Stanley chuckled. The pigeons loved their swings and his three were fighting over the same one. ‘No, Willie, that one’s yours,’ Stanley said, pointing to the empty swing.
As Pat approached him from behind and put her arms around his waist, Stanley flinched nervously. He adored everything about Pat, bar one thing. He loved her smile, her personality, her hearty chuckle, her adoration and knowledge of pigeons, but she was always trying to touch and kiss him, which made Stanley feel very awkward indeed.
‘I’m busting for a wee, love,’ he said, loosening her grip on him.
Once inside the lavatory, Stanley stood over the toilet and stared at his small, flaccid penis. He hadn’t had an erection for years and didn’t even know if he was capable of having them any more. He’d never been sex-mad, even as a young man, and the thought of having to poke his John Thomas in someone at his age filled him with dread. Shaking his little problem, Stanley zipped himself up, washed his hands and stared at himself in the mirror. He was divorcing Joycie, and if he was to have a happy future with Pat, then he had to try and give the woman what she wanted.
Terry Baldwin picked up the knife and began to carve the turkey. Originally, Anne’s sister and her husband were meant to be coming over for Christmas and staying a couple of days, but because of Sally’s recent behaviour, Anne had cancelled the arrangement.
‘My sister and her husband absolutely adore the festive time of year and it’s not fair on them or Sally if they come here. We are bound to have a morbid Christmas because of poor little Luke and we’d be better spending it alone,’ Anne insisted.
Initially, Terry had been in a good mood earlier because of the phone call he’d received, but then memories of last Christmas, which he’d spent with Luke, had come back to haunt him and he’d broken down. Anne had held him in her arms until his tears subsided. Determined now to try and be as upbeat as he possibly could, Terry grinned at his wife as she brought the potatoes and parsnips in.
‘Do us a favour, love, go and tell Sally that dinner’s ready, will ya?’
Terry had been upstairs to see his daughter twice in the last three hours and, seeing as he was having no joy enticing her out of her bedroom, he hoped Anne might have more luck.
Anne walked up the stairs and as she opened Sally’s bedroom door, let out the most awful blood-curdling scream.
‘Whatever’s wrong?’ Terry said, running up the stairs.
In such awful shock that she couldn’t even speak, Anne pointed towards the wooden beams in the ceiling.
‘No, please God, no!’ Terry yelled. He ran into his own bedroom and grabbed his hunting knife. ‘Wake up, sweetheart. Please wake up for your dad’, he sobbed, as he loosened the towelling dressing gown belt from around Sally’s neck. Receiving no response, Terry checked for a pulse. There was none. His beautiful daughter was already dead.
Back in Rainham, Joyce was a different person from the woman who had been in drunken hysterics the day before. She was cool, calm, and collected and so far had been the hostess of all hostesses.
‘Let me pour you another glass of wine, Jenny,’ Joyce uttered to Polly’s borderline alcoholic mother. She topped Jenny’s drink up and smiled. ‘Who’s ready for dessert yet?’
‘Sit down Mum, for Christ’s sake. You’ll wear the bloody carpet out in a minute,’ Raymond joked.
‘You know me, like to keep myself busy,’ Joyce said jovially.
Since her late twenties Jenny had struggled to control her drinking, and she had a terrible habit of saying the wrong thing once inebriated. She smiled at Joycie. ‘So, do you miss Stanley, or not? Polly said he left you for another woman and, to be honest, I was shocked. I mean, he’s no oil painting, is he?’
‘Mum!’ Polly exclaimed, horrified.
Joyce laughed. ‘No, he isn’t and no, I don’t miss the old goat at all. The only thing I do miss about him is the lifts. I have to get cabs and bleedin’ buses everywhere now.’
Raymond winked at his mother. Joey had rung him late last night and told him what an awful state Joyce had gotten herself into and Raymond had been fully expecting a repeat performance today. Instead, his mum had been the complete opposite and had done him proud.
When Joey said something funny and Dominic kissed him fondly on the forehead, Jenny turned her attention to them. She had never really been in the company of gay men before and she was curious to know certain things. ‘So, what’s it like, being gay?’ she asked.
