Resentments and Revenge

by Diane Ezzard

  Later that day, I arrived at the rendezvous point. I expected to come face-to-face with a Rod Stewart look-alike, but Rocking Rod looked more like Elvis in his later years. I shook his hand, and he lit a cigarette.

  “What you got for me, mate?” I asked.

  “You’ll see.” His eyes darted around from one corner of the lock-up garages to the other. There were roughly ten garages in total. He took a few drags of his cigarette then threw it on the floor, stamping it out. He kept looking over my shoulder. I did the same but saw nothing. He turned around, indicating I should follow him. I checked around again.

  He trudged through an alleyway, kicking up dirt and mud. With his jogging pants at half-mast, he could be copying the street kids, but the look was more likely down to loose elastic. I followed closely behind, avoiding the puddles. Shadows dissolved into the dusk of the early evening air. I tripped on a large boulder and stumbled into some railings. Rocking Rod turned. Was that fear I saw as his eyes blinked? I sensed that something wasn’t right. The pathway brought us out looking over the edge of an industrial estate. I felt tension climbing up through my legs into my chest.

  Railings surrounded us on three sides. I glanced to my left looking up at a tarmacked road. Rocking Rod’s eyes flicked from my face to the area at the back of me. He wore a smirk that smelt trouble.

  And then I heard it.

  Footsteps crunching behind me.

  I peered over my shoulder.

  Six pairs of eyes walked towards me.

  Dressed in military-style black, their faces covered with scarves, balaclavas and hoods. Three of them carried baseball bats. Only three? I weighed up the situation. Rocking Rod nodded at them. I wanted to punch him, but he was too quick for me. With his large frame, he darted out of sight. He wasn’t staying around to watch my downfall.

  In that frozen few seconds between standoff and fighting, I watched their fearless eyes exchange glances. The tallest of the group came up close. No words were exchanged. They weren’t necessary. I knew what was about to go down. On a better day, I’d have a go at him for encroaching on my personal space, but he was in no mood for jokes. He flew at me, aimlessly swinging his bat. I ducked and waited for the onslaught. It came at me like a rushing torrent.

  The group gave out a mighty cry as they charged forward.

  A sudden gush of pain in my back jolted my body.

  Fists punched out, blows bruised my limbs. I fought back with determined doggedness. They wouldn’t get the better of me that easily.

  I shot out a left hook and my right fist landed a bulls-eye as I heard the bones crack on my assailant’s nose. Blood splattered everywhere, and his menacing face was no longer recognisable with his blazing red eyes and his dark hood. The tall guy leapt like a panther and landed on my back. I crumpled to the floor but thanks to years down the gym, I wouldn’t be defeated that easily. I somersaulted and set myself free, lurching forward with a kung-fu kick in the infamous style of Eric Cantona.

  The gang member on the receiving end went down clutching his stomach. That wasn’t before further blows rained down on me from multiple bats, each one more forceful than the last. These guys didn’t play by any rules. They were fierce, and their motive was deadly. If they expected easy pickings, though, they were wrong. My brain raced, thinking up a way out of this ambush. Two of them stayed down. I only had four left to go at.

  I felt my skin heat up. Every movement I made hurt, but I still had a determined wilfulness to keep coming back for more. Call it survival instinct, my mind wasn’t ready to give up yet. My battered limbs had other ideas. They weren’t as keen as my mind to continue.

  I stretched forward again, bringing in every reserve of strength I had left. The cut above my right eye hindered my vision. My stomach felt like my guts were on fire. Any ideas about the elusive way out of this dwindled. Still, the beating continued. How much suffering could a man take and remain standing? I head-butted one of them as he took a swipe at me. He went down.

  I didn’t have the strength to make a run for it. They almost knocked me out. I stumbled to the ground for the umpteenth time. If this was a boxing match, the ref would have stopped the fight at least ten minutes ago. There was no let up from the powerful kicks that tortured my bruised body. My arms received the brunt of it as they tried to protect my head from the attack.

