Bradley caught her eye and started to come over. He was smiling. Nicci reflected ruefully that his exotic Middle Eastern looks would probably have appealed to Alex. It had been a standing joke on the team that when a pretty new DC came along Alex would always try and take them under his wing.
Bradley seemed a tad nervous, gave her a diffident shrug. He looked like he was about to ask a question, but Nicci got up abruptly and walked away. She could feel the tears prickling her eyelids and she was damned if she was going to blub in front of anyone, least of all Bradley.
7
Kaz sat in the front seat of the Range Rover, Joey was at the wheel, Ashley tucked in the back next to various bags and boxes. They’d started out at Westfield, Joey insisted they do the posh designer shops. When Kaz expressed her discomfort with this, they moved on to Covent Garden. Okay, she needed some new stuff, that was clear. But she wasn’t about to swan into her probation officer in Versace jeans.
Joey carried a clip of fifty-pound notes in his pocket and peeled them off to pay for each purchase. He was having a whale of a time. Kaz was less enthusiastic. A little voice in her head was whispering: ‘Helen’s not going to like this.’ But what was she going to do, kick up, refuse to let her brother buy her a few grand’s worth of gear? She’d persuade Helen just as she’d persuaded herself this was not the issue on which to make a stand. And trying on new stuff, getting out of trackie bottoms and sweatshirts after six years, well it made her feel like a proper person again. When she looked in the brightly lit full-length mirrors it was almost a shock; what she saw was a woman, not a scrawny kid. Somewhere along the line she’d grown up and now she was in the right gear, heads were turning.
They stopped off for lunch at a little Italian place in Soho and Kaz made it crystal clear that she was off the booze. It wasn’t a problem. The boys had a beer apiece. She had an ice-cream milkshake and it was bliss.
Now they were cruising through the afternoon traffic headed out of town on the A13. Kaz had her feet up on the dash and she was frowning.
Joey glanced at her. ‘Trust me babe, it’ll be fine. They are gonna be so chuffed.’
Kaz gave him a baleful look. ‘You reckon?’
Crammed in the back seat with their purchases, Ashley shifted his position and farted. He giggled with embarrassment. ‘S’cuse I.’
Joey chuckled. ‘Aww fuckin’ hell Ash! Ladies present mate!’
Ashley glanced from one to the other sheepishly. ‘I’m really sorry Kaz. Me mum’s always saying I got no manners.’
‘Got no control of yer own bum, that’s what it is!’
Kaz listened to the banter, she was getting used to their antics. The designer shirts, the Rolex Oysters on their wrists, the platinum signet rings, the diamond ear-studs, these were their toys; they were two lads of twenty-three going on fifteen. She found it faintly reassuring; Joey hadn’t changed. He was still a big kid, a bundle of infectious energy, and when he was in a mood like this, fun to be around.
She shook her head and grinned. ‘And you expected me to shag him? I’d rather go down on Fat Pat.’
Joey laughed out loud. ‘Who the fuck’s that?’
‘You don’t wanna know.’
Three lanes of traffic snaked and dipped over makeshift flyovers until the A13 broadened into more of a motorway. Joey put his foot down as the elevated section carried them through Dagenham, past the wind turbines and messy acres of new and old industrial developments and on into the flat estuary marshland, the gateway to Essex. London had the buzz, and Joey liked that, but this was still his home turf. The city could be chaotic, full of strangers, ethnic gangs and constant change. But Irish, Jew, Bangladeshi or Somali, down the generations they all became English when they moved out to Essex.
Kaz stared blankly out of the window, pylons criss-crossed the landscape and she could see the flares on the oil refinery down by the river. Going home was not a prospect she relished; in fact the whole notion of home was something she’d ring-fenced in her mind. It was off-limits, a place she refused to visit mentally or emotionally however much various therapists had pushed her.
She was born in Bethnal Green nine months after the old man got out of jail and three months before her parents married. But she’d grown up in Essex. They started off in a council house in Basildon, then as the old man’s business picked up their fortunes improved. Terry Phelps was obsessed with security, which in his line of work wasn’t unreasonable. He bought a piece of land, a field really, out beyond Billericay and he got it dirt cheap because it had no planning permission and a semi-permanent travellers’ camp next door. Terry fixed the local planning committee with a few bungs and saw off the pikeys with a JCB and a couple of sawn-off shotguns. Then he built his dream home.
