Billie Jo
Page 1
Table of Contents
About the Author
Half Title
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Chapter ONE
Chapter TWO
Chapter THREE
Chapter FOUR
Chapter FIVE
Chapter SIX
Chapter SEVEN
Chapter EIGHT
Chapter NINE
Chapter TEN
Chapter ELEVEN
Chapter TWELVE
Chapter THIRTEEN
Chapter FOURTEEN
Chapter FIFTEEN
Chapter SIXTEEN
Chapter SEVENTEEN
Chapter EIGHTEEN
Chapter NINETEEN
Chapter TWENTY
Chapter TWENTY-ONE
Chapter TWENTY-TWO
Chapter TWENTY-THREE
Chapter TWENTY-FOUR
Chapter TWENTY-FIVE
Chapter TWENTY-SIX
Chapter TWENTY-SEVEN
Chapter TWENTY-EIGHT
Chapter TWENTY-NINE
Chapter THIRTY
Chapter THIRTY-ONE
Chapter THIRTY-TWO
Chapter THIRTY-THREE
Chapter THIRTY-FOUR
Chapter THIRTY-FIVE
Chapter THIRTY-SIX
Chapter THIRTY-SEVEN
Chapter THIRTY-EIGHT
Chapter THIRTY-NINE
Chapter FORTY
Chapter FORTY-ONE
Chapter FORTY-TWO
KIMBERLEY
CHAMBERS
'I was born in 1967, a much-wanted and long-awaited child. Unfortunately for my mother, I have never been normal since the day the midwife slapped me on the back and I let out my first cry.
After leaving school at sixteen, with virtually no exams, I spent many years plying my trade on East End markets, such as Roman Road and Petticoat Lane, where I ran clothing stalls and burger vans. I then turned to DJ-ing and spent a fair few years on the pub and club circuit.
Hitting thirty, with the hangovers starting to worsen, I somehow fell into driving a minicab. By the time I was thirty-eight, I was totally disillusioned with my life and felt that a major change was needed.
It was then that I decided to pen my first novel, Billie Jo, and I was absolutely delighted to crack it first time round. I have just completed my second novel, Born Evil, and for the first time in my life can truly say that I've found my vocation and the work that I enjoy doing.
When not putting pen to paper, you can either find me shopping (usually Lakeside), participating in gym classes (at the YMCA), out on the lash (vodka's the tipple) or watching Spurs (season ticket holder).
My other big passion in life is animals and I am proud to say that I have recently turned vegetarian. Oh and if you're wondering if I am married, put it this way. If I could have married a Dalmatian, or given birth to a Border collie, I would probably be happily settled by now. Unfortunately, I am still single . . .'
BILLIE JO
BILLIE JO
KIMBERLEY
CHAMBERS
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ISBN 9781409025092
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Copyright © Kimberley Chambers 2008
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and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work
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In loving memory of my wonderful parents,
Val and Tom.
So sad that you never lived to see me make something
of myself, but I hope I've done you both proud.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Firstly I would like to thank my wonderful typist, Sue Cox, as without her help, I would be absolutely lost. I'd also like to say a big thank you to Yvonne Chambers, who was kind enough to type the first draft of my manuscript.
A special thanks to my fantastic agent, Tim Bates, and everyone at Pollinger, not forgetting Lisa, who had a big hand in the success of this book.
I have been extremely lucky to have found such a wonderful publisher and I would like to thank everyone at Preface and at Random House for their help and kindness. A special thanks to Trevor Dolby and Rosie de Courcy, who are an absolute joy to work with. Rosie's editing skills are second to none and because of her, I have already become a better writer.
A big kiss to all my friends, Viv, Hazel, Maggs, Lisa, Tina and Cindy – to name but a few.
I hope you as a reader enjoy this book and God bless you all.
Her father's adoration
was clear for all to see
His job was to protect her
wherever he may be
ONE
October 1999
Michelle Keane took a large gulp of wine and for what seemed like the hundredth time, glanced at the clock on the living-room wall. Two a.m. and the no-good fucker still wasn't home. She wouldn't have minded if he'd have rung her with one of his cock and bull excuses, but tonight he hadn't even had the audacity to do that. She knew he was at it, she'd known for a while. He was a clever bastard, though, and proving it wasn't going to be easy.
As she lay in bed unable to sleep, Billie Jo wondered where her dad was. He wasn't home yet and she worried about him when he was late. Starving hungry, she toyed with the idea of going downstairs to make a sandwich. Remembering her mum was pissed and on the warpath, she decided she'd rather starve.
