The Victim

by Kimberley Chambers

  ‘What if Baldwin bottles it, though?’ Gary questioned. He had to admit his dad’s plan sounded half sensible, but he still had reservations about trusting a man they barely knew.

  ‘Look how composed Baldwin was last night and he thought we were gonna kill him. You gotta give credit where it’s due – the geezer’s got nerves of steel. Plus, he has more motive than anyone to want Jed six feet under; he’s lost his daughter and grandson and he blames it all on that pikey lump of shit.’

  ‘Have you told Baldwin that Jed and Jimmy are in Southall today? He knows they’ll be in the horse-box, don’t he?’ Stuart asked.

  ‘Of course I’ve told him and I told him they’re bound to be pissed. He’s gonna get there just after seven on that motorbike of his. He said he wants to be in place well before they get back. You gotta remember, this geezer ain’t no mug, he’s been holed up at the O’Haras, waiting for an opportunity to kill Jed for the past four or five days. Tonight he’ll have that opportunity, won’t he?’

  ‘Don’t forget Georgie and Harry will be at home. Let’s hope they’re in bed, eh?’ Raymond said, reminding Eddie of the possibility of his grandkids witnessing their father’s death.

  Eddie shrugged. ‘Obviously I’d rather the little ’uns not witness it, but if they do, then it can’t be helped. Even though they act older than their years, they’re only nippers and they’ll soon forget about that wanker of a father of theirs as soon as our Frankie gets out of the nick.’

  Gary and Ricky smirked at one another. So their father hadn’t gone soft after all, they both thought silently.

  ‘So, what restaurant we goin’ to?’ Gary asked chirpily.

  ‘I think it’s gonna look a bit phoney if we all sit together in a restaurant like the fuckin’ Waltons. I mean, we ain’t even got a birthday to celebrate unless we say it’s a belated bash for you, Gal. What I suggest is me, Gina, Raymondo and Polly eat in the Bell in Rettendon, and you, Ricky and Stu have a bite in Nico’s gaff in Canning Town. If you get bored, you can go and have a beer in the Flag afterwards. All three places are perfect for an alibi. The Bell is always fairly busy and full of nosy old cunts, plus the landlord knows me and Gina. As for Nico’s and the Flag, everyone knows you and Ricky there, even if they don’t know Stu, so just make sure you introduce him to anyone you speak to.’

  ‘I must admit, I didn’t think I’d like the new plan, but I do. Having said that, there’s one more question I need to ask you, Dad, and please don’t think I’m trying to be funny, ’cause I ain’t,’ Gary said.

  ‘Go on, ask away.’

  ‘Paulie and Ronny. Surely you ain’t gonna let Baldwin get away with what he did to ’em?’

  Eddie hated having to answer this question. Images of his father’s face entered his brain and he quickly banished them away. ‘Listen, Paulie and Ronny chose their own paths in life and, unfortunately for them, they chose the wrong ones. That ain’t my problem and it shouldn’t be yours, either. Yes, they were my brothers, and yes, in my own way I loved ’em, but I know and you know they were mugs and their downfall was all their own doing. I shook hands with Baldwin last night and, providing he don’t fuck up, I’ll let him live. Ronny and Paulie dug their own graves, and that ain’t our fucking fault, or Baldwin’s.’

  Seeing his father’s eyes cloud over, Gary said no more. He knew when it was safe to push his father that extra inch, but he was also aware of when it wasn’t. ‘So, are we done, then?’ he asked chirpily.

  ‘Yep. Now, as per usual, no phone calls tonight. I’ve already arranged a time and a place to speak to Baldwin in the morning, so what I suggest is we meet here again tomorrow about two-ish. I’ll have all the info by then.’

  ‘Do you fancy a quick pint in Stratford, Dad? Me and Gal are gonna pop down the Railway for a couple, we’ve gotta see a couple of geezers in there,’ Ricky said.

  Eddie stood up and nodded at Stuart to do the same. ‘Nah, Stu’s taking his little bird out for lunch and I’m gonna go and settle up with Flatnose Freddie for the other night. Stu will meet you in Nico’s at seven, OK? And Ray, you and Polly meet me and Gina in the Bell at the same time. You know where it is, don’t ya?’

  Raymond nodded. ‘I dunno if Polly will wanna go out at short notice, though. She’s been a bit of a home-bird since she’s been pregnant.’

