The Victim

by Kimberley Chambers

  Purgatory would be the best way to describe the six weeks since Luke had died. Terry’s daughter Sally had been distraught, in absolute bits and, even though she was pregnant, had hit the bottle big style.

  ‘You’re gonna be burying another baby if you carry on like that,’ Terry had warned her only yesterday.

  ‘I’m so unhappy living here. I need to move back in with Jed. Please say I can, Dad. You can’t keep me away from him for ever. I love him.’

  Sick of watching Sally necking the wine night after night, Terry had reluctantly agreed that she could move back in with her no-good, pikey arsehole of a boyfriend. When Luke had first been murdered, Terry had turned up at the O’Haras’ and ordered Sally to return home so she was safe and they could grieve and cry together. Terry had hoped that she would leave Jed for good, especially when she learned from the police that Frankie was also pregnant in the nick with the toerag’s child, but it wasn’t to be. The silly little cow was going back to him for now, until Terry found a way to get the piece of shit out of her life for good.

  The pub door opened and Terry nodded as Jamie Carroll sat down opposite him. Jamie was a fixer and whether you wanted a firearm, a dodgy motor got rid of, or some bastard assassinated, Jamie could fix it for you.

  ‘What you having to drink?’ Terry asked.

  ‘Nothing, I’ve gotta be in Shoreditch in half an hour. You got the boodle?’

  Terry nodded. ‘Shall I give it to you here?’

  ‘No. I’ll leave first; you finish your beer and meet me outside in five minutes. I’m in a silver Jag.’

  Obeying Jamie’s orders, Terry sipped his pint. He then stood up, checked nobody was watching him and left the pub. He spotted the Jag at the far end of the car park and walked towards it.

  ‘Shall I get in while you count it? It’s in bundles of a thousand.’

  Jamie shook his head. He’d done bird with Baldwin and knew he was sweet. ‘I trust ya. As soon as I get the nod, I’ll let you know,’ he replied. He started the engine and sped out of the car park like a racing driver.

  Terry watched him go and then got into his own car. There was no going back now, not now he’d called it on. Nothing would bring Lukey boy back, but as the child’s grandfather, Terry saw it as his duty to do whatever he could for Luke’s memory.

  Georgie and Harry O’Hara sat silently on the sofa as their dad fondled Sally on the armchair. Neither child particularly disliked Sally – she had always been quite kind to them and given them lots of attention when Luke was alive – but today she was solely focused on their father and had barely spoken to them all afternoon. Noticing that her dad had put his hand up Sally’s short skirt, Georgie grabbed Harry’s hand.

  ‘Come on, let’s play in the other room,’ she said.

  Thrilled to have Sally back and also desperate for a leg-over, Jed was happy to let his children do their own thing. His mum had gone to do the weekly shop, his father had driven her there, and when she got back he would leave her in charge of the kids while he took Sally upstairs for a good seeing-to. It would do them good to spend some time alone; they could have sex, then talk about Lukey boy.

  ‘What you doin’, Georgie?’ Harry asked, as his sister stood on a chair and removed items from the fridge.

  ‘Ssh,’ Georgie warned. She didn’t want her father to get wind of what she was up to.

  Harry watched his sister in awe as she buttered the bread, spread some Marmite over it, then put big lumps of cheese in the middle. Georgie placed the sandwiches into her Mister Blobby lunchbox. She then placed four cans of Pepsi and four packets of crisps in a carrier bag.

  ‘You hold the lunchbox, I’ll carry the bag ’cause it’s heavier,’ she whispered to Harry.

  Georgie put her Puffa jacket on, helped Harry into his, opened the front door and urged Harry to follow her outside. She could hear her dad making strange noises in the living room, so she left the door slightly open in case he heard it click shut.

  ‘Are we going for a picnic, Georgie?’ Harry asked excitedly.

  Georgie held Harry’s hand and urged him to run towards the nearby fields. ‘No, we’re running away to Nanny Joycie’s house.’

  Unaware that his great-grandchildren were on their way to his old abode, Stanley Smith finished the last of his rabbit stew and puffed out his cheeks.

  ‘Have some more,’ Pat the Pigeon ordered, as she leaped out of her seat to bring the large saucepan over.

  ‘Christ no, I’m that bloated I can’t even move.’

