“Suzanne.” Said her husband again. “Why have… you done this?”
Chapter 13
“Yes, that one there mate, the only one with no car on the drive!” said Mick, pointing his house out to the minibus driver.
“Cheers mate!” said Rachel from just over Mick’s shoulder. “How much is that?” she asked.
“Eight pound.” Said the taxi driver, without much enthusiasm. He looked like he was impressed by the properties on Haughton Park though.
“Eight quid! Bloody hell, what’s your name? Dick bleedin’ Turpin?” said Mick, to an explosion of laughter from his family. They all loved him when he’d had a few beers, he could be quite outrageous. “It’d be a fiver if it weren’t a big posh house wouldn’t it you sleazebag!”
“No, eight pound, it’s the correct price.”
“Pull the other one, it’s got bells on!” added Rachel, trying to capitalise on the situation for the kids amusement.
“I’m only kidding pal. Eight quid is a very fine price for all of us lot to get home. Here’s a tenner, you can keep the change!” said Mick with a big, drunken grin all across his face.
“Are you feeling alright Dad?” asked Britney as she slid the back door open and jumped out of the vehicle.
“Course I am. I feel on top of the world me love!” Mick was still grinning weirdly as he got out of the cab.
“Your dad’s drunk!” Said Rachel at the top of her voice as she followed Britney out of the back. “He’s just tipped the taxi driver!”
“Shania, get your birthday present request in now!” laughed Liam.
“Hey! I’m not bloody drunk, right. It’s only half eight! It’s good manners to give a tip. Here, mate, here’s another tip – whatever you want to do, do it now, right now. Because life is time and time is all there is.”
Liam and Noel were laughing loudly at their dad as Rachel grabbed her partner and started dragging him away from the vehicle.
“Come on you, you can’t take your ale!”
The taxi driver smiled politely, he had spent a great many hours in the company of drunken people as he drove them around Manchester. Mick was one of the easier ones to cope with.
“Okay, thank you. I’ll certainly do that!” He replied as Mick slammed the passenger door shut.
“You only get one shot! Make it count!” shouted Mick as the minibus pulled away. Mick stood and watched it pull off the avenue as Rachel stood by his side.
“Take a snide look over the road,” she muttered out of the corner of her mouth.
“Where?” asked Mick, as he waved to the taxi as though it was his mum driving off.
“At Suzanne and Graham’s. Can you see anything?” Rachel was talking really quietly.
“What like a roadblock, a crime scene investigation, Granada Reports cameras and all police helicopters circling overhead?” asked Mick sarcastically.
“It all looks quiet doesn’t it?”
“There’s no one in that’s why you great galah.”
“How do you know?” whispered Rachel.
“Because the piggin’ lights are off and the car’s not there you donkey! Right, come on, let’s get kettle on!”
“Do you think anything’s happened?” asked Rachel, a little louder than a whisper. she had expected to see some clue as to what had gone on, and was very frustrated and a bit cheesed off to see nothing after spending all of her night in the pub listening to the kids slag each other off and Mick talking about how Maine Road was a proper ground for proper working men.
“Don’t know love to be honest. Come on, let’s get in and get the bloody kettle on.”
*****
Suzanne was sitting in a side room cubicle with Graham, who had been crying off and on for the past three hours, since arriving at Accident and Emergency by car. She had helped her husband to get into the car at home, and out again at the doors of the hospital. She’d managed to find him a wheelchair and gently helped him to get into it from the passenger seat that he had violently forced her out of, just a day earlier.
Graham was convinced that he had broken ribs, and possibly a fractured skull, and was awaiting the results of x-rays to come back. His constant sobbing and self pitying was really grating on his wife, who was still very edgy from the ordeal, feeling quite distressed and violated by the hostile, nastiness of the men. She wasn’t used to gangsters and people like that. As Graham continued to sob and snivel, all she wanted to do was scream at her pathetic, hopeless husband and tell him “to shut the fuck up!”
