by KERRY BARNES
“’Ere, Kizzy girl, take this with ya, it’s me lucky chain.” She pulled a heavy gold belcher from her neck and, like a garland, placed it over Kizzy’s head. Kathleen turned to look at the other women, glaring scornfully at her.
“Oh, for gawd’s sake, she is still our Kizzy!” she shouted.
She leaned down and kissed Kathleen on the cheek. “I’ll be back one day.”
Kathleen had loved the girl as if she was her own, and her eyes welled up.
“Look after yaself, Kizzy girl.”
The drive down to Kent silent, but that’s how it always was. Johnnie had never been a man of many words, only important ones.
They entered the site, which was very much bigger than the London one. Before they reached the caravan, Johnnie stopped the truck.
Kizzy looked his way and smiled with such a sad expression. Johnnie bit his lip to stop showing his emotions.
“Listen, Kizzy girl, I’ve not done good by you. I know I should have handed you over to the authorities, and I feel bad that I didn’t let you go to a good home. I know I let you run wild. Truth is, I thought I could do it, but I guess I was wrong…” He pulled out a handkerchief and blew his nose. Kizzy didn’t know what to say. “I did love ya, though, girl, in me own way. Loved you more than me boys. I wish I could go back in time, put it all right, give you more attention, like I should have… I’ve been a rotten uncle, ain’t I, Kiz?”
Kizzy swallowed back the tears. “Yeah, Johnnie, you have been a rotten uncle…” she paused, to see his head nodding and what looked like a tear escaping his eye, “but ya been the best farver.”
He turned to face her with his head tilted to the side.
“I know you found it hard, but you did your best. I only ever had you though, no one else wanted us. Me own fucking muvver left me in that tyre, behind the van would you believe, before she scarpered.”
Johnnie was wide-eyed.
“They never kept it a secret. The old girls reminded me whenever I got under their feet. So to me, Johnnie, you were always me dad. I just wished I could have called you that. I might have felt like I belonged.”
Bite as hard as he might on his bottom lip, those tears still rolled down his face.
They clung to each other and sobbed. “You always was and always will be my daughter, my baby girl.”
“You watch, Dad. I will make you so proud of me!”
He rubbed her back. “I am prouder than I ever could be. You’re stronger than me boys, kinder, and a good person, so don’t you ever forget that I loves ya, always ‘ave and always will.”
Violet’s caravan was the same as it had always been. She didn’t like too much change and kept herself to herself. She was the O’Connell sister and grew up with four brothers, Johnnie, Cedric, Henry and Albi. No questions asked, Kizzy was to be living with her and that’s how it was.
*
Johnnie drove back to London with a lump in his throat – and hate in his heart for Billy. The poor kid had been slyly manipulated into doing a grown woman’s job. That was how he saw it and, since he brought Kizzy up, he would be the one to take fat boy, Billy, down. Nephew or not, he shouldn’t have used her.
The lorry wasn’t parked neatly on the drive; instead, it was abandoned on the path. As he marched to Billy’s caravan, the women gathered to watch the sideshow. Johnnie almost ripped the door from its hinges.
“Billy, get out here now, you fucking fat bastard!” he screamed at the top of his voice, attracting more onlookers.
Dossing in his string vest, black trousers and braces, Billy was about to tuck into his bacon sandwich when Johnnie came ranting. He tried to jump up, but didn’t have a chance to, as the door was flung open.
“What the hell’s going on, mush?”
Billy looked fatter than ever, with his big jelly belly hanging over his belt, and his round face wobbling as he spoke.
“Ya fecking used my Kizzy girl like a whore just to get at fecking Sam Vincent!” His Irish accent was back. Johnnie, in his sixties, had the physique of a man in his thirties. He gripped his fists to the side of him as Billy eyed him up and down.
“Ya used ya own family, ya nothing but a bully, always have been, always will be, ya big, fat pig!”
Billy stood in the doorway, not knowing whether to jump down and beat Johnnie or tell him to fuck off. Before he had a chance to do either, there was a voice in the background.
