Jen lost sight of her, then spotted her again, resting against a bollard in the driveway of what was comically described as a ‘car park’ under one of the tower blocks. Any cars parked there were either abandoned, old models that no one wanted to steal, or burned-out wrecks that the council occasionally towed away. Everyone locally knew what the place was really used for. It was a drop-in centre for criminals, drop-outs, drugs and people who were too stoned or ill to have anywhere else to go. That was why the car park was known as ‘Neverland’; no one in their right mind would ever go there. Babs had warned both her girls from a young age to stay clear of the place.
Jen decided to go home. She was worried that her sister’s friend might see her and she didn’t know what her reaction might be. She took a few steps, then remembered that she was there on a mission – to find out what was up with her baby sister – and the Ingram girl might have the answers. She also felt compelled to stop the kid getting into trouble, because it was clear she was looking for it. Jen turned and called her name. But Stacey was gone. On the other side of the road, sitting and resting against one of the driveway’s supports, was a drunk. He looked like he was guarding Neverland but had fallen down on the job and taken to the bottle.
‘Did you see a girl in a hood come by here?’
His bloodshot eyes gleamed like rubies in the dark. ‘They’ve all got hoods, love.’
Jen moved away from him and looked down the driveway into the darkened concrete cavern that had only a few grimy lamps surviving, from years of neglect. Never going into Neverland was one of the house rules of parents in the area, like not accepting sweets from strangers. Even Tiffany followed that one. But Jen walked down anyway.
The car park seemed both empty and crowded. Out of her eye-line, Jen could see a group of kids darting in and out between cars. She heard the voices and sniggers of youths but couldn’t place them. Determined to go no further, she scanned the bays, looking for Stacey. She felt herself being dripped on: cold drops that felt like the condensation that forms on the ceilings of rank, sweaty nightclubs. Stacey appeared, passing under a light, then turned to shadow as she stepped in front of a van that had collapsed on its wheels. Jen watched intently as the girl met another shadowy figure, and the two appeared to do a brief dance together before they separated. Stacey stepped back under the light and it was clear she was stuffing a plastic bag into her pocket.
Jen walked back up the driveway to the estate. The relief of the fresh air on her face matched the release she felt inside, at emerging from the cut-price hell below. She positioned herself by some bins and waited for Stacey to emerge. The girl came out, already pulling off her hood and cap. She squealed when Jen grabbed her arm with one hand and reached into her pocket with the other. For a few moments she looked at Jen with shock before snatching her bag back. ‘What the fuck?’
‘You don’t share those with my sister do you?’
‘Share what?’
‘Those Es.’
Stacey pulled a face and snarled. ‘They’re aspirins. I’ve got a headache.’
‘If you take the piss, you will have . . .’
‘What are you, my fucking mum or something? Following me around? Bugger off.’
She tucked the bag into her pocket and got ready to walk away. Then she turned back around and pulled the bag out of pocket. She looked inside as if it were a bag of sweets and took out an orange tablet. She took Jen’s hand, put the tab in her palm and then closed her fingers around it. ‘There. You’ve always got a stick up your arse, haven’t you? Why not get happy for a change?’
As Stacey walked away, Jen opened her hand and looked at the flaky orange tab with the badly scored heart on it. She watched Stacey go and then threw it, with contempt, into the gutter.
Twenty-Five
Dee listened to the call John received from Jeff at the Pied Piper, and John’s response to the Tiffany situation. She decided that knowledge could come in very useful. Then there was a call to Mickey Ingram, demanding to know what the deal was with the girl. Was there a problem? John told Mickey he was coming down to the Bad Moon pub that Friday evening for a bit of a chat; he didn’t sound very happy. There was a call to someone called Rocky asking if he’d found a replacement for Ingram yet, as John wanted to give him the push the next day. But Rocky hadn’t come up trumps and John decided he’d have to stick with Mickey for now. There were no calls to or from Trish. That problem, at least, seemed to have vanished off the radar.