But she couldn’t do that. The question that Graham had asked her as he lay in a heap on the floor was playing very heavily on her mind. How could he think that she was behind it? And how was she going to explain that it had nothing to do with her. The question kept looping around and around in her head, and Suzanne realised that she had never felt any kind of stress like this before in her entire life. It was all consuming, from her head to her toes, there seemed to be this buzzing feeling, getting stronger and more intense, throbbing with the beat of her heart.
Graham’s pathetic whinings were not helping either.
Eventually, the doctor who had last been in about an hour earlier, reappeared clutching an armful of papers and reports.
“Nothing’s broken, everything is fine. You have some bruising on your chest, very consistent with falling down some stairs. You’ve been very lucky. You just need to take it easy for a few days, I’ll prescribe you some strong pain killers, have you had codeine before?” asked the young Chinese looking doctor.
Graham looked across at his wife, once more adopting the expression of a scared child. He was really irritating Suzanne with this extraordinarily weedy performance. She just wanted to tell him to man up. It was making her feel angry that she had suffered so many occasions of abuse and assault from him, never really knowing that he was just a big, soft, wimp.
“You can take codeine can’t you, Graham?” asked Suzanne, feeling embarrassed, and also bad for holding the doctor up.
“I don’t know,” he whined. “I think so.”
“Well, there’s nothing on your notes that would suggest that you’ve had any problems in the past. So I’ll prescribe you one week’s worth, you take two caplets, three times a day – but no more. They can cause constipation. If you get your things together, the prescription will be ready in a few minutes at the front desk.”
“You, you’re discharging me?” asked Graham.
“Yes, you’re fine. It will hurt slightly, but you don’t need to stay here.”
“Thank you very much Doctor,” said Suzanne. Graham just looked up at the ceiling tiles in despair, it seemed that this information came as a shock.
“No problem. I’ll go and do this prescription,” said the doctor as he wiped GRAHAM ASHWORTH off the wipe board on the cubicle door. He made it obvious that he wanted the room back urgently, as he looked back in at Graham, before walking quickly away.
“Come on, love. I’ll help you onto your feet.”
Graham started sobbing again. “I can’t believe this Suzanne. I just do not believe it.” He screwed his face up as he tried to pull his weight up off the bed.
“Here, grab my hands,” said Suzanne, more out of embarrassment than a real desire to help him. She extended her hands and Graham gripped them hard. She pulled him up and he howled in pain.
“Sorry! So sorry Graham! But you’re up now. Come on, just swing your legs off the side and I’ll go and get the wheelchair.” Suzanne had adopted a frosty edge to her voice and Graham was acutely aware of it.
“You are such an ice-cold fucking bitch Suzanne. I’ll never forgive you for this.”
*****
“Here we go! They’re back!” said Rachel, jabbing Mick in his side as the car head-lights illuminated the bedroom, as Graham and Suzanne’s car reversed onto the drive.
“Eh?” asked Mick who was in a drunken sleep.
“They’re back!” whispered Rachel as she leapt out of bed and waited for the headlights to be switched
off so she could have a nosey out of the window, and try and see what was going on. It quickly became apparent that Graham had indeed been given some food for thought from Kev, the wannabe gangster from a few doors up. The vile neighbour was grimacing in pain as Suzanne helped him out of the car and led him up their drive. He was limping quite badly and making lots of groaning noises. Rachel felt quite bad as she watched, he was clearly in a great deal of pain. But at the back of her mind, she felt that he did deserve it – if not for the stunt that he had pulled with Kev and Tania in the first place – certainly for assaulting Suzanne and getting her in the state that she was in the previous day.
“Fuck yer!” she muttered under her breath as Suzanne closed the door behind her husband.
“Eh? What’s up?” asked Mick as Rachel got back in bed.
“He looks like he’s had a right good twatting!” whispered Rachel as she placed her head on the pillow and kissed Mick’s shoulder.
“Good. A good kicking never did anyone any harm.” replied Mick, as he slipped back into his beer induced sleep.
