by Jacqui Rose
Ma gestured to her. ‘Give it me. I could do with a cold drink.’
‘What about your tea?’
‘I don’t want it.’
Bree stared at Ma, knowing that the amount she’d put in the drink for Ryan had been so much less than she’d put in the tea, and with Ma’s obese weight it meant the sedative effects of the morphine would probably only knock her out for about three to four hours, nowhere near long enough for what she needed to do.
Trying not to panic, Bree began to stutter her words.
‘But … but … but your tea, I made it nicely. Why don’t you have that instead? It’s a cold morning, a hot drink is always nice.’
‘Shut up, Bree! What’s wrong with you? Do I look like I don’t know what I fucking want? Now just give me that bleedin’ squash before I die of thirst.’
Bree’s hand shook, there was a possibility that Ma would be able to taste a slight residue in the squash or even smell it, although she hoped the strong scent of strawberry would hide the smell.
‘I said, give it me!’
Deciding too late it was probably best to drop the glass on the floor, Ma grabbed it out of Bree’s hand. She put it to her lips and began to drink it. Then stopped and screwed up her face. ‘That’s horrible. Taste it.’
Bree shook her head. ‘No, it’s okay. If it’s not nice I won’t bother.’
Ma wiggled forward, her sweaty thighs rubbing on the plastic sofa cover making a loud, noisy squeak.
‘I’ve already told you, just because Johnny ain’t here, don’t meant that you can have an attitude. You understand, Little Miss Muffet?’
Bree gave a tiny nod.
‘So, when I tell you to do something, you do it. Now go on, taste it.’
Pausing, panicking, Bree looked at Ma before putting the glass to her lips, letting only the smallest of drops into her mouth. ‘I can see what you’re saying, Ma. It ain’t nice, I’ll make you another one.’
Ma’s eyes stared at her coldly. ‘You never tasted it properly.’
‘I did! It’s not nice.’
‘Drink some more.’
‘What? No, I mean, I can see what you’re saying Ma, I agree with you. I must’ve put too much squash in. The strawberry taste can be too much if you do that.’
‘And you think it’s alright just to waste stuff, do you? I don’t see you paying your way around here, but you think it’s still alright to waste other people’s money just because something’s not nice.’
Wanting to run, wanting to flee, Bree’s legs trembled, threatening to give way. ‘No of course not, I just don’t like it that’s all. I don’t want it. I’m sorry, I haven’t been feeling so great.’
‘You made it, so you drink it. Then next time you’ll know to make it properly, won’t you?’
‘No … I …’
Ma raised her voice. ‘Drink it! Do as your told. Don’t think you can waste my money.’
It was no good now to spill the contents of the glass on the floor, Ma would know she’d done it on purpose and it would only result in her being locked in her room and probably worse and that wouldn’t help anyone, certainly not Alfie. So tightly, her voice filled with fear, Bree nodded. ‘Okay … okay.’
She drank a mouthful. Then another. Then stopped.
‘All of it!’
Without saying another word Bree finished off the glass, her thoughts racing as she did so.
Ma watched her, chuckling, then reached for the mug of tea, slurping it down in loud, large gulps. She burped, waving the empty mug at Bree. ‘Take this, and next time don’t put so much sugar in. Go on then, piss off.’
Bree turned, walking out quickly, heading for Ma’s front door. She closed it quietly then began to run.
63
Bree leant over the toilet bowl, sticking her fingers down her throat, trying to vomit out the squash, but her stomach was empty so there was no food to bring up, making it difficult for her to retch the liquid. And with no breakfast inside her, Bree knew the morphine would start absorbing into her bloodstream straight away.
She was desperate, and the back of her throat was sore as her nails scraped at it, her body refusing to expel the drink. She wanted to scream, she wanted to cry, but it wasn’t going to help and she needed to act fast before the drug began to kick in.
The small amount of the juice she’d been able to bring up wouldn’t make a difference. The only chance, the only hope she had was her body over the years had become more tolerant of the morphine, making the dose she’d just drunk less effective.
Quickly she ran to the kitchen making another drink for Ryan, but this time she was going to hide it from Ma.
