“I’m sorry to interrupt you,” she said to Rita and Yansis, who were nearest. “But the baby wants feeding.”
“Eh, do you mind? Our daughter’s just died!” snapped Ged. “We want nowt to do with it.”
“Hospitals are short staffed, love,” said Joan. “It’s not her fault.” She looked across at Rita. “I think Jenny would want you to do it love. Maybe that’s what she was trying to say. She wanted you to look after her baby.”
Joan’s voice broke as she spoke these last few words. The memory of her daughter just before death exacerbated her sorrow, and she lowered her head, covering her face with her hands.
Rita recalled Jenny’s last words, and understood now what they had meant. She was surprised that her mother hadn’t wanted to look after the baby, but knew that Joan would respect Jenny’s wishes. Besides, her mother would face opposition from Ged who wouldn’t want a baby to interfere with his lifestyle. Rita turned to the nurse and said, “It’s OK, I’ll do it.”
The nurse stepped closer to Rita.
“What is it?” Rita asked, as she reached up to take the baby.
“It’s a boy.”
Rita took the tiny bundle in her arms and looked into his expectant, angelic little face. She could see Jenny’s features reflected in the baby’s expression, and it tore at her heart. A lifetime’s memories came flooding back, and she swore that she would always love and protect this poor child just as she had tried to do with Jenny. The tears gushed from her, bringing with them gut-wrenching sobs, which made her body shudder and added to the baby’s distress.
She attempted to put the bottle into his mouth, with shaking hands, but her clumsiness made it difficult, and he screamed in frustration. She so wanted to do this right. But when her distraught state led to failure, she looked up at Yansis, her eyes pleading.
Rita didn’t need to ask. He was already waiting, and she awkwardly handed the baby to him. He reached out to steady her and took the child with ease. She could sense a pride in him, which he was trying to mask to spare her feelings. Nevertheless, she needed to reassure him that it was OK.
“Yansis, will you feed him?” she asked. “He needs you.”
He smiled back tentatively with tear-filled eyes. God, she loved that man!
While Yansis fed the baby, she sat down and tried to calm herself. Once she had regained some composure, she watched Yansis with the baby, so natural and self-assured. And as she watched them, she knew that as long as she had Yansis by her side, she could cope with whatever the future held for her.
T H E E N D
Author Note
If you enjoyed ‘A Gangster’s Grip’ perhaps you would consider leaving a review on Amazon using the direct link: Amazon Review (UK) or Amazon.com review. Independent authors such as myself value reader reviews, and we rely on them to spread the word about our work.
I am also inviting readers to subscribe to my mailing list by following the link: Heather’s readers. This will enable you to be among the first to find out about forthcoming publications, and receive a FREE copy of my short story book “Crime, Conflict & Consequences”. I use my mailing list solely to notify readers about my books and will never share your details with any third parties.
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About the Author
Heather Burnside started her writing career 16 years ago when she began to work as a freelance writer while studying towards her writing diploma. During that time she had many articles published in well-known UK magazines. As part of her studies Heather began work on her debut novel, ‘Slur’, and wrote several short stories. She has since written outlines for a number of other novels.
Despite interest from a couple of literary agents, Heather didn’t quite succeed in finding a mainstream publisher for ‘Slur’. Disheartened, she eventually put it to one side while she focused on other areas, but was determined to return to it one day.
When not working on her books Heather runs a business offering writing services to various companies and individuals. Through her writing services business, Heather has ghost-written many non-fiction books on behalf of clients covering a broad range of topics.
‘A Gangster’s Grip’ is the second book in ‘The Riverhill Trilogy’. The first book of the trilogy, entitled ‘Slur’ is available from Amazon, and the final part of the trilogy will be published in summer 2016. Heather has also published a collection of short stories which are available for download on Amazon Kindle. You can find all Heather’s books on Amazon by checking out her Amazon author page at: http://Author.to/HBurnside. Heather publishes regular updates about her writing on her blog at: www.heatherburnside.com.
You can also connect with her on Twitter at: @heatherbwriter or on Facebook at: www.facebook.com/DMPublisher.
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Acknowledgements
I would like to thank everybody who has given me help and support during the writing of this book. This includes the community of authors and avid readers who are always on hand to answer questions and point me in the right direction.
During the research stage of this book I utilised a number of handy resources. As well as referring to Internet sites on the topics of drugs, gang warfare, the Greek health services, weather reports and general points of law, I found a number of books helpful, not only with factual matters but also to give me a feel of the gang culture of 90s Manchester. The Internet sites are too numerous to list, but these are the books that I found useful: ‘Manchester Blue’ by Eddie Shah, ‘Gang War’ by Peter Walsh, ‘Still Breathing: The True Adventures of the Donnelly Brothers – From Organised Crime to Kings of Fashion’ by Anthony Donnelly and Christopher Donnelly, and ‘The New Fertility’ by Graham H Barker.
Thanks to my excellent team of beta readers who have given valuable feedback to help me improve the book. They are the lovely Rose Edmunds, Emma Dellow, Rita Ackerman and Jean Coldwell.