  I hit the deck for the last time. Even my mind lost the willingness to continue. I glanced at the purple bloody welts gauging my lower arm. The pocket of my leather jacket has been ripped off. Struggling now to see anything, I felt my swollen eyes closing. My tongue was soaked in the taste of blood.

  I’d been winded, and my breathing became rapid and shallow.

  My head pounded.

  How much longer would they stay to fight?

  Until I took my last breath?

  Did they want me dead or just smashed?

  Lying in a fetal position, I hoped to ride out the storm, play dead, protect my organs. I felt paralysed, unable to move. I didn’t want to die, but if I attempted to imagine a future, there was nothing there, no hope left. My soul had been shattered as well as my body. I was ready to surrender, to admit defeat.

  It was the golfing iron to the back of my head that wiped me out. Then came blackness.

  Chapter 15

  Sophie

  There was a knock at the door. I sighed heavily. I was enjoying a repeat episode of Gogglebox on TV. Someone didn’t trust the bell. They were being persistent. I laughed as Steph Parker made a drunken comment about the Prime Minister’s outfit. I loved watching reality programmes. As a counsellor, I told people it was to analyse the behaviours from a professional point of view. Secretly I found it fascinating how everyday people became overnight celebrities for doing nothing other than being a souped-up version of themselves.

  I rose from the sofa. Who could it be? It was too late for door-to-door salesmen and I wasn’t expecting anyone. I frowned. Could it be Jack forgetting his key? There it was again. The knock was strong, forceful. It sounded urgent. I didn’t like it. Visitors at this time of night usually brought bad news. My leg muscles tightened as I galloped into the hall. My heart raced as I kept my eyes on the door. At that moment, the letterbox opened.

  A voice cried out, “Can you let me in, Sophie.” I sighed with relief and opened the door.

  “Jack!” I screamed, putting my hands over my mouth. If I hadn’t recognised the voice, I wouldn’t have known who he was from his bloody face and battered features. I stood there staring at this alien-looking creature.

  The tiny slits that were once his eyes were red-rimmed with cuts above and below and were now both puffy mounds. He looked grotesque, and I winced at the sight of him as bloody spit drooled from his open jaw. Blood had congealed covering much of his face. His forehead and cheekbones were more purple than pink. In that shattered moment, staring at him, my heart and breathing stopped. His lips were white and slit, blood oozing from the corners. He hunched his shoulders, his hands clutching at his belly.

  “What on earth happened? Come on, come on, you better get in.” I looked outside, past him into the night. No one was about. I put an arm around his shoulder and helped him over the threshold. He took in a sharp breath and winced. Afraid to touch his broken body, I let him lead the way into the kitchen. “Sit down, Jack.” He obeyed without any words as I rummaged around for my first aid box. “You should be going to the hospital.” He didn’t reply but shook his head.

  There were leaves and twigs poking out of his dishevelled dark hair. His jacket was torn, and mud and blood plastered his sweatshirt. His dirty jeans were in tatters. I gasped at the horror of his appearance.

  “I think you should go to hospital, Jack. What if you’ve got internal damage?”

  “I’ll see how I feel but I don’t want any questions from snooping police officers. I was set up. Wait until I get my hands on Snakehips and Rocking Rod. Those two are right off my Christmas card list.” Even his speech was unrecognisable as he tried to form
the words through his swollen mouth.

  “So, what happened?”

  “I went to meet Rocking Rod and a set of thugs ambushed me.”

  “Oh, Jack.”

  Putting some warm water in a small bowl, I took out the cotton wool pads and dabbed his injuries. He cried out in pain as I touched each one. “Sorry, Jack,” were the words I repeated as I worked through his body. Cuts and bruises covered his torso. My bottom lip trembled as I cast my eyes over his body. I wanted to cry, he looked such a pathetic sight. The water in the bowl was now bright red. I hated the sight of blood and didn’t like playing the role of nurse. Even as a kid, when we played doctors and nurses, I always liked to play the patient, the one wearing the bandages.