Dickie, Jenny’s husband, roared with laughter. ‘She isn’t backward in coming forwards my wife, is she?’ he said playfully, slapping Joyce on the bottom as she stood up.
Joey glanced at Dom. Neither of them were particulary taken with Polly’s parents. They’d only met them once before, at Raymond’s wedding, and on that particular occasion, Jenny had got herself so drunk that she’d pissed herself while jigging about on the dancefloor.
‘It’s the same as being straight I suppose, apart from being in love with somebody who’s the same sex as yourself,’ Joey replied.
Dickie, who sounded and laughed like Boycie out of Only Fools and Horses, egged his wife on. ‘Go on, ask ’em more, you know you want to.’
Ignoring the warning looks from her daughter, Jenny continued to be nosy. ‘But it’s not the same, is it? I mean, I don’t let my Dickie stick it up my dirt-box even though the crafty sod did try it in his younger years.’
Dickie was laughing uncontrollably and holding his sides. When he married his Jenny, he married the funniest woman ever to walk the earth.
‘I’m gonna help Mum bring the dessert in,’ Raymond said, embarrassed. He didn’t want to stick up for Joey in case he upset Polly’s parents and, unlike Eddie, he’d never really got his head around Joey being gay.
‘I’ll help you,’ Polly offered, absolutely mortified.
Jenny topped her glass up again and smiled at Joey. ‘Does it hurt?’
‘Does what hurt?’ Joey asked, getting more annoyed by the second.
‘You know, when you shove it up one another’s dirt-boxes?’
Dickie burst out laughing again.
Joey was furious. He stood up and urged Dominic to do the same. ‘Come on, let’s go. We don’t have to sit here listening to homophobic imbeciles like these two. Let’s go to my dad’s house.’
Not used to seeing Joey lose his temper, Dominic glared at Jenny and Dickie and followed his partner out of the room.
Over in Holloway, Frankie and Babs were sitting at a big table with paper hats on their heads and had just finished their Christmas dinner.
‘Weren’t bad for prison food, was it?’ Babs said enthusiastically.
Frankie turned her nose up. It was edible, but wasn’t a patch on the Christmas dinners her mum used to cook.
‘Your stalker’s staring at you again,’ Babs whispered in Frankie’s ear.
Knowing where Katie was sitting, Frankie kept her eyes firmly averted. Ever since the day they’d had that heart-to-heart conversation Frankie had felt increasingly uncomfortable around Katie. In freeflow now, Katie always made a beeline for her, and the girl’s desperation to be best pals with her made Frankie feel extremely awkward. Babs knew all about the conversation that had taken place between Frankie and Katie, as Frankie had told her, and Babs was fairly positive that Katie was telling the truth and was genuine. Frankie was still very unsure, though. Katie hadn’t got the message to Jed via her cousin Danny yet and Frankie began to wonder more and more if Jed had employed Katie as a spy.
‘She’s coming over,’ Bab’s said, nudging Frankie.
Frankie looked up and smiled falsely. ‘Hello, Katie. Merry Christmas.’
Katie crouched down next to Frankie. She didn’t want the other girls to hear what she had to say. ‘Jed will be getting your message tomorrow. Danny’s going to a party and Jed will be there. Danny won’t let you down, I promise.’
Eddie stood at the top of the table, carving the turkey and trying to be jovial. Gary and Ricky had been so distressed by discover
ing their mother’s rotting corpse the previous day that they had gone home to spend Christmas together. With just Gina, Claire and Stuart for company, the day had been hard to get through for Ed, and he was pleased that Joey and Dom had turned up with Madonna, as their presence had lifted the atmosphere.
‘So, why didn’t you stay at your nan’s? Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you’re here, but weren’t Joycie pissed off that you left? You were meant to be staying overnight, weren’t you?’
Joey glanced at Dominic. He’d already warned his boyfriend not to tell Ed what had really happened. If Eddie found out what Jenny and Dickie had been saying and how rude they had been, he would probably drive straight round to Joycie’s and rip the pair of them to shreds. ‘Nan seems fine now and Raymond and Polly are staying with her tonight. To be honest, we left early because Polly’s parents are such a pair of prats. The old man is a proper know-it-all and the mother was pissed out of her brains and talking a load of old nonsense.’
