The Victim

by Kimberley Chambers

  Eddie watched the boys walk into the boozer, then collared a man walking his dog. ‘Excuse me, is there any forestry or woods around here? My son has taken our dog for a walk and has rung me and asked me to pick him up. We’re new around here, so he’s a bit lost, I think.’

  The man nodded, then gave directions. ‘Come on, Poppy,’ he said, as he toddled off with his faithful friend by his side.

  Seconds later, Eddie saw Gary and Ricky walk out of the pub alone. ‘Where the fuck is he, then?’ Ed asked as they got in the motor.

  ‘Gary’ll explain,’ Ricky said, leaving his brother to do the talking.

  ‘The bloke who lives at the house we knocked at is called John Griffiths. He was in the boozer; we’ve just spoken to him. He’s just moved here from Custom House.’

  Ed glared at Gary. ‘You’ve gotta be havin’ me on.’

  ‘It ain’t all bad news. The geezer knew Colin, says he drinks in that pub an’ all. He reckons he lives at number six, not sixty-six. I must have misheard that arsehole we gave a dig to and took the address down wrong, unless he gave me a dodgy one on purpose.’

  ‘Well, let’s go and knock at number six then.’

  Gary shook his head. ‘Colin has gone to the Canary Islands, Gran Canaria apparently. He ain’t due back until Saturday week. That John hates him, said he’s a right mouthy prick. He told me that Colin gets in the boozer at twelve on the dot every lunchtime.’

  Eddie smashed his fist against the steering wheel. His bad mood had just doubled. Not only had he had a wasted trip to Milton Keynes, and now had to come back there again, but the shit-bag that had ripped him off was now pissing his money up in sunny climates, the cheeky bastard.

  Eddie started the ignition and sped off like a loony. ‘I tell you something, and I mean this. When I catch up with Colin Deadman Griffiths, not only am I gonna make him pay me twenty-five grand back, I’m also gonna disfigure the cunt for life. No one takes the piss out of me and gets away with it, and I mean no one!’

  CHAPTER TEN

  Jimmy O’Hara met his contact in the Derby Digger in Wickford. Bobby Berkley was a lifelong family friend and was also the brother of Pete Berkley, who was coming towards the end of a ten stretch in Belmarsh. Pete was willing to carry out the killing of Ronny and Paulie alone for the sum of twenty grand.

  At first Jimmy had ummed and aahed over the wonga Pete demanded. He knew a few travellers in Belmarsh who would probably do the job a lot cheaper, but in the end, he had decided to stump up the cash. Mitchell had given him thirty, so whatever he shelled out, he was still in credit and that thought made Jimmy smile. Mitchell paying him to kill his own brothers while giving him a good drink on top was the stuff that dreams were made of.

  Bobby Berkley stood up and shook Jimmy’s hand. ‘What are you drinking, pal?’

  ‘I’ll have a pint of bitter,’ Jimmy said, sitting down at the table.

  Bobby returned with the drinks and the men got straight down to business.

  ‘As agreed, there’s five up front and you’ll get the other fifteen when the job’s done,’ Jimmy said, as he handed Bobby an envelope under the table.

  ‘I’m visiting Pete on Wednesday and will tell him it’s all systems go. He’s on the same wing as Ronny and Paulie and he’s already been watching their movements,’ Bobby said.

  ‘I don’t care how he does it, I just want ’em both dead and I want it done before Christmas.’

  Bobby nodded understandingly. ‘Don’t worry. Pete won’t let you down.’

  Back in Rainham, Joycie Smith was starting to get very worried. She still hadn’t heard a dickie bird from Stanley, and had no idea of his whereabouts. When Stanley had had his little tantrums in the past, he’d always gone to Jock’s or their old house in Upney. He was at neither this time, as he’d fallen out with Jock and their old house had now been sold.

  Joyce made herself a brew and sat on the sofa feeling desperately sorry for herself. Their house was in the middle of nowhere, down a country lane, and without Stanley and the car, Joyce felt like a prisoner in her own home. There wasn’t even a bus stop nearby. Stanley always drove her to and from the nearest one if she wanted to go into Romford or somewhere. Knowing that she would need to go food shopping in the next day or two, Joycie’s worry quickly turned to fury. She debated whether to ring Joey and Dominic and ask them to take her to Tesco tomorrow, but immediately decided against it. The poor little sods lived miles away and it wasn’t fair to keep spoiling their weekends. Getting more angry by the second, Joyce picked up the phone and dialled Jock’s number.

