‘Can I take something with me to use if I need to?’ Raymond asked.
‘I’ll give you something to carry. I’ve got a cosh, a baseball bat – you can take whatever you want. Anyway, you ain’t gotta worry. Me and the boys will sit just outside the gate. Any agg, we’ll be there like a shot, mate.’
Raymond smiled. He’d never suffered from having a nervous disposition and he wasn’t about to get one now. He needed this job and he would do whatever he had to, to prove his worth. ‘I’ve got me own tool, I’ll use that, and thanks anyway, but I’m sure I won’t need any help.’
Eddie was stunned by the boy’s coolness. ‘Be warned, Ray, Mad Dave’s a big old lump. A wanker he is, but a pushover he ain’t.’
Smiling, Raymond topped up both of their glasses. ‘To me and Mad Dave. May the best man win, eh?’
Two days later, all Savile Rowed up, Raymond sat in the back of a white transit van alongside Eddie, Ronny and Paulie. Uncle Reg had donned his check cap and pipe, and had offered his services to drive.
‘I wore this just in case we were seen. I look like some OAP on a jolly boys’ outing, no one’s gonna clock us with me driving,’ he laughed.
‘So you’re ready to play with the big boys are you, Ray?’ Ronny asked sarcastically.
Raymond could tell immediately that Ronny didn’t want him in the firm and was determined to prove him wrong. ‘More than ready,’ he answered politely.
‘Next on your right, Reg. You know where it is, don’t you? Straight down the bottom of that road.’
‘Don’t worry, I know I’ve semi-retired meself, but I ain’t fucking senile yet,’ Reg said jokingly.
Ronny nudged Paulie as they pulled up outside Mad Dave’s appalling-looking car site. ‘I’d love to be a fly on the wall, wouldn’t you?’ he whispered.
Paulie ignored him. Whatever the end result, this kid had bigger bollocks than most.
‘What tool did you bring?’ Eddie asked, as he opened the back door.
From nowhere, Raymond pulled out the biggest butcher’s knife Eddie had ever seen. ‘Fucking hell. Where did you get that from?’
‘I used to be a butcher, didn’t I? And I know exactly how to use it. Now, are you sure his bird’s gone home?’
Eddie urged Reg to poke his head around the gate.
‘She drives a light-blue Ford Fiesta and parks it just on the right as you go in.’
Within seconds, Reg hobbled back, giving the thumbs up.
Ronny sat quietly as Raymond stepped out of the van and strolled into the car lot like he owned the place. Flash little cunt, I hope he comes unstuck, he thought to himself.
With the knife tucked firmly down the inside of his jacket, Raymond spotted the Portakabin and marched straight in.
Mad Dave was sat on a black leather chair. He had his feet on a wooden desk, a beer in one hand and a copy of the Sun newspaper in the other. ‘Can I help you?’ he said, without properly looking up.
‘Yes, you can. I work for Eddie Mitchell and I’m here on his behalf to collect the eight thousand pound that you owe him.’
Mad Dave took a large gulp of beer, burped, then threw his head back with laughter. ‘You’re ’aving a giraffe, ain’t yer, mate? So you’re telling me that that mug Eddie Mitchell has sunk so low in his fuckin’ business empire that’s he’s sent some teenage kid round to threaten me?’
Raymond grinned. ‘I’m not a teenage kid and I’m not threatening you. I’m just asking for the dosh that you owe.’
Mad Dave cracked open another beer and downed it within seconds. ‘Do yourself a favour, kid, and fuck off home,’ he told Raymond.
As Mad Dave stood up, Raymond felt a slight twinge of fear. The geezer was fucking ginormous. ‘I don’t want no aggro, just pay me the money and I’ll leave,’ Raymond urged him.
Laughing hysterically, Mad Dave walked towards Raymond and lifted him by his new shirt and tie. ‘Go away, you silly little boy,’ he said, as he dragged him towards the Portakabin door.
As fast as a greyhound chasing a hare, Raymond pulled the knife out and shoved it straight through Mad Dave’s guts.
As he hit the floor, Mad Dave’s eyes rolled straight into the back of his head. Raymond bent down to check on him; he had seen enough dead animals to know when someone was brown bread. Desperate not to get the man’s blood on his new suit, Raymond knelt to one side as he searched through Mad Dave’s pockets. He’d spotted the safe when he first came in and it was one of them cheapies that wasn’t coded by numbers. Finding a massive bunch of keys, Raymond walked towards the safe and tried numerous ways to unlock it. ‘Come on,’ he said, as he turned key after key.