As they pulled up in front of the electric, wrought-iron gates, Kaz turned to her brother. ‘I don’t know if I can do this.’
‘They’re expecting us. Can’t bottle now.’ Joey leant out of his window and pressed the intercom on the wall. ‘Anybody home?’
There was a muffled reply, which possibly included a squeal of excitement, and with a clank the gates swung open.
Joey drove into the compound. The property was surrounded on all sides by an eight-foot solid brick wall topped with decorative but lethal spikes. The house itself was an imposing mish-mash of styles: a mock Tudor facade with a portico supported by Corinthian pillars. As the Range Rover pulled up, Kaz took it all in. The small leaded-light windows reflected the afternoon sun, making it impossible to see inside. But in Kaz’s memory the interior was dismal, a place of shadows and unmentionable horrors.
Joey patted her knee and grinned. ‘Well, we’re here now.’
Kaz knew she’d been bullied, but it was hard to resist coming here without spoiling the mood of the day. Then the front door opened and there was Ellie Phelps beaming at them.
The last time Kaz had seen her mother was at Chelmsford Crown Court. As she’d been led into the dock, she’d glanced over at the public gallery and Ellie had been there, staring straight ahead, eyes glassy and blank. Valium had been Ellie’s drug of choice for many years until Prozac came along, but she mixed it with a cocktail of gin, vodka, painkillers and anything else that came to hand. Life with Terry was a rollercoaster, his temper unpredictable at best. So Ellie had found escape and solace in the only way available to her.
Kaz took a deep breath and got out of the car. Ellie was hugging her son. Then she turned to her daughter with a huge grin. She was fatter than Kaz remembered and rosy-cheeked, but there was something else too. Kaz realized with a jolt that her mother had come alive. She was no longer the drugged-up zombie of Kaz’s teenage years. Before her was a plump, middle-aged matron in a tight silk top. Her lipstick was shimmering pink, but behind it the smile was warm and the eyes had a definite twinkle.
Ellie flung her arms round Kaz and squeezed her tight. ‘Lovey, we was gonna come and meet you. Stretch limo, the works. Joey had it all planned.’
Her words tumbled out in a torrent. Kaz had never seen her mother so animated.
‘I’ve got your room all ready for you, we’ve had it completely redone. Pink – that was always yer favourite when you was little. I wanted to come and see you loads of times, but y’know them places they give me the heebie-jeebies. Then when yer dad was took bad I pretty much had me hands full and I thought she’s a good girl, she’ll understand.’
Kaz stared in frank disbelief. What had brought about this transformation?
Ellie rattled on as she steered her daughter into the house. Kaz got another shock when she saw how her childhood home had changed. The mismatched furniture was gone, so was the chaos and the mess.
Terry Phelps had owned two pitbulls, which it amused him to call Bill and Ben after some kids’ TV show. They were savage beasts and pretty much had the run of the place. For security, Terry said. He didn’t intend to be surprised in his bed by some rival hoodlum. Kaz and Joey had been mortally afraid of the dogs; they had bitten Ellie on more than one
occasion. But now the formerly tiled and dog-shit-strewn hallway was covered in a deep-pile carpet. An ornately carved ottoman stood against one wall and on it a small tabby cat was curled up fast asleep. Kaz rapidly concluded that Bill and Ben were history.
The sitting room was in Kaz’s memory a cold, depressing place. As kids they’d spent most of their time curled up in one corner watching a big old Philips television. As she stepped into the room now her eyes were assaulted by a riot of bright, warm colours. Heavy brocade curtains complete with pelmets and tassels covered the windows. Three enormous plush sofas were ranged around a glass coffee table. Lamps, ornaments, silver-framed family photos were spread liberally around the room. But the biggest change of all sat in one corner.