  Eddie sighed. He’d never been the biggest fan of Raymond’s old woman. ‘Fuck her, then. Just come on your own if you have to, but make sure you’re there by seven. Right, laters all, and keep smiling, ’cause this time tomorrow that little fucker Jed will be brown bread. Rhymes that, don’t it?’

  Laughing at his own wit, Eddie sauntered out of the room.

  Unaware that if things went to plan, today would be the last day of his life, Jed was over in Southall horse market debating whether to buy a rather frisky-looking black stallion. Paddy Brady was Irish, and a rather notorious ex-prize-fighting champion. He had a reputation for being flash, and apart from knocking fifty pounds off as luck money, would not be bated down any more.

  ‘Gissa minute. Me and my cousin are business partners and I just wanna have a quick word with him,’ Jed said, walking over to where Sammy was chatting to three geezers.

  ‘What’s up?’ Sammy asked, as Jed rudely dragged him away.

  ‘We’ve gotta have the gry, but that Paddy Brady’s a proper cunt to deal with. It’s a shame me old mush ain’t ’ere, ’cause I know Brady’s only mugging me off ’cause he thinks I’m wet behind the ears. Talking to me like I talk to me chavvies, he was, the cheeky Irish bastard.’

  Usually Jed’s dad always accompanied him on their regular trips to Southall, but hadn’t been able to make it today because one of his brothers was at death’s door.

  ‘Whaddya think?’ Jed asked, as Sammy studied the stallion.

  ‘He’s a bit lively, but they’re always the best ones. I’m sure we can sort him with a lot of hard work and a few cracks of the whip.’

  Feeling brazen, Sammy decided to try his luck with Paddy himself. ‘Knock another fifty off and we’ll take him,’ he said, confidently holding out his right hand.

  Paddy Brady laughed, grabbed Sammy’s hand and in a flash, twisted it behind his back. ‘I’ve already told your so-called business partner, pay the wonga, or fuck off.’

  Jed was fuming. Irish and English travellers clashed at the best of times, but this bastard was taking the real piss out of him and Sammy.

  Paddy released Sammy from his grip. ‘We got a deal then, boy?’ he asked Jed.

  Jed grinned. He’d never been one to sense fear, and wasn’t about to start now. He also hated being called ‘boy’. ‘No, we ain’t got a deal. As for you, you inbred, lowlife tinker, go fuck your grandmother.’

  As Paddy Brady lunged at him, Jed ducked, grabbed Sammy’s arm and, laughing, the pair ran from the market as fast as their legs would take them.

  Terry Baldwin was in pole position by seven-thirty. Eddie had told him which way the horse-box would be coming from and he’d also informed him that Jed and Jimmy were usually so inebriated it seemed to take them for ever to unload any of the horses they’d bought, which gave Terry the perfect opportunity to strike.

  Aware that Jimmy O’Hara was no mug, Terry decided to hole up in the middle of some bushes on the right-hand side of O’Hara’s driveway, which enabled him to see the horse-box approaching. His previous hideout had been on the left. Knowing that he probably had a good couple of hours’ wait, Terry chopped some leaves off the bush with a Stanley knife he’d brought with him, to give himself more room to manoeuvre and a better view. He’d decided to shoot Jed as he pulled onto the drive, rather than when he got out of the horse-box. That way, Jimmy had less chance of guessing where the bullets had come from and he could be on his bike and away in sixty seconds flat.

  Having made enough room to now sit down, Terry gave his legs a rest and thought about his strange encounter with Eddie Mitchell the previous evening. Like the majority of London’s East End, Terry Baldwin had always kno
wn who Eddie Mitchell was. Over the years, Terry had attended a couple of functions where Eddie had also been present, but he had never been properly introduced to him before. Having now met Eddie in person, Terry understood the aura that surrounded the man. From his looks to his mannerisms, Mitchell had that something special, but the thing that had surprised Terry the most was Ed’s fairness and integrity. Terry had honestly thought he was a dead man last night, but Eddie had listened to what he had to say and had now given him a chance to save his own bacon.

  Staring at the gun that lay beside him on the ground, Terry smirked. He was no mug himself and he couldn’t wait to show Eddie Mitchell his capabilities and prove to him that he had made the right decision by letting him live.

