‘Nah, he was off his fucking rocker, Harry. Coked up to his fucking eyeballs and all over one of my girls. He left with her too. Little Romanian bird called Serena.’
Raymond watched as Harry let the information sink in. He hated being the bearer of bad news, but he knew that as much as Terry Stranks’ actions riled Harry, Harry was adamant that he would rather know what the bloke was up to than not, and if Harry insisted on keeping tabs on the bloke then Raymond was happy to oblige. Yet he could see by Harry’s face that he was nevertheless fuming at Terry’s latest shenanigans.
‘Anyway, don’t you worry. The cocky bastard already got his comeuppance as it turns out.’ Raymond took a swig out of his drink. ‘There I was, sat on my tod outside the house in my motor keeping an eye out for the prick, when who comes out not fifteen minutes later? Serena. The cheeky bitch had only fleeced Terry for every penny and then tried to do a runner, hadn’t she? She got the shock of her life when I collared her.’ Raymond shrugged. ‘Anyway, by the time I’d dealt with her and got back to the house, Terry had cleared off.’
‘Fucking joker.’
‘Tell me about it. Still, I got a nice little earner out of it,’ Raymond agreed. ‘You want to do anything about it?’ he asked. He could see by his friend’s face that Harry looked fit to kill, but he also knew that Harry wouldn’t do anything to retaliate.
Harry shook his head.
Raymond didn’t know why Harry put himself through the pain of wanting to know. If it were him he would have washed his hands with the guy long ago. Either that or stuck a bullet in the bloke. Changing the subject, Raymond sat down opposite his friend. ‘Now, enough of the chit-chat. What’s going on with Christopher?’
‘Don’t even get me started on him.’ Rubbing his temples, Harry sighed. ‘The boy is like a time bomb just waiting to go off. I’m at my wits’ end with him, Raymond.’
Raymond knew exactly what his friend was going through. The last he’d heard, Christopher had had his boxing licence revoked. His fearsome reputation was not only spiralling out of control but it was also preceding him: forever in the papers, it hadn’t taken long for the British Boxing Board of Control to get wind of the chaos that Christopher was creating outside of the ring, and they had quickly withdrawn his licence, unwilling to be associated with someone so volatile. The boy had fucked up his career before he’d even started.
As Harry’s friend, Raymond had seen the boy’s erratic behaviour go from bad to worse over the years but he knew that it wasn’t his place to say it. Harry didn’t need him to point out the obvious. Christopher had more issues than Vogue magazine, and they both knew why. Raymond was just glad that Harry had finally pulled his neck out of the sand and was admitting that he could see it for himself.
‘I’m pulling him off the job.’ Harry stared at Raymond now, waiting for him to say something. To tell him he was overreacting, or that he was wrong.
But instead Raymond nodded his head fully in agreement: Christopher was too much of a wild card to be involved with the business. ‘It’s been a long time coming, Harry. I think you’re right.’ Raymond nodded.
‘The boy’s too much of a risk. His head is all over the fucking place.’
‘What’s he said?’ Raymond asked, wondering how Christopher had taken the news that his own father couldn’t trust working with him.
Harry shrugged again. ‘Told the kid that I’m going to sort him out with an unlicensed fight. That gig that I’m promoting next week, I’ve told him that he’s going to be the main attraction. He seems keen too, so who knows? All I do know is that the boy needs to vent, and I need to keep him focused. You know what he’s like, his ego’s the size of this fucking house, thinks he’s going to be the next Muhammad Ali. He didn’t even question my decision.’
Downing his drink, Raymond could see where Harry was coming from. It was best to pacify Christopher sometimes, otherwise they could end up with a shitstorm on their hands and neither of them wanted that.
‘Anyway, it’s done now. So, we’re a man down. But I reckon we can more than cope.’
It was a big job coming up, and really they needed all hands on deck. But not wanting to worry Harry, Raymond changed the subject.
‘Right, how’s about one more before I hit the road?’ Raymond held up his glass. ‘And then I think we should have a rematch. But I’ll tell you what, let’s make it fair. Let’s square things up so that we’re equal this time.’
Getting up to get the drinks, Harry looked at his friend questioningly. ‘Oh yeah, and how are you going to do that then?’
