‘Cheers, Sally.’ Then she went back in and slammed the door shut. Babs couldn’t explain what was happening to her. By rights she should be skipping merrily around and singing ‘Ding Dong! The Witch Is Dead’ at the top of her voice. But the news brought back every last bad memory she wanted to forget – her parents turning their backs on her, spit hitting her in the face, the last time she saw Dee as a nipper, pointing a shooter at Stan. The memories tumbled over and over until Babs was forced to down a couple of Benzos to make them go away.
She was grateful when the phone went off. ‘Dee hun, is that you?’
‘Sorry I ain’t been in touch. Me and John have been making enquiries about Stan in Spain—’
‘Spain?’ Babs was confused ‘Even though I asked you and John to ask around you said forget the past—’
‘Hell, no!’ Dee’s voice roared down the phone line. ‘Do you really think I can forget what that arsewipe did to me? The nightmare he put you through? No effing way. I just didn’t want to worry you, that’s why I never said nuthin’. John’s got a good contact in Malaga. Stan’s been feeding you a load of bollocks. He doesn’t live in the villa from the picture. The guys in there are East Europeans. No one’s heard eff all about him there—’
Babs’ rage pushed her forward. ‘I knew he was stringing me along as soon as he opened that lying trap of his. Dying, my bloody back foot—’
‘Hold up Mum, he might be getting ready to pop his clogs,’ Dee cut in. ‘I haven’t finished. John’s contact heard a story about a Stanley Miller and some young girl up the coast in Alicante. People think he might have married her, but that’s not definite. I reckon he’s loaded.’
‘Why?’
‘Come on, be honest, can you think of any other reason why a young chick would want to hook up with a dying Billy Goat Gruff type?’
Babs bit her lip. ‘That poor girl.’
Dee let out a sharp laugh. ‘Hardly, she won’t be poor if she’s really married him. I should know . . .’
Babs didn’t like the sound of that. ‘What you saying? That you tied the knot with John because he was flush?’
Dee swore. ‘’Course I’m not. It’s just . . . well you know how these young girls are.’ She coughed. ‘Anyhow, we aren’t chatting about me. I wouldn’t lose any sleep over Stan’s kindergarten missus.’
But once the call was over, Babs couldn’t help repeating, ‘That poor girl . . .’
She remembered being an innocent girl, knowing only a little about the world when Stan had targeted her. He’d stuck a bullseye right on her heart, taken aim, and reeled her in. Babs couldn’t help feeling sorry for the young thing. She probably thought she was taking Stan for a ride, when all the time he was the one at the steering wheel.
Babs knew she shouldn’t do it, but she couldn’t sit by and watch Stan crucify yet another innocent. She had to give this girl a nod. She went into the kitchen and ransacked the pedal bin to find the card Stan had given her.
‘Right,’ she said. When the line connected, the hotel reception put her through to his room. If Stan picked up, all she had to do was slam the phone down. If his wife did, nothing was going to hold her back.
‘Hello?’ someone answered.
It was a woman alright, but the voice made her see red.
‘Tiff, is that you? What the flying fuck are you doing in your dad’s hotel room?’
Sixty-Nine
‘Mum, we need to talk.’
Babs sized up her betraying daughters straight off. They’d come over and found her cleaning Number 9 Bancroft Square. It was clear they’d decided that Jen was the spokeswoman while Tiffany lurked in the background. Babs guessed that they thought it would be better to have Jen’s gentle touch instead of Tiff’s in-your-face-twist-your-arm method of persuasion. But it didn’t matter. Even if they had the Pope fronting the operation she weren’t agreeing to nuthin’.
But she’d always taught her kids it was important to give people a fair hearing. ‘Go on then – talk away.’
Jen turned to her sister for support, and got an eye roll back. ‘It’s about Dad’s will . . .’
Babs cut her short. ‘You mean Stanley Miller’s will. He’s not your father. Surely you understand that. You know what a real father is, don’t you? It takes more than a roll in the hay.’ Babs got back to cleaning.
Jen put on the fake sympathetic look she used with her own children. ‘We know how you feel. We feel the same, don’t we, Tiff?’ Her sister merely mouthed get on with it. ‘We hate the no mark too. But this is serious. If he really is a high roller, then we’d be stupid not to cash in when he goes. He owes us. He owes you, come to that. It’s gotta be worth a shot, hasn’t it? What have we got to lose? Please – come with us to his solicitors tomorrow to get what belongs to us. That’s all we need. If you want us to ignore him after that, no problem. We’ll dance on his grave if you like.’