  ‘Jock, it’s me, Joycie. Have you found out where that senile old bastard is yet?’

  ‘I haven’t, Joycie. I ain’t heard a word from him, love.’

  ‘Well, I need you to do me a favour. I’ve got hardly no food here and I need to do a shop, so you’re gonna have to go to his little drinking haunts and find him for me. I need him to come home now, Jock.’

  ‘I don’t think Stanley’s gonna take orders from me, Joycie. The best I can do is pop up to where the pigeon club drinks and see if I can find out where he’s staying. If so, I’ll get the address for you.’

  ‘Thank you, and if you get no joy, let me know and I’m calling the police. The old goat could be lying dead in a ditch for all I know. Then again, I doubt I’d be that lucky.’

  Jock laughed at Joycie’s warped sense of humour. ‘I’ll go and see if I can find out anything now and I’ll bell you as soon as I have any news.’

  Eddie held Frankie close to his chest. Her hair had been styled, she had make-up on and, even though she was pregnant, she looked a damn sight better than she ever had when she was with Jed.

  ‘Wow, you look well. Been having a makeover in here, have ya?’

  Frankie grinned and sat down. ‘My cellmate Babs made me up. She’s well cool, Dad. Babs is Jamaican and we get on so well. You know when you meet someone and just click? We’re gonna be friends for life, I know we are.’

  Eddie frowned. Joey had told him all about this Babs bird and he wasn’t happy at all that his beautiful daughter was sharing a cell with a murderer. ‘You shouldn’t get too friendly with this girl, Frankie. Joey mentioned her to me. She’s up for murder, ain’t she?’

  Frankie was instantly annoyed. She knew her dad was only concerned about her welfare, but he could be an irritating bastard at times. ‘Look, I know you’re worried about me, but give me a bit of credit, will ya? I know a wrong ’un when I meet one, living with Jed taught me that. I am currently in Holloway, Dad, so I’m hardly going to be sharing my cell with a nun or a good Samaritan, am I? Babs is truly lovely and I was gonna tell you a bit about what happened to her, but now you’re being a stroppy arsehole, I ain’t gonna bother.’

  Eddie held his hands up in an ‘I surrender’ gesture. Frankie was a fiery little cow, she took after him and he hadn’t come here to argue with her. ‘I’m sorry, babe. I just worry about you, that’s all.’

  ‘Well, you’ve no need to worry. I am quite capable of choosing my own friends and I also know how to look after myself. You really do wind me up sometimes, Dad. When you were inside, you shared with Stuart, who was also a murderer, yet he was the greatest thing since sliced bread. And what about our family? I mean, we’re hardly the fucking Waltons, are we?’

  Eddie grinned. His daughter most definitely had the Mitchell sense of humour. ‘So, how’s your pregnancy going? Is everything OK?’ he asked, cleverly changing the subject.

  The mention of her unborn baby was enough to make Frankie calm down. ‘Everything’s fine. Me and Babs went to this antenatal lesson the other day. This posh woman took it and we had such a laugh. I feel a bit fat, but other than that I feel fit and healthy. I’ve had hardly no sickness with this one at all.’

  Eddie nodded. He was dreading telling her that the kids had run away, but she was their mother and needed to know because of the civil court case that was being arranged. ‘I’ve got some news for ya, but I don’t want you to panic, ’cause i
t’s created some good as well.’

  Frankie’s face turned deathly white when her father told the story of Georgie and Harry’s little escapade. ‘So they ran away to find me?’ Frankie asked, bursting into tears.

  Eddie took his daughter’s hand in his. He was desperate to comfort her, but he didn’t really know how to. ‘Look, don’t cry. The kids are fine, honest, and I think they’re gonna be allowed to visit you up here now. That social worker Larry got involved is taking the case to court. She reckons it’s in their best interests to see you regularly.’

  Frankie’s eyes shone with a mixture of tears and happiness. ‘Oh Dad, I’ve missed them so much. When do you think I can see them?’

  ‘We’ve gotta wait for a date for the court hearing first, but it should be soon. The social worker reckons they might be able to have some sort of contact with your nan, as well.’

  ‘Did Nan make a fuss of the kids? How are she and Grandad?’ Frankie asked.

