The Traitor

by Kimberley Chambers

  Downstairs, Joycie was keeping herself busy. She’d chatted to all the mourners, kept their drinks topped up, and managed to convince herself that she was over the worst. No amount of sobbing would bring her beautiful Jessica back from the dead, so she just had to get on with things.

  It had been kind of her friends, Rita and Hilda, to come to the house, instead of just turning up at the service. They’d been her neighbours at her old house in Upney for over thirty years, and had known Jessica since she was knee-high.

  ‘So, what do you think of the house?’ Joyce asked them brightly.

  Rita and Hilda glanced at one another. Joyce liked to act as if she was as tough as old boots, but they both knew that she wasn’t. Her behaviour today, considering what had befallen her, was strange, to say the least.

  Gary and Ricky, Eddie’s sons from his previous marriage, had just turned up and, seeing them in deep conversation with Raymond, Stanley eyed his son suspiciously. Joyce might have forgotten about Raymond’s involvement on the night of Jessica’s murder, but Stanley most certainly hadn’t. If it wasn’t for Joyce, he could have quite easily washed his hands of the boy, but his wife had given him a lecture.

  ‘Now, you listen to me, Stanley, and you listen bloody carefully. I’ve lost one child and if you think I’m having the other banished from our lives, you can think again. Our son had nothing to do with what happened. He wouldn’t hurt a fly, that boy. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. He loved every hair on our Jessica’s head, did our Raymond.’

  Joycie wasn’t one to argue with, and Stanley had little choice other than to agree and reluctantly forgive his son. Trouble was, deep down he hadn’t – it was all pretence.

  As the twins appeared, there were lots of emotional condolences. Vicki, Jessica’s heavily pregnant best friend, sobbed as she clung to Frankie. ‘I loved your mum so much. She was such a wonderful woman. I’ve already told Dougie, if we have a little girl, I want to name her Jessica.’

  Tears were streaming down her face, but Frankie forced a smile. ‘Mum would have been honoured,’ she whispered.

  As more and more people arrived, Stanley became increasingly anxious. All he’d wanted was a quiet send-off for his daughter and already it was turning into a bloody circus. The driveway was packed with people he didn’t know and Stan was furious that Eddie’s brothers had shown their faces. It would have been bad enough if they had turned up at the church, let alone coming to the house beforehand. Surely they were aware of what Eddie had done? Didn’t they have any remorse or guilt whatsoever?

  By the time the hearse arrived, the driveway was a mass of beautiful flowers.

  As she cuddled her grandchildren, one on either side, Joyce couldn’t bear to look at the coffin she’d so carefully chosen. It just didn’t seem possible for Jessica to be inside that box. Trying to suppress her emotions, Joyce took a deep breath. She had to keep it together in front of all these people. Stanley was in a terrible state and somebody had to look after the twins. Aware that the undertaker was ready to take Jessica on her final journey, Joyce led Frankie and Joey outside.

  Seeing his father almost collapse with grief, Raymond held Stanley’s arm to support him. ‘I’ve got you, Dad. Just hold my arm and walk with me,’ he told him.

  Joyce had insisted they just have the one family car. She’d never got on with her parents – she hadn’t even seen them for years – and they were going straight to the service. Jessica’s other grandparents, on Stanley’s side, were both dead.

  Joyce, Stanley, Frankie, Joey, Raymond and Polly sat in the hearse behind the coffin. Everybody else was to make their own way to the cemetery. In normal circumstances there would have been at least three or four cars laid on for Eddie’s sons, brothers and family. However, the circumstances surrounding Jessica’s death were anything but normal.

  As the chief undertaker walked in front of the hearse, the cars crawled along behind him.

  Stanley was furious as he saw how many reporters were taking pictures on the road outside. ‘Couldn’t they have left us alone for just one day?’ he mumbled.

  Raymond put a comforting arm around his father’s shoulder who, but it was quickly brushed away.

  Noticing the young reporter who had given her a wonderful write-up in the Daily Mirror, Joyce gave a solemn wave. Stanley went apeshit. ‘Our daughter is lying in that coffin in front of us. Show some respect, you stupid woman. Fucking parasites, they are.’