As Dee heard the last calls on her tape, she realised that the handle on the door was turning and someone was coming in. She whipped off her earphones and let them drop to the floor but the walkie-talkie-looking device still rested on her desk. John came in, looking miserable.
‘Hello, boss. Shouldn’t you be keeping your footie fella happy?’ Keep it steady, girl.
‘The bastard’s done a flit already. Said he had somewhere more upmarket to go. The wanker. All these people do is kick a ball around on a Saturday afternoon. I mean, it’s not brain surgery is it?’
‘His loss, John. Him and his tarty piece.’
Her boss took a chair on the other side of her desk. The device Jimmy had given her suddenly seemed to be about ten foot tall. John massaged his temples and shook his head. ‘I dunno, Dee. I really don’t.’
What didn’t he know? Dee trod carefully. ‘What’s up, John? Tell me.’
He looked at the ceiling and then back at her. ‘I’ve got a big deal coming up but I’ve got a bad feeling about it. I obviously didn’t want to involve you in this but what’s happening is . . .’
Dee raised her hand to make him stop. Now she had a good idea what his business was, her plan had changed. She could be a touch cleverer about how she was going to rope John in. If anything went tits up, she didn’t want him to put her in the firing line with all the other suspects.
‘Listen, John, there’s nothing I’d like more than to be of assistance with your commercial activities, and I think I could be a real asset, but you probably shouldn’t tell me in here. After all, walls have ears; you know what I mean? This place could be bugged up to the eyeballs, for all we know.’ She looked at her black box on the desk and then quickly away again. ‘Besides, you never know who you can trust, do you?’
‘Eh?’ He looked at her baffled.
‘You never know who’s wearing sheep’s clothing.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Nothing. Just watch your back that’s all. No one’s a hundred per cent straight up, are they?’
He leaned back in his seat. ‘Even you, Dee?’
She smiled. ‘Sheep’s clothing ain’t my style. I like to be decked out in designer swag only, don’t I.’
John didn’t press the matter, but Dee formed the distinct impression that her employer had something else on his mind. Her heart sank when he confirmed he did and what it was. ‘And there’s another thing. This bird I’ve been seeing, Trish. I’m getting blanked. Can you believe it? She seemed really into it and now she won’t return my calls or nothing. I don’t understand women, Dee, I really don’t.’
Dee trod even more carefully. ‘The thing is, John, a man in your position has to use a lighter step with women than he does with business. Let’s face it, you’re a very good-looking guy, a big splash with your own business and club; you’re strong and reliable.’ Dee realised, with surprise, that she meant all of what she was saying. When had John turned from the man in stacked heels to a bloke who was good-looking, who was strong? ‘Unfortunately, there are a lot of women who just see that and think they can wrap a guy like you around their pinkie and pull his leash, whenever they like. Maybe Trish was one of them and thought there was some other bloke even better than you out there.’ Dee gave a light laugh and added, ‘As if. Or maybe she wanted to take you to the cleaners and guessed you were onto her.’
John nodded. ‘Yeah, I know. That was certainly true of my first two wives.’ Dee felt sympathy for his hangdog expression. But that was before he
announced, ‘Anyhow, I’ve asked Chris to pop over to hers and see if he can talk some sense into her.’
‘You did what?’ Dee almost fell off her chair.
Seeing her reaction, he asked, ‘Do you think that’s a mistake?’
Dee could barely contain her fury. If Trish spoke to Chris and he found out what had happened, she was knackered. ‘Of course it’s a mistake. Where’s your self-respect? Screw the bitch.’
Swiftly she got out of her chair and walked around to his side of her desk. She put a hand on his shoulder, using her other hand to ruffle his receded hair, as if he were a little kid. She leaned over, her warm breath brushing his skin, and whispered, ‘Forget her, John. She’s not worth it and she’s certainly not worthy of a man like you. You deserve a lady who knows how to appreciate you.’
