Schemer

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Schemer Page 32

by Kimberley Chambers


  ‘Oi, Gunga Din, we want two bottles of wine, one red and one white and whatever my toy boy’s having,’ Marge shouted to the young waiter.

  Barry jumped up and walked over to where the open-mouthed waiter was standing. ‘I’m really sorry. That woman’s my mother. She has recently suffered a family bereavement, therefore has got herself a little bit drunk today. Just bring the two bottles of wine over, a bottled lager for me, then I’ll order the food. We’ll be out of your way in no time, I promise.’

  As the young waiter scuttled off like a frightened mouse, Barry sat back down. ‘So, why the phone call, Mum? Last time I saw you, you accused me of murdering poor old Jakey. Then, next thing I know, you’re ringing me up telling me how much you love me and what a fantastic son I am. What you after, dosh?’

  ‘Would madams like to taste the wine?’ the waiter asked, quickly reappearing.

  Barry shook his head. ‘Nope. They’d drink petrol if it came in a bottle, mate. Can you just bring us up a selection of rice and bread? I’ll have Tandoori chicken. What do yous two want as your main?’ Barry asked. He waited for the order to be taken, then stared at his mother. ‘Well, what you after then?’

  Marlene grinned. ‘I could really do with some readies, boy, and I also need you to get all me beautiful clothes sent over ’ere from Spain for me.’

  Previously guessing that his mother was going to be on his earhole for cash, Barry had come well prepared. Pulling a thick wad of money out of his back pocket, he began counting off fifty-pound notes. ‘Will a grand be OK?’

  ‘I suppose it will have to be,’ Marlene replied, ungratefully. ‘What about me clothes though? Walking about in the same half a dozen outfits, I am. How quick can you get ’em back to England for me?’

  Barry handed Marlene the wedge, then sighed. ‘I don’t think I’m gonna be able to get your clothes back for you. Your old gaff in Spain has already been sold, Mum.’

  Marlene felt the hairs stand up on the back of her neck. ‘Sold! Sold! Whaddya mean it’s been fucking sold?’

  ‘Someone bought it within days of it going up for sale. Jolene rang me to tell me a week or so back.’

  To say Marlene was in a state of unadulterated shock was putting it mildly. ‘I want my clothes, I want my ornaments and I want my fucking furniture back,’ she screamed.

  ‘Well I’m sorry, Mum, but apart from buying you some new clothes, I can’t really help you,’ Barry replied, bravely.

  Leaning forwards, Marlene pointed her forefinger in her son’s face. ‘If I was you I’d take that statement back, because I’m telling you now, if you don’t get your arse back to Spain and sort out my belongings, I shall be making a phone call to the Spanish Old Bill and I’ll be telling ’em that it was you who ordered the hit on Jake. And that ain’t all I’ll do. I know that it’s you responsible for Wayne Jackman’s disappearance, you scheming little bastard. You’ve done him in, I know you have. Want me to go and have a chat with that little slapper Stephanie who you can’t keep away from, do you? ’Cause if I don’t get my stuff back, I will, you know.’

  Barry shook his head in disgust. ‘Now you listen to me and you listen very carefully, muvver. I had sod all to do with Jake getting killed or Jacko’s disappearance, and if you don’t stop spreading vicious fucking lies and spouting that vulgar mouth of yours off to every Tom, Dick and Harry, me and you are gonna come to blows. Understand?’

  Marlene stood up and began waving her arms about like a lunatic to attract people’s attention. She turned to the four men on the next table who she had insulted earlier. ‘Did you hear what my son just said to me, lads? He has just threatened to kill his own mother and I want yous to be my witnesses. He has already tried to end my life in the past.’

  ‘You said he was your toy boy,’ one of the men replied. The other three blokes immediately started to chuckle. They had all thought that Marlene was quite attractive in a tarty sort of way earlier, but they could now tell she was a liability.

  ‘Sit down, mate. You can’t be shouting out things like that. Barry didn’t mean it that way,’ Marge said, grabbing Marlene’s arm.

  When she went into full actress mode and started to cry, Barry looked at his mother in horror. ‘Sit down, for fuck’s sake,’ he spat.

