Billie Jo

by Kimberley Chambers

  Number four said, 'I got your text message, Tel, and I miss you too. You can pick me up from here whenever you like. Can't wait to see you, love you lots.'

  Number five was, 'Guess what, Tel, I just felt the baby moving for the first time. I'm sure I felt a tiny kick. Maybe we're having a little footballer. Ring me back and I'll tell you all about it.'

  Number six was the crowning glory: 'Tel, it's me again, ring me as soon as you get my messages. I hope you won't be angry, but I've invited my brother Simon and his girlfriend Elaine to come and stay in the new house when we move in. I hope you don't mind, but I've asked Simon to be godfather. We'll have two godparents and you can pick the other one. Hurry up and ring me back, Tel, love you.'

  Hazel sat in shock with her mouth wide open.

  'What is it, Hazel? Tell me,' Chelle said impatiently.

  Hazel handed Chelle the phone. 'I think you should listen for yourself, mate, listen to messages four, five and six.'

  Michelle snatched the phone and did as Hazel said. The shock was horrendous and she felt her legs buckle beneath her. Grabbing on to the kitchen units for support, she vomited into the sink. Splashing her face with cold water, Chelle sat down at the kitchen table and burst into floods of tears. Hazel sat next to her and cuddled her. She felt terribly guilty and wished she hadn't encouraged her to go through the bastard messages in the first place. Hazel couldn't begin to imagine just how bad her friend must be feeling. She'd been distraught when her husband Stan had died. The thought of him dying alone in his prison cell was bad enough, but to have your old man snuff it and find out what Chelle had just found out had to be the ultimate betrayal.

  Hazel opened up a bottle of whisky and poured two large neat ones. 'Drink that, Chelle. It'll do you good. It'll help with the shock.'

  'I can't drink it, Hazel. I don't even like bloody whisky.'

  'Trust me, drink it. Just hold your nose and down it in one.'

  Michelle was like a zombie and did as she was told. Three glasses later, she felt her body return to normal. It was then that the hatred began to surface. 'The lying, cheating, no-good cunt. I ain't going to his fucking funeral. I hope he rots in hell and as for that slag of a secretary, I'm gonna fucking kill her and the bastard child she's carrying.'

  Hazel looked at her friend, eyes brimming with sympathy. 'Look, Chelle, I know you're upset and you've every right to be, but don't do anything irrational. Sit and think about it, use your loaf. You'll have to go to the funeral, he was your old man. How's it gonna look if you don't go? You don't want nobody finding out the truth, do you? Let's just keep this between us, eh?'

  'I can't face the funeral, Hazel. I hate the fucking bastard and if that slut of his turns up, which she's bound to, I'm telling you now, I'll fucking kill her. As God's my judge, I swear I'll rip her fucking head off.'

  Hazel racked her brains, wondering how to handle the situation. Chelle was right. Jade was not only his lover but his secretary as well and she was bound to show her face at the funeral. 'You leave Jade to me, Chelle. Do you know where she lives?'

  'No, all I know is that she lives in Romford somewhere. I've got a feeling it's near the station,' Chelle replied dejectedly.

  'Listen, Chelle. You'll get through this, trust me. Davey Mullins must know where she lives, he was always with Terry. He can tell Jade that she's not welcome at the funeral, but you have got to attend. People will talk otherwise and all the gossip-mongers will know your business. Just have a good drink, try and plaster a smile on your face and pretend to grieve for the no-good bastard. Trust me, it'll be for the best.'

  Chelle looked at her pal's concerned expression and felt thankful she had such a good friend. Most people would probably laugh at her misfortune but not Hazel, she was genuine. 'All right, I'll do as you say, but I need to make sure that slut doesn't turn up and I need you to stay by my side all day.'

  'Of course I will, mate.'

  Chelle rambled on for the next two hours about the evening's events and what she was going to do about them. Hazel was pissed and passed out. Chelle tried to wake her as she was desperate to talk, but Hazel was comatose.

  Chelle switched the television on and put on her wedding video. Seeing Terry come into focus, she stood up and spat at the screen. They had been so happy when they'd first got married. She was slim and beautiful, he was handsome and sought-after and he'd looked at her in total adoration. How had it all gone so bloody wrong? She would never know. She could hardly ask him now, could she?

