by Caz Finlay
Grace sat on John’s sofa and looked around the cosy living room. He had numerous photographs dotted around, of what she assumed must be his family. He had three sisters, whom Grace had never met, but whom he talked about often, and so many nieces and nephews that he often joked he’d lost count. As far as Grace was aware, there was no one special in John’s life. He had girlfriends but none of them seemed to last very long. She assumed that was John’s decision because he was generally considered a good catch. He was funny, smart, good-looking if you liked that big and brooding look, had good manners and a nice smile. In fact, Nathan had nicknamed him the Smiling Assassin. Grace suddenly realised that she could well have interrupted something and hadn’t even thought about that when she’d knocked at the door. She’d simply thought of someone whom she could turn to in a time of need, which John always was, and she’d do the same for him.
A few moments later, John came into the room carrying two steaming mugs of tea and handed one to Grace.
‘Thanks, John,’ she said.
‘So, you sure you don’t want to talk about it?’ John said, raising one eyebrow.
‘Oh God, John. Where would I even start?’
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Bradley Johnson pulled the collar of his Hugo Boss tracksuit top up over his neck against the cold wind on Otterspool prom.
‘No need to fucking count it, Jock,’ he snapped as he looked around the car park, which was deserted except for the two of them and Bradley’s youngest brother, Scott. ‘It’s all there. Apart from the ten grand that Mr McGrath agreed I could keep for a down-payment on new premises.’
Jock laughed good-naturedly as he zipped up the black leather holdall that was resting on the bonnet of the silver Mondeo estate. ‘Oh, I know, lads. Mr McGrath would have all of our bollocks on a skewer if it wasn’t.’ He winked as he slung the bag over his shoulder. ‘Nice doing business with you, boys. I’ll be back in touch when we have some merchandise.’
‘Same deal as last time?’ Bradley asked.
Jock looked him over as though considering his offer. Bradley knew that Jock didn’t have the authority to negotiate prices, and that Alastair McGrath had already briefed him on any future deals. After a few seconds, Jock shrugged. ‘Let’s see how you get on shifting this little lot first. If you can take this much every month, then you can keep the same deal.’
Bradley nodded. ‘We’ll shift it. Don’t worry.’
Jock grinned. ‘We’ll see. It’s a buyers’ market. And haven’t Jake Conlon and the Carters got it all sewn up round here?’
Bradley sensed Scott bristle beside him and spoke before his brother even had a chance to open his mouth. ‘Don’t worry about us, Jock. We can look after ourselves.’
Jock laughed again as he pulled his vape from his coat pocket and took a long drag. ‘That’s good to hear, boys. I’d hate for our little business arrangement to come to an end before it’s even really begun.’
‘It won’t,’ Bradley assured him. ‘That shower of flash pricks don’t scare us, eh, Scott?’
Scott looked up at his big brother and shook his head. ‘No,’ he mumbled.
‘I’ll be in touch in a few weeks then,’ Jock said as he opened the boot of his estate and put the holdall full of money under the false bottom, before replacing the fishing gear he carried around in the back as a decoy. ‘Try and keep yourselves out of too much trouble ’til then.’
Bradley grinned. ‘Not a chance, mate.’
They watched Jock’s car as it pulled out of the car park until his brake lights disappeared into the darkness. ‘That went all right, didn’t it?’ Bradley said with a grin. ‘This is going to be the start of something big for us, kid.’
Scott shook his head. ‘I don’t know, Brad. Are you sure you know what you’re doing? We could be stepping on some dangerous toes here.’
Bradley glared at Scott. He was the baby of the family and it showed. He was by far the youngest of the five Johnson brothers, with eight years between him and the second youngest, Billy, and sixteen years between him and Bradley. Twenty years earlier, he’d been a happy surprise to their mother, who’d thought she couldn’t have any more kids, and as a result he’d been mollycoddled from the moment he was born. He was a clever little fucker, but he had no common sense at all. Scott had wanted to go off to Cambridge and ponce about doing a Maths degree, but after their parents had died, Bradley had become the head of the family, and he’d insisted that Scott join the family business and earn his keep, just like everybody else had to.
