by Shaun Baines
Smally took a mouthful of his bitter and looked at Ed over the rim of his glass. “From what I hear, you’re running out of friends fast. ’Course, this isn’t my patch, pal. I’ve only heard rumours.”
“Well, this is my patch, mate so why don’t you stop acting cute and tell me what you know?”
Pulling up a nearby stool, Smally squeezed between the wooden arms. His bulbous stomach rested over his wide thighs. “We heard you’re bringing in your snitches, trying to find this Fairbanks guy, but no-one knows anything about him.”
“It’s only a matter of time.”
“We also heard you even reached out to the Maguires and Curly’s crew. I thought you had an ongoing turf war with those guys.”
The Maguires were a family firm like the Daytons, operating out of the West End. The rumour was they got their first big break when Nanna Maguire performed abortions during the war for unwed mothers. Curly’s Crew were a newer outfit, born out of the rave scene in the Nineties when everyone was off their heads on ecstasy. The three gangs weren’t at war. They had an uneasy alliance. Ed approached them, looking for answers and was assured they weren’t behind the attacks. He was just as sure that if Fairbanks succeeded, the Maguires and Curly’s Crew would sink their teeth into his twitching corpse like the tracksuit wearing hyenas they were.
He took a gulp of Feuilatte. “I haven’t spoken to them. It’s not that big of a deal.”
Smally finished his bitter and gestured with his empty pint glass. “Better go get another one.”
As he stood from the stool, it came with him, pinched around his wide waist. He looked for assistance, but Ed merely grinned while Smally waved his fat arse left and right before finally plucking himself free.
Smally hid an embarrassed face by wiping his sweaty brow with the sleeve of his shirt. His piggy eyes narrowed when he saw Ed’s amusement. “You know who it could be?” he said. “Those Eastern Europeans. They bring in smack through Liverpool. They use cats and dogs because it’s easier to get them passports. Can you believe that? Somewhere in France, a vet fills their stomachs with drugs. They sail through Customs and go to a farm in Herefordshire. Only there’s no vet waiting for them there. Just a fish knife and a bonfire to get rid of the remains.”
“Sounds to me like you’ve heard a lot.” Ed’s iPhone chirruped, alerting him to a text message. “I have to take this. Get a drink and don’t worry. We’ll be eating soon.”
He watched Smally waddle to the bar, catching a backward glance of undisguised malice, before he checked his phone.
It read: ‘Mr Brown in stable condition. Still unconscious. Brain damage likely.’
Ed signalled a waiter to bring him another glass of champagne. He’d slap Dr Hilltop the next time he saw him. He was being well paid to keep Ed informed of Scalper’s condition. He might have employed a little bedside manner. Brain damage likely? Was that anyway to tell someone one of their oldest friends was a vegetable?
Whatever Scalper needed, he’d get. Private nursing home. Round-the-clock care. Scalper’s Glitterball colleagues would visit regularly. Ed wouldn’t be able to make it himself, but maybe he’d pay the nurses to wear extra tight uniforms to make up for his absence. It was the least he could do. Scalper was practically family.
And that was what tonight was all about. A family celebration that included his most trusted of friends. Daniel was returning home, uniting a fractured family. Ed allowed himself a smile and he relaxed.
Bronson ushered in guests by the entrance. He’d told him to take the night off, but the guy never stopped. It wouldn’t have been so bad, but Bronson was the last person Ed wanted to greet the guests. Squat and toad-like, he was more likely to scare people away than be any kind of a welcome. The facial tick didn’t help either.
He shook off his irritation, letting his eyes wander around a room that was filling up nicely. Mr and Mrs Maguire lingered in front of a black and white mural depicting ship workers dismantling a tanker of some sort. Neither held a drink in their hands. A local MP weaved drunkenly through the crowd, accidently bumping into a woman called Stacey Flowers, Newcastle’s biggest slum landlord. They were here for him. Doing what they were told, being where they should be.