  Pat smiled. She knew how to take care of a man – her mother had instilled it into her from a very early age. ‘Patricia, all you’ve got to do in life is learn to cook like an angel and act like a whore in the bedroom. If you can successfully master those two acts, no man will ever leave you – why would he?’ her mum used to insist.

  ‘I’ve made a rhubarb crumble, but if you’re stuffed we’ll eat that later for supper, Stanley. My Christine lent me a film the other day, reckons it’s bloody brilliant. It’s called Thelma and Louise. Have you seen it?’

  Stanley shook his head. ‘Well, you go and make yourself comfortable in the living room while I wash up and then we’ll have a couple of cans of bitter to wash that dinner down and watch our film.’

  Stanley grinned and did as he was told. Unlike Joycie, who had always treated and spoken to him like something untoward on the bottom of her shoe, Pat was kind, she respected him and Stanley could get very used to that indeed.

  Back in bitterly cold Rainham, Harry O’Hara was shivering, tired and had just fallen over on the uneven ground and grazed his knee. ‘Can you pick me up, Georgie? My knee hurts,’ he asked with a tremor in his voice.

  Seeing headlights approaching, Georgie pushed Harry behind a bush. The only way to Nanny Joycie’s house was via the road and because it was a country lane there was no pavement to walk on.

  ‘Why do you keep pushing me?’ Harry wept.

  Aware that Harry’s teeth were chattering, Georgie gave him a hug. She opened her Mr Blobby lunchbox, gave Harry a sandwich, then handed him a can of Pepsi out of the carrier bag. It was dark now, pitch black, and as they nibbled on their sandwiches they could barely see what they were eating.

  ‘I’m sorry I pushed you, Harry, but if we don’t get out the way when a car drives along, we might get run over.’

  Harry nodded tearfully. He didn’t like the dark, had always been afraid of it. ‘When will we see Nanny Joycie’s house?’ he asked.

  ‘Soon, but you have to walk quicker, Harry. I can’t carry you.’

  They finished their sandwiches in silence, then Georgie stood up and grabbed her brother’s hand. She knew they were going the right way. Her teacher had taught her how to tell her left from her right and she knew her nan’s house was this way, because she’d spotted it from her grandad Jimmy’s truck. Georgie didn’t miss going to school at all. She hadn’t been back since her mummy had disappeared and she was pleased that she didn’t have to sit cooped up in a classroom every day. Not only that, she didn’t want to leave Harry indoors on his own. If she went to school, her brother would have no one to play with.

  Feeling herself shiver, Georgie turned to her brother. ‘It’s nearly bedtime now, so we must run before Daddy finds us.’

  Not wanting to be found by his daddy, Harry ignored the pain in his bruised knee and did as he was told.

  Alice O’Hara had had a pleasant afternoon. Her Jimmy rarely took her out, but on the way back from Tesco, he’d suggested they have a meal in a local pub. For the first time since Marky and Lukey boy had died, Alice had laughed and smiled. She’d even drunk five pints of Guinness and it was good to forget her troubles, even if it was only for a day.

  ‘I wonder what the chavvies have been up to?’ Alice asked Jimmy. She was dying to get home now to have a little cuddle with her Georgie girl.

  ‘I dunno, but you’ll soon find out,’ Jimmy replied, as he pulled up outside their house.

  ‘I’ll kill that Jed, he’s left the po
xy door open, the house’ll be bloody freezing,’ Alice moaned as she marched into the hallway. ‘Georgie, Harry, Nanna’s home,’ she yelled.

  The silence immediately unnerved Alice and left her with her usual feeling of doom and gloom. ‘Jed, where are you?’ she screamed. He had to be here, his Shogun was outside.

  Hearing his mother’s dulcet tones, Jed got out of bed, put his pants and jeans on and walked to the top of the stairs. ‘I’m up ’ere. Sally’s home, so we’ve been getting reacquainted, if you know what I mean.’

  ‘Are the chavvies up there with ya?’ Jimmy asked.

  Jed felt the colour drain from his face. He’d got so used to his mum looking after the kids, he’d sort of forgotten she wasn’t there. He ran down the stairs like a lunatic. ‘Georgie! Harry!’ he yelled.

  Alice ran back into the hallway. She’d checked all the rooms and looked out the back. ‘You stupid, selfish little bastard. The front door was open, you dinlo.’