‘They didn’t say anything to upset you, did they?’ Eddie asked defensively.
‘No, of course not,’ Joey lied.
As Gina and Claire began bringing the potatoes, parsnips and dishes of vegetables into the room, Joey and Dominic chatted happily to Stuart. When Stuart excused himself to use the lavatory, Joey turned to his father.
‘I like Stu, Dad. He seems like a real nice fella. Has he actually started working for you yet?’
Remembering Colin Griffiths’ two dismembered fingers, Eddie prodded two sausages with a fork and put them on his plate. They’d got the money back from Griffiths the following week, so the episode was over now.
‘Yes, son. Stuart has been working for me for a couple of weeks now and has already proved his worth. The boy’s gonna be a real asset to me,’ Eddie said, smiling at Stuart as he walked back into the room.
Gina and Claire sat down at the table and everybody began tucking into their dinners. Joey and Dom moved over to the sofa, as they had already eaten at Joycie’s.
‘Who the fucking hell is that?’ Eddie said, as the doorbell rang.
Joey jumped up. ‘You eat your dinner. I’ll get it. It’s probably Gary and Ricky.’
Seconds later, a worried-looking Joey walked back into the lounge. ‘It’s the police, Dad. They want to speak to you. They said it’s urgent.’
Thinking this was probably to do with Beverley’s death, Eddie put his knife and fork down and walked into the hallway.
‘What’s a matter?’ he asked the taller copper out of the two.
‘Are you Eddie Mitchell, the brother of Paul and Ronald Mitchell?’ the policeman asked, knowing full well who Eddie was.
Eddie’s heart lurched. ‘Yes, I am.’
‘I’m afraid I have some bad news for you, Mr Mitchell. There was an incident in Belmarsh this morning and both your brothers have unfortunately been found dead.’
Feeling the colour drain from his cheeks, Eddie clung to the banister for support. O’Hara must have got to them somehow, the fucking bastard. ‘How did it happen? I need to know how they died,’ he said, praying they hadn’t been tortured.
The smaller of the two coppers glanced at his colleague and continued. ‘The details we have been given are rather vague, but it seems they were found early this morning by a prison officer and both men had lacerations to the throat area.’
Eddie put his head in his trembling hands. He might not have seen eye to eye with his brothers over recent years, but they were still his flesh and blood and, in his heart, he had never stopped loving them. Now they were dead, some cunt had cut their throats and, the worst part of it was, by giving Jimmy O’Hara that money, Ed had effectively killed them himself. Overcome by guilt and grief, Eddie ordered the officers out and sank to his knees. Not only did he still bear the burden of having his wife’s blood all over his hands, he now had his brothers’ as well.
Over in Orsett, Stanley was extremely nervous as he changed into his striped pyjamas in the bathroom. He was reasonably drunk, had been supping bitter all day and it was that that had given him the courage to agree to sleep in Pat the Pigeon’s bed with her.
‘Stanley, where are you?’ Pat asked in a singsong, seductive tone.
Stanley glanced at himself in the bathroom mirror. He was sweating like a pig, but it couldn’t be helped, as he was petrified of what was to come. Scuttling into the bedroom like a naughty schoolboy, Stanley turned off the light, jumped under the quilt and lay frozen on the right-hand side of the bed, staring upwards.
Pat immediately leaned over towards him. She was very sexually frustrated. She fancied Stanley something rotten and had dreamed of this moment for months.
Feeling Pat’s naked breasts against his chest, Stanley gasped in horror. Why didn’t she have her nightdress on?
‘Are you OK, Stanley?’ Pat asked, as she began to undo the buttons on his pyjama top.
Stanley nodded dumbly. He tried to speak, but no words would come out. When Pat’s hand travelled downwards to the opening of his pyjama bottoms, Stanley suddenly found his voice. ‘Stop it! What are you doing, woman?’ he shrieked.
Pat smiled as she clasped her right hand around Stanley’s limp prized asset. ‘Trust me, I’ll be gentle with you, Stanley,’ she promised. Pat was an expert with a penis, always had been.
Aware that his long-term-unemployed asset was not responding to Pat’s gentle touch, Stanley shut his eyes. If only he could block out the embarrassment that he felt, it might just raise a slight gallop.