  The Jade revelation had been a total shock to her. She'd known he had someone else, but Jade of all people. She was like something out of Emmerdale and was more suited to shearing sheep than shagging her husband. The pregnancy was the real kick in the teeth. Over her dead body would she allow Jade to stake a claim on any of Terry's assets. She had a top brief and would make damn sure that Jade didn't get a penny. Chelle just hoped that the shock of Terry dying would prompt the bitch to miscarry. That would make things easier all round. As for the house that they were supposedly moving into, well there was no way Jade would get that now. The house must have been in Terry's name, so now legally it belonged to her.

  Sighing, Michelle allowed herself a wry smile. At least she was left a very rich woman, that was one relief. The bitch and his love-child could live in poverty for all she cared. Pouring the last drop of whisky into her glass, she took a deep breath. Her inner strength was in place now and she knew she was going to get through this. Hazel was right, put on a brave face and tell no one. She could just imagine all the girls' faces down the gym if they found out Terry had got his secretary pregnant. She'd be a laughing stock and her reputation would be in tatters. Chelle knew she had to bide her time and think about what she was doing.

  Jade and Davey Mullins would get their comeuppance in time. Chelle was one hundred per cent sure that Dave knew all her husband's goings on. He was her husband's shadow, he had to know.

  She'd thought it funny earlier on in the day when she'd rung Dave and told him the police had been and brought Terry's stuff with them. He'd asked about the phone and wanted to come and collect it. Chelle had bluffed it and said the phone was smashed to pieces. She was sure she'd heard Dave breathe a deep sigh of relief and now she knew why. The bastard was covering up Terry's sordid secrets. Well, she would bide her time all right, let muggins Dave organise the funeral and pay for it. She certainly wasn't going to do it. For all she cared, Terry could be slung in the ground in a bin liner.

  The fun would really start once the funeral was over and Dave held his hand out for a big fat cheque. 'Go fuck yourself,' she would tell him. 'Go and ask Jade for the money, you cunt.' Michelle's thoughts were interrupted by the video tape that was still playing. The wedding march was the last thing she needed to watch. Ejecting it, Chelle calmly walked into the kitchen, poured herself a glass of wine and ripped the video tape to shreds.

  This was a new start for her now, a new beginning. No more worrying what her no-good bastard of a husband was up to or worrying about being left penniless. Chelle felt a strange kind of calmness wash over her. She felt relief. All her worries were now over. The no-good shitcunt could hurt her no more.

  Opening the patio doors in the conservatory, she wandered out into the garden. Looking up into the sky, she focused on one star in particular. It was the one that stood out from all of the rest. Holding her wine glass up in a kind of salute, Chelle thought carefully about what she wanted to say.

  'Goodbye, Charlie Bigbananas, looks like your luck finally ran out. Oh and by the way, I hope you rot in hell.'

  TEN

  'Billie, are you awake yet? Come on, love, chop, chop.'

  Hearing the sound of her mother's voice, Billie put her head back under the covers. Awake? That was a joke, seeing as she hadn't slept a wink all night. Today was the day of her father's funeral and Billie had never dreaded anything so much. How she was going to get through the day she really didn't know. She didn't feel strong enough to deal with anything and the thought of
her dad being inside a wooden box was making her hyperventilate. Hearing her mother's feet marching up the stairs, Billie quickly jumped out of bed.

  Michelle stood at the door with her hand on her hip. 'Oh, you are up. I came up to wake you, I thought you were still asleep.'

  'I don't feel well, Mum. I don't think I can go, I'm not strong enough to face it. I didn't sleep again last night and my breathing feels funny.'

  Michelle studied Billie and noticed how much weight she'd lost. She'd always been slim but now she looked like a borderline anorexic.

  'He was your dad, Billie. You have to go. Get dressed and I'll make you some breakfast. You only feel ill because you haven't been eating and sleeping properly. You'll be OK after we've got today out of the way. You'll feel much better then.'