  “Oo, careful, it’s tender, there, Sophie.”

  “Sorry, I’m being as gentle as I can.”

  “Ow,” he cried and jerked his body away from me as I tried to tend to his eye.

  “Maybe you should have got Caroline to sort you out.”

  “That’s below the belt, Sophie. Come on, I’ve said I was sorry and admitted it was a mistake to go to her place. I thought you’d forgiven me?” He frowned.

  “I have but I don’t forget.”

  “So, you’re going to keep bringing it up, are you? Rubbing my nose in it.” At that instant, I had a cotton wool pad dabbed against his nostrils. I shrivelled my nose. The thought of him and Caroline together ate away at me, but this was neither the time nor place to discuss it. I had to push thoughts of her out of my mind and let it go.

  “The only thing I’m rubbing your nose in is water to clean it up.” I pulled a silly face. “You look like Rudolph with that bloody red nose.”

  “Ohh, aahh, it hurts too much to laugh.”

  I took hold of his arm. A serious open wound had blood oozing out. I applied pressure to the area.

  “I think you could do with stitches in that gash, Jack. It looks nasty.”

  “If you dress it and I’ll see how it goes.” I shook my head. “At least I don’t think there are any broken bones.”

  “Where were you when it happened?”

  “Some garages down Turks Road on a wild goose chase.”

  “Oh, Jack,” I said, tending to a wound on his leg.

  “Yeah, I bumped into Mike Tyson and told him I didn’t like his aftershave.”

  “Jack!” I shook my head again. He smiled.

  “There were six of them. I took out three. Six was too much even for the great Jack North, fighter extraordinaire.”

  “Do you think the Duggans were behind the attack?”

  “Who else? Yeah, I’m certain they were. This was their way of saying I’m getting too close.”

  “You will have to watch your back, Jack.”

  “It’s an occupational hazard in my line of work. That’s why I don’t want you getting involved, Sophie. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if anything happened to you.” I took hold of his hand and looked him in his half-opened eyes.

  “That’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me, Jack.” We both laughed. I wanted to kiss him, but he looked too fragile and bloody. Instead, I did what northerners do in times of trouble — I made him a cup of tea.

  The poor man winced as he tried to drink the hot liquid. I cringed as I watched his face change to one of pain as he swallowed each mouthful. There was no point nagging him to go to the hospital. Jack had a strong will and I couldn’t persuade him to do anything he didn’t want to.

  “You need to find a way to get close to them without them realising it is you doing it,” I said.

  “Well, I’m not using you if that’s what you think. After I’ve sorted those two goons out, I will see if I can get any information out of Jade.”

  “Can I say something, and I don’t want to offend you.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s an observation I’ve made.”

  “Go on.”

  “Don’t lose focus of what you’re trying to do, which is find Louie. That’s what you’re getting paid to do. I know you want to nail the Duggans but leave their other crimes to the police. It’s too much for you to do on your own, Jack.”

  “I hear what you say and you’re right, but I’d do anything to get those two behind bars. You know I’ve hated Dom since we were at school together. He bullied me back then, him and his wannabe gang.” Jack laughed. “I used to goad him on purpose. I knew how to press his buttons and it worked. It meant I had to take a couple of beatings for it, but it was worth it to see him expelled.”

  “So, he may still have a score to settle with you if he holds you to blame.”

  “Oh, most definitely, but the feeling is mutual. I’ve found it difficult to let go of the hatred I have for him, for the way he treated me back then. He made me look like an idiot in front of my mates. I couldn’t bear to be laughed at. That was when I started drinking.”

  “The difference is, now he’s using knives and guns and it’s no longer a game.”

  “I know and I still get a buzz from the chase.”

  “Yes, but not at the expense of losing your life.” I held his hand and looked him in the eyes. “I wouldn’t like to lose you, Jack.” I squeezed his hand tightly.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere, Sophie,” he smiled.

  “I hope not, Jack. I really hope not. You mean too much to me.”