Harry O’Hara lay in bed, wide awake. He’d had the best Christmas presents ever and, even though it was ten o’clock, he couldn’t sleep, as he was too excited about driving his new car again tomorrow. ‘You awake, Georgie?’ he asked his sister.
‘Yeah,’ Georgie replied.
‘Can I get in your bed with you tonight?’
Georgie kissed Barbie goodnight then put her on the bedside cabinet to make room for Harry. As her brother got in, she snuggled up to him.
‘I love my new car. I wanna be a racing driver when I grow up,’ Harry told her in earnest.
‘I love all my toys, especially Barbie and her horse. Daddy said he’ll buy me a real horse so I can ride it like Barbie does,’ Georgie replied excitedly.
Harry grinned. ‘I like living here now with Daddy, Nanny Alice and Grandad Jimmy, do you?’
Georgie nodded.
‘Do you think we will live with Mummy again?’ Harry asked.
Georgie shrugged. ‘Do you miss Mummy still?’
Harry thought carefully before answering. He knew that he used to love his mum very much, but due to his young age, his memories of being with her were fading rapidly. ‘I miss Mummy a tiny bit. Do you still miss her?’
Georgie mused over her reply also. Being older than Harry, her memories of her mother were a lot clearer than her brother’s, but she wasn’t sure if she missed her any more or not. ‘I think I still love Mummy and want to visit her, but I don’t wanna live with her no more. I wanna stay with Daddy, Nanny Alice and Grandad Jimmy for ever and ever.’
Harry grinned. ‘I wanna stay here for ever and ever too.’
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
1994
Beverley’s funeral was arranged for the first week in January and on the morning in question, Eddie got ready early and sat downstairs flicking through some old photo albums.
Christmas and New Year had been a morbid affair and Eddie was as pleased as punch to see the back of 1993. What with his brothers being murdered, Beverley snuffing it, Frankie being banged up, and his grandkids being placed in the care of the O’Haras, it had been a poxy year overall.
Staring at the picture of his two brothers sitting in a restaurant with his father, Eddie slammed the album shut and picked up the other one. The police still had no idea who had killed Ronny and Paulie and, because of this, were refusing to release their bodies. Consumed by guilt because of his own involvement in their deaths, Eddie couldn’t wait to get their funerals over and done with. The least he owed
them was a lavish send-off, and once they were finally at peace, he would find out who had cut their throats and make sure the cunt who had done it had his cut, too.
‘You all right, love?’ Gina asked, as she sat next to Ed on the sofa and put her head on his shoulder.
Eddie nodded and pointed to a photograph of a pretty, dark-haired woman. ‘That’s Beverley not long after we got married. That’s Gary she’s holding; he was only about a month old there, I think.’
‘She was very beautiful,’ Gina replied honestly.
Remembering the state of his first wife the last time he had seen her, Ed shook his head sadly. ‘You’d never have recognised her if you’d have seen her recently. When we split up she turned to booze and binge-eating. I think she went up to about eighteen stone at one time. Gary and Ricky had a poxy childhood living with her. She used to let ’em run riot when they were nippers and play in the streets till all hours. I used to have ’em every weekend, but I’ll never forgive her for being such an awful mother.’
‘Perhaps she didn’t mean it, Ed. If she had a bad drink problem she probably wasn’t focusing properly,’ Gina replied.
‘Oh, she had a bad drink problem all right, and over the years it got worse. Last time I saw her was just before I went inside. She was about seven stone, had yellow teeth, greasy hair and looked a proper fucking low-life. It made me feel sick to think I’d once shagged her and married her.’
When Stuart walked into the room, Eddie threw the photo album to one side and stood up. He was dropping Stuart over at Raymond’s and they were going to do the collections while he, Gary and Ricky went to the funeral. Gina walked to the front door with Eddie and gave him a big hug. Ed obviously hated Beverley and she could sense his bitterness.
‘Whatever you thought of Beverley, Ed, remember if it wasn’t for her you wouldn’t have Gary and Ricky.’
Eddie kissed Gina and smirked. ‘I’ll try and be diplomatic, I promise.’
The Victim Page 16