‘Don’t be such a fucking quilt,’ Bradley snapped at him. ‘I’ve already told you, this is the time for us to make our move. Craig’s out tomorrow and Ged will be too in a few days. Once they’re back we’re going to be fucking unstoppable. Just how it was always meant to be before that cunt Sol Shepherd got them sent down.’
Scott sucked the cold air through his teeth. ‘I’m just saying, Jake Conlon and the Carter twins are no mugs, Bro. They’re a gang of fucking psychos.’
Bradley pulled his brother into a headlock and ruffled his hair. ‘So are we, sunshine. So are we.’
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The following morning, Grace walked through the living-room door and threw her car keys onto the sideboard. Sensing movement from the corner of the room, she glanced across to see Michael sitting in the armchair, an empty glass in his hand and a half empty bottle of brandy by his feet.
‘Where the hell have you been?’ He snapped.
‘Out,’ she snapped back.
Rising from his chair, he crossed the room in a few short strides. ‘No shit, Sherlock. Where?’
Grace could smell the alcohol on his breath. Michael very rarely drank more than a couple of beers. A glass of wine with a meal, a short if he was celebrating. She’d only seen him drunk on a handful of occasions. She studied his face. He was angry. She couldn’t blame him. She knew he must have been worried sick about her, but wasn’t that why she’d done it? To hurt him?
‘With an old friend,’ she said dismissively. ‘Not that it’s any of your business. We don’t tell each other everything, do we? Isn’t that our deal now?’
‘For fuck’s sake, Grace,’ he snapped at her. ‘I’m sorry. But, I couldn’t tell you. How do you not get that?’
‘You made me a promise that you would never to lie to me, Michael,’ she started before shaking her head and walking away from him.
He stared after her, the anger in his face slipping away. She supposed he could hardly argue with that.
‘Where are the kids?’ she asked.
‘My dad and Sue came to take them out for the day first thing.’
‘Oh, good.’
‘Have you spoken to Jake?’
Grace shook her head. ‘No. He’s not answering his phone. Have you talked to the boys?’
‘Well, I spoke to Connor.’
‘And what did he have to say for himself?’
‘Not much. He’s gutted about it all. But what do you expect him to say?’
‘Erm, how about sorry for fucking up everyone’s life? That might be a good start.’
Michael bristled. ‘And you think this is all on Connor, do you?’
Grace shrugged. ‘Him and Siobhan.’
‘And your precious Jake isn’t responsible for any of it?’ he sneered.
Grace glared at him. She didn’t appreciate the sarcasm or the tone. ‘Jake is the one who’s been lied to about his own daughter. Connor was supposed to be his best mate and he slept with his wife—’
‘She wasn’t his wife then,’ Michael interrupted her.
‘Oh, for God’s sake. Does that even matter?’
‘What about Jake? He was cheating on Siobhan before they were married and still is. He’s fucking gay, Grace, and he never thought to mention that to the woman he was marrying! No wonder she got fed up of him.’
Grace stared at him. She felt so many emotions, anger, sadness, betrayal, that she didn’t know which one to deal with first. It wa
s true that Jake had lied to Siobhan, but from the limited information she had, it seemed like he’d been lying to himself for much longer. It made her heart physically hurt to think that he’d been forced to carry such a secret all alone for so long, and hadn’t felt able to confide in her of all people. Hadn’t she always been there for him? Hadn’t she proved beyond a doubt that she loved him unconditionally? Then there was Michael. The man for whom she had finally let down her guard, and whom she had trusted implicitly. It had taken a lot for her to do that. Her marriage to Nathan had damaged her in ways that Michael couldn’t even comprehend – and he had lied to her too. Despite how much she loved him, she wasn’t sure that she could ever forgive him for that.
Sinking onto the armchair, Grace put her head in her hands. She was so used to solving everyone’s problems, but she couldn’t see any way out of this, at least not one that didn’t involve losing some of the people she loved most in the world. ‘What the hell are we going to do?’ she said quietly.
