Revenge

by Martina Cole

  Jessie didn’t want any wine. She pushed the glass away from her.

  Josephine watched her daughter carefully, before saying sadly, ‘Good girl. I knew you wouldn’t drink that now you’re sober. You’re pregnant, aren’t you?’

  Jessie didn’t answer her.

  ‘Do you know whose it is?’

  Jessie’s usual arrogance came to the fore as she said haughtily, ‘What difference does that make now? I don’t want it. I’m only fifteen.’

  Josephine sighed heavily. ‘A word to the wise, Jessie love; your father is capable of a lot of things, as you know, but he would never be party to an abortion. You’re carrying a life inside of you, girl, and we are Catholics. We celebrate a child. I think you need to remember that for the future. As the Bible says: as you sow, so shall you reap. The damage is done now, darling.’

  Josephine opened up her arms and, as she hugged her young daughter tightly to her breast, she wondered at a God who could heap so much hurt on one household.

  Book Four

  Be not deceived, God is not mocked:

  for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap

  Galatians 6:7

  For the wages of sin is death

  Romans 6:23

  Chapter Ninety-Two

  2012

  As Jessie Flynn walked out of a pub in Soho, the cold night air hit her. She staggered slightly in her high-heeled shoes, and leant back against the wall for a few seconds to steady herself. She was out of her nut, as per usual, and she was also bored – bored of the company she was in, bored of her life in general. Her father didn’t seem bothered any more about her or her antics, something she was having trouble accepting. Even her mother was losing interest in her these days. After years of trying to buy her back into their life, controlling her with their cash, and attempting to make her take an interest in her son, her parents had suddenly stopped. She had a feeling she had won, but what she had actually won, she wasn’t sure. In fact, she now felt much more like she was the one who had lost something important.

  There was no more pretending from her father, no more acting like everything was OK between them. He wasn’t rude as such, but he was clearly ashamed of her and the life she lived. That’s exactly what she had always wanted; she had been determined to beat him, prove to him that she didn’t care about anything, especially not him, or his precious reputation. Strangely, her dad turning away from her didn’t make her feel as good as she had thought it would. In fact, her dad’s attitude the last few times she had seen him had made her feel like she was the one in the wrong, that she was the bad bastard.

  She sighed. She was too out of it to think about anything rationally. She rummaged through her handbag for a pack of cigarettes, and lit a Marlboro Light, toking on it deeply before blowing the smoke out into the night slowly. She was tired, but that wasn’t anything new to her – she was always fucking tired lately. She spent more time out of her flat than she did inside it. She loved being in company, enjoying herself. Life was too short – her own father had shown her the truth of that. She had learnt at a young age the value of a human life. She was far too young to settle down anyway.

  She was also far too young for the man she was with tonight. He was boring the arse off her – all he talked about was himself. She heard the door open and knew that it was Jonny Parsons looking for her. He was so sure of himself, it wouldn’t occur to him that she was with him for no other reason than he was a lowlife piece of shit. She didn’t have the patience for him now, he was getting on her nerves big time. The idiot. He looked baffled and sorry for himself. She could see the wrinkles around his eyes and the flakiness of his skin – he was a real prize. Lately, she’d noticed that the more out of it she got, the more she seemed to see the truth of her situation and the life she lived. She was feeling more and more disgruntled by the day.

  ‘What’s going on, babe? For fuck’s sake, I turned around and you were gone.’

  Jessie rolled her eyes in annoyance. He was a real prick. Why hadn’t she admitted that to herself before now? He was on the wrong side of forty, he was overweight, he dressed like a fucking extra from The Sopranos and he talked like a fucking special guest on The Jeremy Kyle Show. He was a complete fucking embarrassment. She stepped away from him quickly, hating that he was too stupid to take the hint that she didn’t want to associate with him any more. She had sussed out that her main attraction for him was her father – all he wanted from her was an in.

