by KERRY BARNES
He lowered his gaze. “All those years ago, when you asked me to keep an eye on Jesse, I made it my business to know who’s who. That’s why Mauricio pays me well. I’m good at my job. I leave no stone unturned. Get my drift?”
“Good. Find out if she ever leaves the estate. I wanna word with her!” She winked.
“Actually, I don’t have to find out. She visits the gym up the road, every Wednesday, her and Shelley. I know that because I pump me own muscles on a regular basis.”
Francesca rolled her eyes.
“I might be five foot two and a fag paper but, underneath this shirt, I’m all rock hard. Anyway, they go to the same gym.”
Francesca threw her cigarette out of the window and faced Beano. “I need you to bring her and Shelley to me.”
He bit down on his lip. “Far be it from me to tell you what to do but, whatever you have planned, please make sure you have backup ‘cos that Denise is dangerous. A right hard bitch. Guaranteed, she’ll have a blade on her.”
Francesca smiled. “Thank you, Beano, but I don’t get my hands too dirty. I have certain people to do that for me.” He chuckled, forgetting for a moment who she was. “I just thought you should know.”
*
The set up was simple. Beano drove to the bus stop on the Wednesday evening, asking if the girls wanted a lift to the gym. As they stepped inside the blacked out Mercedes jeep, they got a rude awakening. Two meatheads grabbed them. The girls struggled like feral cats but stopped once the shooters were shoved in their mouths. Denise looked from one to the other and then at Shelley, who appeared terrified.
“Move an inch, and you’re a dead woman!” said the bigger of the two men. He pulled back the gun.
“What the fuck is all this about, and who the fuck are you?” Denise was acting her cocky self.
“I’m nobody, and you will know, soon enough, what it’s all about. I strongly recommend you sit still and shut the fuck up!”
The rest of the journey was in silence. The girls glanced at each other, knowing they were in severe shit. This was no two-bit gang. The men were serious heavies. They were driving a flash, new car and their shooters were held like professionals. Denise racked her brains, trying to think who was behind it, and concluded it was something to do with her brothers. They had pissed the wrong person off this time. She prayed to God they were just being used as threats and there was no real intent to harm them. It didn’t even cross her mind that it was over the schoolgirl, Jesse’s daughter.
They were now on the motorway, heading out of London. The sky was black and heavy. Looks like rain, thought Shelley, too shocked to actually consider she was a dead woman walking. She stared as the fields went by, imagining she was on a journey to the seaside. Suddenly, Denise spoke up. “Are you sure you have got the right people, only I don’t owe any fucker money, and haven’t pissed anyone off. Is this some kinda prank?”
The bigger man leaned forward and, in a low gruff voice, replied, “Does this fucking tool look like a joke to you?” He flicked the end of her nose with the gun at which she stared, wide-eyed and frozen.
She realised they hadn’t blindfolded her. There would be no return. Her legs began to shake and she made a humming sound. Shelley turned to face Denise and saw the look of terror in her eyes. She had never before witnessed her girlfriend so petrified. Denise had always been in control: she was the one who would shit people up. This wasn’t supposed be happening.
The car veered off along a country lane. Nothing for miles but fields and a wooded area. Finally, in the dark, Denise could make out what looked like a scouts’ hut. The road was unmade and overgrown. She tried to plan her escape. Her long legs and fit physique could easily out-run the two meatheads. Two cars were parked outside. Her knees were almost knocking together and her teeth bit a hole in her lip. All the lights were off and it was hard to see what was what. The smaller man clenched Shelley’s arm and ripped her from the seat. “Try anything stupid and you’re a dead girl!” Shelley didn’t struggle. There was no point. She watched as Denise stepped out with the gun to her head.
They were marched into the scouts’ hut and thrown on the floor. Suddenly the lights came on and standing there were two other men and a woman. Denise glared at each one, hoping for a clue, but she recognised none of them. The woman stared as the others circled. Beano locked the door.
“Get up!” ordered Francesca. “I want to see what you’re all about!”