John took her hand in his. ‘Thanks for that, Dee. I appreciate it.’
When he was gone, Dee thought about what she’d heard. This couldn’t be happening. John was hers, especially now she’d decided looking at him no longer hurt her eyes.
‘Go on, give the boy another ring, my girl,’ Jen’s mum gently urged her. ‘There’s got to be a reason he hasn’t called. A fella doesn’t find a girl work in a swanky shop in town and leave her high and dry for no reason.’
When Jen had given Babs the news that Nuts had found her a placement – she didn’t mention the Liam incident, or her employer’s name – it had cemented Nuts’ place in her mum’s good books. She was learning so much from Madam Dominique that her head was often in a whirl by the time she came home. She was on her way to the fashion world, and now she only needed the man to complete her dreams; but it remained out of her reach because Nuts hadn’t called like he’d promised.
She’d called him five times already today, making her feel like a stalker. But she’d had no joy; he wasn’t taking her calls. She couldn’t understand why he just wouldn’t talk to her. For pity’s sake, he’d been the one doing all the running, saying he’d move heaven and earth to go out with her. Maybe he’d found another girl; that made Jen feel really down. Maybe her mum was right and she’d laid on the ‘I’m too good for the local riff raff’ a bit too thick. But a girl couldn’t just go out with anyone; you had to take your time to make sure they were straight-up Kosher, before officially hooking up.
A couple of years back, she’d nearly fallen for a local rat who turned out to have a string of ladies on the go, including Bex. She’d been all systems go, ready to give him her virginity, when some poor woman turned up at their table at the local Chinese one night, with a bawling baby, claiming he was the father. Jen had gone bright red before standing up, turning her back on him (and her sweet-and-sour chicken) and never looking back. She’d asked around about Nuts; no one seemed to know him, which she took as a good sign; if he’d been up to no good, everyone would know who he was.
Jen had finally found the lad who she might want to spend the rest of her life with and he didn’t want to know. And it was all her fault.
Anxiously, she picked up the phone and dialled Nuts’ number again. Her belly did flip-flops because she was desperate for him to answer. The phone line connected.
‘Where the hell have you been? I’ve been waiting for your call,’ Nuts snapped out quickly.
Jen’s face lit up like the Oxford Street Christmas lights when she heard Nuts’ voice. He’d been waiting for her to call him. Aww, sweet! She gave her mum a quick, triumphant smile and Babs left the room, humming happily to herself.
‘Where have I been?’ Jen tried to sound stern, but she couldn’t keep the blinding bliss from her voice. ‘I’ve been calling you morning, noon and bloody night.’
‘Jen?’ He dragged her name out.
Jen frowned. ‘Er, yeah?’
‘Oh, Oh, I didn’t realise it was you.’
‘Who the bleeding hell did you think it was – Kate bloody Moss?’ Only after she’d spoken did the penny drop; Nuts had only picked up the phone because he’d thought she was someone else. He didn’t recognise her voice. That hurt so bad; it was like vinegar and salt mixed into a wound.
‘How you doing, babe—?’
‘Don’t give me none of that how ya doing babe bollocks.’ The words were foaming at her mouth, like she was a mad woman. ‘You only picked up the blower because you were expecting someone else on the end of the line.’
‘No way, darling, it’s always great to hear your voice—’
Jen was in no mood to let him finish. ‘If it’s so flippin’ wonderful, why haven’t you been taking my calls? You said you were going to call.’
‘I’ve been busy—’
Jen shook back the wave of hair on her cheekbones. ‘I bet you have. Busy sniffing up some tart’s little black number more like.’
‘No, you’ve got it totally wrong there—’
Jen didn’t even realise that her voice had grown so loud people could probably hear her at Mile End tube. ‘If you didn’t want to go out with me, all you had to do was give me a bell and tell me all polite like. I ain’t that desperate to be seen around town with someone who doesn’t want to touch me with a barge pole.’