Farley had heard the shouting and pushed his way through the crowd.
“She ain’t fucking family anyway. Kizzy is just a whore, she ain’t an O’Connell!” he spat.
In a fit of anger, Johnnie spun around and gave Farley a right hook to the chest. As he doubled over, Johnnie punched him again, this time on the chin, and he fell to the ground in shock.
“Ya call her a whore ‘cos she dances for a bit of dosh. But why does she? I’ll tell ya why, ‘cos you nasty little bastards don’t help. Not a fucking penny have you ever given that girl. Then, you expected her to help you two slimy gits get your fucking hands on a nightclub!”
Billy jumped down from the caravan and tried to throw a punch but, before it could land anywhere near him, Johnnie clouted him hard on the chin, and he too fell to the floor.
“Kizzy never asked for nothing off of any of ya. Kept herself to herself, she did. Whether by blood or not, she is an O’Connell, ‘cos I fecking well brought her up. That means you should respect her as mine. Got it!” He was shouting loudly enough for all to hear.
The women looked at the floor in embarrassment and the men shook their heads at Billy and Farley.
“Well, I don’t have to respect her, or you,” said Farley. As he got to his feet, an earlier toot boosted his confidence again. The beating from yesterday was numbed by the drugs.
“Nah you don’t, eh? You fucking will do!” replied Johnnie, as he pulled a huge spanner from down his trousers and whacked it across Farley’s back, to the horror of the ever-increasing crowd of onlookers. He crashed the spanner again, this time on Farley’s shoulder. Billy tried to crawl away, afraid of getting the same clump. The crowd cringed at the sound of breaking bones. Farley pleaded for Johnnie to stop. He did, but only to lift the spanner above his head and, with an almighty force, hit Billy in the chest, managing to break three ribs.
Johnnie was enraged and hurting because he realised in his heart that Kizzy was gone for good – all down to his nephews.
“You ain’t no family of mine. I know what you did to my Kizzy girl. Ya killed her fucking dog when she was six years old, you hit her, and she still went choring for ya. All she ever fucking wanted was to fit in, be part of a family. And you, ya cunt, knew it. Ya fecking used and abused that girl and she messed up your plan. You silly fat bastard, you couldn’t take down the Vincents if you had a whole fucking army!”
Ocean snuck away from the crowd, afraid that Johnnie would catch sight of him and do the same to him. Eventually, one of the old gypsies took Johnnie’s arm, leaving the two brothers a crumpled mess. Farley’s agonising pain didn’t stop his cocaine-fuelled temper.
“You wait till Levi gets here. He will put you right!”
Johnnie held the spanner above his head again and demanded to know what he was talking about.
“Ah, yeah, see, wanna know now, don’t ya? Well, it was all Levi’s idea. Yeah, Levi, your precious son!”
He walked away in disgust. No one said a word. Johnnie, being an elder and blood relative, had the right to do what he did.
He thought about his son, and how he was never around these days, always having business to take care of. Levi had got himself a little flat near Roman Road. It was a nice pad with all modern conveniences. Johnnie never asked any questions as to how he could have afforded it, but he had a good idea. The boy hardly spoke sense anymore – sniffing and chewing the inside of his mouth. He was convinced it was drugs.
Farley and Billy brushed themselves down and slouched off into Billy’s caravan to nurse their wounds. The crowd dispersed and gathered in
various caravans to talk over the events. Johnnie guessed there would be gossip but he really didn’t care. He had always held his head high and he knew in his heart that the site folk still looked up to him, even though he was getting on a bit. He saw the fear and respect in their eyes when he pulverised his two nephews.
Levi was tucked up in his bed, with an old Tom from King’s Cross, when he got the phone call from Billy.
“Ya best come to the site and put your old man right. The silly old codger’s gone fucking mental with a spanner and near-on murdered me and Farley. He thinks it’s us that put Kizzy up to the pole dancing. I tell ya, bruv, he’s fucking lost it!”
Levi slapped the prostitute on her bare backside and flicked his thumb, telling her to get dressed and go. He had business to attend to. Well, that’s how he put it. Really, his business meant a quick chat with anyone who would listen to his bullshit, but this, on the other hand, was family business.