Finally, Ray felt the lock turn. He quickly grabbed all the money from inside, pocketed it, and washed the blood off his hands in the sink. Spotting a tea towel, he wiped the safe, the desk and the door. He hadn’t touched anywhere else, he was sure he hadn’t. Washing the blood off the knife, he put it back inside his jacket. His new suit was ruined. He’d caught his pocket with the knife and ripped it, and not only that, it was also sprayed with blood.
With the tea towel firmly attached to his hand, Raymond opened the cabin door. He then ran for his bloody life.
Waiting for Raymond to return was the longest wait of Eddie’s life. Ronny hadn’t helped with his stupid comments and jokes. Willing the kid to come through for him, Eddie smiled as he saw him running towards the van.
‘Drive, quick, go,’ Raymond said, as he leaped into the back.
Paulie and Ronny were stunned to see splashes of blood on Ray’s suit. He didn’t have a mark on him, so it couldn’t be his.
‘Are you OK? What happened?’ Eddie asked nervously.
Raymond was aware of his arms shaking as he put his hand in his pocket and pulled out bundles of £20 notes wrapped up in elastic bands. ‘There’s ten bundles there. I should imagine there’s a grand in each,’he managed to stutter.
Ronny couldn’t believe his eyes. ‘What the fuck? What did you do? Whose blood is it?’
Raymond put his head in his hands. ‘I had to kill him, I had no choice.’
Uncle Reg nearly took the van straight up the kerb. He’d seen some newcomers over the years, but none like this kid. ‘Don’t worry, son. We’ll get rid of the knife and your clothes and clean you up round mine.’
Seeing the shocked expression on the faces of his brothers, Eddie burst out laughing. ‘I think Raymond’s passed his little task, don’t you boys?’ he asked sarcastically.
Paulie immediately held his hand out to Raymond. ‘Well done, mate. Welcome to the family.’
Ronny had no choice other than to do the same. ‘I can’t believe you killed the cunt. How did it happen?’ he asked in awe.
Having by now composed himself a bit, Raymond repeated what had happened in full. ‘I knew he was dead immediately. Remember, I know by the eyes, I used to chop up dead animals, didn’t I?’
Thrilled by the way Raymond had come through for him, Eddie grabbed him in a playful headlock. ‘Well you certainly chopped up a big animal back there, didn’t you, eh?’
Uncle Reg lived in Bow, and within the hour, Raymond was as good as new. A bath had scrubbed the blood away, the knife was long gone and all his clothes, including his socks, pants and shoes, had been burnt to cinders. As he sat on the armchair wearing Uncle Reg’s clothes, Raymond was enjoying being the centre of attention.
‘You can’t go out like that. You look like fucking Alf Garnett,’ Paulie chuckled, as he handed the hero a large Scotch.
‘Thank God you moved into your new flat. Can you imagine your mother’s and father’s faces if you came home from work looking like that?’ Eddie said, ruffling his hair.
Raymond smiled. He had already got over the shock of what he’d done, but the adrenalin was like a drug and he felt high with all the excitement. His parents had been shell-shocked yesterday when he’d moved most of his stuff out.
‘What will you eat? Who’s gonna cook for you and wash and iron your clothes?’ hi
s mother had said.
‘He’s moving out to become a proper villain. He’ll be locked up for murder before you know it,’ he’d heard his father shout.
Raymond smiled to himself. If he had the choice of killing people and making loads of money or killing his own soul by driving around in a bus, then he’d definitely choose option A.
As Ronny counted the money, the Scotch flowed around the room. ‘There was two grand in each bundle, there’s twenty grand here, not ten,’ Ronny shouted out.
Eddie filled Raymond’s glass right up to the very top. ‘I think you should come and stay with me and Jess for a few days, just in case the Old Bill come sniffing around.’
Raymond agreed immediately. He’d already been given an alibi and he knew exactly what to say. Auntie Joan was covering for him and she had already been briefed to say that he’d been round at hers.
A knock on the front door spelled the arrival of Harry Mitchell. Hearing the story in full, Harry shook Raymond’s hand and hugged Eddie. ‘I told you throwing him in at the deep end was the right thing to do,’ he told his son.