  ‘The same as ever. Stanley weren’t there when I went round. Joycie and him have been rowing again, but she was over the moon to see Georgie and Harry.’

  ‘So how did Georgie and Harry look? Did they look clean and well fed? You know how fussy Georgie is with her food, do you think she’s been eating OK?’

  The kids had turned up at Joycie’s door in an awful state, but Eddie wasn’t about to tell Frankie that, as a lot of it was down to the trek they’d endured. ‘They both looked well and they ain’t ’arf got big. Georgie’s really tall now and they’re definitely being fed OK, as Harry’s shot up and looks as sturdy as a bull.’

  Frankie thought of her two beautiful children and smiled. She then bombarded her father with lots more questions about them. Not wanting Frankie to worry unnecessarily, Eddie answered her as honestly as he could. He didn’t tell her that the O’Haras hadn’t even reported the kids missing, as he knew that would play on her mind.

  ‘So, who else has been up to see you, apart from Joey?’ Ed asked, changing the subject again.

  ‘Kerry’s coming up next week. I haven’t seen her since that day I was last in court.’

  Remembering that he’d promised himself what he would tell Frankie, Eddie began to fidget in his seat. Telling his daughter the news of his impending fatherhood was not something he relished, but it had to come from him. ‘There’s something else I need to tell you. It’s about me and I know you ain’t gonna like it.’

  ‘I’ll have a guess, shall I? You’re getting married,’ Frankie said sarcastically.

  ‘Well, yeah, but not yet. Gina’s pregnant,’ Ed said bluntly.

  With images of her poor mother flashing through her mind, Frankie stood up, walked towards a screw and asked to be taken back to her cell.

  ‘Frankie, what you doin’? Don’t be like this, babe,’ she heard her dad shout.

  Turning around, Frankie glared at him. ‘You make me fucking sick!’ she screamed.

  Over in Orsett, Stanley and Pat the Pigeon had had a lovely day. Firstly, they’d had lunch in the Halfway House and then, on Pat’s insistence, they’d popped into the Orsett Cock pub, where the pigeon club congregated.

  ‘Don’t you worry about bumping into that bloody turncoat, Jock. He’s the one in the wrong, not you,’ Pat had maintained.

  Although still fuming over Jock’s betrayal, Stanley wasn’t one for confrontation and had been relieved that Jock wasn’t in the pub when they’d arrived.

  About to take a sip of his pint, Stanley nearly choked as Pat muttered the words he’d been dreading hearing. ‘Here he is, just walked in, the bloody Judas. I feel like giving him a piece of my mind, Stanley, I really do.’

  Stanley looked up, locked eyes with his once best friend, scowled and looked away. ‘Don’t bother saying ought to him, Pat. He ain’t bleedin’ worth it, love.’

  Under no illusion that Stanley was anything other than still mad at him, Jock walked over to the bar where Brian and Derek were standing.

  ‘What’s happened between you and Stanley? I asked him where you were earlier and he nearly bit my head off,’ Derek asked.

  ‘It’s a long story, but I’ve had Joycie on the phone, worried sick about him. Stanley’s left her and she was going to call the police and report him missing.’

  Brian started to laugh. ‘He’s all right, is our Stanley. He’s moved in with Pat, she was telling me earlier. I bet they’ve been at it like rabbits.’

  Jock glanced at Stanley and Pat in horror. How was he meant to tell Joyce this piece of news? She would blow a fuse.

  Unlike Frankie, who was currently sailing through her latest pregnancy, Sally Baldwin was indoors, crippled up with stomach pains. The stress of splitting up with Jed was taking its toll and the constant threats he kept making weren’t helping matters either. He’d been ringing her all day and at first he’d been quite pleasant.

  ‘Please come back. I didn’t mean to talk to you like I did. I’m such a dinlo and I really miss you,’ he’d begged.

  Sally’s father had then grabbed the phone and had given Jed a right mouthful. Terry Baldwin was sick of seeing his daughter upset and was at the end of his tether.

  ‘If you ever come near my Sally again, I swear I will fucking kill you,’ he’d warned Jed.

  Jed, being Jed, hadn’t taken any notice of the warning and had since left tons of threatening messages on the landline answerphone, the last being, ‘If you ain’t fucking back ’ere in one hour, Sally, I’m gonna come round there and cut your shitcunt of a father to shreds.’

  Sally winced as her father entered the room and put a cup of coffee down next to her. The pains were griping and she was desperate to go to the toilet.