Michael placed a hand on her shoulder and she shrugged him off. After a few seconds, she stood up and took her car keys from the sideboard.
‘Where are you going?’ Michael asked in exasperation.
‘To find my son,’ she replied.
Chapter Thirty
Grace drove into the almost deserted staff car park of The Blue Rooms and turned off the engine. Jake’s BMW was the only other car there, confirming her suspicions about his whereabouts. She tried not to dwell on how sad it was that he had nowhere else to go. His rift with the Carter brothers was going to hit him as hard as his inevitable split from Siobhan. She couldn’t even imagine how he was processing the fact that he might not be Isla’s father, and what that would mean for all of them. She could barely wrap her head around any of it herself.
Using her key, Grace let herself into the back entrance of her son’s nightclub. The automatic lights flickered to life as she walked down the hallway towards Jake’s office. The door was closed. The place was deathly quiet, such a difference from its evening atmosphere. As she placed her hand on the doorknob, Grace felt a chill and for a split second, she dreaded what she might find on the other side of that door. Pushing it open, she saw the figure of her son, slumped across his desk. Her heart leapt into her chest and she rushed over to him.
‘Jake,’ she shouted.
His head snapped up and he looked at her groggily. ‘Mum? What are you doing here?’ he mumbled.
Grace closed her eyes and let out a long slow breath. ‘Jesus Christ, Jake. I thought you were…’
‘What? You thought I’d top myself over that little slut?’ he sneered.
Grace shook her head. ‘No. I thought, maybe…’ She trailed off. She didn’t know what she thought. Her mind didn’t feel quite as sharp as it had been just twenty-four hours earlier.
Jake sighed and sat back in his chair.
‘Have you been here all night?’ Grace asked, noting the smell of alcohol fumes emanating from his body.
‘Mostly.’ He shrugged. ‘Nowhere else to go, have I?’
‘You could have stayed with me.’
‘And that lying twat of a husband of yours?’ Jake snapped. ‘I don’t fucking think so, Mum.’
Grace suppressed the urge to remind him that he had a nerve calling anyone a liar. But as annoyed as she was with him, she tried to focus on the pain he must be feeling. His whole world had come crashing down around his ears – and she knew exactly how that felt. So instead she sat down on the chair on the opposite side of his desk. ‘What are you going to do?’
‘About what?’
‘About everything? Isla? Siobhan?’
Jake shook his head. ‘Fuck all! Fuck the fucking lot of them,’ he barked.
‘But there’s every chance Isla might still be your daughter, Jake. And even if she’s not…’
‘What? She’s still my niece?’ he snorted. ‘I’ll tell her I’m her uncle Jake, shall I?’
‘No,’ Grace snapped at him. ‘But you adore that child, and she adores you. She never asked for any of this, and all she knows right now is that her dad isn’t there. Whatever happens at the end of all this, she is the innocent party here.’
‘And what about me?’ Jake said to her. She was reminded of him as a petulant child.
‘I don’t think you can play the innocent victim card, Son, do you?’ She raised an eyebrow at him. ‘I know you’re hurting. What Siobhan and Connor did is unthinkable, but let’s not pretend you haven’t been sneaking around lying to people too.’
Jake glared at her. ‘So what was I supposed to do? Tell everyone I’m gay? Yeah, right.’
‘Yes,’ Grace said. ‘If that’s the truth.’
‘That’s easy for you to say, but you’re not me, Mum. You don’t understand.’
‘Then explain it to me. Tell me how lying to everyone, and marrying Siobhan, was easier than admitting the truth.’
‘I was going to tell her,’ he snapped. ‘When I was in hospital the night she told me she was pregnant. I would never have married her otherwise. Don’t you see that? And do you know what’s even worse? She already knew about me. She’d seen me with Paul, but she tricked me into fucking marrying her anyway. And the kid wasn’t even mine,’ he said with a growl before picking up the almost empty bottle of whisky from his desk and pouring himself a glass. ‘She ruined my fucking life for nothing.’