Emptying the bottle of distilled water she used for ironing, Bree did a quick swap for the medication before running back across to Ma’s mobile home.
‘Only me, Ma! Just going to get on with the ironing.’
Bree moved quietly down the hallway, going past the kitchen and straight into Ryan’s room. He was asleep, and the room was warm and silent, save the ticking of the cuckoo clock he loved.
She paused momentarily, smiling at how peaceful he looked, then moving quickly, she ran across to his bed. ‘Ryan, Ryan, wake up, it’s me. Bree.’
Ryan’s eyes began to flutter before they opened wide. He stared at her and then she smiled.
‘I need you to drink this, Ryan. Sit up.’
She helped him up as he looked at the bottle before he opened his mouth wide with Bree quickly putting it to his lips. As he drank it down she kissed him gently on his head.
‘Now go back to sleep.’
Having made sure Ryan was settled, Bree quietly left the room. She passed the lounge, then paused, walking back a few paces.
‘Ma?’
Ma Dwyer lay on the settee, her mouth gaped open as she snored loudly. Creeping in, Bree spoke again. ‘Ma?’
There was no response and cautiously she reached out to shake her. ‘Ma?’
Nothing. The morphine had worked.
Immediately, Bree turned and ran back across to her mobile home, charging into the kitchen where Johnny kept his car keys. Grabbing them, she spun round, dashing out, but suddenly her legs buckled as a wave of dizziness struck her. No, no, no. It couldn’t be happening. She thought she might have longer. She had to get to the car, she had to get to Alfie. Whatever she did, somehow she had to be able to contact him. She had to tell herself she’d be fine. She’d be fine if she just got to the car, fine once the cold air hit her.
Using the walls to steady herself as the morphine overwhelmed her, Bree tried to fight the feeling, staggering to the car, fumbling with the key before getting in. She looked up at the morning moon, opened the window and began to drive.
The oncoming car headlights on the A120 strobed across Bree’s face as she struggled and fought to keep her eyes open. Although it was early morning it was still dark, and the moon was still out. Bree tried to focus on keeping the car straight but the white central lines slipping by hypnotically only made her drowsiness worse.
Alfie had told her he was planning to get there early and she hoped that she hadn’t missed him. She needed to warn him, no matter what, but her hands shook, and her palms sweated. The morphine was making her limbs feel heavy, striking hard into her muscles making it difficult for her to move her legs.
She felt tired. So tired. No. No, she couldn’t focus on that but keeping awake was painful, the burn behind her eyes, the cramp in her back as her body fought against her mind. She couldn’t, she wouldn’t think about sleep. On closing her eyes, on—
A screeching horn forced Bree’s eyes wide open as she swerved across the road, narrowly missing an oncoming car. Concentrate. She had to concentrate. Slow down, slow down.
Leaning out of the driver’s window she drove along, letting the rushing wind hit her face. The sound of the passing cars filled her ears with whining noise, distorted in the fog of her mind.
Her body began to tremble. So cold. She felt so cold.
‘Come
on, come on!’ She shouted out loud, moving her hand to switch the radio on, biting down on her lips harder and harder, trying to do anything to keep herself awake.
Gripping the steering wheel, Bree’s head jolted as it nodded forward. She blinked quickly, trying to shake away the drowsiness, trying to make out whether in front of her there were two lorries or one as double vision obscured her senses.
The road stretched out ahead, miles upon miles, and the Sat Nav said she still had twenty more to go.
Feeling sick, Bree indicated to pull over in the lay-by.
Stopping the car, she breathed out a huge sigh of relief, grateful for the break. She stared at her phone, trying to make out the right number. Then pressing redial she waited for it to ring. She was so tired. Maybe if she just rested her head, just for a moment. No, no, she couldn’t. Alfie. She had to think of Alfie. But if she just closed her eyes, while the phone rang, just rested them, maybe that would be alright. Just for a moment …
‘Hello? Hello? Bree, is that you? Hello … Hello? Anybody there?’
64
‘Hello? Bree? Bree? Hello, I can’t hear you …’ Alfie pressed the phone against his ear, puzzled, before clicking it off as he sat, heater on, lighting a cigarette in his blacked-out Range Rover by the Peldon Rose pub.