  ‘How do you feel now?’ Terry asked, concerned. Sally was as white as a sheet and he wondered if he should call an ambulance.

  ‘I’m OK, but I must go a loo,’ Sally replied, as she half staggered from the room.

  Seconds later, Terry heard an almighty scream.

  ‘Dad, there’s blood everywhere, I think I’m losing the baby,’ Sally cried.

  Not one to drink too much when he had to drive from Orsett back to Barking, Jock had four pints and set off home. He felt sick with worry about Stanley’s unusual behaviour. Not only had his old pal looked very drunk, but he and that Pat had looked far more than just friends, and Jock didn’t have a clue what he was now going to say to Joyce.

  Within seconds of walking indoors, Jock heard his phone ringing. He glanced at the clock. It was 4 p.m. and his daughter usually rang him at this time most days. He picked up the phone and was horrified to hear Joyce on the other end.

  ‘Well, did you find the old bastard?’

  ‘Aye, but I didn’t speak to him, Joycie. He’s still really angry with me, I could see it in his face.’

  ‘So, where is he then? Where did you see him?’

  Aware of how irate Joyce sounded, Jock chose his words carefully. He didn’t want to get his old mate into too much trouble, but if he didn’t give Joycie some information, she would be sure to call the police and find out Stanley’s whereabouts anyway.

  ‘He was in the Orsett Cock pub. He’s staying with a friend who lives up that way, I think.’

  ‘Friend! What friend? Apart from you, my Stanley has never had any bleedin’ friends. What’s the bloke’s name he’s stopping with?’

  ‘I’ve no idea,’ Jock replied untruthfully.

  Joyce instinctively knew that Jock was lying. Stanley had definitely been behaving oddly for the last couple of months. He disappeared regularly, usually at lunchtime. He’d put on weight, but ate smaller meals at home, and she could swear she’d whiffed women’s perfume on his clothes and it certainly wasn’t her Estée Lauder. It all added up now, every single, last, sordid detail.

  ‘What’s the old tart’s name, Jock? I know it’s a woman, so don’t you dare fucking lie to me.’

  Jock felt like a rabbit caught in the headlights. ‘I swear, it’s not what you think, Joycie. Him and Pat are just friends, that’s all. Your Stanley has
decent morals, love,’ he stammered.

  ‘Well, I’ll give him morals and I’ll give her fucking Pat. What’s the old bag’s address?’ Joyce screamed down the phone.

  Jock was petrified of Joyce at the best of times. ‘I don’t know, I swear I don’t. All I know is she lives in Orsett,’ he said, his hands shaking.

  ‘Well, I’ll be taking a little trip to Orsett and when I find that dirty old bastard I married, I’m gonna chop his fucking bits off and feed ’em to his pigeons.’

  Unaware that his old woman was on his tail and currently spitting feathers, Stanley and Pat were rather inebriated and cuddled up on the sofa. They had left the pub about an hour ago and they must have sunk at least ten or twelve drinks while they were out. At one point, Stanley had even felt his legs start to buckle.

  ‘Do you wanna watch a film, Stanley, or shall we have an early night?’ Pat asked him expectantly.

  Not getting the gist of what she was asking, Stanley smiled at her. Unlike Joycie, Pat was a loving person and he sometimes liked it when she put her arms around him. It made him feel manly and wanted. ‘You watch a film if you like, love. I’m knackered, though, so I think I’ll have an early one.’

  Desperate to get Stanley into her own bed rather than the one in the spare room, Pat edged towards his lips and placed her own there.

  Feeling Pat’s tongue inside his mouth, Stanley leaped from the sofa as if he had a bullet up his arse. ‘Night, love,’ he shouted, as he ran from the room and bolted up the stairs. He was desperate for the safety of the spare room. He and Joycie hadn’t kissed for years and even when they used to, there were no tongues involved. Petrified that Pat was going to come into his room, Stanley finally stopped shaking as he heard her footsteps plod past. ‘Thank you, God,’ he mumbled gratefully.

  Terry Baldwin sat in a corridor in Harold Wood Hospital. Sally had been rushed to the maternity unit and he’d been waiting ages for some news. Putting his head in his hands, Terry cursed the day his daughter had ever set eyes on Jed O’Hara. The little shit had already robbed him of one grandchild, his beloved Luke, and if Sally were to lose another because of Jed, Terry would have no choice but to top the little bastard.