  Billie watched her mother walk out the room. She was just so uncaring. The way she'd felt this past week, she knew that things would never be better again. Her dad was gone for good and Billie couldn't believe that she was never going to see him, hear his voice, or feel his muscular arms around her ever again. She felt like she was having a really bad nightmare and any minute now she would wake up. If only she could pinch herself and suddenly realise it was all just a bad dream.

  Billie got showered. Choosing a knee-length black dress, opaque tights, black shoes and a short black jacket, she forced herself to get ready. She finished the outfit off with a pair of black sunglasses, so her tears could flow freely without anybody noticing. She needed to be able to indulge her grief in private. Taking a deep breath she walked down the stairs. Her legs felt like jelly, but she had to try and be brave, be strong, that's what her dad would have wanted. Sitting down at the kitchen table she tried to eat some toast but struggled to swallow it. It tasted like cardboard and seemed to stick in her throat.

  Michelle poured herself a large glass of wine and went to get changed. She decided on a black Armani trouser suit, high-heeled Jimmy Choo shoes, a black wide brimmed hat, and a pair of tinted D & G sunglasses. Standing in front of the full-length mirror, she felt good. This pleased her. A new chapter in her life was about to begin and her confidence was the key to it.

  Friends and family started arriving at the house around midday. The funeral itself was being held at half past two at Corbetts Tey Cemetery in Upminster. The local florist's must have had a field day with the amount of flowers that had been placed on the front lawn and drive.

  Billie had chosen and bought her own flowers. She'd spent the rest of her Christmas money on a massive 'DADDY' arrangement. She'd pleaded with her mum to accompany her to the florist, but Chelle had refused.

  'Your father never liked flowers. Waste of fucking money, Bill. Don't bother with 'em. As soon as your father gets slung in the ground, the bastard things get chucked away.'

  Distraught, Billie had cried for hours. Tiff 's parents had eventually taken her to choose her display:

  'To my wonderful Daddy.

  Without you my life is so empty.

  I pray that one day we will meet again

  Love Always

  From your Little Princess xxxxx'

  Billie had found writing the card extremely difficult, but had tearfully forced herself to do it.

  Noticing her nan sitting alone on a chair, Billie sat next to her and tried to console her. Pearl looked dreadfully ill and for the first time ever, Billie actually felt something for her. Davey Mullins sat down next to them and put his arm round Billie's shoulders. 'You all right, girl?'

  'Not really, Dave, but I'm going to try and be strong for my dad's sake. Do you know where my mum is? I can't find her.'

  'I think she's upstairs, with her mates.'

  Billie heard the noisy laughter before she reached the top of the stairs. Opening the bedroom door, one look at her mother told her all she needed to know.

  'How much you had to drink, Mum? Couldn't you have stayed sober today of all days? What are people going to think, when they see you in that state?'

  Michelle glared at her daughter. 'Who the fuck do you think you're talking to? Don't try and put me down in front of all my friends. I tell you something, Bill, you don't know the half of it. You just think your father was Mr Fucking Wonderful, well I'm telling you now he wasn't. You ain't got a clue what that bastard has put me through.'

  Billie looked at her mother with pure hatred. 'Well, he was Mr Wonderful to me, Mum. How dare you slag him off on the day he's due to be buried! Have you got no respect whatsoever?'

  Chelle jumped off the bed, grabbed Billie by the shoulders and shook her violently. 'Let me tell you something, Bill. When your dad smashed his car to pieces, he was out of his head on drink and drugs. Oh, and by the way, you've also got a half-brother or -sister in the making. He was shagging his slut of a secretary and he's got her up the duff. Don't fucking talk down to me, Billie Jo, I've just about had a gutful of it.'

  Hazel grabbed Chelle by the arm. 'Leave it now, Chelle, you've said enough. He was her dad, bless her. Don't take his wrongdoings out on her, it's not fair, mate.'

  Billie let out a sob, put her hands over her ears and ran from the room. She couldn't take any more; surely her mum must be lying. Her dad didn't take drugs and there couldn't be a baby on the way. Her dad wouldn't have kept that secret from her. He would have told her, wouldn't he?

