by Emmy Ellis
He sighed, annoyed at the sting of tears. He rarely let himself think of what should be, leaning more towards what was and making the best of it, but he had the occasional blip, like with the orchids. Mum behaving marginally nicer towards him and Trev was better than a slap in the face, the kind Rebecca and Will had received on the daily, not to mention the wallops on their arses. Being in the peculiar, eggshell-laden belt of Mum’s orbit, where Len and Trev were a step above those other two, wasn’t something to be sniffed at. Any level of caring was preferable to none, even if she couldn’t show it the right way.
He’d find Mum, take her home, show her he’d been the one to rescue her from those men, he’d been the one to kill the blokes. She’d love him then, he’d be in the number one slot, the highest on the podium, knocking Benny off.
You had to force things to go your way, didn’t you, otherwise you’d be left behind, and he couldn’t bear that. Couldn’t bear not being the apple of Mum’s eye at least once.
* * * *
Trev couldn’t wait to get to London. They had enough time before meeting Will where they could have a look around, take in some sights. He’d never been, too busy with the gang, always working on the plans for the next job, although he couldn’t take the credit for that, Benny was the brains behind the outfit, but they all tried hard to memorise what he said had to happen, and that was full-time employment in itself.
He didn’t want to be normal. Normal meant mundanity, waking up each day bored to tears before the first sip of coffee hit your taste buds. It meant eking out your wages, robbing Peter to pay Paul, and worrying your arse off if a red bill came. He remembered Mum doing that in the days prior to Benny, telling whichever bloke she was with at the time that the social didn’t pay enough, so how was she meant to keep on top of it all? She’d mentioned a wolf at the door, and for years, Trev had shit himself in case the damn thing turned up and bit them.
Benny had been a godsend, and while he was a controlling prick, Trev didn’t mind him. The man had changed their lives with his schemes, and yes, they had to play their part in getting the money, but if he hadn’t come up with the jobs in the first place, they wouldn’t have benefitted. They had a conservatory now, and there was no way they’d have it otherwise.
What Trev had an issue with lately was Mum. She’d never been one to show affection, and he’d grown up without it for the most part, taking her rare smiles as perfect-rainbow moments, few and far between, but they existed, so that was something. The trouble was, his apple cart had been upended. He’d met a bird, who was as free with her smiles, kisses, hugs, and kindness as Mum was in withholding them. He’d been seeing Sasha for a couple of months now, obviously hadn’t told her what he did to get his money, and the more hours he spent with her, the more apparent it was that Mum wasn’t right up top. He knew that anyway, what with Nan being a ray of sunshine in their lives, but she was dead, and between her death and meeting Sasha, Trev had had no form of emotional warmth whatsoever.
He’d decided, a few days ago now, that he was going to have it out with Mum, ask her why she’d withheld the basic love a mother ought to give. Fucking hell, Sasha’s had welcomed him into their family, and Trev had received more from her in that short time than he had from his own parent. There must be a reason Mum was so blocked off, emotionally stunted, yet Nan would have brought her up in a compassionate environment, so what had gone wrong?
Four men, four kids. Mum clearly couldn’t hold down a relationship earlier on, yet she was capable of it because she’d stuck with Benny for yonks. All right, Benny wouldn’t let Mum go even if she wanted to be free of him, so that had something to do with it, but she’d stuck by him despite the wallops he gave her.
Trev had thought that was the sort of thing men did to their partners until Sasha had told him otherwise.
“If you ever hit me, I’m gone, no second chances.”
Their discussion on the subject had enlightened him, and in one get-to-know-you session, where they’d shared their upbringings, she’d cried at his.
“No, your mother isn’t meant to be like that. And no, your sister and youngest brother should never have been hit with a slipper or a belt.”
He stared at the scenery through the window, trees flashing by, hedges, fields, a town in the distance and, farther back, three of those great big chimney things that belched smoke. He never had found out what they were for, but he’d bet Sasha would know. She was clever like that. Loads of shit had passed him by in life, him being so focused on the gang. Sasha had opened his eyes to so much, and he had a lot to learn. He wanted to change but at the same time refrain from becoming normal. How would he tell Sasha about the jobs? She wouldn’t stand for anything illegal. Maybe he should tell her he worked for Benny in his property developing business.