His glass almost slipped from his fingers when he saw Mosely by the bar. The dickhead should have been collecting money at the Blue Tiger pub. While it was a job anyone could have handled, Ed had ordered Mosely to do it. After the debacle at the Glitterball, Ed didn’t know how long he could hold his temper in Mosely’s company.
The drug dealer ordered a Jack Daniels and Coke at the bar and downed it in a single gulp. At least he was smart enough to be scared, thought Ed. Mosely smoothed down his dark suit and ran a hand through his hair. Searching the gathering crowd, he was startled to find Ed watching him.
Mosely approached, like a man walking to the gallows. He stopped at a distance. Ed let him wait and then finally beckoned him closer. Alcohol fumes reached him before Mosley did. Clearly he’d had more than one drink tonight.
Ed placed a hand on his chest and moved him back a step. “Why aren’t you at the Blue Tiger?”
“It’s done. I’ve been. All taken care of.”
Scott watched them from afar. Ed looked in his direction and Scott stood from his table, circling slowly toward them.
“It’s a great party, boss. When’s Daniel arriving?” Mosely asked.
“Should be here soon.”
“How long has he been gone? Nine months? Long time to be gone. Where did you find him?”
As Ed finished his drink, a waiter appeared at his side with another tray. There was champagne, single malts and wine from his own cellar. He should have been feeling drunk. He pulled at his tie and reached for another glass of champagne. “Would you like a drink, Mosely?”
Mosely waved away the offer, retrieving a strip of pink tablets from inside his jacket. He popped one in his hand and swallowed it dry. “Like I said, great party and I wanted to say how sorry I was about Scalper. He was a good man and we worked together a lot. Have you heard anything from the hospital?”
“You’re talking about him like he’s already dead.”
Mosely continued, as if he hadn’t heard Ed speak.
“I mean, it’s a dangerous job, but no-one could have seen it coming. That Fairbanks kid cut him open like a fish.”
Ed grabbed him by the throat. Before he knew it, Mosely was propelled through a set of doors. He struggled to keep his feet as he was marched backwards down a corridor. More doors clattered open and Ed threw him to the floor of the men’s toilets. He kicked him in the face, briefly regretting it when he noticed blood on his six hundred pound Santoni brogues.
Scott locked the door with a clunk.
The walls were decorated in polished black stone flecked with silver. Black and white diamond tiling finished the floor and by the ceramic washbasins were vases of fresh flowers. Ed had never tortured someone in a nicer room.
“You really fucked up, Mose,” he said. “I came up with Scalper. He was one of mine. Where were you? You must have seen what they did to him? Why didn’t you call the boys?”
“I was long gone when it happened. I wasn’t even there, I swear it. I wouldn’t have wished that on my worst enemy.”
Scott kicked Mosely in the mouth. His head snapped backward and he spat bloody saliva on the floor. Ed saw a broken tooth in the pool of red liquid.
Mosely coughed, wiping his chin clean. “I’ve made you hundreds of thousands of pounds over the years. Why are you acting like I’m the one to blame? So what if Scalper got the shit kicked out of him? That’s his job, isn’t it?”
Ed growled at his son. “Give him a Japanese flag.”
Scott flipped Mosely onto his stomach before he had a chance to react.
“No, Ed, please. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.”
Scott pressed his knee into the base of Mosely’s spine, pinning him to the ground while Ed restrained his wrists. Reaching under Mosely’s groin, Scott
undid his trousers and yanked them down to his knees. He splayed open his arse cheeks.
Crying out, Mosely’s legs slapped uselessly against the tiled floor. “Please don’t do this. I’m sorry.”
Ed handed Scott a lighter. It was a limited edition Zippo; a birthday present from his first wife. Sapphires in the shape of a heart decorated the casing. It was tacky, but it reminded Ed of better times.
He nodded to his son. “This is how we get rid of arseholes, Mosely. We burn them shut,” Ed said.
Mosely screamed at the sound of the lighter being struck. His cheeks were spread wider. He wriggled, twisting left and right, but Scott’s large hand had him secured.
The flame was lowered.
“Don’t. Don’t…” he shouted.