Terry Phelps’s hulking frame was crammed into a neat, mechanized wheelchair. His chin was sunk low resting on his barrel of a chest and a small drool of saliva snaked over the edge of his slack lips down his chin and on to his cardigan. Kaz stood rooted to the spot. She stared into his black eyes. They were completely vacant. Ellie touched her daughter’s arm.
‘I know love, it’s quite a shock. He can’t move or talk or do nothing for himself really. It was a massive stroke. The doctors reckon it was a miracle he survived at all. But we keep him nice and clean and warm.’
As she spoke she went over and patted him, much as you would a dog. Joey strolled over to the drinks cupboard and poured himself and Ashley a Scotch.
‘Mum has two full-time nurses to do all the lifting and that. And of course she’s got Brian to help her out too.’ Joey indicated the dapper man in his early sixties sitting on one of the sofas. ‘You must remember Uncle Brian.’
Kaz turned to look at Brian, who was no sort of relative at all, but had been called that by Kaz and Joey as a sort of courtesy required of children to certain adults round their parents. Brian Mason had in fact been part of the Phelps firm, at various times Terry’s driver, dogsbody and whipping boy.
He stood up and held his hand out to Kaz. ‘Welcome home love. Must say, you’re looking pretty fit.’
‘So are you Brian.’
‘Y’know, mustn’t grumble.’
At this point Ellie sidled over to him and slipped her arm coyly through his. ‘Brian’s been a great comfort to me. I’d never have got through without him. He’s my little treasure.’
Brian grinned and squeezed her hand.
Kaz looked around her, it was all starting to make sense. The inmates had taken over the asylum. She glanced over at her father in his wheelchair. He hadn’t moved a muscle. You could almost feel sorry for him. But Kaz didn’t. The vicious old bastard had got exactly what he deserved.
8
Kaz and Joey sat on loungers in the garden. He had a cold beer, she had apple juice. It was a summer evening, a scene so easy and normal that Kaz was still finding it hard to absorb. Brian was handling the barbecue, Ellie was fussing round him and giggling; they were playing house like a couple of newly-weds. Kaz watched them, she wasn’t certain if her mother’s current happiness pleased her or whether she resented it. She certainly resented all the years when Ellie had checked out and left her kids to fend for themselves.
Joey caught the direction of his sister’s critical gaze. ‘Bit of a turn-up, eh?’
‘How’d it happen?’
‘Dunno really. When the old man had his stroke, Brian was driving her, y’know, taking care of things generally.’
‘I didn’t imagine it started before that. He’d’ve killed ’em both.’
Joey didn’t reply, he didn’t have to. Their father’s violence had always been part of their lives, it didn’t merit any discussion.
Kaz turned to her brother and scanned his face. ‘So when’s someone gonna tell me about Natalie?’
Joey avoided her eye at the mention of their sibling. Natalie was their baby sister, twelve years old when Kaz went down.
‘Ain’t no secret babes. She and Mum had their ups and downs. Nat moved out last year.’
It sounded innocuous enough, but Kaz could sense from his tone that there was more to it than that.
‘Where’s she living now then?’
‘Down Southend.’
Kaz nodded, she could see this was going to be hard work, but she persisted. ‘On her own?’
Joey’s jaw visibly tightened. ‘With some fella.’
He jumped up, strode over to Ashley, who was patiently guiding Terry’s mechanized wheelchair round the garden. ‘Go on mate, get yourself a beer. I’ll take over.’
Joey pointed the wheelchair in the direction of the shrubbery. Kaz watched them go, Terry’s inert bulk hunched in the chair, Joey walking beside him, controlling the joystick with one hand but staring straight ahead, completely ignoring his father.
Ellie was laying the table so Kaz got up too and went to help her.
‘Bet you don’t recognize this old garden. Joey knew this lad from school, got his own landscape gardening business. He done the whole thing. They brought in plants by the lorry load.’
Kaz smiled at her mother’s pleasure. ‘It does look great.’
‘Cost a fortune. But Joey didn’t care, paid for the lot. Y’know, since your dad was took bad and with Sean inside, he’s stepped up to the mark has Joey. I think quite a few people have been surprised. Truth be told, I was meself a bit. You seen these?’ Ellie held up a fine porcelain plate. It was a good fourteen inches in diameter and had a gold band round the circumference. ‘I love these plates. Got a whole set from John Lewis.’