Big thanks also to the very talented Chris Howard for once again designing a top notch book cover. Chris is great to work with. He can translate your initial ideas into wonderful finished products, but is also willing to give input if he has other suggestions. You can contact Chris at: [email protected].
I would like to thank my family and friends for all their support, not only with this book but ever since I started my career as a published author. Special thanks go to Barry, Andi, Karen, Diane, Mary, Sarah and Elaine for helping to spread the word. Last but not least, I would like to thank my husband Damien and my two children for all the support they have given me in bringing this book to market. A special thanks also to my son for checking my facts relating to a medical matter that is referred to in the book.
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Disclaimer
All of the characters in ‘A Gangster’s Grip’ are fictitious. They are products of the author’s imagination and are not intended to bear any resemblance whatsoever to real people. Likewise, the character’s names have been invented by the author and any similarity to the names of real people is purely coincidental.
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If you missed my debut novel SLUR, you might enjoy reading an excerpt:
SLUR
The Riverhill Trilogy: Book 1
Chapter 1 Excerpt from SLUR
Saturday 21st June 1986
It was Saturday morning and Julie lay in bed dreaming of last night; she could feel the throbbing beat of the disco music. As she came to the throbbing intensified and she realised that this was no longer a dream. It was a loud hammering on the front door. The after effects of too much alcohol meant that the noise multiplied tenfold inside her head.
She staggered out of bed and reached for her dressing gown, but somebody had beaten her to the door. The hammering was followed by the sound of raised voices that Julie didn’t recognise, and she dashed to the landing to see what the commotion was about.
As she peered down the stairs her father glanced towards her bearing a puzzled but grave expression. There were two strangers
in the hallway; a plain, manly-looking woman of about 30, and a tall middle-aged man with rugged features. Julie’s mother stared up the stairs, her face a deathly pallor, her voice shaking, as she uttered, ‘They’re police. They want you love.’
Julie panicked and began to walk downstairs while asking, ‘What are you talking about, Mam? What would the police want with me?’
She saw the policeman nod in her direction as he addressed her father, ‘is this her?’
‘Yes,’ Bill muttered, and hung his head in shame.
The policeman then focused his full attention on Julie as he spoke the words that would remain etched on her brain for the rest of her life:
‘Julie Quinley, I am Detective Inspector Bowden, this is Detective Sergeant Drummond. I am arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Amanda Morris. You do not have to say anything unless you wish to do so, but what you say may be given in evidence.’
Julie stared at the police officer in disbelief and confusion as she tried to take it all in. She wanted to ask – What? Why? When? but the shock of this statement rendered her speechless and she couldn’t force the words from her mouth.
Inspector Bowden, heedless of Julie’s emotional state, was keen to get down to business straightaway. ‘Sergeant Drummond – accompany her to her bedroom while she gets dressed and watch her very closely.’
He then turned to Julie’s parents. ‘As soon as your daughter is dressed she will be taken to the station for questioning while we conduct a thorough search of the house.’
‘What do you mean, search? What are you searching for?’ asked Bill.
‘Drugs Mr Quinley,’ the inspector stated.
On hearing the word ‘drugs’ Bill was unable to contain himself any longer and Julie watched, helpless, as he metamorphosed into a frenzied maniac.
‘Drugs? What the bloody hell are you talking about, drugs? My family’s never had anything to do with drugs, never!’ he fumed.
He shocked Julie by grabbing her shoulder and shaking her violently as he vented his anger. ‘What the bloody hell’s been going on Julie? What’s all this about drugs and … and … people dying. Just what the hell have you been up to?’
Inspector Bowden took control of the situation. ‘Mr Quinley, can you please let go of your daughter and let Sergeant Drummond accompany her while she gets dressed?’
Bill mechanically released Julie and stared at the police officer in horror. This was a side of Bill that Julie, at twenty years of age, had never witnessed. Although he had often complained about her lifestyle, she usually shrugged it off, content in the knowledge that he was a kind and caring father who thought the world of her. Seeing him like this, though, she submitted to tears as she struggled to reply. ‘I’m sorry, Dad, but I really don’t know! I’ve never done drugs in my life!’
Then she began to sob in desperation, ‘Drugs? I don’t know anything about drugs … Amanda’s dead … Oh, Mam, tell him please?’
Julie’s mother, Betty, turned to address her husband, ‘Leave her alone Bill. Can’t you see she’s in a state? You’re only making matters worse!’
Inspector Bowden continued, officiously. ‘Now, if you will permit me to explain to all concerned - Amanda Morris died of severe intoxication and a possible drugs overdose in the early hours of this morning. As she was in the company of Julie Quinley and one other until approximately twelve thirty this morning, and returned home with them in an extremely drunken state, I have no alternative but to place Julie Quinley under arrest and take her down to the station for questioning. Now, if you will permit me to continue in my duties Mr Quinley, nothing further need be said at this point.’
Julie’s father retreated into the living room, mumbling to himself in despair. ‘I can’t take no more of this, I really can’t!’
Led by Sergeant Drummond, Julie mounted the stairs dejectedly. From the corner of her eye she could see her mother standing motionless in the hallway until Inspector Bowden disturbed her. ‘Mrs Quinley, could you help me to open the door please?’