Grace shook her head. Was anyone capable of telling the truth in this family? ‘She was wrong, Son. No one can argue with that. But Isla isn’t nothing. She may still be your flesh and blood, and even if she’s not, she’s still one of us.’
Jake glared at her as he downed the glass of whisky in one. ‘No, she’s not. So, if she’s not mine, then you’re going to have a tough choice to make, aren’t you, Mum?’
Grace shook her head and stood up to leave. Jake was drunk and there was no sense to be talked into him today. He needed some time to calm down and some space to think.
‘Who will it be? Me or the Carters?’ Jake said as he leaned back in his chair. ‘Your real family, or your new one?’
Grace looked at him and felt like her heart was going to break in two. She wanted to tell him to stop being so ridiculous, but how could she when there was a part of her that wondered if things could ever be the same again? She would never choose between her children but, like it or not, there were going to be some difficult choices to be made, no matter who Isla’s father turned out to be.
Chapter Thirty-One
Craig Johnson squinted as he stepped out of Walton prison and into the bright sunlight. Four years over – at long fucking last. Doing his time hadn’t been hard, but it had been bloody boring. They’d kept him and his older brother Ged apart for most of it. Ged was due to be released from Strangeways the following day. He’d been kept in Cat A for most of his sentence because he hadn’t learned the fine art of keeping his head down and not starting fights with every poor fucker who looked at him sideways.
As he looked across the busy main road, Craig could see his eldest brother Bradley waiting for him, standing beside a shiny silver Mercedes, which was glinting in the sun.
Slinging his holdall over his shoulder, Craig waited for a break in the traffic before jogging over the road. ‘Nice motor.’ He grinned at Bradley.
‘I know. It was about time I got myself a decent one and I thought it was only fair for you to be driven home in style.’ Bradley laughed as he gave Craig a giant bear hug. ‘It’s nice to see you, Bro,’ he said with genuine affection.
‘It’s nice to be seen,’ Craig replied, throwing his bag into the back seat of the car.
‘Where to then, lad? The world is your lobster.’
Craig thought about what he’d missed most – decent drugs, alcohol that didn’t burn a hole in your gullet, and sex. Especially sex. He contemplated going somewhere he could get all three at the same time, but he had an appointment with his Probation Officer later that afternoon, and he knew better than to piss her off on his first day out.
She was a heartless bitch and he had a suspicion she’d have him recalled back to prison in a heartbeat given half a chance. Besides, he knew his missus Gemma was waiting at home for him. She’d even packed the kids off to her ma’s for a few hours so they could have some time alone.
‘Take me home, mate,’ he said with a sigh. ‘And don’t spare the horses.’
Resting his head against the cool leather headrest, he took a cigarette from the open packet in the centre console of the car. ‘Am I allowed to smoke in this posh motor?’ he asked.
‘Course you are, you daft cunt,’ Bradley replied.
Craig took his lighter out of his pocket and lit the cigarette before taking a long drag. ‘So how did your meeting with Alastair McGrath go?’
Bradley grinned at him. ‘Better than expected. He gave us a good deal. And we’ve already shifted some of the gear. Easy money, mate.’
Craig nodded. ‘I told you he was a good bloke.’
‘I didn’t actually meet him. Spoke to him on the phone, but he sent his right-hand man, Jock, to drop off the gear.’
‘Makes sense. I don’t think he likes to get his hands dirty these days.’
Craig had done a stint in Frankland, where he’d met Alastair McGrath, a Scot who’d married an Essex girl and had made a considerable name for himself working for her father, who’d then left him the family business when he’d popped his clogs. Alastair had been released a few months before Craig, but he had been untouchable on the inside. He was the top dog and Craig had made it his mission to become indispensable to the man himself. He’d told Alastair all about his brothers and their plan to become big players in Liverpool and it had paid dividends. Alastair had been looking to establish some connections up North and the Johnson brothers were happy to help him out.
‘You did good getting in with him, Craig,’ Bradley said. ‘Really good.’