When he’d turned on his phone in the early hours of the morning, hoping to contact Sandra, there’d been several missed calls from Bree. At first he’d been worried, wondering if something was wrong, though the more he thought about it the less convinced of that he was. He couldn’t imagine that Bree would’ve phoned over twenty times without leaving a voicemail if anything had happened. No. Without a doubt her phone had been playing up, just as it was now; she clearly couldn’t hear him, though he couldn’t help smiling that she’d bothered to call at all.
He’d catch up with her later but for now he had to push thoughts of her to one side and concentrate. Keep his mind on the next few hours, make sure he stayed alert. There was simply too much to lose. He’d come down early – hours early – making sure there were no hitches along the way. Nothing that would stop their big chance from happening. The chance to get themselves out of the shit Franny had put them in. Two million quid’s worth of chance.
The sudden banging on the window made Alfie jump. It was Frankie and Vaughn.
Pushing the electric window button, Alfie grinned, looking at Frankie’s red nose.
‘Alright, guys? Didn’t expect to see you here yet.’
Frankie stuffed his hands in his pockets. ‘Stop gassing and let me in. It’s fuckin’ freezing. I forgot how bleedin’ cold it is down here.’
Alfie shook his head looking at Frankie’s fading tan. ‘Mate, problem with you is that you’ve got too accustomed to the Costa, all that sunshine has made you a pussy, son.’
Not bothering to reply, Frankie winked, jumping into the back of the car with Vaughn, who leaned forward, helping himself to Alfie’s cigarettes.
Inhaling deeply, he said, ‘Alf, I’m taking it that you’ve got the rocks on you?’
‘What do you take me for? Pull the carpet up on the floor next to your feet.’
Vaughn did so, revealing the hidden footwell that contained a small blue bag. Grabbing it, he passed his cigarette to Frankie before carefully opening the bag on his knees. A large grin hit his face and he whistled. ‘They look better than I remember.’
Alfie glanced at him. ‘Maybe that’s because they’re not covered in horseshit this time. But I reckon it’ll be smiles all round, don’t you? I think when Perry sees them in their final glory, he’ll be blowing the final whistle. It’ll be sweet as. Cushty.’
Vaughn smiled, feeling more relaxed than the last time he’d seen Alfie. ‘You’re not wrong there, thought this day might never come. Though we’ve still got a few hours to burn before the swap, what do you want to do? Hang out here or go across to the island?’
‘Well as long as I don’t freeze me bollocks off I don’t mind,’ Frankie said. ‘The problem with going across to Mersea now though, is that it’s so small, someone might think it’s suss seeing three geezers sitting about in a big car.’
Alfie cranked up the heat. ‘Maybe you should’ve brought your binoculars then, you could pass as a birdwatcher.’
Vaughn grinned. ‘That’s exactly what his missus has been worried about all these years. Ain’t that right, Frank?’
Just as Alfie was going to add to the banter, his phone began to vibrate before ringing out loudly. He glanced at his mobile and then at the others, knowing full well who it was, not wanting to talk in front of them.
Sending the call through to voicemail, Alfie shrugged, only for the phone to begin to ring again. And again, he locked it off.
Vaughn, seeing Alfie looking slightly awkward, tilted his head, giving a mystified smile.
‘Who’s that then? Seems like they’re desperate to speak to you.’
Alfie, not appreciating the questioning, changed his whole demeanour. ‘What? Suddenly you’re my keeper now?’
‘No, far from it, but where I was slightly interested before to know who it was, now I’m really interested because only a man who has something to hide reacts like that.’
Frankie, wanting to diffuse the tension between the men, tried appealing to them. ‘Hey guys, this ain’t the time. We’re this far away from being quids in, so let’s not be stupid and do anything to fuck it up, okay?’
Alfie growled. ‘Shut up, Frankie. The geezer gets on my wick. Always trying to wind me up and get a reaction.’
Vaughn shook his head. His tone condescending. ‘I think the only person winding themselves up is you, wouldn’t you say. I only asked a simple question, you’re the one who’s got their finger stuck up their arse all of a sudden.’