Yeah, that’d do.
In no time, they were at the London station, getting off the train amongst the push of others, all of them seemingly desperate to feel the sun on their upturned faces as they walked to wherever they were going. Len had his trusty rucksack on his back containing their clothes and guns, and without speaking—a Benny rule: No talking about stuff in public—they strode off to find a taxi rank. The air smelt different here, the atmosphere somehow thicker, maybe due to so many bodies packed into one city, and there was an altogether stronger vibe. He was out of his depth but would never admit it.
They spent the morning nosing at some of the sights but couldn’t manage all of them; the places they wanted to see most were spaced out. He hadn’t realised how big London was, how insignificant he seemed on its streets compared to in their town, where people knew him and veered to get out of his way. Here, he was a nobody.
One day, Sasha would find out who he really was. She was new to the area so hadn’t yet been warned, and if she’d told anyone who she was seeing, they hadn’t enlightened her as far as he was aware.
Trev’s phone bleeped at the same time as Len’s, and they took them out of their pockets. Trev accessed the WhatsApp message and read an address. He glanced around for another taxi rank and shouldn’t have been surprised that several black cabs drove along, kerb-crawling like punters did when looking for prossers. He flagged one down and acknowledged the surge of adrenaline going through him, allowing it free rein. They were going to see Rebecca again, something he wasn’t bothered about—he hadn’t missed her, although he had been watering those bloody orchids of hers in case she came back. That didn’t mean anything, though.
Len blew out a breath. “Ready?”
“As always.”
Trev stared out of the cab window and took in the streets, the houses, the people, all living their lives oblivious to what him and his brother had in mind. This lot had ‘normal’ stuff in their heads, not murder. Boring bastards.
Chapter Twenty-Two
George disliked having to do this sort of thing during the daytime, but it sounded like Len wasn’t one to take orders, a man who wasn’t prepared to wait. Will had done the right thing, setting the meeting at the flat. If he’d argued the toss, his brothers might have grown suspicious.
They didn’t need that hassle, just needed Len and Trev to arrive so the plan could move forward, and once they were inside Martin’s, things could progress. George wasn’t worried about the other fella who lived on this floor—the whole level belonged to him and Greg, and the resident was a part of their network. George had sent him a coded message: Noise level may increase in your neck of the woods. He’d know what that meant: If you hear anything, ignore it. He was out on a job anyway, unlikely to return until about six p.m., but still, Len and Trev might be loud despite rags stuffed in their mouths, and if they got too lairy, George would give them a punch or two to knock them out.
He paced in front of the window in Martin’s living room, keeping far enough back that Len and Trev wouldn’t catch full sight of him from the street. Not that it mattered, but he liked the element of surprise and the shock on people’s faces when they saw how massive him and Greg were,
how bastardish they looked. Made his fucking day, that did.
Greg sat on the sofa, as did Martin and Will. Orchid had perched on an armchair, her legs tucked under her, and she nursed a cup of tea, saying she’d had enough coffee to last a lifetime and felt sick with an overdose of caffeine. Her brothers were due any minute, providing they’d found a cab quickly, and the first flickers of adrenaline stirred in George, the warning of the excitement to come.
He peered down the road at a vehicle turning in at the corner, sunlight twinkling off the windscreen for a second or two. A black taxi crept along the street, like the driver didn’t know the area well so wouldn’t have a clue which flats were the final destination. Probably one of those twats who didn’t use a satnav. It stopped outside, and two men got out, nothing like Orchid or Will. He’d heard some of their backstory, so each of them must resemble their fathers, not their dreadful mother, which wasn’t a hardship. He reckoned she had a face like a bag of hammers and a personality dished out with her the last in the queue, lacking any of the good bits normal people had in them.
“This them?” he asked.