Scott looked to his father for the final confirmation. When he shook his head, the lighter was snapped shut. Mosely was released and he crawled naked to the farthest corner, his designer trousers around his ankles. He sobbed against the wall while Scott washed his hands.
Ed’s shadow fell across Mosely and he shrank backwards.
“The only reason you’re alive is because you make us so much money, but I’ll be speaking to Scalper when he wakes up. If I find you had anything to do with it, Scott will come looking for you and I won’t be there to stop him. Do you understand?”
Mosely nodded, wiping snot from his face with the back of his hand.
“Good,” Ed said, as Scott unlocked the toilet door. “Enjoy the party.”
Chapter Six
Daniel had driven his van from Scotland, resisting Spencer’s advice to take the train for comfort. While it was true that his large frame was unsuited to long periods behind a wheel, Spencer was not to be trusted. If he wanted Daniel to take the train, it wasn’t out of concern for his well-being.
Traffic was light and he arrived in Newcastle within two and a half hours. He parked in a side street and walked to café called Mag’s Pies and Peas. It had been there since his childhood and he recalled the smell of pastry with fondness. He was desperate to see his daughter, but Spencer had told him of the home-coming party at The Amen Corner and he needed to know how cordial his invite was.
The café was glass fronted and opposite Newcastle’s Central train station. He pretended to read the menu on the wall while watching the station entrance. It was night time and the streets were busy. Party goers staggered along the pavement and when the pavement became blocked, they staggered out into the road, heedless of traffic. Taxis swerved to avoid them, honking their horns. Buses belched exhaust fumes as they dropped off and picked up. It was movement and noise, something he was no longer accustomed to.
The place was swamped by vehicles and pedestrians, but it was two motionless men, watching the crowds spill out of the station that caught Daniel’s attention. They wore dark coats, their faces hidden behind scarves. Spencer was supposed to deliver him into the hands of these men. Whether he attended the party or not, his father wanted to see him soon.
Leaving the restaurant, he slipped in behind a shrieking hen party dressed as superheroes. He was too tall to remain circumspect for long and he flagged down a taxi.
“The Queen Anne, please.”
The driver pulled sharply out into the road, narrowly avoiding a man dressed in a Newcastle United top.
The soft drum of the tyres on tarmac reminded Daniel of the day he abandoned his daughter. It was raining and she wore her pink anorak with yellow flowers. Daniel had forgotten to bring her hat. Her long, dark hair was soaked and plastered down her face.
He’d told his sister-in-law Lily he needed a babysitter. She often looked after Eisha when he was busy and didn’t get suspicious. As he stood on her doorstep saying goodbye, Eisha smoothed her wet hair away from her face.
“When will you be back?” she asked.
“Soon.”
“Tonight?”
“I’m not sure, honey.”
“Tomorrow then?”
He remembered the sense of choking loss. It was like a hand around his throat. “Why are you asking all these questions? You always stay with Aunt Lily and Uncle Scott. What’s the problem?”
Eisha made to grab him and he pushed her away. There were tears in her eyes, but he pretended it was rain. “I’ll be back soon. Okay?”
He turned around and walked down the driveway, picking up his pace when he heard his daughter’s desperate pleas. He didn’t look back. He plunged on through the rain until out of sight, he ran to his car and climbed inside. His body trembled and he waited for the nausea to pass. Steam obscured his view through the windows. He was cocooned and the world he knew was gone.
He’d either done the best thing for his daughter or the worst, but there was no going back. Eisha was better off without him.
Starting the engine, he wiped the windows clear to check his blind spots and saw Eisha waiting on the pavement. She tried to get in, but the handle was too cumbersome for her small hands. When her efforts proved futile, she banged on the door, her eyes wide and despairing.
She shouted for him, saying something Daniel couldn’t hear over the sound of the rain and his idling engine. He almost opened the door then, almost pulled her into the car and drove far away together, but he knew he couldn’t and he knew he wouldn’t be able to stand to hear her final words.
She placed her small hand on the window, but Daniel left, the sound of the drumming tarmac filling the car.
