him purring softly.

  ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ Flo asked him furiously.

  He gawped at her. ‘I thought you wanted me to do one.’

  She waltzed over to him and put on her winning smile. ‘We’re mates right?’ He nodded, but still looked confused. ‘And mates help each other out. I know you won’t help me with the houses and that doesn’t matter.’ She wound her arms around his neck. ’But I’ll help you out, so stay as long as you like.’

  Forty-Six

  Babs’ eyes grew wide with alarm and her mouth formed a startled O. She managed to duck before the table tennis ball hit her bang in the face. It hurtled over her head and slammed into the wall behind. She peered up at Knox, her opponent on the other side of the table, and protested, ‘Take it easy will ya. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’ve got a broken finger.’

  They were in the rec area, which hummed with the sound of women chatting, playing cards and chess and just taking it easy. It was most prisoners’ favourite part of the day because there were no kangas standing over them telling them what to do.

  Knox grinned, which looked more like a wolf getting ready to rip the flesh from its dead prey. ‘It ain’t my fault you’ve got two left hands Miller. Now straighten up and start playing.’ Her feet almost danced from side to side like a boxer inside a ring, her bat pointed forward with the power of a shooter. ‘I’m gonna take you down.’

  Bloody hell’s bells, Babs thought, deeply regretting ever saying she’d play a round with her personal bodyguard. Now she understood why the other women pretended to have something else to do when Knox asked if anyone fancied a game. All Babs had wanted to do was to keep herself busy, instead of worrying about the battle going on in her family. She still hadn’t heard from the parole board, which was also doing her head in royally. Every day seemed to start with a slow tick-tock of the clock as she waited.

  Babs located the ball, got
back to the table. As she raised her bat Knox made a deep growling noise and cried, ‘I’m gonna maul you Miller.’

  Babs groaned inwardly as she hit the ball. The next fifteen minutes were gruelling and painful. So much for relaxing recreation! After being pinged painfully on her forehead she chucked the bat on the table and called it a day.

  ‘You’re a flippin’ animal,’ she shot at the other woman, who only started making squawking chicken noises as Babs walked away, shaking her head.

  ‘Right, who’s next?’ Knox shouted menacingly as Babs took the metal stairs to her landing.

  As soon as she reached her cell, she shut the door. Peace at last! She walked over to her TV, in the mood to watch some daytime telly, when her cell door opened again. Two prisoners she didn’t know, but had seen around, waltzed inside and closed the cell door. They looked like a proper pair of toughs with large frames and stone cold faces.

  Babs stammered, ’Can I help you two ladies?’

  One answered in a surprisingly high, squeaky voice like a Munchkin, ‘We’ve got a message for your girl Dee.’

  ‘You mates of my daughter are ya?’ Babs knew full well tthey weren’t, but she planned to keep them talking until she found a way out of this.

  Her plan went to pot. The one with large bug eyes rushed her, and before Babs knew it she was bashed into the wall, her head pulled so painfully back she thought her neck was going to snap.

  ‘Fucking get off me,’ she shouted.

  Bug Eyes kneed her in the belly, making her gasp as the wind whooshed out of her. She clutched her middle.

  Munchkin shoved her face so close to Babs she could see the tiny, red blood vessels in her eyes. ‘Your girl has been trying to make a monkey of the wrong people.’

  ‘Nah, that don’t sound like my—’

  ‘Shut the fuck up.’ Babs whimpered as her hair was pulled harder until it felt like her scalp was coming away from her skull.

  ‘What’s the message you want me to give her?’ she called out.

  They both chuckled and Bug Eyes informed her in a steel voice, ‘You’re the message—’

  ‘But I ain’t done nuthin.’

  ‘True,’ Munchkin conceded, ‘but that rank daughter of yours has.’

  Babs continued to play for time. ‘Whatever she’s done I’ll tell her to knock it on the head.’

  ‘Too late for that. And orders is orders.’

  She yelped as she was dragged towards her bathroom through the material that divided it from the main cell. Bugs twisted her head sideways over the sink.

  ‘Now, I wouldn’t want to make a mess,’ said Munchkin as she pulled something out of her pocket. No, Babs cried mentally, they’re gonna flippin’ slit my throat and watch me bleed down the sink as I slowly die.

  Then she noticed that what the woman had in her hand wasn’t a homemade knife, but a bottle of baby oil. Babs was filled with horror because she knew that the clear liquid inside would be a mixture of urine and spit. The only reason it didn’t include shit was because it turned the liquid another colour and the kangas would then suss what it was. Prisoners would leave the concoction to ferment until it was a rank, stinking mess. But that wasn’t the only reason it was so feared – the bodily fluids meant it could carry some very deadly diseases. The last time Babs had seen Bug Eyes was when she was waiting to have her finger looked at and had overheard the quack talking to her tormentor about her HIV.

  A fist came out of nowhere and slammed into the side of Babs’ face. Her small world turned upside down as terrible pain ripped through her. Her jaw was grabbed and her mouth opened. No . . . No . . . They wouldn’t . . .

  ‘Time for some liquid refreshment,’ Bugs’ malicious voice rang around her head.

  Babs willed herself to move but her body wasn’t listening. The bottle was coming closer and closer. It reached her slack-jawed mouth. The evil woman started to press her thumbs against the plastic . . .

  Then she was flying backwards along with the bottle. Babs slumped against the sink. And there she was, her hero, that animal Knox, grinding her teeth and flexing her fists.