The cocaine dealing was a doddle – easy money. Most of the gypsy boys were hooked, which increased the demand. They only wanted to deal with their own kind. Levi had it sewn up. He had a parcel sent from the Albanians to Dover. It was then taken to Euston by black taxi every Friday and he stored it in his spare wheel. He was clever enough not to drive around in a flash BMW. Instead he used a dark blue Audi which looked respectable and not likely to get a tug off the Old Bill. The pikeys were queuing up for it by Friday night and it was sold out by Sunday morning. He dabbled himself and cut some of it with rat poison and baking soda so it didn’t eat into his profits.
The prostitute put her clothes on and then she stared at Levi, curling her lip in disgust.
“What you gawping at?”
“Your fucking nose. It’s caved in and bleeding.”
Levi didn’t feel the blood pouring from his nose, as his face was numb from the line he had snorted.
He dashed to the mirror and laughed. Sure enough, his nose looked like the end had dropped. When he tilted his head back he could see why, as the middle piece of skin had gone and was dripping claret everywhere. At first he thought he resembled a boxer but then reality set in. The cocaine had burnt the inside of his nose so badly it had collapsed. The effects of the drugs wore off more quickly than normal and Levi felt sick. He never had been a looker but now his own reflection repulsed him. Two teeth missing at the back, brown rings around his eyes, sunken cheek bones and, to top it all, his nose should belong to a turtle.
“Shall I take this fifty?” shouted the girl, finishing dressing in the bedroom.
Levi was gutted. He didn’t give a shit if she nicked all the money. He was staring into the mirror and grieving over his train wreck of a face.
Tinkerbell, the prostitute, pinched two fifties and scarpered, leaving Levi to pull himself together. He looked at the bag of cocaine in the bathroom cabinet and contemplated having another line just to take away the shock of his crumpling nose. He then concluded it would make matters worse and so rolled a fat joint instead. The phone rang again and this time it was Johnnie. “Levi, boy, get your arse over here now, mush, no excuses!”
He didn’t argue. The one person he feared was his father. They had been kids when their dear, old mother died. Johnnie was firm. When they got out of line he beat them with a stick but when they were good he treated them with kindness. There were no in-betweens. They had to work hard in all weathers, even as young as ten, and didn’t go to school. Kizzy was the exception, but she was the baby and he couldn’t take care of her then.
His day had gone from bad to worse and now he was stoned.
*
Johnnie was visited by Merlin, and another old friend, Zeb. They had grown-up together – and they would often sit talking over the old times, especially any unrest in the camp.
“I can’t have all this trouble on the site. Me fecking nephews and my boy Levi are messing with the big club owners. Whatever are they thinking? I don’t know anymore. If they were out choring I wouldn’t mind, but this is a dangerous game. I’ll tell ya something. I know the old man Vincent. He’s a decent enough fella. For years, I took me scrap there. He always gave me a good price, no questions asked like, but that was a front and, let me tell you, his sons are clever.” Johnnie opened a can of beer and chucked one each to his visitors. “I remember his boys when they were teenagers, and they had more savvy than men in their forties. If our boys bring the Vincents to the site…” he paused, “that will be the day I up and leave. Those Vincents… you just don’t fuck with them!”
Zeb nodded slowly and Merlin shook his head but both men agreed.
“I tell you, Johnnie, it’s drugs that’s changed those boys. Made ‘em greedy,” asserted Zeb, who had been keeping an eye on the lads.
“It’s like my Davey Boy. Always got red eyes and it’s not drink. But I can’t tell him. It ain’t like the old days when you did as you were told. It’s all fucking changed. Even the malts are getting a bit big for their boots!” squeaked Merlin.
Johnnie laughed for the first time. “’Ere don't give me that. Your Lou has always fucking kept you in check.”
Merlin looked at both the men and grinned as his cheeks flushed red.
“Yeah, cheeky fucking mare she is.” He said it with affection.