  In a boozer over in Southall, Jed O’Hara was extremely drunk and was giving it the large. ‘My old mush will kill that shitcunt Brady when I tell him what’s happened today. Who do these two-bob Irish tinkers think they are, eh? They ain’t fit to clean the boots of us O’Haras.’

  Aware that there was a crowd of Irish travellers standing no more than two feet away, Sammy grabbed his cousin’s arm. ‘Come on, Jed. We’re both pissed and we’ve gotta get this horse-box home. We don’t wanna smash the fuckin’ thing up, do we? Your old man will kill us.’

  Aware of the Irish travellers glaring at him, Jed pushed Sammy away and marched over to them.

  ‘When you see your old mucker Paddy Brady next, you tell him from me that Jed O’Hara ain’t finished with him yet. Ex-prize-fighter, my arse, the cunt looks more like a bus driver to me.’

  ‘I’m a good pal of Paddy’s. Now fuck off, you little shit, before you get badly hurt,’ one of the older Irishmen in the crowd warned Jed.

  Jed, being Jed, decided to try and punch the fella. He missed and was quickly escorted away and marched out of the pub by some English travellers who were pals of Jimmy’s.

  ‘I think I’d better drive,’ Sammy said as Jed got shoved in the driver’s seat.

  ‘Shut up, I’m fine,’ Jed insisted, turning the ignition.

  As Jed pulled out in front of a car without checking his wing mirror and very nearly wrote the motor off, Sammy sighed. It was a long old trip around that A406 and in the state Jed was in, he just hoped that they made it home in once piece.

  Alice O’Hara smiled at Georgie’s excited face as she took the iced fairy cakes out of the oven. Georgie would be five in a couple of weeks’ time and today Alice had decided that if Georgie was one day going to secure a sought-after husband, then it was high time her granddaughter learned how to bloody well cook.

  ‘Hurry, the cakes are ready, boy!’ Alice shouted. Her grandson had had the hump earlier on and had stomped out of the kitchen because Alice wouldn’t let him help ice the cakes. ‘Cooking’s for girls, Harry. Your dad will kill me if he finds out I’ve been teaching you to bake cakes, boy,’ she’d told him.

  Leaving her grandchildren in the kitchen stuffing their faces, Alice went into the lounge to make some phone calls. Jimmy’s eldest brother was seriously ill in hospital, Jed and Sammy had gone to Southall and, seeing as none of them had bothered to call her all day, she didn’t know whether they wanted any dinner when they got in or not. She rang Jimmy first. His phone was still switched off, so she then rang Jed.

  ‘What can I do for you, Mummy dearest?’ her son slurred.

  ‘How many drinks you had? Who’s driving your father’s new horse-box?’ Alice asked, annoyed.

  ‘I am! Sammy’s a dinlo when it comes to driving a beast the size of this,’ Jed said, chuckling.

  ‘I’d do a better job than him. Nearly wrote off a motor and hit the kerb twice already,’ Alice heard Sammy shout out in the background.

  ‘Just be careful, Jed. Now do you and Sammy want me to cook you any dinner tonight?’

  ‘Yeah, we’re fucking starving. We’ll probably be about half-hour or so.’

  As Alice replaced the receiver, she was hit like a thunderbolt by one of her feelings of doom. Alice believed herself to be a true psychic. She’d been born with the gift, and years ago she’d have travellers visit her from all over the country for advice and readings.

  ‘Oh my gawd,’ Alice said as she put her hands on her forehead. This was a similar feeling of foreboding to the one she’d had on the day that her Lukey boy had been murdered. She immediately picked up the phone and rang Jed back again. ‘Boy, I’ve got one of me premonitions. Park that horse-box up somewhere and get yourselves a cab home. I ain’t mucking about; I think you’re gonna have a bad accident.’

  Jed burst out laughing. ‘We’re gonna die, Sammy boy, we’re gonna die,’ he joked in a silly tone.

  ‘Please Jed, I know you’re drunk, but please listen to me. Park that horse-box up. Your dad can pick it up tomorrow, OK?’

  Aware that his mum had now started crying, Jed decided to humour her to stop her worrying. ‘OK, I’ll park it up and we’ll get a cab back, all right?’

  When Jed ended the call, Sammy turned to him. ‘Your mother ain’t no fool when she has one of her funny turns, you know. Perhaps we should get a cab back. I mean, we ain’t got an ’orse in the back or nothing.’