Eddie laughed. ‘So you’re taking all the credit for our new addition, are you? I don’t think so, Dad – in your dreams, mate.’
As the jokes and drinks flowed, Eddie stood up and ssshed everyone. ‘Let’s have a toast to our wonderful new family member.’ He smiled at Raymond. ‘I’m gonna change your name for you, boyo. Raymond don’t really suit you, it sounds too wank. From now on, after your performance today, you are officially called Raymondo.’
Raymond laughed as all the men stood up. ‘To Raymondo,’ everybody said, toasting him.
Raymond’s smile lit up the room. He may not have made it as a rock star, but life was all down to fate, and he had certainly made it now.
ELEVEN
Jessica did her best to avoid attending Uncle Reg’s surprise party, but Ed was having none of it.
‘Why don’t you just go with the boys and Raymond, Ed? I’ve got a bit of a headache and if we’ve got that party on Sunday, I’ll be shattered.’
Eddie poured himself a Scotch. Jess pissed him off at times. For years, he’d fallen over backwards to entertain her family, yet when it came to his, it was an effort for Jess to give them the time of day.
Knocking his drink back in one, Ed glared at her. ‘You can be such a selfish fucker at times. You’ve gotta come. All my family are gonna be there, and it ain’t gonna look good if I turn up without you. Not only that, I want the kids to be there. My dad, aunts and brothers ain’t seen ’em for fuck knows how long.’
‘But I don’t really know your family that well, and I won’t know anyone else there. It’s all right for you, Ed, you’ll be stood up the bar with the boys all night, while I’m sat alone like a lemon,’ Jess argued.
About to lose his rag, Ed stopped himself. ‘I’ll tell you what, why don’t you ring your mum and dad and invite them. That way, you ain’t sitting on your Jacks. Give us the phone, I’ll ring ’em for you.’
Knowing when she was beaten, Jess reluctantly passed Ed the telephone. She’d never felt comfortable around Eddie’s family. Ed always seemed to get drunk when they had a get-together and Jessica dreaded these odd occasions.
‘Sorted,’ Ed said, as he handed Jess the phone.
‘What did Mum say? Is my dad coming as well?’ Jessica asked.
Eddie laughed. ‘Your mother nearly had a heart attack with the excitement of it all. Your dad’s popped out, but your mum said he’ll do as he’s told. Right, you’d better get your arse in gear, I told me dad we’d be there at seven.’
About to walk out of the room, Jess saw Eddie pour himself a refill. ‘Ed, promise me you won’t get drunk tonight?’
Eddie shook his head in annoyance. ‘Jess, you’re me wife, not me keeper. Do yourself a favour, go and get ready and stop treating me like a fucking moron.’
Harry Mitchell had sworn everybody to secrecy. He didn’t want Reg to clock on, so, instead of holding the party in the Flag, he’d booked the hall in the Marquis of Salisbury. He’d told Reg he was taking him out for a quiet meal with the boys.
‘I don’t want no fucking circus,’ Reg warned him.
‘You’re not fucking getting one. What do you think I’m gonna do? Throw you a big party?’ Harry lied.
Family and friends had been told to arrive at the Marquis at seven, half an hour before Reg was due there.
‘For fuck’s sake, cheer up a bit. You look like you’re going to a funeral,’ Ed hissed, as Jess got out of the cab.
Annoyed with his wife’s demeanour, Eddie ushered Gary and Ricky inside and left Jess to deal with the twins.
‘There you are. I wondered where you’d got to,’ Joyce said, as she spotted her daughter.
‘I’ve had the day from hell. Ed’s been in a bad mood and the kids have driven me mad,’ Jess moaned.
‘Mum, can I have some crisps?’ Frankie asked in a whining voice.
‘You can have some when Daddy comes back from the bar. Now go and sit next to Grandad.’
‘Mum, Mum,’ Joey said, tugging her arm.
‘What’s the matter?’ Jess asked, as she noticed Joey was crying.
‘I think I’ve peed my pants.’
Ed reappeared at precisely the wrong moment. ‘What’s up?’ he asked, handing Jess her drink.
‘Nothing. I’m just going to take Joey to the toilet.’
‘I’ll take him. It’s about time he started using the gents,’ Eddie said, grabbing his son’s hand.