  Raymond put his other arm around his mother. This was as hard a day for her as anyone and acting normal was just her way of coping.

  Frankie and Joey clung to one another throughout the short journey through the lanes. Neither could believe that they would never see or hear their mother again. As she stared at the coffin, Frankie thought of her father. Throughout her childhood, Frankie had always been a daddy’s girl. She had his dark features, fiery temper and impulsive nature. Joey looked nothing like Frankie or their dad. He was blond, mild-mannered and a clone of their mum.

  ‘Do you think Dad knows that Mum is being buried today?’ she whispered to her brother.

  Joey looked at her in horror. ‘Don’t mention his name. How could you Frankie, today of all days?’

  As the rest of the journey continued in silence, Polly studied Raymond’s family. They were a funny bunch, to say the least, especially his parents. Polly’s own parents had been horrified when Jessica’s murder had made all the nationals. They’d known that Raymond worked with Eddie and they were worried about what she’d got herself involved with.

  ‘I know you’re very keen on Raymond, but there’s plenty more fish in the sea. Why don’t you walk away while you still can?’ her father had urged her.

  Polly had taken no notice of her mum or dad. They weren’t exactly whiter than white themselves. She was besotted by Raymond, in a way that a woman could only dream of. She wasn’t stupid – she’d always known that he was a bit of a rogue, but even so, the circumstances of Jessica’s murder had frightened the life out of her.

  Raymond had recently made a promise to her. He’d sworn that he would give up the job he was doing and find a normal nine-to-five number.

  ‘Are you OK, Ray?’ Polly asked, squeezing his hand.

  Raymond nodded, but said nothing. Obviously, working with Eddie over the years, they’d seen and been responsible for many a dead body. Remembering how Jessica had looked, Raymond felt physically sick as he stared out of the window. The sight of his sister’s bullet-torn corpse would prey on him for the rest of his life. There wasn’t an hour that went by when the death of Jessica didn’t enter his thoughts. His sister had been one of life’s beautiful people. Thinking back to when they were kids, Raymond nervously bit his lip. Life without her was pretty much unbearable, and he was dreading doing his speech.

  When Joyce stepped out of the hearse, she was surprised by the number of people already at the church. They’d tried to keep the funeral small and private, and she was thrown by the crowd of mourners that had turned up. Grabbing the distraught Joey and Frankie, Joycie bowed her head as she led them into the church.

  Raymond had instructed all of Eddie’s family to sit well away from his parents. ‘I know none of this is your fault, lads, but because Eddie did what he did, it ain’t appropriate for you to sit near the front.’

  Eddie’s sons from his first marriage, Gary and Ricky, were devastated by Jessica’s death. They’d loved her immensely, and over the years she’d been a better mother to them than their own. Seeing their dad in prison had broken both boys’ hearts. They knew how much Jess had meant to their old man, and what had happened was the tragedy of all tragedies.

  Eddie had only agreed to see them the once. He was a broken man, a shadow of his charismatic former self, and had sat opposite them in bits. Neither Gary nor Ricky had known what to say or do. It was a surreal situation that had devastated everybody. The only words of comfort they could offer their father were to promise to continue the family business and do him proud.

>   ‘All right, Gal? Packed innit?’ their uncle Ronny said in a loud voice, as the boys now entered the church.

  Seeing that Ronny’s eyes were already glazed, Gary put his finger to his lips. The service was about to start, and a drunken Ronny causing havoc in his wheelchair was the last thing the vicar needed.

  The vicar cleared his throat. He was a seasoned professional, but this particular service was difficult, even for him. ‘Today we are here to commemorate the life of Jessica Anne Mitchell,’ he said.

  There wasn’t a dry eye in the house as parts of Jessica’s life were remembered. The twins and Stanley were inconsolable. Joyce couldn’t look at them; if she did, she’d break down, so she ignored their sobs and stared at the vicar.

  ‘Can we open our hymn books at page twenty-one?’

  As the congregation stood up, Raymond had to once again physically support his father.

  All things right and beautiful,

  All creatures great and small,

  All things wise and wonderful:

  The Lord God made them all.