‘I’ll give you a thirty-eight point handicap to start you off . . .’ Then, kicking off his shoes, Raymond chuckled. ‘And I’ll play using only my feet.’
Chapter Eight
‘Fuck me sideways, this bloody driveway is almost as long as the M25,’ Kelly moaned as her stiletto heels sank down into the gravel as she walked. The place was stunning, though, she couldn’t deny that.
Making her way up the plush road in Hampstead Heath, Kelly found it hard to believe this was the same city she lived in. All the houses around here looked grand, expensive. Lined with huge wrought iron gates that led onto long winding driveways, and facing out onto the Heath. The views were magnificent. It was like being in the countryside; acres of protected land, dotted with woodland and pretty ponds. The place was a far cry from the grey depressing council house that she and Terry were used to back home in Southwark; it was a completely different world in fact.
Even if she wanted to, there was no hiding how impressed she was. Flicking her long blonde clip-in hair extensions over her shoulders and pouting her heavily glossed lips Kelly glanced round at her surroundings excitedly.
So, this was how the other half lived, eh? She opened her eyes wide in awe at the grand house that stood up ahead of them. The sheer size of the place was incredible, and lit up against the dark evening sky the house looked breathtakingly beautiful.
‘Cor, check out his motors.’ Terry whistled as he eyed up the collection of cars that lined the driveway like ornaments. ‘An R8, a Bentley and a Range Rover.’
‘Jesus, Terry, put your tongue back in, would you? You look bleeding gormless.’ Kelly failed to suppress the flicker of annoyance as Terry gawped at the cars longingly. It was wishful thinking on her husband’s part; Terry wouldn’t be able to afford the valeting on these motors let alone the log books. ‘I bet you’re glad we got a bleeding Tube now, aren’t you?’ Kelly added smugly. ‘Imagine if we’d have turned up in your shitty little Astra, we’d have probably been laughed all the way back to Southwark. They’d have loved that, wouldn’t they?’
Kelly hated their Astra. It was a rust bucket on wheels, and if she was given the choice she’d have rather crawled through the streets of London on her hands and knees than be seen dead sitting in that heap of shit.
‘His last place was incredible, but this gaff is like a fucking castle in comparison,’ Terry murmured, ignoring Kelly’s comment as he mentally added up the value of the motors. ‘He must have money coming out of his ears.’
Terry stared straight ahead, pretending to focus on the detailing of the Edwardian stained glass doorway that towered above them as he secretly wondered if coming here today was such a good idea after all.
‘It is a bit plush, though, ain’t it? Like one of those houses you see in magazines, you know, the sort of place you’d imagine Posh and Becks living in,’ Kelly cooed. ‘Here, Terry, imagine if David opened the door to me wearing those skimpy little pants that he wears in those adverts. How funny would that be. Hung like a bloody stallion that man is.’
Chuckling to herself, Kelly checked her reflection in the door’s glass panel before tugging down her silver sequined miniskirt that had ridden up to reveal the huge unsightly control knickers. Magic knickers my arse, she thought. Jiggling about to adjust her outfit, she couldn’t help but think that her lumps and bumps ha
d been shoved so far up her pants that some of her belly was now occupying space in her bra.
Kelly had gone to a lot of effort today, but no amount of make-up or hair spray could prevent her hands from shaking like they were.
Giving Terry a final once-over, Kelly pursed her lips. The shock of seeing him in such a state this morning was gradually subsiding now. She had thought that he looked a right mess when he’d turned up this morning, but now he looked downright awful. The bruising had started coming out now, covering his face in dark lesions of black and blue. His right eye was so swollen that he could barely open it. It was no wonder everyone had stared at them on the Tube on the way here.
‘Do your jacket up, Tel,’ Kelly said as she pointed at his check shirt that stretched tightly across his protruding stomach. ‘You look smarter with it done up.’ She was going to mention that the buttons on his shirt looked like they were struggling under the strain of his wobbly gut, but as a generous size fourteen herself Kelly decided to keep her thoughts to herself on the issue of her husband’s expanding beer belly. She’d got her dress in the sale, and even though it was only twenty quid, she felt a million dollars wearing it, and she wasn’t going to give Terry any opportunity to tell her otherwise.