‘You’ve got it all wrong, Jen girl; I’ve been up to my neck in a new deal. It’s the biggest one I’ve had, so it’s really important. I’ve got people waiting on me so I haven’t had the time for anything else. I was going to call you in a couple of days.’
But Jen didn’t believe a word of it. One minute he’s chasing her all over the place, sending her flowers – nicked flowers – and finding her a prized placement up West, and the next he’s giving her the silent treatment because of some deal. He’d be telling her next he’d had to organise a sit down with the Pope and Britney Spears. No, she wasn’t buying it. As far as she was concerned, he was giving her a major league fob off.
‘You know what, Nuts? I’m grateful for you dealing with Liam and getting me sorted at Madam D’s, but – in the words of my sister – fuck off.’
‘Jen, don’t be like—’
Jen slammed down the phone.
What a grade A fake-up artist. He didn’t have the balls to tell her to her face that he wasn’t into her anymore. She’d been moping over him for days while he’d probably been pussy watching and putting his knob in the type of places that made her shudder. The phone started trilling – she looked at it with contempt. No way was she giving him the satisfaction of a second chance. But that didn’t stop the tears gathering in her eyes.
‘What happened, love?’ her mum asked as she placed a comforting arm around Jen’s shaking shoulders.
‘He don’t want to know and so he’s trying to let me down gently with a pack of lies.’
Babs shook her head. ‘Come and sit down while I brew a cuppa.’
Once they were on the sofa, both nursing a steaming cup of tea, Babs proclaimed, ‘But he seemed like such a nice lad. Got his head on straight. You sure you got this right?’
Jen sniffed. ‘Told me some cock and bull about being deep in some business deal. Too busy to take or answer my calls.’
Babs placed her palm on her daughter’s knee. ‘But maybe that’s the truth. He’s one of us, which means, if he’s going to make anything of himself he needs to keep his eye on the ball and sometimes that means he’s got to do it twenty-four-seven. People from our neck of the woods don’t get golden tickets offered to them every day of the week.’
‘If he fancies me so much why didn’t he recognise my voice at the start?’ Jen sipped her tea. ‘No, he’s playing fast and loose with my feelings and I am not putting up with it.’
‘So he didn’t try to say sorry?’
Jen’s face pinked up. ‘Of course he did, now he’s been caught bang to rights. What else was the Muppet going to do but try to brazen it out? Well, it’s going to take more than sweet words to get back into my book.’
‘Sorry, love.’
Jen put her cup down and stood up. ‘You know what, Mum? I wash my hands of him.’
Twenty-Six
As s
oon as Dee entered the Bad Moon boozer in Shadwell, hours before John’s meet with Mickey Ingram later that night, she knew she had a problem. She was the problem. The place went silent and she understood why. There were no other black faces in sight. The vibe she got off this lot was hostile: they probably wanted to drag her off, as the outsider in town, and burn her at the stake. Her usual response would be, Well, let them bloody look until their eyes fell out of their head, but she couldn’t play it that way this time. She needed to be in and out quickly, so they didn’t remember her.
She looked around, taking in the classic two-room drinking hole. This was another problem: there was nowhere for a stranger like her to hide and keep a close eye on John tonight. Even a disguise wouldn’t have helped. She would have been too obvious and John wasn’t blind. She did a single circuit around the pub, acting as if she were looking for someone, and attracting hostile and suspicious glances as she passed through.
‘You looking for someone?’ the barman called out. Dee almost shouted back, ‘Yeah, Nelson Mandela,’ but shook her head instead, mumbling about getting the wrong pub.
She took a deep breath once she got back outside again. At least there had been no argy-bargy when she got to work that morning; she had expected trouble over that walking advert for a bad makeover, Trish. But the boss had said nothing about Chris’s visit to see her, which Dee took as a hopeful sign.
Blood Sister: A thrilling and gritty crime drama Page 16