The various surfaces were getting a furious cleaning as Babs’ anger welled up. On the living room wall, an antique mirror hung in the frame of a door that had once led to the neighbouring house. Babs kept it polished as smooth as a skating rink. She could see her two girls in its reflection, both heavy with greed as they thought about the fortune they were only three signatures away from.
Babs took a deep breath, screwed her cloth in her fist and turned to face them. ‘He’s really taken you in, hasn’t he? You’re like a pair of fat fish on his hook and he’s sitting on the riverbank watching you wriggle, pissing himself laughing. What a pair of mugs.’
Jen’s voice went shrill. ‘Laughing? Mum, he’s dying, which you failed to mention. He’s got sod all to laugh about. He’s got to be on the level, he’ll be dead in three months.’
Babs went back to rubbing the mirror. ‘Will he? He seems to be getting around all right. Perhaps we should get a second opinion?’
‘Mum! He’s dying! And he’s loaded! How can you be so fucking selfish?’
Jen and Tiffany followed her into a reception room. Babs got to work on another mirror as Jen shouted, ‘Are you listening?’
‘I can‘t help it, with you blaring like a demented foghorn. It’s you two who aren’t listening. Dee and John have been checking out his story and guess what – he don’t own that house and yacht he’s touting around—’
‘He explained all of that,’ Tiffany cut in. ‘He had to get rid of some of his assets—’
Babs stared incredulously at them. ‘His fucking assets, my arse. Your old man’s on the take again, don’t ask me how or why, but it’s true. If he really was dying and really was loaded, he’d be on the blower to Satan to put his stash in one of hell’s safest vaults.’
Tiffany pushed her sister aside. ‘Alright, Mum, we get it; you’re a bitter old woman warming her hands around her own spite.’
‘You what?’ Babs yelled.
‘Fair dos, I don’t blame you. I’d probably feel the same in your position – take it out on him if you like, but that doesn’t give you the right to take it out on Courtney and Little Bea!’
Tiffany shrank back in fear when her mum let rip. ‘Who do you think you are, coming in here and shouting the odds at me? You really are your father’s daughter, aren’t you? I hope when you finally realise what a chimp he’s made outta you, you’ll at least have the decency to feel ashamed of yourself.’
The silence that followed was broken by the sound of the front door creaking and a man whistling as he came in. All three women were startled. Babs shouted, ‘Who’s that?’
The whistling stopped abruptly but there was no answer. Babs picked up a poker and went out to confront the intruder.
She gave a wry smile when she clocked who it was. ‘Let me guess, you just happened to be passing and decided to drop by. Offer a little support to your two saps here.’
Stanley Miller stood in the hallway. For a few moments, he seemed at a loss for words. Then he turned on the charming smile that had sealed a thousand deals and admitted, ‘Busted . . .’
Babs squinted
at him. ‘How the hell did you get in?’
‘The door was open. I don’t have to knock to talk to my own family, do I?’
Babs thought the door had been closed but she’d been so upset she couldn’t be sure. It hardly mattered. ‘You’re wasting your time, dick brain. I’m not signing nuthin’. Why don’t you go and book a plot at the East London Cemetery instead?’
Stan sighed. ‘I’m glad I’ve caught all three of you together. We really do need to make that signing tomorrow. My quack’s told me to come back pronto. There’s some last-ditch operation that might squeeze out another couple of weeks of life for me.’ He looked forlorn. ‘I’m sure you wouldn’t begrudge me that. Even you, Babs.’ With a flash of his eyes he asked, ‘Are you gonna help out, my dear?’
‘Fuck right off.’ Babs flared up. She flew at him and started whacking him around the nut with her cleaning rag. Stan stumbled back.
‘Mum! Mum!’ both Tiff and Jen cried out.
Babs tried to fling them off, but Tiff held her arms tight. She wailed, ‘I lived with that man for six years and if I told you—’
‘Go on then,’ Stan goaded softly. ‘Tell them. How you stuck a shooter in my face—’
‘What?’ Tiffany’s hand fell away from her mother. ‘That pistol in the house was yours?’ The one Jen had taken when that business with Nuts kicked off. ‘We thought that was Dad’s gun from years back.’