‘Do you reckon he’s had a win on the lottery or something?’ Terry asked as they waited patiently for someone to answer the door.
Kelly shrugged. ‘Fuck knows, but he is obviously doing something right,’ Kelly said, plastering a big smile on her face as the door was opened by the housekeeper.
‘Staff.’ She turned to Terry and raised her eyebrow. ‘This really is the life, eh?’
Following the housekeeper down the long corridor, Kelly couldn’t take her eyes off the exquisitely beautiful décor as they went. The spectacularly high white ceilings were splayed with huge chandeliers and Kelly was hypnotised by the shimmering beads of light that rained down above them from the teardrop shaped crystals. Even the marble floor twinkled, illuminated by tiny gold speckles as they walked.
Wrinkling her nose, Kelly spotted a large vase of fresh lilies.
She had been able to smell the sickly sweet aroma from the minute they’d entered the house. The overpowering smell made Kelly feel nostalgic, instantly reminding her of the blanket of lilies that enveloped her mother’s coffin as it was lowered into the ground.
Kelly hated them.
Shaking off the memory, Kelly focused on the fancy artwork that lined the walls: huge white canvases splayed with abstract streaks of colour. No doubt these pieces had cost a bomb, but Kelly just didn’t get it. She had similar paintings stuck to her fridge at home that the kids had done at school. Anyone could splodge paint onto a piece of paper and call it art. But then what did she know? The only decorations that lined their walls at home, she thought irritatedly to herself, were the sticky hand prints from the kids, and a couple of framed Millwall photos that Terry had picked up from the local market. She could have killed him when he’d brought those bloody monstrosities home. She’d asked him to sort out the rising damp, not hang fucking pictures over it and pretend it wasn’t there. By choice she’d rather look at the mouldy wall than that tat.
‘Mr. Woods, you have guests,’ Rita the housekeeper announced as she opened the door to the games room.
Standing up, Harry looked perplexed. Rita knew not to interrupt him, and he had made that perfectly clear when she had shown Raymond in, not even an hour ago.
‘Rita. You’ll have to tell whoever it is that I’m in a meeting.’ Pissed off that his housekeeper had interrupted him, Harry wasn’t in the mood for niceties. He hadn’t been expecting anyone. ‘Now isn’t convenient.’
Pushing Rita aside Kelly strutted into the room, followed by her husband.
Speaking with more bravado than she felt, now that she was standing in front of the notorious Harry Woods, Kelly smiled. ‘Hello, Dad. You missed me?’
Chapter Nine
‘Kelly?’ Walking the length of the snooker table, Harry was gobsmacked to see his estranged daughter standing in front of him, and her waste-of-space husband lurking behind her. Still, she was here, and it was a sight that he hadn’t thought he’d see again when she left home seven years ago.
‘I thought it was about time we sorted things out, Dad.’ Kelly spoke softly, unsure of her dad’s reaction. Kelly could see that he looked confused. Turning up here out of the blue was obviously a bit of a shock for him. But even so, she could gauge by his face that he was genuinely pleased to see her.
‘Come here and give your old dad a hug, of course I’ve bloody missed you, girl.’ With his arms outstretched, Harry pulled his daughter to him, hugging her close. He had thought this day would never come. Kelly had made her choice years ago when she’d so brutally cut him out of her life like a cancer.
As painful as it had been, seeing her now made the years that stood between them suddenly seem like just seconds.
‘You all right, Raymond?’ Kelly could see his lip curled in distaste, clearly not finding the reunion as moving as her father did. Well, fuck him. She wasn’t here for him. Raymond Marks had never been overly fond of her and the feeling was most definitely mutual.
The bloke was an arsehole. Just some skanky pimp who whored out girls for a living. Why her dad even tolerated the man, let alone classed him as a best friend, Kelly would never know. Knowing that she had a lot of making up to do, Kelly decided to keep her opinions about the man to herself.