  As Alice began pummelling her son’s bare chest with her fists, Jimmy searched for his mobile. He’d forgotten it earlier when he’d gone out with Alice. ‘We’d better call the gavvers,’ he yelled.

  Alice stopped hitting her son and chased her husband into the lounge. ‘No, dordie, no. If the gavvers get involved, we’ll have social services knockin’ on the door and they’ll take the chavvies away from us. We gotta find ’em ourselves.’

  Fuming that after such a good day his Alice was now in floods of tears, Jimmy grabbed his youngest son around the throat. He tapped his forehead with his free hand. ‘You wanna start thinking with that rather than this,’ he said as he kneed him in the bollocks.

  ‘For fuck’s sake, Jimmy, fighting ain’t gonna find ’em. Let’s go search for ’em,’ Alice cried.

  The house had automatic lights at the front and back, but Jimmy grabbed a couple of torches. Georgie was four and Harry was only three, so they couldn’t have got far.

  ‘You don’t think the Mitchells have snatched ’em do you?’ Jed asked, still holding his private parts.

  ‘No chance, with Frankie still inside. It’s more than they dare do,’ Jimmy replied confidently.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Sally asked, as she appeared at the top of the stairs.

  Jed ignored her and pushed his parents out of the front door. He felt tearful now and sick with fear. He’d already lost one child and losing his other two didn’t bear thinking about.

  Stanley sat open-mouthed as Thelma and Louise prepared to drive off the cliff. It wasn’t the film that was causing his state of shock, it was because Pat the Pigeon had just laid her head on his shoulder and put an arm across his belly.

  Even as a lad, Stanley had been no lothario. Women had never liked him, full stop, and apart from the rare fumble with Joycie, he’d had fewer sexual encounters than a monk.

  Willing Thelma and Louise to get on with it and drive off the bastard cliff, Stanley was relieved when they did so and as the credits rolled, he immediately faked a yawn and stood up. ‘Oh well, that’s me done for the night. Them bitters have knocked me out.’

  ‘What about your rhubarb crumble?’ Pat asked, sitting up straight.

  ‘I’m still bloated from that stew, love. Is it OK if we eat it tomorrow?’

  Pat the Pigeon was a five-foot-two, voluptuous and big-breasted blonde. She was in her mid-fifties, but still had a lovely complexion and an extremely pretty face. With her hearty laugh and sexy smile, men had always fallen at her feet and even when she’d been married to Vic, she’d had to fight off unwelcome advances from her army of admirers. Stanley was a different kettle of fish and as desperate as Pat was to get him into bed, she knew she had to play the waiting game.

  ‘Slowly, slowly catchee monkey,’ her wise old mum used to say.

  ‘Yes, of course it’s OK to eat it tomorrow, Stanley. You get off to that nice comfortable bed in the spare room and I’ll see you in the morning, lovey.’

  Desperate for his nan not to go off her head or get drunk and smash the house up like she did the last time when his grandad left home, Joey had offered to stay the night with her. Dominic, being the best partner a man could wish for, had just arrived with a big bag of fish and chips for them all.

  Pleased that his nan was tucking in, Joey offered her another pickled onion.

  ‘I bet that’s the old bastard. He’s probably too frightened to use his key,’ Joyce said as the doorbell rang.

  Positive it couldn’t be his grandad, as they hadn’t heard his car pull up, Joey put his plate down and stood up. He opened the door and could barely believe his eyes. Georgie was standing on a plant pot, which she’d used to reach the doorbell, and Harry was standing next to the pot, shivering and crying.

  ‘Oh my God. Get inside, you’re both freezing,’ Joey urged his niece and nephew.

  When the children walked into the room, Joyce dropped her dinner on the floor in shock and burst into tears. ‘Oh, my little darlings,’ she said, as she knelt down and hugged them both.

  Dominic looked at Joey in astonishment. ‘How did they get here? Did Jed drop them off?’

  Joey knelt down, it had been raining for the past half an hour, so he took the children’s coats off and ordered them to sit next to the fire. Harry was still sobbing and, overcome by emotion, he clung to his Nanny Joyce. Her cuddles reminded him of his mummy.

  Joey knelt down and held Georgie in his arms. ‘Who brought you here?’ he asked her.

  ‘No one. We ran away.’

  As Georgie then burst into tears as well, Joey turned to Dominic. ‘What are we gonna do?’