  Jed burst out laughing. ‘Are we fuck! I only said that to shut her up. You see, you Sammy boy, you’re a first-class dinlo.’

  Terry Baldwin was feeling masses of adrenlin but no nerves whatsoever as he waited for the horse-box to appear. He’d loved his daughter Sally, idolised his grandson Luke, and he could almost taste revenge on the end of his tongue. The O’Haras’ gaff was in a country lane with no street lighting, which meant every motor that came along this time of night usually had its full beam on. Seeing another beam of light heading his way, Terry picked the gun up. As the motor drove past, he put it back down again. Taking his lighter out of his pocket, Terry flicked it so he could check his watch. It was just gone ten, so surely the little bastard wouldn’t be that much longer.

  God must have been looking down on Terry, as seconds later he saw another beam heading his way but, more importantly, this time he could hear the sound of a large diesel engine.

  Feeling his heart pounding, Terry picked up the gun and stood up. He was clad in black leathers and had a black crash helmet on to match. He was so ready for this and he instantly decided to take a gamble and shoot Jed up close instead of from a distance. If he fucked up, Eddie Mitchell would kill him anway, so what did he have to lose?

  Jed and Sammy were both taking the piss out of Alice as the horse-box approached the entrance of the driveway.

  ‘I’m gonna tell Mystic Meg to hang up her fucking crystal ball when I get in,’ Jed joked.

  ‘Well, I always believed in your old lady and her bad vibes, but she was definitely wrong this time. ’Ere, considering she thought we were both gonna die in a bad road accident, I hope she’s bothered to cook us some grub. Fucking starving, I am,’ Sammy replied.

  Jed laughed. ‘The devil looks after his own, Sammy boy, and with all the conning and thieving me and you have done in our lifetime, we’re definitely immortal.’

  Terry Baldwin felt like a starving tiger ready to pounce on its prey as he waited for the precise moment to make his move. The security lights had just come on as the horse-box had pulled onto the drive and Terry had known immediately that it was Jed and not Jimmy driving. Jimmy was thickset and the person driving was thin-faced with a baseball cap on his head. As the horse-box drove past him, Terry stepped out of the shadows. This was it. The moment he’d been waiting for had finally arrived.

  Hearing the horse-box pull up outside, Alice O’Hara darted out to the kitchen to dish the boys’ dinners up. Pork chops, Yorkshire puddings, roast potatoes, greens and carrots she’d cooked them and even though she was thrilled Jed was home safely, she hoped the little sod choked on his, as that would teach him not to lie to his mother again.

  ‘Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!’ Harry shouted, jumping up and down excitedly.

  ‘Can I go and see Daddy, Nanny?’ Georgie asked.

  ‘No, stay ’ere, ’ca
use he’s parking the horse-box up and he might run you over. He’ll be in in a tick.’

  Seconds later, Alice screamed as she heard the unmissable sound of gunshots. ‘Jed, please God, no. Not my Jed,’ she cried as she dropped the tray of roast potatoes and ran to the front door.

  Sensing their nan’s fear, Georgie and Harry both began to sob as they chased after her. ‘Daddy!’ they both yelled.

  Alice ran towards the horse-box. The security lights were on and, as she got closer, all she could see was the blood and gore splattered against the windscreen on the driver’s side.

  ‘Jed! Not my baby, not my beautiful baby boy,’ she shrieked.

  Overcome by shock, Alice sank to her knees, vomited and then promptly passed out.

  ‘Nanny, Nanny!’ Georgie and Harry shouted as they prodded and poked her. Realising that Nanny was fast asleep, Georgie decided to take the matter into her own hands.

  ‘Stay with Nanny while I get Daddy,’ she ordered Harry.

  Climbing up on the metal step that led to the driver’s-side door of the horse-box, Georgie tugged it and tugged it until it flew open. As the bloodied body fell on top of her and sent her sprawling to the ground, poor little Georgie screamed louder than she had ever screamed before.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Ed got up at the crack of dawn the following morning. He’d had a crap night’s sleep and was desperate to know if Baldwin had succeeded in his attempt to kill Jed. Such was Ed’s impatience, he’d even debated whether to ask Joey to visit Joycie late the previous night, so he could have a butcher’s and see if there were any Old Bill lurking about. In the end, though, he’d decided against it. Joey didn’t drive, so Dom would have to be involved as well and as much as Ed liked Dom, he thought it was too risky to involve him.