“Are you alright, mate?” the cab driver asked over his shoulder.
Daniel hadn’t realised he’d been crying. He wiped his tears away with the heel of a hand and watched the lights of his city stream by in ribbons.
When they reached Queen Anne’s, a pallid looking receptionist gave him directions to the Children’s Ward. He had never been there before and was surprised by how quiet it was. It was long and narrow with beds down the left and right of the room. Some of them were behind plastic curtains. Those he could see had frail children lying in them staring up at the ceiling. Some read tattered comics, others dozed, but no-one spoke, not even the nurses, who hovered in corners and whispered between themselves.
Eisha was in a room of her own at the farthest end of the ward and Daniel was thankful for that at least. He passed a waiting area with hand drawn copies of Disney characters sellotaped to the wall and children’s wooden chairs painted in primary colours. He stared straight ahead, trying not to notice the abandoned toys littering the floor.
His daughter’s room was closed, but he peered through a circular window in the door. He saw a heart monitor and some sort of ventilation machine, its bellows forcing air in and out of her lungs. There was a wall mounted defibrillator and a red plastic panic button. A single bed with a duvet covered in cartoon characters he didn’t recognise was pushed against the wall, but he couldn’t find Eisha. She was in there somewhere, hidden under the machinery.
He gripped the door handle, feeling the coolness of the metal in his hand. He closed his eyes and counted up to five. When he got to four, he opened them again to see a young WPC at his side. She slapped his hand away from the door.
“Excuse me, sir, it’s family only.” She was average height with a heart shaped face and stern blue eyes. Taking a deep breath, he narrowed in on the details. Protruding jugular. Rapid heart rate. Bleached skin tone. She was nervous. Straight posture. Shoulders back. Locked stance. Nervous, but in control, he thought. On her duty belt, he saw handcuffs, pepper spray, torch and baton in the blink of an eye. All present and correct, but no radio. Why wouldn’t she want a radio for back-up?
“Come on, Godzilla, shake a leg before I have to shake it for you,” she said, her voice steady.
He stared not at her, but through her. He was numb. There was something wrong, but he was too tired to work it out. His body had left Scotland, but his head was somewhere else. It’d been a long journey and all he wanted was to see his daughter.
Exasperated, the WPC snapped the handcuffs off her belt. “Sir, I need you to come with me.”
>
She placed a gentle, but certain hand on his chest. He grabbed it and hauled her skywards. Her feet left the ground. Her legs kicked against his. She reached for her spray, but Daniel grabbed her other hand and twisted it behind her back. They almost looked to be dancing.
“Are you a real police officer?” he asked.
“I didn’t rent this uniform for the night, big boy. Let me go before you land yourself in proper trouble.”
He shook her like a rag doll and brought his snarling face so close to hers their foreheads touched. “How much did he pay you?”
“I was supposed to lock you in the car, okay? That’s all. Wait for someone to collect you.”
He let go of his grasp and the officer dropped to the ground. She rubbed her tender wrists and looked at him accusingly.
“They told me you were a handful,” she said, “but I didn’t expect Frankenstein.”
Daniel took her identity card and waved it in front of her face. “I know who you are. You tell anyone I’m here, you’ll be back in this hospital as a patient.”
The threat was unsubtle and it worked. The officer walked away, her head down. “Sorry,” she said, as she knocked elbows with a young woman coming in the other direction.
“It’s not me you should be apologising to.” If the WPC heard her, she didn’t show it and marched on toward the exit.
The young woman stopped in front of Daniel, her lips full and smiling. She was tall with weight around her hips and thighs. Her shoulder length chestnut hair gleamed under the hospital lights and her eyes were olive green.
When Daniel remembered he hadn’t seen Lily in nine months, he realised it was far too long. She hugged him, pressing her face to his chest as he willed his heartrate to slow down.
“What was that all about?” she asked, pulling away, leaving him with the scent of her hair.
“My Dad.”
“Thought so. Scott told me about your party. I take it you’re not going?”