“That’s probably not a hundred per cent true Mick, but I get your point. Night love.”
*****
From the moment that Suzanne closed the door behind Graham, the interrogation began. He’d made it clear from before they’d even left to go to the hospital that he had it in his head that she was responsible for what had happened.
In light of what she had increasingly considered to be Graham’s pathetic and wimpy behaviour since it had happened, and in response to his idiotic suggestion that she was behind what had happened – Suzanne had finally had enough.
“Are you serious? Are you suggesting that this is to do with me?” she asked, with clear and direct anger present in her voice as she filled the kettle, and Graham limped across the hall to the lounge. She felt empowered, and it was a very strange moment for the both of them. She knew that Graham couldn’t give her a smack in the condition he was in. And, he knew, that she knew it.
“How, ow. How dare you speak to me like that! You ungrateful little slag!”
“How dare you accuse me of getting you beaten up! Anyway, it’s not nice is it? Hurts doesn’t it? Maybe now you’ll stop doing it to me, now that you’ve had a taste of it for yourself.”
At this, Graham collapsed very slowly into the armchair in the living room and began sobbing uncontrollably.
“You really are a pathetic man, Graham. It’s quite an education to see this. To see how you respond to being beaten up. That’s what it’s like for me you know. Like yesterday, bashing my head against the car door.”
“Please, Suzanne, just shut the fuck up. Your voice is hateful. Now, go and get me a glass of whiskey, and some of those pain-killers, and then get the fuck out of my space.” Graham was looking down at the floor, his face looked raw where the tears had burned the skin around his eyes. Suzanne placed one hand on her hip and laughed mockingly. The empowerment that she felt was intoxicating. It made her feel slightly dizzy, and she felt quite giddy too.
“Do you know what, get your own fucking whiskey and tablets Graham, and while you sit there, feeling sorry for yourself and getting pissed once again, why not write a list of all the people that you have pissed off recently – and we can work our way through that tomorrow.”
“Fuck you Suzanne. I know you planned this with that awful fucking tramp across the road, so please, don’t insult my intelligence.”
“You’re wrong. If I had done that, to be honest, I’d be feeling pretty bloody smug right now. But I didn’t Graham. So you need to have a good long chat with yourself and try and figure it out. And if you come anywhere near me tonight, I’ll hit you back, now I know what a soft bastard you are. Good night.”
Suzanne slammed the door shut with all of her strength, something that she’d never had the courage to do before.
Chapter 14
Rachel had only just arrived home from dropping Shania at school when the doorbell rang. She cursed under her breath, there was only half an hour to get the house tidied before she had to set off to do her volunteering at the RSPCA charity shop, where she would stay until going back on the school run. The last thing she needed right now was a visitor, especially as it was probably that Suzanne from over the road.
Rachel went to the door. She could see through the glass that it was Suzanne. It was going to be a bit awkward, the last time the two had spoken was when Mick had pretty much ejected her from the house, forcing her to leave, to face her abusive husband alone. It had made Rachel feel wretched, but she understood the reason why it was necessary, and she knew that it was sensible, regardless of how awful it made her feel personally. All Mick had said over and over on Sunday, after Suzanne had gone home was “it’s all for the greater good, love.”
Rachel reached out for the door handle, she could feel her heartbeat quickening, and she felt slightly breathless. She hoped that she wasn’t about to start having an anxiety attack – these kinds of confrontations had led to them in the past. But she took a deep breath, reminding herself that she hadn’t had an attack in years. She took another deep breath, and pulled down the handle. Rachel had been dreading this moment since arriving home the previous night, not knowing what exactly was meant by Kev’s so called “warning” or what it would consist of. She sensed that she was about to find out as she opened the door.
“Hi,” said Rachel, she sounded warm, friendly but her greeting clearly lacked very much enthusiasm.
“Hi,” replied Suzanne. “Have you got a minute?” she asked, stepping forward a pace so that her feet were almost inside the house. “I, we need to talk.”