  Chapter 16

  Sophie

  I stomped around the kitchen, banging cupboard doors. With the sharp knife in one hand and a potato in the other, my eyes narrowed. Slicing it into two, I only just missed the end of my finger. I took the oil from the cupboard and crashed another door shut. I swilled the liquid over the potatoes, ready to roast them. Where was Jack? He promised to be here on time and help me prepare the meal. If he didn’t get here soon, Angela and Nick would arrive before him, and I didn’t want that. I sent him a text, but he hadn’t replied. That got my back up. I knew he was busy on this case but sometimes he got his priorities wrong.

  The smell coming out from the oven was divine. I kept the cooking basic for Jack’s benefit. He didn’t eat spicy food much as I did. Occasionally, he ate curry but preferred simple British grub, so I plumped for a roast. I couldn’t go wrong with that. I glanced at my watch, then up at the clock.

  Heat poured out as I opened the oven door. Taking my oven glove, I reached for the tray of roast potatoes and basted them with the hot fat. They looked good. Another five minutes and the chicken should be ready. The veg and stuffing were done. I only had the gravy to make. I got the stock cube out in preparation just as the buzzer for my flat went. I prayed it would be Jack forgetting his key. It wasn’t. I smiled at Angela and Nick as I let them in and took their coats. They brought their own bottle of wine.

  “Who’s driving?” I asked.

  “It’s Nick’s turn,” Angela said, all chirpy. She wore a fetching grey top that had glitter down the front with batwing sleeves and black trousers. She knew how to make the most of her large frame.

  “I love your top, Angela.”

  “Thanks, Primarni.” She fanned her hand over her body, sticking her chest out like a peacock. “It was only seven quid.”

  “Really? That’s amazing. It looks so expensive.” I signalled for them to move from the hall into the lounge.

  “Do you want some of your wine or do you want something else while we wait for Jack? He said he won’t be long.”

  “I’ll have wine, please.” Angela looked at Nick waiting for his response.

  “Can I have a soft drink for now?” he asked.

  “Course you can, coke, orange juice?”

  “Orange juice would be great.”

  “I’ll fix the drinks and check on the food. You make yourselves comfy.”

  “Something smells good,” Angela smiled.

  I walked into the kitchen. My face felt hot. It wasn’t just the heat from the oven causing it. I rubbed the back of my head and checked my phone to see if Jack had left a message. I stamped my
foot. Where was he?

  I poured out the drinks and got myself a sparkling water. It no longer bothered me being around alcohol, but I remained vigilant. Being with Jack helped. Right now, though, he was infuriating me. I glanced again at my watch then took the drinks through.

  “Here you go,” I said as I passed the glasses to Nick and Angela. We chatted about their jobs. I used to work with them both in Salford Quays some years earlier, so we knew the same colleagues. We finished with the small talk and I went to check on the food again. Everything was ready. We were just waiting for Jack now.

  I sent him another text: Where the hell are u? I ambled through to the lounge and waited for a reply. None came.

  “Sorry about this, guys,” I said, tapping my fingers on my thighs. Jack was making me look an idiot. “We’re ready to eat as soon as Jack gets here.”

  “It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” said Angela putting her hand up. I did worry about it though. I couldn’t settle. My hands flapped all over, unable to sit still. I walked up and down the room and kept glancing out of the window. Not that I could see Jack’s car from there, but somehow it eased my mounting frustration.

  “Is anyone ready for another drink?” Angela’s glass was almost empty.

  “Go on then I’ll have one.” Angela smiled, as she slugged down the last of her drink. She handed me her glass. Nick shook his head. I took my time pouring the wine to keep me occupied.

  Forty minutes late and still no sign of Jack. A sheen of sweat gathered on my cheeks, chin and forehead. It was time to decide.

  “I think we’ll start without him, guys.” Although Angela and Nick said they would wait for Jack, they looked somewhat relieved at my words.

  “We don’t mind waiting.” Angela was very tactful but part of me wanted to punish Jack now. If his meal shrivelled up and burned, then it was only what he deserved.