  Chelle got into the first funeral car with Hazel, Suzie, Julie and Lisa. She'd flatly refused to travel with Terry's family, she couldn't stand the sight of them. Noticing Billie standing on the drive, Chelle shouted out to her, 'Come on, Bill, get in here with us.'

  Billie looked at her mother with daggers. 'I'm not going anywhere with you, Mum. I'm getting in the other car with Nanny. I'd rather sit with her than you.'

  Chelle wanted to jump out of the car, grab her daughter by the arm and drag her in, but decided against making a scene. Too many eyes were watching. Inside she was seething. It was her that had been lied to, cheated on and humiliated beyond belief. Billie had needed to know the truth. Chelle knew that she'd been a bit brutal, but she was glad she'd told her. She was sick of Billie constantly putting Terry on a pedestal. Well, no more. The kid had it in writing, see what she made of 'Daddy of the Year' now then.

  Jade opened the back window of the Land Rover and gulped in the cool fresh air that greeted her. How she was going to pass herself once they finally reached the cemetery, only God knew. She could hardly walk into the service, could she now?

  She'd had no intentions of going to the funeral. The situation was far too awkward. Davey Mullins had been in touch informing her that Chelle knew everything and was on the warpath. A brief discussion followed, with Dave and her both deciding that paying her last respects was totally out of the question.

  'It ain't worth the agg, Jade. Terry knew how much you loved him. His main concern would be for you and the baby now and he certainly wouldn't want you to walk into a hornet's nest.'

  Agreeing with his point of view, Jade informed her parents of her decision. Unfortunately for her, her parents had other ideas.

  'You have to go to the funeral. Terry's the father of the child you're carrying. How can you not say your goodbyes to him?'

  Stuck for an answer and unable to tell her parents the truth, Jade had burst into tears.

  Mary had held her daughter in her arms and comforted her the best she could.

  'Now, now, Jade. You must be strong, lovey. I know this is an awful situation, but you must pay your last respects. You won't be alone. Me and Daddy will be there to support you.'

  Unable to argue, Jade had no other option than to agree. Hence the situation she now found herself in.

  Pulling into the cemetery, Jade urged her parents to park as near to the gates as possible.

  'Now, why don't you let me and Daddy come with you?' her mother insisted, unlocking her seat belt.

  'No, Mum. Please don't follow me. I've told you why. Just leave it at that, will you?'

  Ignoring her mother's hurt expression, Jade put on her black hat, secured her sunglasses and he
aded towards the chapel. She held her head low and prayed that she wouldn't be recognised.

  As soon as she was far enough away, she ducked out of sight of her parents' car and sidled around the side of the building. The toilets were her only get-out clause, and on entering she was relieved to find that they were empty. Dashing into a cubicle, she locked it, put the seat down, fell onto it and cried.

  The journey to the cemetery seemed never-ending to Billie. She couldn't believe that her dad was inside the coffin. She almost expected him to pop his head out at any moment and say, 'All right, Princess?' Travelling with the Keane clan made the journey seem longer as well. Her nan was inconsolable, Aunt Bridie didn't stop praying, her Uncle John was knocking back Tennent's Extra, and as for her dad's other brother, Michael, he was just a complete not right and spent the whole journey talking to himself.

  Pulling up at the cemetery, Billie was relieved to see Tiffany and her parents. Tiff 's parents, Karen and Tim, were lovely people and had been so kind to her since her father's death. She'd been staying with them on and off and without them she didn't know how she would have managed. They hadn't really known her dad that well but had promised to attend the funeral as support for her more than anything else.

  The chapel was full to the brim. Terry had been a very popular guy and everyone that knew him wanted to pay their last respects. The ones that couldn't fit in stood outside to mourn.

  Benny Bones, Davey Mullins and Terry's brothers carried the coffin. Pearl had insisted that Michael and John be involved; Terry was their brother after all.

  The service itself was extremely moving. Davey Mullins got up and gave a speech, making everybody laugh by talking about some of the scrapes he and Terry had gotten into. Father Peter gave a wonderful sermon and told the congregation what an amazing man Terry had been. When he read the poem that Billie had written about her father, there was hardly a dry eye in the church. The service ended with Terry's favourite song, the Johnny Cash classic, 'Ring of Fire'.