  The restaurant wasn’t packed to the rafters, but Marlene was well aware that she now had everybody’s attention. ‘My son has already murdered my partner and his ex-girlfriend’s fiancé. Now he is threatening to kill me also,’ she shouted, in a posh, overly dramatic, tearful voice.

  Marge put her head in her hands. She loved Marlene, but when she got a bee in her bonnet, especially when this drunk, there was truly no stopping her. Marge liked Barry. He was a good lad and, in her opinion, Marlene didn’t realize how lucky she was to have such a charming, generous son.

  As Marlene carried on with her amateur dramatics, Barry calmly polished off his lager. His mother going around spreading rumours that he had been responsible for Jake’s murder was one thing, but her spouting off about him being responsible for Wayne’s disappearance was another. Barry stood up and turned to his mother’s rather stunned-looking audience. He could see the young waiter standing there with their tray of food, far too frightened to bring it over to the table. ‘I am so, so sorry, everybody, for my mother’s outrageous behaviour. As you have probably already realized, she is an old lush with a severe alcohol dependency, which makes her talk utter rubbish and behave in this appalling manner.’

  When his mother’s posh voice turned into her usual coarse one, Barry couldn’t help but smirk as he clocked the shocked look on the other diners’ faces.

  ‘You muggy little cunt,’ Marlene screamed at the top of her voice.

  ‘This is my mother’s true self. This is what I’ve had to put up with since I was a child,’ Barry said loudly.

  Livid that her son had not only made her look a joke, but had also caused her façade to slip, Marlene picked up Barry’s empty lager bottle and threw it as hard as she could at his cocky little face.

  Unfortunately for Marlene, the bottle completely missed Barry, but hit a grey-haired woman on the table behind. When the woman fell onto the floor clutching her head, all hell seemed to break loose. Two waiters grabbed hold of Marlene, Marge lashed out at them, and all Barry could do was the sensible thing. He legged it.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Ever since they were young, Stephanie and Tammy had always enjoyed spending time alone together. As kids they would sit in one another’s bedrooms and learn the words to their favourite pop songs from the magazine, Smash Hits. Then at Sunday teatime, they would sing along and dance while listening to the top-forty countdown. When they reached their teenage years, standing on a street corner, or dossing about over the park with a bottle of cider and a packet of cigarettes was their preferred way of whiling away their time together. When they were old enough to get served in pubs, that’s what they did, but just recently, they loved nothing more than going out for a nice meal. Whatever they did together, Stephanie and Tammy had always had fun, but tonight was an exception. When Stephanie had first been told that Tammy was leaving England for sunnier climes, obviously she had been heartbroken at the thought of losing her best friend. However, with Wayne vanishing off the face of the earth, having to cancel her wedding, money worries, and the disappointment of not being able to open her own beauty salon, Tammy’s departure was now the least of Stephanie’s problems. In fact, she rather liked Richard and genuinely wished Tammy well in her new life, which is why Steph couldn’t understand her friend’s bolshy attitude since her boyfriend had left the restaurant earlier.

  As Tammy yet again interrupted her reminiscing about old times to start banging on about how positive she was that Barry Franklin had murdered Wayne, Stephanie started to get rather annoyed. This was her first night out since Wayne had disappeared, her last night out with Tammy for the foreseeable future, and with no kids to worry about until tomorrow afternoon at least, all Stephanie had wanted to do was let her h
air down and forget about her troubles, even if it was only for one evening. She turned to Tammy. ‘Can you stop going on about Barry murdering Wayne, please? I’ve come out to enjoy myself tonight for a change, Tam. The Old Bill came round earlier asking loads more questions and I’m sick to death of talking about it. What is it with you and Barry Franklin? You used to like him when we were at school, so why do you hate him so much now?’

  Tammy took another big slurp of wine. She had been drinking like a fish ever since Richard had left earlier. ‘I’m sorry, Steph, but Wayne hasn’t just miraculously vanished into thin air, has he? Don’t you think it’s strange that your ex-boyfriend returns from Spain and a couple of weeks later the bloke you left him for goes missing?’