Will got up and stood beside George. “Yeah. Fuck, I can’t believe this is happening.”
“If you need to back out, knob off into Orchid’s flat for the duration before they get up here, or you can go into the empty one—like I said, it’s yours if you’re living in London.”
“No, I’m staying put. I have to anyway, to let them in, make them think I’m on their side.”
That was true, but George was willing to improvise. He could answer their knock, pointing a gun at them, and they wouldn’t make it down the corridor back to the lift in time. He could shoot them halfway there.
“They’re coming in,” he said.
Greg had left the foyer door on the latch, saved them pressing the intercom button.
George smoothed out his shirt then wiggled the knot of his tie. It didn’t hurt to be presentable when you dished out menace, did it. Orchid and Martin got up and positioned themselves either side of the window, as planned. Greg stood behind the living room door, gun out, and Will moved to the hallway, staring down at the front door.
The faint ping of the lift arriving sounded, and George’s gut knotted, the familiar rush of anticipation giving his senses a sharper edge. Will looked his way, his face going pale, and George nodded. The lad knew what to do. George stood in front of the window, his back to it, and aimed his gun at the doorway. Will disappeared, and George cocked his head to listen.
“All right, Will?”
“Yeah. Get in quick, before anyone sees you.”
Scuffling. The front door closing.
“Dump your bags down there until we need to leave,” Will said.
“The shooters are in there,” a bloke said.
“So? You won’t be fucking needing them in here, will you? It’s just me. Want a sandwich?”
“Yeah, we didn’t have the stomach for breakfast,” another man said.
“Come on then, into the living room.”
Will appeared, pressing his back to the wall beyond the doorway, and he gestured for his brothers to enter. One came in with his head bent, the trusting fucker, and the other followed, although he caught sight of Orchid, his mouth dropping open. Will pushed the rear brother’s shoulders, and the pair of them stumbled in, swearing. Will entered and closed the door, and before Len and Trev could digest the sight of all the people, to complain about being shoved, ambushed, lied to, Greg and George had their guns aimed at their foreheads.
“Afternoon,” George said.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Orchid felt sick at seeing her brothers again after three years. They looked as mean as she remembered, as wicked as in her dreams, if a little stumped on which move to make. This wasn’t anything they’d have imagined, they wouldn’t have figured this into their plans, and she inwardly smiled at how, at various points over the years, they’d claimed they were better than Benny at planning, but today had proved they weren’t. All of them, including Anthony, had fallen prey to their egos, thinking they had it covered when actually, they didn’t. Two other people, George and Greg, had taken over the situation, and Len especially would be seething.
He was no longer a big fish in a small pond. Now he faced killer sharks in an ocean, ones who’d rip him apart at a moment’s notice. You didn’t swerve into someone else’s lane and expect not to crash.
Len and Trev ought to stay put really, with guns trained on them, but you never could tell with them, whether they’d do something rash. She could only hope their guns were in the bag by the front door. She checked for signs of bulges in their waistbands beneath their T-shirts and, finding none, relaxed a tad.
Len stared at her, the usual hate in his eyes. “What the fuck is going on?”
Will inched away from the door, scooting to stand beside her. “We’re doing what should have been done years ago.”
“And what’s that?” Trev asked. “Going against your family? Because that’s what it looks like from where I’m standing. I can’t believe you’d do this, Will. You lied.”
“I had no choice.” Will held Orchid’s hand and squeezed it.
Len and Trev frowned.
“Ah, I see what’s going on,” Len said, enlightenment of his own making changing his expression. If things weren’t going his way, he switched it so they were. “These fuckers here, they’re those men you said about. You’re being forced to do this, aren’t you?”
The hope in his eyes should have sent Orchid on a trip down Guilt Lane, that street where signposts popped up at every left and right turn, the words on them piling on more remorse, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. He’d wrecked her flowers, said some terrible things to her over the years, and never stood up for her.
She’d return that favour by not standing up for him.