Denise jumped to her feet, tilting her head back in defiance. “And who are you?” She tried to suss out who the formidable woman was. She had never come across a woman who appeared so composed. She could be an actress out of a spy film, standing there in her long black coat, leather gloves, impeccably made up. A woman she would have wanted to aspire to, but far out of her league.
“Me, I am your worst nightmare. You see, I have an issue. It’s to do with a thing called a moral compass. In my world, you can act as hard as you like but, if you live by the sword, you die by the sword.”
Denise cocked her head to the side. “Look, I think there’s been a big misunderstanding. Ya see, I don’t know you. I’ve done you no harm, so what’s the crack?”
A voice behind her made her jump. “Oh, but you have hurt her, and me. In fact, you ugly cunt, you have upset me whole fucking family!” Fred was jumping around, working himself up. He had taken one look at the tall woman and imagined Ruby terrified by the size of her. She was easily twenty-five years old, whilst Ruby was a baby at fifteen.
Denise spun around to see Fred, glaring with so much hatred across his face – those eyes and the woman’s, so much alike. She glanced back at Francesca's and sighed. Her heart sank and she knew then she was kissing her arse goodbye. She now saw the family resemblance – the schoolgirl, with the same steely-blue, distinctive coloured eyes. Shelley remained on the floor, too shit-scared to move.
“I don’t know what you’re on about, lady, but I ain’t done nothing to you, or your family. I’m afraid you got the wrong person.” She tried to stay calm, and firm, and act innocently.
“See, when I say die by the sword, our little girl wasn’t in that circle of violence. A fucking fifteen-year-old school kid. Now, if you had been a teenager, and had a one-on-one fight, you wouldn’t be here today. You see, I play fair, don’t I, Fred?”
“Oh yeah, sis, we were brought up that way.” He leaned into Denise’s ear and screamed, “Unlike scumbags like you!”
Denise didn’t move. She went over in her mind how she was going to escape. Her knife was tucked inside her boot; one quick move and she could slice the leery bloke’s throat. As if Francesca read her mind, she shouted, “Frisk the bitch, check her boots!”
Fred jumped back as the men ran their hands all over her body, finally retrieving the blade. Denise was powerless. All she had left was words. She had to talk her way out of it.
“So, tell me, Denise, whatever possessed you to beat a kid half to death?”
There was silence, except the trickling sound as Shelley wet herself. She had seen the table with tools on and watched enough torturous slasher films for this to scare the living shit out of her. To her shock and horror, Denise pointed to Shelley. “I didn’t beat the kid, she did. I admit I was there, but I swear to God I didn’t lay me hands on her. It was me that pulled her off.”
Francesca looked at Fred and smirked. He smiled back and nodded.
“Okay, thank you for that piece of information.” Francesca’s voice was calm but demonic.
Denise couldn’t look at Shelley but relaxed her shoulders. She was out of the woods and hopefully they would let her go. Shelley was feeling faint and sick. She had put the boot in a few times but it was Denise who had smashed the girl’s face in.
Francesca walked over to the table and picked up a torque wrench. She walked towards Denise. The sound of guns being cocked unnerved Denise. She scoured the room and realised they were aimed at her.
“Now then, this moral compass I was talking about. Right now,
it’s pointing at you. I have a problem with bullies and, it’s my reckoning, you should too – so here’s the thing. When I pass you this wrench, I want you to teach the bully a lesson. Our little girl, see, she didn’t have a weapon and, as far as I can tell, your girlfriend, Shelley, hurt her so bad she might as well have been beaten with a tool. So, fair’s fair. You take this wrench, and you put an end to it.”
Denise stared at the heavy metal object and then back at Francesca.
“Don’t think of bashing me. They are shit-hot hit men, so you will be dead in two seconds!”
Denise took the iron tool from her hand and looked at Shelley, who was shaking her head. “Please, Deni, don’t, please. I love you, don’t do this!”
She gave Shelley that sorrowful look which spoke a thousand words. The wrench came up above her head and, using all her strength, she crushed the tool onto Shelley’s skull. Instantly, she was dead. No one could survive that. Francesca calculated the force and imagined Ruby suffering the same impact from Denise. Francesca’s chest tightened and, in an instant rage, she snatched a hammer and, as Denise stared down at her girlfriend in total disbelief and regret, swung it, striking Denise at the nape of the neck. Immediately, she fell to her knees and went into convulsions. She raised the hammer again and Fred tried to take it from her. “No, sis!”