  Jed O’Hara entered the church and stood quietly at the back. He held the hymn book in his hands, but couldn’t sing because he couldn’t read properly.

  Jimmy O’Hara put an arm around his son’s shoulder. Jed was a good boy and had been determined to attend Jessica’s funeral, so he could keep an eye on Frankie. Not wanting his son to become raw meat in a starving lion’s cage, Jimmy had insisted on coming with him. Jed was worried about Frankie; she was carrying his child and he had every right to be there in her hour of need.

  Jimmy knew what losing a child was like. His wife, Alice, had been pregnant up until a couple of weeks ago, when she’d suddenly miscarried.

  As the hymn came to an end, Ronny Mitchell decided he was busting for the toilet. Being stuck in a wheelchair, he was unable to hold himself like other people could. Nudging his brother, Paulie, he urged him to take him outside.

  ‘I need a shit. I’ve gotta find a bog,’ he said in an extremely loud tone.

  As Raymond stood up to give his speech, an embarrassed Paulie also stood up. Ronny was a nuisance with a capital N at times.

  ‘Jessica was the most wonderful sister a brother could wish for,’ Raymond began.

  While Paulie wheeled his brother towards the exit, a nosy Ronny scanned the mourners. The church was full of villains, most of them mates of Eddie, his father and his uncle Reg. Spotting Jimmy O’Hara’s ugly mush, Ronny did a double take and slammed the brake on his wheelchair.

  Because he was staring at the piece of paper he’d so carefully written, Raymond didn’t notice what was happening at the other end of the church and, with tears rolling down his face, carried on with his speech.

  ‘The day Jessica gave birth to her twins, Frankie and Joey, was the happiest of her life. Even though she was no more than a child herself, she quickly adapted to become the most wonderful . . .’

  Raymond’s speech was stopped in its tracks by Ronny’s drunken voice. ‘Get out of here, you pikey cunts! Hit ’em, Paulie. Go on, fucking do ’em,’ he yelled.

  Shocked by the commotion, every mourner turned around to see what was happening.

  Jimmy O’Hara held his hands up. ‘Look, we don’t want no trouble. I’ve only come here to support my Jed. He has every right to be here. Jessica was his future mother-in-law and would have been grandmother to his chavvie.’

  When Paulie lunged at Jimmy O’Hara, the vicar pleaded for order. ‘Can we stop this awful nonsense? Please respect the deceased and also the house of God,’ he shouted over the loudspeaker.

  Uncle Reg eventually broke up the fracas and, with the help of Paulie and a couple of Eddie’s pals, they threw both Jed and Jimmy out of the church.

  ‘Frankie’s having my chavvie – we’re getting married. Tell ’em Frankie, tell ’em,’ Jed screamed, as he was roughly pushed out of the door.

  Frankie went to run to her boyfriend’s aid, but Raymond put his arm out and stopped her. ‘You stay there. It’s your mother’s funeral, and you’re partly to blame for all this,’ he reminded her coldly.

  Traumatised, Stanley and Joey clung to one another and, seeing their anguish, Joyce was unable to keep it together any more. Bursting into tears, she fell to her knees. ‘The least my baby deserved was a good send-off. Why us, God? Why?’ she screamed.

  CHAPTER TWO

  As a distraught Joyce was led from the church by Stanley, Raymond urged the vicar to round the service up. Jessica’s funeral had been completely ruined and the quicker it was over, the better.

  Raymond sadly shook his head. Like most men, he was sceptical about the idea of life after death, but if by any chance it did exist, his sister would be horrified by what had just happened.

  The vicar quickly wrapped up his speech with a prayer, then led the mourners outside for the burial.

  Joyce had all but collapsed and was now sitting on a chair, sipping water and being comforted by friends and the curate. ‘I can’t watch my baby being put into that grave, I just can’t face it,’ she wept.

  Urging Stanley to walk on ahead, Hilda and Rita crouched down either side of her. ‘You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Joycie. Jess knows you’re here and that’s all that matters,’ Rita said kindly.