He must have read something in her expression. His shoulders slumped, and he stared at George. “So, where’s my mum and Benny? I heard you beat them up, took them off somewhere. Or was that a lie an’ all?”
George smiled. “Which one are you?”
“Len,” he spat.
“Right, Len, yes, that was a lie. Will here, he shot Benny right in the fucking head, and him and your sister beat your mother up, not us. Then Will put a bullet in her heart. Best thing to have happened to her, really, considering what a nasty bitch she was.”
Trev gaped. “What?”
Greg shook his head. “Got someone hard of hearing here,” he said to George. Then to Trev, “They’re gone, chopped up and dumped in the river, which is what’s going to happen to you two.”
“Not fucking likely.” Len moved forward.
George tightened his finger on the trigger. “Really? You’re going to try something? Have you had enough?”
Len frowned. “What do you mean?”
“What I mean,” George said, “is you seem to want to die earlier than we planned. You’ve stepped into my fucking space, and I don’t appreciate it. Move back or you’ll be minus a kneecap.”
Len snorted but did as he was told. “Who are you? Fancy yourself as mobsters or something?”
“Nah,” George said. “We don’t fancy ourselves as anything, we are. You’ve got no idea who you’re messing with, mate.”
Trev appeared to be shifting closer to the door. Greg mirrored him, and Trev darted, making a grab for the handle. Greg shot him in the foot, no fucking about. Trev screamed, dropping to the floor, writhing around, groaning and drawing his knee up, clutching it with one hand while feeling for his foot with the other.
“Bit stupid, your brother?” George asked Len. “See, we don’t mess around. If you don’t behave, there’s no warning, we shoot and think about it afterwards. Now, sit on that bastard sofa and keep quiet.”
Orchid had never seen Len afraid, but now he was shitting bricks, his face so white his going-purple lips stood out. He lowered to a seat, hands up, his attention solely on George, watching the predator while hating
being the prey.
“I’ll behave.”
“Make sure you do.” George narrowed his eyes at Trev. “Have you quite finished dicking about down there?”
Trev stared up at him, viciousness in his gaze. “You’re fucking mental.”
George chuckled. “It has been said. And?”
Trev let out a whine, his teeth gritted.
“Get him on that sofa,” Greg said, weary.
Will and Martin obeyed at the same time, each gripping one of Trev’s arms and hauling him upright. Trev cried out at the pressure he’d put on his foot. They dragged him to the sofa and dropped him on it. George and Greg sidled along behind the coffee table and aimed their guns again.
“What the fuck are you killing us for?” Len asked, his cheeks now pink, bordering on burgundy in the centre of each prominent spot.
George shrugged. “People who need to be dead have usually done something or will do something to harm someone else. You two being alive, well, it’s a threat to Orchid and Will.”
“Orchid?” Len laughed wryly. “I’ve heard it all now.”
“Shut up, you absolute knob,” George said. “Down here, we take our job seriously, and when we say we’re protecting someone, we protect them, right down to disposing of people if necessary.” He paused. “Give up your phones.”
Both of them fished their mobiles out. Will and Martin took them, removed the SIMs, and placed them and the phones on the coffee table. All the while, Trev grimaced and breathed heavily, tears falling, and Len clamped his jaw, anger evident in his screwed-up face. They wouldn’t like this, being bossed about, and they wouldn’t like the fact they’d conformed either. While they’d taken shit off Benny, they’d been conditioned to do so, but anyone else, and it’d be a hard pill to swallow. Still, they’d have to swallow it or be made to choke on their own defiance.
Orchid twigged then—neither of them had batted an emotional eyelid about Mum and Benny being dead. Yes, it’d been a shock to Trev, but… For the first time, she considered whether Len and Trev had also felt deprived of love. She’d always said they’d had it better than her and Will, with smiles sent their way sometimes, the squeeze of a shoulder when they’d pleased their mother, small things Orchid and Will never received. Len and Trev didn’t get punished with the flat of her hand, the slipper, or the belt. They’d had it better, yet their reaction to the news hadn’t been as she’d expected. She’d thought they loved Mum.