Francesca stopped, still clutching the tool. “Listen, Fred, that moral compass, well it goes like this. Women don’t beat kids and men don’t beat women. So, it’s my job to see to it she never bullies another child again. She should never have touched our Ruby.”
Fred stepped away and smiled. He wasn’t going to argue. He only went along to make sure she was safe. As always, he wanted to be by her side. It was just the way things were. He was the closest to Francesca – so close he knew she was up to something and wouldn’t let up until she told him her plan.
The hammer came crashing down and the blood and liquid oozed from the crack across her skull. She, too, was dead.
“All right, boys, let’s get this fucking mess cleaned up,” said Fred.
The hut was left scrubbed and polished – cleaner than when they arrived.
Halling Lakes was out of bounds: no fishing, no diving, but an ideal dumping ground. It was the old cement works – a huge chalk pit. It had deep edges and it was a long way to the bottom. Any disturbance and the lake’s crystal blue colour turned a milky white. The bottom of the lake, originally a resting place for old cranes and equipment used to excavate the chalk, was now a disused site. The bodies were wrapped in a cloth bag, weighed down, and eased gently into the water. It was a while before the area became murky, so they guessed it was a few hundred metres deep.
Fred and Francesca sat in the back of the car whilst Dominic drove them home. She wiped the blood splatters from her coat and a spot on her face. Her brother grinned. “Are you going to tell Sam?”
She lit up a cigarette. “No, I think they are best left out of it. I don’t like to load their minds with nonsense. They are overburdened with enough shit.”
“Sis, don’t it bother you? I mean, you don’t even flinch, like it’s nothing to you, smashing someone’s head or blowing them away.”
Francesca rubbed his hand. “Oh, my dear brother, I hope to God you never feel the way I do. There are two ways my emotions work. I either love you or hate you. My family, my friends, even my security, I would do anything for. But piss me off, and it takes a lot, I have this hate, so deep, that removing the shit out of existence is like emptying my dinner plate into the bin. Some bits might flick off and land on me, but I take a wet wipe and clean it away. I have no forgiveness in my heart; they hurt our baby. I couldn’t rest until I knew they were dead… wrong, maybe, but that’s how I see it!”
Fred nodded. He knew he could never feel like her. He hadn’t been through the pain she had – but he would always be by her side.
Chapter Thirteen
Christmas was on its way and the buzz of happy shoppers filled the air. Francesca loved New York shopping at this time of year. There was a real, friendly atmosphere.
Ruby had been staying for two weeks with Francesca and her husband, Sergio Luciani. Her injuries had healed, she was almost a hundred per cent better, but the family still fussed and made sure she wasn’t anxious or stressed. Francesca’s home was like a castle, with maids and a butler. It wasn’t exactly to Sergio's taste – after all he was recognised in the world of casinos as he came from a well-known Italian family – but he loved Francesca so much he gave her whatever she wanted, even if the house was somewhat unconventional.
Ruby was as close to the Lucianis as her own family. Roberto was a powerful man in the States but she treated him as another grandfather. Too big to jump on his knee, she still had a huge hug for him. He was the father to Mauricio and a father figure to Sergio. Sergio was actually his nephew but tragically his parents were murdered and so Roberto had raised him. When Ruby met her aunt for the first time she was three years old. She remembered her Uncle Sergio and his family. They were so kind and loving. Being so young, she suddenly had lots of loving uncles. To her, there was no difference; there was just one big, happy family.
After three hours of retail therapy, Ruby came over faint.
“Sisco, I don’t feel too good,” she said sheepishly.
Francesca looked at her niece’s face and could see that she was tired. They stopped in a burger bar and rested.
“You sit there.” She helped her niece to a comfortable-looking chair and carefully unloaded the bags. The waitress took their order.
As soon as Ruby’s colour returned to her cheeks and she was relaxed, sipping a massive hot chocolate, with cream and chocolate flakes, Francesca popped the question.