Whenever her dad was late home, Billie avoided her mother like the plague. It was the same old story every time. Firstly, her mum would sit clock watching and drinking wine by the gallon. The Patsy Cline CD was the next part of the ritual. 'Crazy' was her mum's favourite song. Problem was, she had an awful voice and to say she murdered it was being polite. At the end of the song, her mum would burst into tears and blame Billie Jo for everything bad that had ever happened in her life.
'If it hadn't been for you, I'd still have my nice figure. Size ten I was when I met your dad. He's only out whoring now 'cause I've put on weight and he doesn't fancy me any more. It's all your fault, Billie. I wish you'd never been born. Me and your dad used to get on just fine until you came alon
g. If I could have my life all over again, I'd never have a kid. I must have been bloody mad, I should have had an abortion.'
Billie took no notice of her mother's nasty comments. She'd had years of it, fifteen in fact. Mature for her age, she'd learned to deal with her psycho mum by the age of ten. Before that she used to cry a lot. She could never work out what she'd done wrong or why her mother was so angry with her all the time. When her dad was around she pretended to be nice, but as soon as he left the house, Billie would get the brunt of her mother's resentment.
Billie's relationship with her dad was completely the opposite. He was her life, her rock, and would do anything for her. She knew he was a dodgy bastard, she wasn't silly. That's why she worried when he was unexpectedly late. If he got nicked and put away, her life wouldn't be worth living. Pulling the covers over her head, Billie tried to get some sleep. It didn't come. Sighing, she prepared herself for the row that was bound to erupt on her father's return.
Terry Keane opened one eye, heard the sound of the birds singing and quickly opened the other. Cursing himself for dozing back off to sleep, he leapt out of bed and hurriedly got dressed.
'Bollocks,' he muttered, as he searched high and low for his keys.
Hearing the racket he was making, Jade stirred, switched on the bedside lamp and propped herself up on her pillow. 'You all right, Tel, what's the matter?'
'I can't find me . . . oh there they are.'
Jade smiled as she realised he'd been hunting for his keys. Screws carried smaller bunches. They were impossible to mislay, yet he was always losing them.
'What's the time?'
Bending over the bed, Terry gave her a short but passionate kiss. 'Put it this way, if the wildebeest is awake my life won't be worth living. It's nearly six.'
'Christ, is it?' Jade was genuinely shocked. 'I don't suppose you'll be able to escape again later, will you?'
Terry flashed his sexy smile and winked at her. 'You never know your luck, babe. No seriously, I've promised to take Billie Jo out for the day, just me and her, and I've got a bit of business to sort out tonight. I'll bell you later and let you know one way or another.'
'OK, have a nice day with Billie. Love you.'
'Love you too, babe.'
Smiling at his words, Jade put the quilt over her head and lay dreamily thinking about him. At twenty-five years old, Jade Jenkins had crammed a lot into her young life. Having been brought up by her parents Mary and Lenny, along with her younger brother Simon, she'd spent her childhood living in a cottage in a remote village on the outskirts of Somerset. By the age of ten, Jade was bored with her life, by the age of thirteen she was totally disillusioned. At fifteen, the tomboy in Jade disappeared overnight and she turned into a ravishing beauty. Long blonde hair, big green eyes, pert breasts and a size-eight figure, she was the talk of the local lads and the subject of many a wank. At seventeen she started to date the village heart-throb.
Tommy Jones had many a female admirer, was good looking and knew it. Six foot tall, muscular, with sun-kissed skin and long blond hair, he resembled an Australian surfer. His downfall was, he had the personality of a wet fish.
The son of a farmer, Tommy seemed more at ease dealing with animals than humans. Jade had never seen him as happy as when he was performing his midwife duties, delivering one creature or another. In fact he seemed happier with his hands around their private parts than he ever did with hers. Unbelievably, he proposed to her on her eighteenth birthday. Her parents were delighted, Jade was anything but.
'Let me sleep on it. I'll give you my answer tomorrow.'
Jade was unable to sleep at all that night, as she pondered her future. The following day she took all her savings out of her building society, went to the nearest travel agents and booked a one-way ticket to Spain.
After a lonely first week, Jade met Kirsty Clark, a bubbly 21-year-old from Romford in Essex. Stuck in a foreign country on their lonesome, they soon became kindred spirits and within a week had got jobs working together in a bar. Inseparable, they went on to enjoy the summer of their lives.
When October arrived, Jade couldn't think of anything worse than heading back to Somerset and facing the wrath of Tommy and her parents, so she ended up going with Kirsty back to Romford, where they shared a house with two of Kirsty's cousins.
Four weeks after arriving back, with their small amount of savings rapidly disappearing, Kirsty decided to take up a job offer working in a small recruitment office in the centre of Ilford. Within a week she had found Jade a job. There was a secretarial position available at a car lot in Seven Kings. Jade had done a year after leaving school at a secretarial college back in Somerset, so had a rough idea of what the job would entail. After sailing through the interview, she started there on the following Monday and found it an absolute doddle.