She chattered on, laying out the plates, arranging knives, forks, napkins, on the table. Everything matched, most of it looked new. One thing was clear to Kaz: Joey had decided to give his mother the life that Terry had promised but never really delivered.
‘You see much of Natalie then?’
Ellie’s busy hands stopped. She shrugged off the question. ‘Now and then.’
‘So what’s she get up to down in Southend?’
Ellie became preoccupied with adjusting all the place mats. ‘How the bloody hell should I know? She’s eighteen, she don’t talk to me. And if I recall, you was the same at that age.’
Kaz did recall. At eighteen she’d been strung out on a cocktail of crack, coke, booze and a myriad of other drugs. Being the daughter of Terry Phelps had carried one advantage: when it came to getting your hands on illegal substances no one said no to you. More often than not they just gave you the stuff for free.
Brian carried a huge platter of meat from the barbecue over to the table. ‘Who’s ready for a nice juicy steak? Come on, ’fore it gets cold.’
Kaz helped Ashley set chairs round the table. Ellie flapped her arms and shouted, ‘Joey! Come on lovey, we’re ready to eat.’
Joey steered the wheelchair back in the direction of the patio area and parked Terry up at the head of the table. Finally they all sat down.
Ellie looked round beaming, her face flushed. ‘I been so looking forward to this day. Kaz coming home. The family all together. It’s as it should be.’
Kaz looked at her father, his empty carcass still a baleful presence. She thought about Natalie, her absent sister. Then she glanced at her mother, happily forking massive sirloin steaks on to her precious plates. Ellie may have managed to escape her own drug-fuelled hell. But to Kaz’s mind she was still playing the same game.
Kaz sat in her childhood bedroom and stared at the new pink walls. They were loud, screaming pink, only the curtains were worse. A selection of gonks and cuddly toys that she’d never seen before were lined up on the windowsill. The duvet cover had a pink frilly border all the way round and the bed was piled high with furry cushions. It was the kind of girly boudoir that might’ve delighted a ten-year-old. Kaz reflected that she was probably about that age when Terry first started making moves on her and her mother checked out.
The door opened a crack and Joey popped his head in.
‘You all right?’
Kaz glared at him. ‘No. Ten o’clock, that’s my curfew at the hostel. H
ow the fuck am I s’pose to get back for that?’
Joey shrugged. ‘You come to see your family. Anyway, ain’t like you to worry about stuff like that. You used to bunk off school all the time and stick two fingers up at the social when they come round.’
Kaz stared at him in disbelief.
‘I’m not a schoolkid any more. Twelve years Joey. I got twelve years ’cause that bloke at the garage that you whacked in the head ended up in a wheelchair.’
Joey scowled, stepped into the room and closed the door.
‘Yeah well, it was his own fault. He should’ve handed over the cash. I mean, what was his problem, he only worked there. And anyway twelve don’t mean twelve, does it? It’s only really six.’
Kaz got up, hands on hips and faced him. ‘Yeah six inside, six on licence. Break the licence, you get recalled. Banged up straight away, no discussion. So for the next six years of my life I ain’t gonna be sticking two fingers up at no one.’
A look of contrition spread across Joey’s features. ‘Babes I’m sorry. I dunno, I didn’t think about the time.’ He sighed. ‘I just wanted you to come home. See how things are now.’
‘See what exactly? Him? The shedloads of stuff you’ve got Mum?’
Joey sat down on the bed. He fixed her with an intense, mesmerizing gaze. This had always been the thing with Joey: the look. It was hard not to be drawn in. He put her in mind of a little boy, innocent, appealing, as he struggled to find the right words.
‘Listen, when you went down, I was completely gutted. Twelve fucking years – I mean, it was like a bullet.’ He put two fingers up to his temple and pulled the trigger. ‘And I know . . . well, I know it should’ve been me, not you. I was running round like a blue-arsed fly, doing completely mental stuff.’
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