  ‘I’m not your fucking babe, or anyone else’s, you fucking moron. Who says “babe” in this day and age, for fuck’s sake? Have you heard yourself? You sound like a reject from the eighties. Fuck off and leave me alone.’

  Jonny Parsons was really drunk and stoned, although he wasn’t capable of any kind of lucid conversation at the best of times. Jessie Flynn was starting to get on his tits. He had invested time and money in this arrogant little bitch, and she had the nerve to talk to him like he was a fucking corner boy? She was without any kind of reputation, she had fucked over more people than a high-street bank, and she had nothing going for her other than her name. Who the fuck did she think she was? She had a bad attitude and she talked to people like they were fucking idiots. She didn’t seem to understand that she wasn’t exactly a fucking prize herself. She was a whore – that was all she was and all she would ever be.

  ‘Fuck you, Jessie Flynn. Just who the fuck do you think you are? I’ve fucking bankrolled you, lady, and don’t you ever forget that. I won’t be made a cunt of, especially not by a fucking no-mark like you.’

  Jessie sighed dramatically; she was actually enjoying herself immensely. ‘I think you and I both know the truth of this situation. We both know that I am far better than you, Jonny. That’s what is bothering you.’

  She could see her words hit home; she wasn’t going to let him get the better of her without a fight. Well, that suited her fine. She liked a good fight, she liked to get a reaction. It just proved to her that she was right – all men were bastards and not worth her time or effort.

  ‘If you really want to know the truth, Jonny, I think you’re what is commonly known as a fucking moronic imbecile. I’ve had better conversations at bus stops with glue sniffers. So do me a favour and fuck off, will you?’

  Jonny Parsons was not a man to take anything off a woman. A coward by nature, he didn’t think twice about raising his hand to a female. Jessie Flynn’s words were like a red rag to a bull – he was never going to let her treat him like a mug. Grabbing Jessie by her throat, he forced her up against the wall and, taking his fist back ready to use it, he said angrily, ‘Don’t you talk to me like that, you fucking whore. I don’t take that shit off anyone, especially not from a fucking tramp like you.’

  Jessie was laughing at him now, enjoying the drama and violence no end. ‘Go on then, Jonny, I fucking dare you. Hit me. Go on, big man. Give it your best shot.’

  Jonny Parsons could see the need in her face; she wanted a fight, she wanted a scene, and suddenly he wasn’t sure he wanted to be a part of that. As drunk as he was, he knew this could only bring him untold aggravation. She was a Flynn, after all – Michael’s daughter – and that fact alone was enough to sober him up, and remind him of why he had sought her out in the first place. She was even more fucked up than he had believed and, from what he had heard, she was a real fucking headcase. But she wasn’t worth dying for.

  He threw her away from him angrily, aware that she wanted him to hurt her. She would always insist on being the star of her own show. It was pathetic. She was a good-looking young woman, but she was dangerous and vindictive. A deadly combination.

  ‘You destructive fucking bitch, you want me to hit you, don’t you? You want me hurt you, stoop down to your level. But I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction. You’re not worth a fucking slap – you’re not worth the aggravation.’

  He walked away from her unsteadily, and Jessie watched him warily. She had asked for that, she had pushed him too far. It was what she did. She
pushed everyone to the limit. She loathed people like him, who saw her as nothing more than a stepping stone into her father’s life, who thought that, by fucking her, they would somehow get Michael Flynn into the bargain. It grieved her, knowing that her only real value as a person was her name. She leant back against the wall once more and, closing her eyes tightly, she breathed in the cold night air for a few minutes, steadying her heartbeat, and trying to calm her nerves.

  If only they knew the truth – that she was the kiss of death where her father was concerned. He loathed the men that she attracted; he saw them for the pieces of shit they really were. She did too, if she was really honest with herself. Not that she let that stop her, of course. She went out of her way to humiliate her father – he deserved everything he got.