  ‘Well yeah, if I was an outsider looking in, I suppose it might sound suspect, but the police have spoken to Barry numerous times and they don’t think he had anything to do with Wayne’s disappearance. Neither do I, neither does my mum. Since Wayne went missing, I’ve barely seen you, Tam. I know you’ve been busy wrapping up your job and stuff, but that ain’t the point. Apart from my family, Barry has been the only person who has supported me through all this. There isn’t a day goes by when he doesn’t ring or pop round. He’s helped me with the kids; in fact he’s helped me with everything, and that certainly ain’t no behaviour of a guilty man, if you ask me.’

  With a snarl on her face, Tammy shrugged her shoulders. ‘If you wanna bury your head in the sand then that’s your prerogative. Wayne’s your fiancé, not mine, and if you think being pals with his murderer is the right thing to do, then carry on doing what you’re doing, Steph.’

  Stephanie was furious. How dare Tammy accuse her of betraying the man she loved and was about to marry. On the point of tearing into her best friend, Stephanie took a deep breath and somehow managed to restrain herself. ‘Look Tam, I don’t wanna fall out with you, so can we just please talk about something else? I haven’t told you about Angie yet, have I?’

  Tammy sighed. ‘I’m sorry, mate. It’s just that I’m going away, and I hate to think of Barry sniffing around you when I’m not there to protect you any more. You do know I only warn you of these things because I care so much about you, don’t ya?’

  Stephanie nodded. Part of her wanted to remind Tammy that she hadn’t been there protecting her recently while she still lived in England, but she decided to say nothing. ‘I know you care. I love you and you love me. Now, let’s change the subject.’

  Tammy grinned. ‘Tell me about Angie, then.’

  When Stephanie began telling the story of Angela moving to Greece, Tammy gesticulated to the waiter to bring over another bottle of wine. ‘What a terrible fucking mother that sister of yours is. People like her should have their fannies sewn up,’ she said, giggling.

  Relieved that Tammy had now stopped going on about Barry, Steph began to knock the wine back as quickly as her friend was. ‘So are you and Tricky Dicky gonna have kids? Have you spoken about it yet?’ she asked.

  ‘Yeah, I’d like one straight away, but Richard wants us to wait a bit. I think he want us to settle in Spain properly first and be together for a bit longer before we take the plunge of including children in our lives.’

  ‘You never know, he might even propose soon,’ Steph replied. Even though her own wedding had been so cruelly snatched away from her, she would still be happy for her friend if she was to get engaged to Richard.

  ‘So, whereabouts in Greece is Angie going to work?’ Tammy asked, changing the subject.

  ‘My mum don’t know, Ange never told her. I know we’re laughing about it, Tam, but it ain’t funny really. Say something bad was to happen to Aidan while she was away. I mean, he could fall ill or have a bad accident, and we wouldn’t even be able to contact Angie and tell her. I know Ange is a crappy person and an awful mother, but my mum did hear her tell Aidan she loves him. He adores her, that little boy, he’s such a little sweetie, so I really hope for his sake that she rings up and writes to him from time to time.’

  ‘Don’t you think it’s a bit strange that she’s all of a sudden darting off to a foreign country without giving an address?’ Tammy asked.

  ‘Not really. Angie has always been a selfish bitch, hasn’t she?’

  ‘Look, please don’t have a go at me for saying this, but you don’t think she’s running away to be with Wayne or something, do you? I mean, the police did say that she left the club that night the same time as him, didn’t they?’

  Stephanie nearly choked on her drink, and for the second time that evening was absolutely livid at her friend’s stupid comments. Did Tammy think that Wayne didn’t love her or something? Did she honestly think that he would opt out of their forthcoming marriage and abandon his own two children to run off with her airhead of a sister? ‘I can’t believe you just said that. What sort of fucking mate are you, eh Tam?’

  ‘What do you mean? I’m sorry if I’ve upset you, but Wayne and Ange did have a thing going years ago, didn’t they? She lost her virginity to him, didn’t she? Or have I got the wrong bloke?’ Tammy asked sarcastically.

  Stephanie looked at her pal in total disbelief. She knew Tammy was drunk, but even so, that was no excuse for what she had just said. Steph stood up, rooted through her handbag and threw thirty quid on the table.

  ‘What’s that for? What you doing?’ Tammy asked.

  ‘That’s to pay for my meal and drinks. I’m going home.’

  Tammy grabbed Steph by the arm. ‘Please don’t go. At least let’s finish our drinks first.’