When Julie’s mother had released the awkward door latch, he stepped forward, shouting, ‘in here men, start in that room there, then work your way through to the kitchen.’
Julie’s senses were on full alert, the adrenaline coursing around her body, as the police officers charged into the house with her father issuing a barrage of complaints at them. She was aware of her mother’s distress emanating from the dismal figure at the foot of the stairs. Apart from that, she could feel her own fear and helplessness, then shame and anger as, turning back, she noticed a group of nosy neighbours shouting and jeering at her mother. When one of them had the audacity to enquire, ‘Everything all right Betty love?’ her mother shut the front door in response.
Once inside the upstairs bedroom, Julie could sense Detective Sergeant Drummond scrutinising her as she put her clothes on. They didn’t speak but Julie tried to dress as covertly as possible while the police officer’s eyes roamed up and down her body. She could feel her hands shaking and her heart beating, and could hear people talking downstairs. One of the voices was her father’s and he sounded angry.
Julie headed towards the bathroom to wash her face, which still contained traces of make-up from the night before, but she was informed that there was no time to waste and they wanted her down at the station for questioning as soon as possible. ‘What about my hair?’ Julie asked.
‘If you’re so concerned about it, you can take a brush and do it in the car.’
Julie grabbed her hairbrush and placed it inside her handbag, which she threw over her shoulder.
‘I’ll take that if you don’t mind!’ said the sergeant, indicating Julie’s handbag. ‘It’ll have to be searched.’
Julie, aware of the sergeant’s hostile manner, replied, ‘That’s all right, I’ve got nothing to hide!’
She passed her handbag to Sergeant Drummond, then cringed with embarrassment as Sergeant Drummond rummaged through it and withdrew a packet of Durex and a small, empty bottle of vodka, which she proceeded to scrutinise. Once Sergeant Drummond had finished her thorough search, she tossed the bag back to Julie.
After several minutes Julie was ready to leave her bedroom without having showered, brushed her hair or even cleaned her teeth.
They began to descend the stairs.
Inspector Bowden materialized in the hallway and instructed Sergeant Drummond to lead Julie out to a waiting police car. He then ordered his men to check the upstairs of the house. As Sergeant Drummond was propelling Julie through the front door, Betty took hold of Julie’s arm and wept, ‘I hope you’ll be all right love.’
The look of anguish on Betty’s face brought renewed tears to Julie’s eyes, but she was too distressed to utter any words of reassurance to her mother. Her father, who had now calmed down a little, said, ‘don’t worry love, they can’t charge you with anything you haven’t done,’ and he put his arm around Betty’s shoulder in a comforting gesture. Julie knew that this was Bill’s way of apologising for his earlier accusations.
When Julie stepped outside the front door she was horrified at the sight that met her. The crowd that had gathered on the opposite side of the street had increased to such an extent that people were spilling over into the road. As Julie stepped onto the pavement with Sergeant Drummond gripping her arm, the excited mutterings of the crowd subsided and there was a series of nudges and whispers.
Julie was now the focus of everybody’s attention and she became painfully aware of her unkempt appearance, her untidy hair and unwashed face with mascara now streaked across her cheeks because of crying. The few steps from her house to the police car seemed to last longer than any other steps she had taken in her life. Although she knew she was innocent, she felt embarrassed in front of the crowd and ashamed that she had brought this on her parents.
She knew that they would be subjected to malicious gossip for weeks to come. For anybody who had ever held a grudge, or felt envious of the Quinleys, it was now payback time.
&
nbsp; The sight of the over inquisitive mob soon refuelled Bill’s anger and Julie heard him, first arguing with the police officers, and then shouting abuse at the intrusive audience. ‘Have you nothing else better to do? Get back in your houses and mind your own bleedin’ business! Our Julie’s innocent and she’s better than the bleedin’ lot of you put together. Now go on, piss off!’
His shouts were interspersed by Betty’s uncontrolled sobbing.
Not one of the crowd flinched. Julie had no doubt that her father’s spectacle had added to their entertainment. It occurred to her that she had never before seen her father so out of control, never seen her mother so upset, and her neighbours had never before seen Julie looking anything less than immaculate. For her it marked the beginning of a prolonged descent.
Suddenly, Julie caught sight of her younger sister, Clare, heading towards her. She could hear her astonished voice repeating to her friends, ‘It’s our Julie!’ As she became nearer, she shouted, ‘Julie, what’s happened, where are they taking you?’
A policeman rushed in front of Clare, preventing her from making any contact with her sister, and Julie was bundled into the police car. As she repositioned herself on the rear seat, Julie could hear her younger sister’s frantic screams and, while the officers tried to restrain Clare, she shouted, ‘Get off me, leave me alone, that’s my sister, you can’t take my sister!’ It was all too much for an eight year old to take in.
The police car began to drive away. Julie heard her father shouting at the crowd again. ‘I hope you’ve enjoyed your morning’s entertainment. Now bugger off home the lot of you!’
She turned to see her mother trying to comfort Clare as the Quinley family stepped back inside their defiled home.
A Gangster's Grip: The Riverhill Trilogy: Book 2 Page 23