“Ruby, do you want to live here with me and Sergio?”
Ruby nearly choked. “What?”
“I have spoken with your dad and, if you would like a break from England and the whole incident, you can stay with me.”
Ruby stared into her drink and watched the flakes melt.
“Sisco, I love coming here, and staying with you and Uncle Sergio, but if you think you need to keep me away from Jesse, then you’re wrong.”
Francesca raised her eyebrows. That wasn’t what she had meant.
“Look, Ruby, your father and I didn’t dream for one minute you’d want to go back to that nasty piece of work!” She lifted Ruby’s chin. “We just thought about a fresh start. It might help you to get over the whole ordeal.”
Ruby grinned and her eyes lit up. Francesca noticed how sweet she looked when she smiled. She wished she did it more often.
“I appreciate how you care for me, but I am fine, and the attack – well, to be honest, I don’t remember it. Only waking up in hospital. So it doesn’t bother me. As for Jesse, I know where I stand, and that’s as far away from her as possible.” She stirred her chocolate and looked out of the window to watch the shoppers hurrying along the street.
Ruby wanted to get back to England in time for Christmas, to give Jesse her Christmas present.
“’Ere, Sisco, can I have me watch now? You promised!” Ruby was genuinely smiling now.
Francesca laughed. “Well, do you think you deserve it, madam?”
“Yeah, fucking ‘ell, Sisco, don’t you, then!”
Francesca tapped her on the nose. “Not if you keep swearing like that.”
Ruby rolled her eyes in jest.
The change of scenery, as well as being thoroughly spoilt by everyone, helped to get Ruby back to be fighting fit. Francesca treated her to a very expensive make-over, to cover her tiny, pink scar, and bought every product they used. It gave Ruby confidence and instantly turned her into the cocky teenager she was before.
Dominic picked them up and drove them home. They had to squeeze in between the endless number of shopping bags. Ruby kept looking at her made-up face in the mirror and Francesca sat admiringly. She was pleased she could help Ruby. She knew only too well how it felt to lose your face. Ruby only had a tiny
scar but to a teenager it would seem like the end of her life. The beautician had not only hidden the scars but enhanced her steely-blue eyes.
Sergio was there at the door to greet them.
“Hello, my two beauties, and how much money does Uncle Sergio have left in his bank?”
His Italian accent was still as strong as ever.
Ruby laughed. “Not much, mate. I tried my best to clean it out, but still didn’t manage it. Better luck next time, eh?” She swanned past him, smiling.
Francesca kissed her husband gently on the lips. He never appeared to age. His tanned, toned body, and thick, black hair, swept back, gave her goose bumps even to this day. He was just as smitten with her.
Ruby stood in front of the grand mirror and gazed at her face again.
As Sergio passed her, he whispered in her ear. “If you crack my mirrors, you can pay for them.”
“Sergio!” she shouted as she slapped his arm.
“I tease you, little Belle.”
Ruby wanted to cry when she looked at her aunt and uncle. How could she have ever thought her mother was as loving and caring as her family? Unexpectedly, she ran over to her aunt and hugged her, and then Sergio.
Francesca didn’t say a word. She knew it was Ruby’s way of saying ‘I appreciate you’.
Every Christmas, the two families, the Lucianis and the Vincents, made arrangements to go to Francesca’s house in Kent. It had been a tradition for ten years. The one day they would be together, come what may. The only person who grumbled was Joe’s girlfriend, Belinda, who insisted on having Christmas with her mother, so she was invited too. The house was more than big enough, with plenty of bedrooms to sleep the two families and more. Mary and Bill went along a week before Christmas to make sure the house was warm and everything was in place. Of course, that was just an excuse to get away from London and have a few days of romance themselves. The gardener always turned the heating on and ordered the huge tree, the turkey, goose and pheasants. Mary busied herself cooking the puddings, cakes and trimming, whilst Bill appreciated the country walks and soaking up the clean air. In the evening they sat alone in front of the roaring fire on the thick rugs, enjoying a glass of red wine from the cellar before the mad rush.