  Dominic knelt down next to Joey. ‘This is important, Georgie. Why did you run away? You must tell us what happened.’

  ‘Because we wanted to see our mummy,’ Georgie cried.

  Joyce was the next to break down in tears. ‘How did you find Nanny’s house?’ she wept.

  ‘’Cause I saw it when I was in Grandad Jimmy’s truck.’

  ‘Where is Mummy? Don’t wanna live with Daddy no more,’ Harry exclaimed, hiccupping.

  Joyce held both children tightly to her chest. They were frozen stiff, the poor little mites. ‘Shall Nanny make you something nice and hot to eat and drink? It will warm your cockles, I promise.’

  Georgie and Harry both nodded. They had chucked the rest of their sandwiches away and, after their marathon walk, were now both starving.

  Joyce walked out into the kitchen and urged Joey to follow her. ‘What are we gonna do? We can’t keep them ’ere, we’ll get ourselves arrested. Should we ring the police?’

  Joey thought momentarily, then shook his head. ‘Not yet. I’m gonna ring Dad, he’ll sort it out.’

  Hearing Georgie and Harry chatting in the other room to Dominic, Joyce placed the sausages in the frying pan. She had missed her great-grandchildren so much and perhaps now they had run to her in their hour of need, something good might come out of this. Perhaps the authorities might let her have some kind of access to them.

  Joyce made two mugs of hot chocolate and added some cold water so the poor little ha’porths didn’t burn themselves. ‘There you go, me little angels,’ she said, handing the mugs to them.

  ‘Can we see Mummy soon?’ Harry asked innocently.

  ‘Mummy isn’t here, love. But she told me to tell you that she can still see you from where she is and she loves you both very much.’

  ‘Daddy says Mummy is in prison and Nanny Alice says she is an evil old shitcunt,’ Georgie said, not quite understanding the meaning of her words.

  ‘If anyone is evil, it’s your Nanny Alice, not your mother,’ Joyce said standing up. She could smell the sausages burning.

  Joey ended his phone call and walked into the kitchen. ‘Me dad said don’t do nothing till he gets there. He’s on his way.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Eddie Mitchell rang his trusted solicitor Larry, then hit a ton as he zoomed along the A13. Gina announcing she was pregnant had been a big enough bolt out of the blue, but finding out that his grandkids ha
d run away and turned up at Joycie’s had literally knocked him for six. What was God trying to do? Give him a fucking heart attack?

  Hearing his dad pull up outside, Joey opened the front door and ran outside to greet him.

  ‘How are they? Are they OK?’ Eddie asked, concerned.

  Joey nodded. ‘Nan’s just made ’em sausage sandwiches and given ’em a hot bath. They was in a right state when they arrived though, Dad. Their clothes were soaked and they were frozen stiff. They could have been snatched by some pervert or anything.’

  Eddie nodded, then put an arm around Joey’s shoulder. ‘Have they said why they ran away?’

  ‘Yeah, they wanted to see Frankie. They said they missed their mum.’

  As tough a man as he was, Eddie felt his eyes well up as he walked into the lounge. Georgie and Harry were sitting either side of Joycie. They both had big white bath towels wrapped around them and were munching on a bowl of crisps that was positioned on Joycie’s lap.

  ‘Look, Grandad Eddie’s here. Go and give him a cuddle,’ Joyce urged them.

  Harry loved a cuddle, so he immediately stood up, and held his arms wide open. He didn’t care that his towel dropped to the floor.

  Eddie picked up Harry’s naked little body and swung him around in the air. ‘Hello, me little bruiser, Grandad loves you, you know,’ he said, planting kisses on his face.

  Georgie sat motionless on the sofa. She knew she had a Grandad Stanley and a Grandad Jimmy, but she didn’t really remember her Grandad Eddie. She was sure she had heard her mum mention him, but he didn’t look familiar to her.

  ‘Give your Grandad a kiss, Georgie,’ Joyce ordered.

  Eddie sat Harry on the sofa next to his sister, then knelt down in front of the pair of them. Apart from a quick glance when he’d knocked at O’Hara’s house, he hadn’t seen Georgie for well over a year, but still felt hurt that she didn’t seem to remember him. He spoke gently. ‘I know neither of you really know who I am, but that’s my fault because I had to go away somewhere. I’m your mum’s dad, your Grandad Eddie.’