“Well, I was just on my way out, sorry. I’ve got my volunteering to go to.” Rachel was trying to play it cool, trying her very best to make it appear that everything was normal, but she was a dreadful actress and she was making a hash of it. Suzanne thought that she saw straight through it, but she was about to discover that things weren’t quite as clear cut as she had been anticipating.
“Please Rachel. Just let me in, you can be five minutes late. We need to talk about that bloody stunt you pulled.” Suzanne looked empowered, and she was certainly a lot more assertive than she had been, on the previous few encounters that the pair had shared.
“What? What do you mean by that? What stunt?” she asked, and all of a sudden, Suzanne looked a little bit less assertive. “What are you talking about?” she asked. Suddenly, it was Rachel who sounded the more confident of the two.
“Can you let me in, I don’t want to discuss it out here on the avenue.”
Rachel swung the door open and let Suzanne through. “Seriously, I have five minutes, and no more.” She said as she closed the door behind her uninvited guest.
“What stunt are you talking about? Do you mean on Sunday?” Rachel was searching Suzanne’s eyes for answers.
“No, I don’t mean about Sunday. Just forget Sunday alright? I was half pissed, I’d drank all night, and then I’d had a big swig of vodka to steady my nerves before I went to pick Graham up. It’s not about Sunday.” Suzanne was standing in the hallway, facing Rachel, who didn’t respond. She just waited for Suzanne to continue.
“I’m talking about last night.” Suzanne fixed her eyes on Rachel, and put her hands in her jogging bottoms pockets.
“Why, what happened last night? Has he hit you again or something? Is it my fault this time?”
“Don’t play dumb Rachel. You know what happened, and I’ve come here to tell you that you were bang out of order, arranging that.” Suzanne was staring deep into her neighbours eyes. Rachel was staring straight back.
“If I’m playing dumb, then at least give me a clue what it’s about. You’re starting to get on my tits now Suzanne, you’re holding me up, I’ve got to go for my bus. So either tell me what the fuck it is you are here for, or just let me go on my way.”
“Are you serious? You don’t know what I’m talking about?” Suzanne looked annoyed, more than frustrated. This was her only theory
, and it looked as though it had come to a dead end already.
“Haven’t the foggiest. I swear down love, I don’t have a clue what you are on about. I have been dreading seeing you, after what happened on Sunday, it wasn’t my style that, I’ve been hating myself for letting you go back - but my mum and Mick were right – we can’t get involved in your problems. God, that makes me sound so shit. But it’s true.”
“So, for the avoidance of all doubt – you didn’t arrange for Graham to get beaten up for hitting me?”
“No. What? Wait a minute, fucking slow down. Why would I do that? You’re the one who started defending him, saying he wasn’t a bad person. For fucks sake Suzanne, what the hell is going on here?”
Suzanne leaned back against the wall and exhaled loudly. When she began to speak, it was at a volume noticeably quieter than it had been until now.
“Last night, after tea, four men… masked men, came to the house, and beat my husband up.” Suzanne’s eyes began to well up, and her colour drained slightly as the terror of the moment was relived in her mind.
“Seriously? Is he alright?” Rachel managed to sound and look genuinely surprised.
“He’s shook up, he’s got bruised ribs and what have you. His pride is damaged more than anything. But they were sick bastards who did it. Really nasty pieces of work.”
“Oh, so automatically, it’s my doing?”
“No – I’m not….” Suzanne looked shell-shocked, and a little scared – now that she realised that she had no idea who did it, if it wasn’t Rachel – then who did do it? And why? She shuddered. This was a scary thought.
“Shut up. I’m sorry to hear that. It was absolutely jack shit to do with me, or us, any of us in this house. I can assure you of that. We need to stay out of any trouble while we are here, so arranging for people to get beaten up is not only stupid, it’s also not our style. What have the police said?” Rachel’s eyes were opened wide, her attention had been grabbed on this matter completely.
Neighbours From Hell : DCI Miller 2: The gripping Manchester thriller with a killer twist Page 8