‘I’m good, Kelly,’ Raymond replied bluntly, then stood up to leave. Kelly looked every bit the tramp he’d imagined her to turn into. She looked brash, cheap. Everything about her, from the skanky hair extensions to the tacky blue eye shadow, screamed attention seeking. Kelly hadn’t changed one bit. Raymond had never liked the girl. She’d always been all about herself – a real selfish mare – and since she had cut Harry out of her life, and off from his grandkids, Raymond liked her even less.
‘Shall I leave you to it, Harry? You’ve got a lot of catching up to do.’
‘No, don’t be silly, Raymond. We’re all family here,’ Harry said as he ushered Raymond to sit back down before turning to the man they’d just been talking about.
‘You all right, Terry? Blimey, what happened to your bonce?’ Harry finally addressed the elephant in the room: a dishevelled looking Terry Stranks, standing awkwardly in the background like a spare part, and judging by the state of Terry’s bashed up looking face now, Harry could see that Raymond’s girl must have done a right number on him.
Still, he deserved it. Terry Stranks would never change. Once a scumbag, always a scumbag. Though why Kelly couldn’t see it, Harry really had no idea. ‘Bloody hell, I’ve done twelve rounds in the ring and come out looking prettier than you.’ Harry laughed, then gripping Terry’s hand firmly, he shook it, purely for his daughter’s benefit.
‘Oh it’s nothing,’ Terry said, playing down his injuries. ‘I got mugged last night.’
‘Mugged, bloody hell. Well, I wouldn’t say that was nothing,’ Harry said, feigning sympathy. ‘Did you manage to get a good look at the bastard?’ Harry spoke calmly, but underneath the surface his anger bubbled away. So that was his story, was it? The only one around here who was still obviously getting mugged was his Kelly. Mugged off by her lying, cheating, no-good husband.
‘Three of them there was, Dad, can you believe it? You can’t even walk home from work anymore without fearing for your life. They were all foreigners too. Bloody disgusting, isn’t it?’ Kelly hated that she’d had to turn up here today with Terry looking such a state; she’d wanted to try to give off a good impression. Last night had been a one-off. It certainly hadn’t been Terry’s fault.
‘See, Raymond, I told you that it couldn’t have been Terry that you saw last night down at the casino.’ Harry smirked at his estranged son-in-law before he continued. ‘Convinced it was you, he was. Said you were on a win ’en all.’
‘Definitely wasn’t Terry then, Dad, he never bloody wins.’ Kelly’s laugh was forced. She was trying to lighten the mood as she looked at her husband, whose face was quickly resembling that of a slapped arse. If her dad was being civil, then why couldn’t Terry? The least he could do was try.
‘Nope, definitely wasn’t me,’ Terry muttered quietly, his cheeks burning.
What were the chances of him being clocked last night by Raymond Marks of all people? If Kelly copped on to what Harry was implying and realised that he had been lying to her all along about last night’s escapades, she would string him up.
‘I knew it weren’t you.’ Harry shot Terry a sly wink when Kelly wasn’t looking.
‘Even you weren’t sure, were you, Raymond? Said that the bloke he saw had a bit of a podge on. Almost a dead ringer for you actually, only this guy was fat as fuck.’ Harry held his hand about a foot away from his stomach, emphasising Terry’s protruding beer belly.
‘Dirty git was pawing all over one of my toms too,’ Raymond added, his steely cold glare transfixed on Terry. ‘Devious little bitch tried to do a runner. Caught her with a nice wad of money on her, which I pocketed. Whoever the poor bastard was that she ripped off must have been seething.’ Raymond continued to stare, but his face was expressionless, he gave nothing away.
Terry could feel himself getting hot under his collar; sweat was forming across the back of his neck and he could feel Kelly’s eyes boring into him, as she watched his reaction.
Harry and Raymond were laying it on so thick that Kelly was bound to catch on in a second. Nervous about how the conversation had turned against him, Terry felt sick. That bitch last night had been one of Raymond’s girls? Fucking hell, what were the chances? If these two thought they were clever by trying to stitch him up they had another think coming. No matter what happened, Terry was sticking to his story. He was mugged. He wasn’t at the casino.
Sensing that the conversation was going off kilter, Kelly tried to change the subject. She needed to get to the point of why she was here, but she felt too embarrassed to ask now.
Bad Blood Page 6