Alfie’s phone rang again, and all the men stared at it. Vaughn pointed at the mobile. ‘Go on then Alf, pick it up.’
‘It’s fine, thanks.’
‘You want me to then?’
Before Alfie had a chance to stop him, Vaughn quickly picked up the phone. ‘Hello?’
The voice on the other end was slurred. ‘Alf, Alf, you got to listen to me … Listen to me … I’m nearly there. I’m nearly at Mersea. Wait for me … I … Johnny, Johnny … he knows about the diamonds.’
Then the phone went dead.
Vaughn stared at the phone, then he dropped it as if it were on fire, staring at Alfie as he tried to comprehend what he’d just heard. He roared, yelling at him, the sound of his voice loud and aggressive in the confined space of the car.
‘What the fuck are you playing at? Are you trying to turn us over? Who are you working with? Who?’
Vaughn reached into his pocket, pulling out a gun and pointing it at Alfie as Frankie looked on in disbelief.
‘I’m speaking to you, Alf! You better start talking cos I won’t be responsible for my actions. Let me tell you something son, I’ll be happy to pull this trigger and you know I will.’
Alfie’s eyes darted to Frankie then back to the barrel of the gun. He stared at Vaughn, seeing his eyes wild and hard, not knowing, not getting what had happened, what he was supposed to say.
He spoke quietly, in a whisper, the gun inches away. ‘Vaughn, slow down. You got to slow down.’
‘I don’t have to do anything. If it ain’t escaped your notice pal, I’m the one holding the gun, so it’s you who has to hurry up and tell us what’s going on.’
‘I don’t know.’
Vaughn bellowed, red-faced. ‘Don’t fuckin’ tell me you don’t know. I just heard her, I heard what she said on the phone.’
‘Bree. I know, that was Bree.’
The name rang a bell in Vaughn’s mind. ‘Bree? That bird who came to the house?’
‘Yeah, that’s the one.’
‘And what? You thought you and her would run away? Mug us all off?’
Confused, not understanding his point, Alfie said, ‘How would that be mugging you off? I can do what I like, but for your info, I wasn’t plann
ing to run away.’
Vaughn, pulling back the trigger which sounded round the car, jammed the gun onto Alfie’s forehead, pressing it hard against his skin. ‘I must say you have some front. Is it because you don’t think I’ll do it? Well, is it? Is it!’
Alfie put his hands up, staring at Vaughn directly. ‘Mate, this is messed up. So, me and Bree are, I don’t know what you’d call us.’
‘Bonnie and fucking Clyde that’s what … Why, Alf? Tell me, why? Did greed get the better of you? Decided you didn’t want to take over Reginald’s business and you’d do a runner with her instead? What’s she getting out of it, or ain’t she getting anything out of it apart from sucking your dick? Your cock must taste like candy.’
‘You’re bang out of order, and I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. And you know I want Reggie’s bookies as much as you do, why do you think I’m doing this, putting me arse out there to sell the diamonds?’
Vaughn pushed the gun even harder onto Alfie’s forehead. He laughed scornfully. ‘Even to the very end, you’re larging it. Even with only a few centimetres of metal between you and a bullet in your head, you still think you can play the big man. The mighty Alfie Jennings strikes again, hey?’
‘Vaughn, look …’
‘Don’t! I don’t want to hear it. You know what the joke is Alf, I knew that something was wrong. I knew it. Like all those times before when you’ve fucked us over, each time I knew that you were up to something, but each time I never followed me gut. I believed what you said. I wanted to believe you, our friendship and our businesses together mattered to me, this chance we’ve got with the Reynolds mattered. That was our future. All of ours.’
‘Nothing’s changed.’
‘Oh, but it has. The truth’s come out. Something you wouldn’t know about. Fuck me, I even read them poxy magazines of Lola’s on how to communicate successfully. Shame though, cos they’re missing a trick, ain’t they? Because they should’ve had an article on how to give a long, slow, painful death to the cunt who fucked you over.’
Frankie, having said nothing so far, touched Vaughn’s arm. He spoke cautiously, knowing what he was seeing was the Vaughn Sadler of old. ‘Look, just tell me what’s going on? Cos I’m lost, Vaughnie.’