Babs shook. She wasn’t ashamed. She’d shoot, stab and hang Stanley Miller if it meant he stayed away from her kids. ‘He’ll crucify the both of ya.’
Both her daughters looked shocked that she wasn’t denying it.
Stan sighed again. ‘Sorry, girls. Don’t sweat it, I’ll liquidate some assets and make sure you get a few quid. It won’t be much but it’ll keep you and my grandbabies warm through the winter.’
Babs was more convinced than ever that he was lying. She was the one trying to look after the girls, not him. ‘OK, you’ve had your fun, now do one.’
He went, leaning heavily on his stick. Tiffany and Jen blanked their mum as they followed him out, slamming the door behind them.
For a few moments, Babs felt butterflies in her belly. She straightened up. He was lying through his teeth. She was sure of it. It was all he knew. The girls would see that eventually.
She went back to work but first she checked the lock on the front door. Opening and closing it, making sure the latch sprung. It was fine.
Babs frowned. She could’ve sworn she’d closed the door after the girls came in.
Babs was watching Who Wants To Be A Millionaire? when there was a loud knock at the door. She stiffened. Better not be Tiff or Jen; she was still miffed with them. Mind you, if she carried on having the hump, that would split her family apart and then Stan would’ve won. Hoping to make peace, Babs put down her glass of gin and opened the door.
‘Alright, Mrs Miller.’
The last time Babs had spoken to Stacey was ten years back, to warn her to stay away from her Tiff. The girls had been secret best buddies but both Babs and Mel had put a stop to that. Babs couldn’t help feeling sorry for Stacey. The girl was a total mess, her body sucked to skin and bones by a very nasty heroin habit. Babs thanked God every day that her Tiff hadn’t gone the same way.
‘My mum wants to see ya,’ Stacey went on, her body trembling slightly.
‘I heard she was at death’s door in the ozzie.’ Babs didn’t invite her in; skag heads could run masterclasses on pinching stuff.
Stacey sniffed and nodded. ‘Mum’s tough. It’ll take more than a good kicking to put her down. Anyway, she wants you to pop in.’
Mel Ingram wanting a word with her? The last time that had happened was in ’93, in a ruck down West Central Police Station. Since then they had an unspoken rule – you stay on your side of The Devil’s Estate and I’ll stay on mine.
‘What’s she want to see me about?’
Stacey shrugged. ‘Dunno. Just passing a message on.’
Babs didn’t want to ask Stacey of all people, but she needed to get a message to her Dee. ‘Do you have a mobile I can use?’
No questions asked, Stacey whipped out a phone with a cracked screen.
‘Look, luv,’ Babs said, embarrassed, ‘I ain’t ever used one in my life. If I tell you what to write will you send a text for us? And put one of them sad faces at the end.’
Stacey did what she asked without any questions. And surprised Babs by not wanting a fee for services rendered.
Then Stacey made the fatal error of asking, ‘How’s Tiffany?’
Babs reared forward and pointed her finger like a deadly weapon. ‘I’ve already told you, I don’t wanna hear my girl’s name in your mouth. Is this what this is all about—?’
‘Nah,’ Stacey croaked back. ‘Just wanted to know what she was up to—’
‘Fucking. Stay. Away. From. Her.’
Stacey rushed down the landing. At the end she turned back. ‘Mum still wants to see you.’
Then she was gone. Babs didn’t know what the effing hell was going on, but that drug bunny had better stay away from her youngest child. Meanwhile she needed to make up her mind – was she going to see her enemy?
Seventy
‘What are we going to do if Mum don’t turn up tomorrow?’ Tiffany asked Jen as they sorted through the decorations for Babs’ surprise fiftieth party.
Jen’s front room looked like a wreck, with banners, streamers, party poppers and plastic tablecloths strewn all over the carpet. Jen’s girls, Little Bea and Courtney, were having a whale of a time giggling away as they tried to fill the balloons.
Jen swept her hair back off her face. ‘She’s going to turn up to her own party, although no one had better have blabbed to her about it.’
‘Not the party, stupid,’ Tiffany huffed, ‘turn up to sign Stan’s papers.’