Terry Keane was the proprietor of the car lot and had soon taken Jade under his wing. Married with a child, Terry felt sorry for her being miles away from home. Within a month they had struck up a great friendship. Terry treated her like the little sister he'd never had. She was unflappable, extremely efficient and trustworthy and Terry liked that.
Their relationship changed as the years ticked by and Terry's marriage to Michelle disintegrated. First, Jade had been a shoulder to cry on, a good listener, but as time passed they had become soul mates. Now, seven years on, they were deeply in love and planning their future together.
Jade had fought hard to stop herself falling in love with Terry. She would never have dreamt that one day she would be involved with a married man. She was a decent girl with good morals and it was against all her beliefs. Working with him every day she couldn't help her feelings. She'd even contemplated giving up her job at one point, but he'd talked her out of it. She knew he wasn't lying when he said his marriage was a sham.
She had met his wife Michelle quite a few times over the years, usually when she'd come storming into the car lot for one thing or another. A couple of times she'd come in demanding money. Once she was drunk and fell over and the other few times she'd turned up shouting and screaming. Terry had nicknamed her the wildebeest and Jade used to tell him off for being so nasty. But after a few altercations with Michelle, she understood why and thought it was a perfect name for her.
Their actual affair had started three years ago. A drunken kiss on a bitterly cold Christmas Eve had led them to where they were now. In all truthfulness, the pair of them had been in love with one another well over a year before it started. Frightened of their feelings, neither of them had the guts to admit or do anything about it. Terry had been honest with Jade from the word go.
'As soon as Billie Jo turns sixteen, me and you can be together properly,' he told her. 'Until then we'll have to keep it quiet. I know what Chelle's like. She'll use the kid as blackmail and I don't want my little girl being dragged through the courts. Also if I fuck off now, she'd collar a load of dough off me. If I plan things properly, she'll get nigh on sod all.'
Jade had agreed with Terry and had waited patiently for him. Billie Jo would be sixteen next year, so hopefully the wait would soon be over. She loved him so much that if he'd asked her nicely, she'd have waited for him for ever.
Terry started up his black Range Rover, put on his Kenny Rogers CD and headed towards Hornchurch where he'd lived for the past three years. Before that he and Michelle had lived in a three-bedroom semi in Rainham. Over the last five years Terry's business had boomed and he was now the proud owner of a four-bedroom mock-Tudor house in Emerson Park. He had an ex-bank robber living one side of him and a footballer on the other, so he knew he must be doing well. The only downside he could think of was the fact he hated the fat bitch who lived in it with him.
Terry opened the glove box and took out the mobile phone that he had purposely left there earlier. They might have been one of man's greatest inventions but they could get you hung, drawn and quartered in a minute. Eighteen missed calls and ten answerphone messages. Smiling to himself, he thought how much Orange
must love him. With the bills he ran up and the calls he received, he reckoned he must keep the bastards in wages for a month. After dialling 123, he soon found out that all the messages, bar one, were from Michelle.
Number one said, 'All right, Tel, where are you, babe?' Number three, 'I've been trying to get hold of you. Where are you? You bastard.' Number six, 'I hate you, you lying cheating no-good fucking shit cunt.' He couldn't understand seven, eight, nine or ten, as Michelle must have been so pissed by this time that the messages were totally incoherent. The last message had been left at 2.55 a.m., which pleased Terry because that meant the fat bitch had probably passed out around that time. All he needed to do was sneak in quietly. Later, he would swear blind that he had got in at half three.
' "You picked a fine time to leave me, Lucille, with four hungry children and a crop in the field." ' Singing in perfect harmony along with Kenny Rogers, Terry decided to cover his tracks just to be on the safe side. He'd never stayed out all night before. Normally he was home by two or three at the latest. He didn't want to give the wildebeest any more reason than necessary to be suspicious.
Pulling the Range Rover into a lay-by along the Hornchurch Road, he called his best pal Davey Mullins. Terry knew all his pals' and business associates' phone numbers off by heart. His motto was, 'If you don't leave Jack Shit lying around, no nosy bastard can find it.' Same with the files and documents in his car lot. All he left in there was the simple stuff, anything important was stored in his brain. If the Old Bill ever shone the light on any of his illegal activities and decided to pay him a visit, he was confident that they would have had a wasted journey. As his mum used to say as she bathed him as a kid, 'You've got the memory of an elephant, son, and a penis the size of its trunk.'
Finally the phone was answered. 'Hello, who is it? What's the time?'
'It's me, you tosser, who do you think it is?'
By the sound of his voice, Dave had probably been up all night getting on it, so Terry spoke slowly but surely.