  Aware that people were staring at them, Stephanie moved her face closer to Tammy’s. ‘Let go of me,’ she hissed.

  Tammy let go, and as Stephanie stormed out of the restaurant she was vaguely aware of two things. One was Tammy sobbing, and the other was her yelling out, ‘I’m sorry.’ Ignoring both, Steph carried on walking.

  Barry pulled up in the car park at the Harrow pub in Hornchurch. He had got sick of living in a hotel and driving a hired car, so had recently taken out a three-month lease on a flat in Emerson Park, and bought himself a cheap motor. He couldn’t wait to get back to Spain now, and as soon as his mission was complete, he would be off like a shot. Picturing his stunning girlfriend, Barry dialled her number. ‘Hello sweetheart. How are you today?’

  Stephanie let herself indoors, collapsed on the sofa and sobbed. Could her life get any worse at the moment? Somehow, she didn’t think so. Desperately needing someone to talk to, Steph debated whether to ring her mother, but quickly decided against it. Her mum had enough on her plate looking after Aidan and it wasn’t fair to keep worrying her. Realizing that she now only had one true friend in the world who would understand the way she felt, Steph picked up the phone and rang him.

  ‘Can you come round, Barry?’ she wept.

  ‘What’s up? Is it Jacko? Have they found him?’

  ‘No. I’ve fallen out with Tammy and I really feel like getting drunk and having a good old chinwag. You ain’t gotta go home. You can stop here the night in the spare room. Please say you will, Bal.’

  Barry smirked. ‘I’m on me way.’

  Over at Dagenham East Police Station, Marlene and Marge were in opposite cells to one another. When the police had been called to the restaurant, both women had tried to do a runner. Marge was so fat, though, she’d barely been able to waddle, let alone run, and Marlene hadn’t wanted her pal to take all the blame for something that was her fault.

  ‘You all right, Patsy?’ Marge shouted out. She and Marlene still hadn’t given the police their real names. Because they were inebriated, they had thought it quite hilarious to give the police the names of the characters out of their favourite TV programme, Absolutely Fabulous. Marlene had told the Old Bill that she was Patsy, while Marge had called herself Eddy. The police hadn’t got the joke and had thought Marlene and Marge were actually giving their real identities. In the end, short-staffed and unable to trace any address for the two women, officers slung Marge and Marlene into the cells to sober up. />
  ‘Yep, I’m fine, Eddy. Don’t fancy spending all night in here though, do you?’ Marlene replied.

  ‘Why don’t you ask if you can ring your Barry, mate? They offered us a phone call, didn’t they? He can send a solicitor down ’ere for us, so we can go home. I’m dying for a crap and I can’t shit in ’ere, can I?’ Marge shouted out.

  At the mention of her son, Marlene’s face twisted with anger. She was disgusted that he’d run off tonight and allowed her and Marge to be arrested. ‘I ain’t asking that little bastard for any help tonight, but I tell you what I am gonna do for us, mate.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’m gonna blackmail him so we can go on a nice holiday. I’m gonna tell him if he don’t give me five grand, I’m gonna tell the Spanish authorities what he did to Jake the Snake.’

  ‘You can’t do that, mate. Your Barry ain’t a bad lad. I’m sure you’ve got it all wrong,’ Marge replied, horrified.

  ‘I can do what I fucking well like. But he ain’t bad, you got that bit right – my Barry’s pure evil. The boy’s a mass murderer.’

  ‘Don’t be so bleedin’ stupid,’ Marge said.

  ‘And who’s this mass murderer we’re talking about?’ a young PC asked cockily as he approached Marlene’s cell.

  Marlene snarled at the fresh-faced PC. ‘Mind your own fucking business, you spotty-faced little cunt.’

  Over in Chigwell, Stephanie had just greeted Barry with open arms.

  ‘It’s OK, babe. You let it all out. How you’ve been so brave recently I’ll never know,’ Barry said, hugging Stephanie and stroking her hair. Even though Steph had relied on him over the past month or so, she had never been touchy-feely with him up until now, and he guessed he was finally winning her over, just like he’d hoped he would. ‘You said you wanted to get drunk, so look what I bought us,’ Barry said, gesturing to the two big carrier bags he’d put down by the door.

 

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