‘No. He thinks he’s had a little accident, Ed. Leave it to me and I’ll sort him out.’
Eddie looked at his son in disgust. ‘What’s the matter with you? You’re not a baby, you’re six years old. Why don’t you ask if you wanna go to the fucking toilet?’
Jessica picked up her sobbing son. ‘Don’t shout at him, Ed. He can’t help it.’
‘He’s a fucking embarrassment,’ Eddie hissed, as he headed back to the bar.
Stanley glanced at Joyce as Eddie walked away. Neither of them had heard the conversation, but both of them got the gist that their son-in-law wasn’t happy.
‘I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him, Joycie.’
‘Stanley, just drink your drink and shut your cakehole,’ Joyce ordered.
Uncle Reg arrived at quarter to eight.
‘Surprise!’ everyone shouted, as he shuffled in, embarrassed.
‘Fuck you, Harry. You know how I hate anything like this.’
Sylvie, Harry’s lady friend, had spent the morning decorating the hall with balloons, banners and old photographs of Reg.
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake,’Reg said as he clocked an enlarged image of himself as a spotty-faced teenager wearing an old army helmet.
Ed stood up the bar with Raymond, Ronny and Paulie. All four of them were in the mood for a party and were knocking the Scotch back like it was going out of style.
‘Where’s Jess?’ Ronny enquired.
‘Dunno, probably mollycoddling the fucking kids, as usual,’ Ed replied arrogantly.
Seeing Gary and Ricky nick someone’s beer, Eddie smiled. They were boys to be proud of. Not once had they ever shown him up by pissing themselves in public.
Stanley was frozen to his chair as he spotted Harry Mitchell strolling towards him with a bottle in his hand.
‘Joyce, Stanley, lovely to see you again. And how are my beautiful grandchildren?’ Harry said, patting the twins on the head.
Noticing Stanley flinch, Harry held up the bottle and smiled. ‘Champagne, anyone?’
‘Yes, please. I do like a drop of champers,’ Joyce said, in a silly posh voice.
Harry poured her a glass and then turned to Stanley. ‘And would you like a drop of the finest, Stanley?’
‘No, not for me,’ Stanley said, as he bolted to the toilet.
Frankie and Joey nudged one another as the strange man sat next to them.
‘This is your grandad, Harry. Say “hello, Grandad Harry,”’ Joyce said in
a stupid, childlike voice.
Frankie giggled. She’d been in a naughty mood all day. ‘My brother has peed his pants,’ she said proudly.
‘No, I didn’t,’ Joey shouted.
‘Stop it, Frankie. She’s only joking,’ Joyce awkwardly informed Harry.
‘No, I’m not. Joey always wets himself.’
As Joey burst into tears, Joyce burst into false laughter. ‘Kids, eh? Say the funniest things don’t they, Harry?’
Not sure what planet Joyce or his grandchildren were on, Harry stood up. ‘Excuse me, Joycie. I have to answer a call of nature.’
‘Bye Harry, lovely to see you again,’ Joyce yelled, as he walked away.
Seeing Stanley hovering nervously by the doorway, Harry pretended not to notice him. He knew full well why Stanley was shit-scared of him. Harry never forgot the face of a victim or their friends, and he knew Stanley was the geezer who had been in the pub with Roger Dodds on the evening he’d unfortunately taken his eye out. Harry had recognised Stanley on the night of Eddie’s wedding. He’d had him checked out afterwards, just to confirm that his mind was as sharp as ever. Harry smiled. The look on Stanley’s face when he’d waved the champagne bottle towards him was a picture of pure fucking fear.
Auntie Joan and Auntie Vi were in their element. Harry had booked a duo, one singing and one on the piano, that were playing every war song that Joan and Vi had sung down the shelters.
Gee, it’s great after bein’ out late
Walkin’ my baby back home
Arm in arm over meadow and farm
Walkin’ my baby back home.
Eddie interrupted Joan and Vi’s sing-song by plonking himself in the middle of them. ‘How’s my two favourite aunties?’ he asked cheekily.
‘Oi, go and get your bleedin’ own,’Vi said, as he nicked a sausage roll off her plate.
Joan squeezed his hand. ‘It’s a wonderful evening, Eddie. Thoroughly enjoying ourselves, me and Vi are. Mustard this duo, ain’t they?’
The Feud Page 10