  She looked at her watch, a gold Rolex that had been a birthday present from her loving parents. If anything, it had been a bribe. Her mum and dad had tried to make her feel they loved her and cared about her, but it was a crock of shit. As long as her son was in her mum and dad’s care, she could do what she liked and, in return for her son, her old man would happily bankroll her and her lifestyle. Jake was her parents’ second chance at parenthood. He was the son they could never have, the golden boy, the heir apparent. Her dad had forced her to have her baby. The big Catholic, who saw abortion as tantamount to murder – and who would know more about that than her dad? But what they couldn’t do was make her settle down, embrace her role as mother and pretend that she had learnt her lesson.

  She closed her eyes tightly; she mustn’t think about any of that now. It was pointless. She didn’t want to look after her little lad anyway, so why did she let it bother her so much? She had handed him over to them willingly, glad to have someone else take the responsibility for her. It had been a fair exchange.

  It was just after eleven, and she wasn’t going to waste the rest of the night thinking about things she couldn’t change. Flagging down a black cab, she climbed inside its warmth eagerly, making herself comfortable on the leather seat as she travelled back to East London, glad that the cab driver wasn’t the usual fucking chatterbox. There was nothing worse than a cab driver with a loose mouth and too many stories to tell. It was irritating, especially when they tried to tell her how they knew all the Faces in London, particularly her dad. She saw the way they watched her in the mirror and knew they couldn’t understand for the life of them how her father could let her live the way she did.

  She jumped out of the cab at a pub she frequented in Upney, pleased that she had made it there in such good time. All she wanted to do was score and, if nothing interesting was going on, she would go home and sleep.

  Her father had presented her with a lovely flat in Canary Wharf; it was the envy of everyone she knew. It was gorgeous – it had fabulous views across the river, and it was furnished to the highest standards; she would have expected nothing less from her dad. Like everything else in his life, he thought that if it cost a fortune then it must be good. She hated the place. It was another reminder of her father’s hold over her. It wasn’t in her name so she was no more than a lodger. It was hers only so he would know where she was living, just like he paid her a weekly wage so he could keep her within his orbit. Everything her parents did had an ulterior motive.

  She slipped inside the public house, breathing in the familiar smell of sweat and stale beer. She saw the dealer she was looking for standing at the bar, and she made her way over to him quickly. It was late, and the place was nearly empty.

  Georgie Burns smiled at her, displaying his gold teeth. It had been a slow night, and Jessie Flynn was always a good spender. She bought in bulk and paid cash, and that guaranteed her a very warm welcome. With his gold teeth and expensive dreads, Georgie looked every inch the bad man. In the real world, he had a degree in Sociology and his parents were both teachers. He had grown up in a nice house in North London with two sisters and an overweight Labrador called Bubbles. Now he was a dealer because it was the only way he could earn himself a decent living, pay his mortgage, and cover his two daughters’ school fees. His wife was a woman who needed a good wage coming in; she liked the finer things in life. She was also more than willing to turn a blind eye to her husband’s activities.

  ‘Hello, Jessie. You looking for me, girl?’

  Jessie smiled. She genuinely liked Georgie – he was a nice bloke and one of the few men in her life who had never tried to take advantage of her.

  ‘Of course I am, Georgie. I wouldn’t come inside this shithole otherwise, would I?’

  They laughed together, and Georgie motioned to the barmaid for drinks. ‘Agreed. So, what you after tonight?’

  ‘Just the usual.’ She glanced around her. ‘It’s empty in here tonight. I’m amazed you’re still here.’

  Georgie shrugged with irritation. ‘Nothing going on anywhere, girl. I was just on my way home.’ He passed her a large JD and Coke, and she swallowed it down quickly.

  ‘Soho is the same. Dead as a fucking doornail.’

  Georgie laughed at her delightedly. ‘You should have gone clubbing. It’s a week night, for fuck’s sake.’

  Jessie grinned. ‘I know. But I didn’t feel like it tonight. How much do I owe you?’

  Ten minutes later she left the pub, and made her way towards Upney station. It was a few minutes’ walk. There were usually plenty of minicabs outside the station, and she climbed into the back seat of the first taxi as usual, pleased that she knew the cab driver a little. He had driven her home before, so they chatted amiably together until they arrived at her apartment building.