  Jimmy and Jed had now disappeared, but Ronny was still there. Ray caught up with him and gave him a sharp dig in his shoulder. ‘Did you have to kick off in the middle of my speech? Ain’t you got no fucking sense? Why didn’t you wait till we all got outside?’

  Looking remorseful, Ronny shrugged. ‘I know me and Paulie fell out with Ed, but he’s still me brother, Ray. When I saw them pikey shitbags there, I just lost it. How dare they fucking turn up?’

  Raymond sighed. He felt the same as Ronny did himself. The difference was, he had a brain, so would have handled things better.

  As Ronny held out his right hand, Raymond unwillingly shook it. ‘Look, no hard feelings, but I think it might be best if you don’t come back to the house afterwards. Me mum’s proper upset by what happened in the church and it ain’t fair on her.’

  Ronny glanced at Paulie. He hated missing out on a free funeral piss-up. ‘I ain’t gonna upset your mum,’ he slurred.

  Realising Polly had now caught up with him, Raymond linked arms with her and said no more. Ronny could have a full-scale argument with an ant, and Ray just wasn’t in the mood to row with him.

  Joey broke down completely as his mother’s coffin was lowered into the ground. ‘I want her back, Frankie, I really want her back,’ he sobbed.

  With tears streaming down her own face, Frankie cuddled him. ‘I want her back as well, Joey.’

  Overcome by grief himself, Stanley led the twins away. ‘Let’s go and find your nan,’ he told them gently.

  The mood in the hearse on the journey back to the house was extremely sombre. Annoyed with herself for breaking down inside the church, Joyce was the first to pull herself together. ‘Look, I know the service never went as well as we planned, but let’s see if we can give Jessica a good send-off back at home. It’s what she would have wanted, I know it is,’ she said brightly.

  Admiring his mother’s strength, Raymond squeezed her hand. ‘I’ll second that. Let’s do our Jessica proud.’

  Over in south London, Eddie Mitchell was also having an extremely difficult day. The knowledge that his wife was being buried and that he wasn’t able to attend had torn his heart to shreds. He had been in solitary confinement for five days now, serving his punishment for lashing out at the screws. In solitary, Ed had had very little contact with anyone, and the silence suited him just fine.

  The other prisoners did his head in and he couldn’t give a shit about exercising or watching the telly. Nothing mattered any more, his life had all but ended. Chewing his lip, Eddie guessed what the time was. The funeral must be all over now, it had to be. Wondering how the service had gone, Ed wiped the sweat from his brow. His Jessica, his beautiful wife, was probably now lying six foot unde
r and it was all his bloody fault. Hearing the jangle of keys, Eddie looked up as two screws walked in.

  ‘Up you get, Mitchell, you’re being moved early,’ the tall one said.

  Eddie looked at the two guards in amazement. He had another two days to do in solitary yet. ‘Why am I being moved?’ he mumbled.

  As the two guards grinned at one another, Eddie knew that his already awful day was about to take another turn for the worse.

  Over in Rainham, the house had become packed to the rafters, so Stanley escaped to the serenity of his pigeon shed. Fifty per cent of the mourners were probably villains and he couldn’t be doing with any of the dodgy bastards, he’d rather be sitting on his own.

  ‘You in there, Stan?’

  Recognising his best pal Jock’s voice, Stanley opened the door. ‘Come in, mate. I’ve stocked up with bitter; let’s have a beer in here, eh?’

  Jock followed him in and sat on the wooden bench. His heart went out to his pal, Stanley and, having a daughter himself, he couldn’t begin to imagine how the poor bastard must be feeling. Cracking open a can, Jock studied the pigeons.

  ‘I think you should breed Ethel with Willie rather than Ernie next time,’ he said, trying to cheer Stan up.

  Stanley shook his head. ‘Ethel hates Willie! Her and Ernie are inseparable, he’d be heartbroken, like I am now,’ he replied, bursting into tears.

  Jock moved towards his pal and awkwardly put an arm round his shoulder. ‘Go on, Stan. Let it all out, mate.’

  ‘I miss Jess so much, Jock. What am I gonna do without her, eh?’

  Jock had no answer to Stanley’s question. ‘I don’t know, mate.’