  ‘No one,’ she ground out, ‘No one touches my Babs.’

  Bugs faced off, her voice dripping with scorn. ‘No way you can take the two of us on Knox.’

  In the following minutes Knox proved her wrong. She went at them with her fists, kicks and head butts and demolished both with her legendary one-two. The women lay in an unconscious, bloody heap on the concrete bathroom floor.

  With a tenderness Babs would be eternally grateful for and didn’t know she possessed, her saviour got her sat on her bed.

  She inspected the injury to Babs’ jaw. ‘I’ve seen worse. It would be better if you don’t see the quack.’

  Babs knew what she wasn’t saying; a visit to the doctor would raise questions she didn’t want to answer. ‘I’m alright.’ She gazed fretfully towards the bathroom. ‘What about them?’

  Grim faced, Knox got up and dragged the still unconscious women along the floor by their hair and dumped them, like rubbish, near the cell door. ‘They’ll understand which way the wind’s blowing when they wake up.’ She studied Babs closely. ‘What the hell was all that about?’

  Babs decided not to reveal what she’d been told. But as soon as it was lights-out she’d be on her mobile to Dee to find out what the fuck was going on.

  Forty-Seven

  Courtney’s second session with Foxy was slightly different. They still met in the burger bar with some nosh – chicken burgers and shared coleslaw – but this time her counsellor asked her a question:

  ‘Who’s your favourite teacher?’

  Courtney groaned. ‘Do I have to have one?’

  ‘It’s up to you. My favourite teacher was Mrs Kendal, my history teacher.’ Foxy smiled with memories. ‘That woman knew how to make the past come alive.’

  Courtney sucked on her mint-chocolate milkshake. ‘Alright, I hate school, but Miss Patel is my P.E. teacher. She taught us all how to do a double back-flip.’

  Foxy grinned. ‘Why don’t you show me how to do one?’

  The straw popped out of Courtney’s mouth with amazement. ‘In here?’

  ‘Why not? You can show everyone what a super talent you have.’

  Courtney thought for a bit, but decided, ‘Nah. I’d only make a show of myself.’ She gazed shyly at her counsellor. ‘’Though I’m really good at it. Besides, you need to be safe and use a mat.’

  Foxy stared shrewdly at her, but asked no more questions about school. They only talked about music and ate away. But at the end of the session Courtney couldn’t help feeling she wasn’t useless at everything. She was good at P.E.

  ‘You gonna keep staring at it like it’s an alien or you gonna open it up?’ Kieran playfully asked Jen that night.

  He watched Jen’s eyes gleam with pleasure as she stared at the gold envelope he’d passed to her as they sat in The Lock having dinner. Usually he’d take his ladies to the private dining room, but he got the impression that Jen liked to be seen on his arm and he was happy to show her off. He felt bad that Babs wasn’t too pleased about him wining and dining her girl, but this was business.

  Jen beamed at him. There was no doubt about it, she was a stunning slice of womanhood. She was wearing a scarlet floaty Dior dress – off a warehouse job – that he’d gifted her last week. He smiled crookedly as he recalled how she’d tried it on, then lifted the hemline and climbed on his friend downstairs to show her gratitude.

  She clutched the envelope. ‘Are these the tickets to the Take That tour up in Manchester?’ she trilled.

  ‘Take That? Are you having a giggle bird? If anyone spotted me at a shindig for those teeny boppers my rep would be in the crapper.’

  She laughed out loud, which made him smile. He liked hearing her laugh; it reminded him of Babs. ‘Open the bloody thing and find out.’

  With the delight of a kid in a sweetie shop Jen pulled out an elegant invitation card. She looked up at him, a glow of utter
delight on her face. ‘Oh Kieran babe, it’s an all-expenses-paid trip to a spa.’ Her voice choked up a bit. ‘I’ve only ever been to a spa once, up at York Hall Swimming Baths.’

  Kieran pushed his chest out, chuffed. ‘You can forget about Bethnal Green, this is in Knightsbridge where they know how to treat a lady like a queen.’

  ‘You total sweetheart.’ She rushed around the table and dragged him into a deep hug.

  ‘Steady on girl, I’ve still got to keep my reputation as a hard man.’

  She let go with a little hiccup of a chuckle and sat down again. ‘No one’s ever done that for me before.’

  He covered her hand with his, remembering all the times when he was growing up wild on The Devil and Babs had gone out of her way for him. Done things for him that no one had before. If it wasn’t for her he wouldn’t even be able to read the menu. Guilt took a seat at the table as he wondered what she would think about him using her daughter to find the gold. He couldn’t deal with her thinking he had betrayed her. It tore him up to even think about it.

  ‘Why don’t we order some nosh,’ he said quickly, to rid himself of guilty thoughts of his second mum. He raised a finger at one of the waiting staff and pointed to the bottle of almost empty Bolly on the table.

  Kieran was a man who enjoyed simple food, so he ordered a plate of steak and chips and Jen settled on a fancy pasta dish on the menu.

  Once they were tucking into their meal he got down to business. ‘So, what’s Dee’s house like?’

  ‘Fuck-off, as you would expect the home of John Black to be,’ she answered, around a mouthful of penne. ‘It’s got all kinds of rooms with silly names. The Hollywood, Lover’s Lane – if you can believe that.’ She set her knife and fork down and stared wistfully into space. ‘Mind you, I wouldn’t say no to a gaff like that.’