They changed the subject from the Vincents and the boys and reminisced over the old times.
*
Contemplating their next move with more anger now, although it was their Uncle Johnnie who had given them both a good hiding, it was the Vincents who Billy detested and he vowed to take revenge one day.
Farley, however, had already taken two batterings in the space of a few hours and thought maybe he should take it easy. Besides, he needed to get ready for another punch up. Noah, down in Kent, had made a public threat to muller Farley and so it was a fight that would happen, either now or in the future, but it remained on the cards.
When Levi arrived at the site, he drove past his father’s plot and straight to Billy’s van to get the low down on what had happened at the club.
Billy’s van was bigger than Johnnie’s but not as clean and tidy. Levi was still stoned when he tried to untie his boots before entering the caravan and he lost his balance and fell.
Billy and Farley laughed for the first time that day. But they soon stopped when Farley yelped like a dog at the pain from his cracked collar bone.
“Cor blimey, mush, dick at the hooter,” said Billy, deadly serious.
Farley screwed up his eyes to get a better look.
After he plonked himself on the sofa, Levi concocted a story of how he’d got bashed by two drug dealers and how they had come off worse.
Billy wasn’t as clever these days, and with Farley’s short-sightedness, they were both sucked into the bullshit. Levi was ashamed to admit – even to his family – that his coke habit had caused his nose to collapse.
“Looks like me old man gave you two a right poggering,” Levi laughed. Funny to think that, as old as his father was, he still had it in him to fight. Knowing his dad had a reputation, he had grown up to be proud he was the son of Johnnie O’Connell, a prize boxer in his younger days.
“Yeah, all ‘cos of fucking Kizzy girl, the dirty chavi,” replied Billy.
Levi was sobering up. The effects of the skunk had now worn off.
“Look, boys, Kizzy is family, and well you know it. The chavi, she is a dead ringer for any O’Connell, well, except you, Billy, ya fat cunt.” He laughed and so did Farley.
Billy wasn’t amused. “What do you mean I’m not an O’Connell? Are ya saying me muvver’s a slag?” His voice raised a pitch in temper.
“Easy, bruv, I was just joking with ya,” said Levi, who wanted to have a dig. Out of all the O’Connells, Billy was the fat bully who only teenagers looked up to – listening to the bullshit that poured from his mouth, his tales of prison life, and the endless fights he’d had. Levi was sucked in when he was young, and knew no different, but once he was wrapped up with the London gorgers he soon discovered that bashing pe
ople didn’t always get you what you wanted. Manipulation, coercion and planning did. However, the previous beatings from Billy, as he was growing up, still haunted him, and he wouldn’t push the fat boy too far.
“So, as I was saying, I can see me dad’s point. After all, she is our family. You wanted in on the deal with me and the Nappers, right? You were supposed to take care of the underage dancing, drinking, gambling, find some clever little chavis. I didn’t mean use your own fucking family, divvy!”
Billy sat staring at Levi with pure hatred in his eyes.
“But, Levi, she ain’t even your sister!” he spat back with venom.
“No she ain’t me sister, but she is me cousin, and blood is blood. Whatever is a matter with ya, boy? Fuck me, what is it with you two, always denying Kizzy. Makes me wonder if you wanted a bit of her arse for ya selves!” He nervously laughed, trying to take the edge off his ‘near to the truth’ statement.
Billy took umbrage. “What, you saying, cunt face? I’m into incense?”
Levi laughed. “Incest, you fick fucker!” He giggled like a kid. “Well, if you don’t believe she’s related, it ain’t incest, is it?”
Farley, ignoring their pettiness, wanted to get down to business. “So what do we do now?” he asked, changing the subject.
Levi knew that if he wanted a stake in any club he needed to keep the Napper brothers happy.
“I will see Kenneth, and decide what needs to be done, even if it means taking those fucking Vincents out, one by one.”
Billy jumped up. “Right, I’m ready when you are, cuz.”
“Sit down, you ain’t going anywhere. From now on, I’ll be the one doing all the talking. Don’t even answer the phone to the Nappers. You will only fuck things up!”