Jen sighed and sat next to Tiffany. Her sister had a big photo album in her lap, full of snaps of Babs in her heyday. Dee had come up with the blindin’ idea to use the photos as part of the party.
‘I don’t feel good about strong-arming her to sign.’
Tiff tutted. ‘Not you as well. Stan owes us big time. Now the geezer wants to hand over a ton of cash to your kids and all you and Mum do is bleat about it. Plus, you heard him, Mum had a fucking gun in our home. He’s not the only one holding back about what went down.’
Jen lowered her voice so her daughters couldn’t hear. ‘But what if Mum’s right and he’s stringing us along?’
‘As far as I’m concerned, he can lead me anywhere if it ends in a pile of wonga.’
Jen shook her head in disgust. ‘Why does everything come back to money with you?’
‘Simple. I don’t wanna be poor.’
The door knocker banged before Jen could think of a slap-down. Sure, money was important, but it wasn’t everything. She didn’t understand how her baby sister couldn’t see that.
Jen was alarmed to see her mum when she opened the door. Her gaze jerked back into her flat. Bollocks, if her mum came in, the surprise party would be rumbled. Jen held on tight to the doorframe. ‘Alright, MUM.’ She practically shouted the word so Tiff and the girls could hear. Jen moved onto the landing and stood in front of the door.
‘What are you doing here, MUM?’ She spoke in stereo again.
Babs frowned. ‘You gone deaf? What’s with all the yelling?’ She tried to get to the door but Jen blocked her. ‘What you doing?’
Jen’s mouth opened but nothing came out. Then she managed, ‘Courtney’s got a bit of a bellyache. She’s lying down. I don’t want to disturb her.’
Now it was Babs’ turn to look concerned. ‘Poor thing. I know what will put her right . . .’ Babs tried to get to the door, but once again Jen stopped her. Her mum put her hands on her hips. ‘What’s going on, Jennifer?’
‘I just told you. Courtney—’
‘If you spin me that line one more time I’ll clout you a good ’un, knock some truth into you.’ Babs twisted her mouth. �
��Your bloody dad’s in there, ain’t he?’
‘You what?’ Jen shook her head furiously. ‘’Course he ain’t—’
Steam was practically coming out of her mum’s ears. ‘It ain’t enough you go around to see him, now you’re having him over for dinner and a chat.’
Dismayed, Jen put her hand on her mum’s shoulder. ‘Mum, straight up, Dad ain’t here, alright?’
‘Then why are you making me stand out here like a bottle of milk?’
Jen took a deep breath. ‘Me and Tiff had a bit of a tussle earlier about this biz with Dad. It got a bit out of hand and now the sitting room is a total tip. And if I’m honest, I just want some “me” time.’
‘Oh, luv,’ Babs said sympathetically. ‘This nonsense with Stan has bent us all out of shape. That’s why I told you to stay well away from him. He’s pure trouble—’
‘Maybe,’ Jen shot in, ‘but at least I finally got to meet my father at an age I can remember what he looks like. And I’m going to sign his papers tomorrow.’ She shook her head. ‘Not coz of the dosh. He’s dying, Mum.’ Her voice choked. ‘Dying.’
Babs took her daughter in her arms. ‘I remember what it was like when your granddad was near the end, it wasn’t an easy thing to watch.’
Jen pulled herself from the comfort of her mum’s embrace. ‘Then sign the papers tomorrow. Just bloody well sign them. Then Dad can have the peace he deserves before he leaves our lives forever.’
Babs still didn’t know what she was doing in Mile End Hospital as she reached Mel Ingram’s ward. She hoped it wasn’t another deathbed confession; she’d had a bellyful of them. She walked into ICU and almost ran smack into Stacey Ingram and her thirteen-year-old cousin Dexter.
‘Alright, Mrs Miller,’ the boy said respectfully. He was such a beautiful, well-mannered kid, it was hard to believe he belonged to the Ingram clan. Courtney was sweet on him, but it was a no-go situation as far as Babs and her mum were concerned. She was not getting involved with an Ingram. Besides, Babs suspected that Dexter wasn’t their cousin but something else entirely, and she didn’t want her granddaughter mixed up in that.
Blood Mother: Flesh and Blood Trilogy Book Two (Flesh and Blood series) Page 37