  She paid him, and then walked quickly towards her home. As she was about to unlock the main door that led into the lift area of the flats, she heard someone calling her name. Turning towards the sound of the voice, she expected to see someone she knew, someone like her who was always on the lookout for company, but the man she saw was a complete stranger. Before she could say another word, she felt something come into contact with her skull.

  It was all over in seconds.

  Chapter Ninety-Three

  ‘Do you know what, Michael Flynn? If I didn’t know any better I would think you were trying to annoy me now.’ Josephine was joking, but the underlying question in her voice was clear.

  Michael sighed. He hated all this ducking and diving, but it was a necessary evil – there was no other way to handle his wife. These days Josephine couldn’t cope with the truth. She was quite happy living in her little dream world. Sometimes it could be very wearing. He had to live in the real world – it was how he earned his living.

  ‘I just want to know if you think I should warn this Jonny bloke off, Josephine. I know that Jessie has been seeing him and, from what I can gather, he’s another complete fucking waster.’

  Josephine sat down on her bed. She wasn’t sure what she should say – as much as Jessie’s lifestyle disappointed her, she wasn’t going to do anything that would alienate her daughter completely. She didn’t want to be the bad guy – that was Michael’s job.

  She didn’t look at her husband as she said quietly, ‘What have you heard about this bloke, then?’

  Michael snorted in derision. This was always the way – Josephine left him to find out everything of relevance where their daughter was concerned, then acted as if she was not expecting to hear what he told her.

  ‘Well, for starters, he’s forty-odd, has a wife and four kids and he’s a druggie. A cokehead to be exact and a small-time dealer, who thinks he’s a fucking big villain. And our Jessie is bankrolling him.’

  Josephine put her head into her hands; she wasn’t shocked at her husband’s words, she was just disappointed in her daughter’s choice of man. Why she felt so dismayed she didn’t know – it was the same old story time and time again.

  ‘Oh, let her get on with it, Michael. Don’t interfere. She’s promised to come and have tea with little Jake on Sunday. I’ll see how she is then.’

  The subject was closed and Michael knew it. ‘Well, I’ll be
seeing her tomorrow anyway, Josephine. It’s pay day.’

  Josephine didn’t answer. She knew that Michael detested paying his daughter just to keep his eye on her. If it was left to him she wasn’t so sure he would still bother. It was all for her, to keep Jessie as close as she could.

  Michael put his arm around his wife’s shoulders and hugged her to him. His daughter had broken his heart, but she had given him her son, he had salvaged that much.

  ‘How is the little man, anyway? Did he enjoy his school trip? Where did they go? To a farm, wasn’t it?’ Michael’s grandson was his life; he adored the child.

  ‘Yeah, he loved it, Michael. He was full of it when he got home. He’s clever, you know, a real shrewdie. Six years old and he can already read anything. His teacher reckons he’s well ahead of the other kids in his year.’

  Michael was pleased. He knew his grandson was a one-off, now it seemed that the school was of the same opinion. Jake was a right little character.

  ‘I said that, didn’t I? He is a real fucking brainiac. He’s always been ahead of the other kids. Look at how early he was with his counting and reciting things.’

  Josephine basked in her husband’s joy. Jake had always been quick off the mark. She was pleased he was showing such talent. ‘Well, the school thinks he has real potential, so we need to make sure that he gets all the encouragement he needs.’

  ‘A done deal, darling, you know that. Why don’t you come downstairs with me and have a glass of wine? I could do with something to mellow me out a bit. I’m tired, but I’m not sleepy, if that makes sense?’

  But Josephine was already shaking her head at his words, and Michael swallowed down his annoyance. Josephine rarely left her rooms these days. She went to the kitchen to cook occasionally, or to see Jessie, if she deigned to visit, but that was about it. She spent most of her life inside her bedroom and she had not ventured outside the house for years. Even the garden was off limits to her these days.