by Kerry Kaya
“No, go on.” Susan sensed him faltering. “You wanted to say something.” she gently coaxed.
“When we were kids …” He turned away from her and rested his forearms on his knees, stalling for time. To this day, he still felt ashamed of himself for what he had caused, for what he had done to his brother. “Our old man …” He paused, cleared the lump from his throat, and began again.
“When we were kids, our old man he used to have a bit of a temper, not that he ever really needed much of an excuse to knock us about. My mum would try to calm him down and put a stop to it, but being only five-foot-nothing, she didn’t stand a chance against him. More often than not, we would wake up to find her crying in the kitchen with a blackened eye or a split lip. She’d tell us that she’d walked into the door, but we knew the truth. We’d hear them arguing. We’d hear the slaps and punches. One day, I must have been, I dunno, about seven, Spencer was five. I was being cocky, giving my dad some lip, back-chatting him type of thing.”
He gave an embarrassed smile. “He went to whack me one, only I was too fast for him and darted out of the way. He ended up missing me, but …” He looked away, his cheeks flushed, as shame spread through him. “He ended up catching Spence by mistake, instead.”
He closed his eyes as he recalled the moment. All these years later, he could still hear the sickening thud, as Spencer’s head landed against the corner of the kitchen cabinet.
“Spence ended up hitting his head. He dropped to the floor and was out cold for what felt like hours. It was probably only minutes in reality. My mum was screaming, I was screaming, and my dad … my dad, he was shaking Spence, trying to wake him up. There was claret all over the place. I thought he was dead. I really thought he was dead.”
Susan gasped and placed her hand across her mouth. She’d had no idea his childhood had been so bad.
“Finally, he did wake up, but …” He looked into the distance. “He was never the same after that.” He shrugged his shoulders and turned his head away. “He was different, I suppose.” He shook his head at the memory. “Even now, he finds it difficult to remember things. It was all my fault.” He turned his body back to face her, his eyes filled with regret. “Don’t you see? I made him the way he is. He has to live like this, all because of me.”
“No.” Susan was aghast. “You were a child; you can’t blame yourself.”
“But I do though.” His shoulders hunched downwards. “If I hadn’t of given my dad lip that day, then it would never have happened. I should have protected Spence better. It should have been me.”
“No.” Susan pulled him into her arms. “It wasn’t your fault,” she soothed.
Fletch shook his head. Despite her words, he would always blame himself. “I should have taken the beating. If I’d have let my dad catch me, then Spence would have been okay.”
“And … this is the reason you live with Frank?”
“Yeah, good old Uncle Frank.” He gave a half smile and shook his head. “More like out of the frying pan, and into the fire.” He pushed himself back slightly and studied her. Seeing as he was baring his soul, he may as well tell her everything. “Fletch isn’t even my real name.”
Susan’s eyes widened.
“It’s Harry,” he laughed. “Once we’d left dad, my uncle started calling me Fletch. It started out as a nickname and it’s kind of stuck ever since.”
“Harry.” Susan softly repeated back the name, “I like it,” she smiled. “And what about your father?”
“What about him?” Fletch screwed up his face, full of hatred for the man.
Susan tilted her head to one side. “What happened to him? Did he go to prison?”
“Nothing happened.” He shrugged his shoulders, confused by the question. “Mum left him, and he’s stayed away from us ever since. I doubt he even knows where we are.”
“And you don’t have any contact with him?”
“What do you think?” He eased himself out of her arms, thankful for the darkness. The last thing he wanted to see was her pity. “I have to go, Suze; I have to go and find Spence.”
Susan nodded her head. She watched as he hastily began to dress, and her heart went out to him. “You’re a good brother to him. He’s lucky to have you.”
“Is he?” He turned to look at her and tapped two fingers against his temple. “What I did, what I caused, it’s in here, and it never goes away.” He gave her a weak smile, knelt on the bed, and kissed her on the lips, putting an end to the conversation. “I have to go.”
“Will I still see you tomorrow night at Billy’s homecoming party?”
Pausing at the bedroom door, Fletch nodded his head. Billy would expect him to be there. “You know you will.”
Left sitting alone on the bed, Susan nodded her head. She heard the front door close, heard his car speed away from the house, and slumped back against the plump pillows. No wonder he was so protective over his brother. There and then, her heart broke for him.
* * *
From the safe distance of the lane opposite Billy King’s driveway, Joseph Hatton was sitting inside his car. He reached up to touch his face, still swollen and bruised after George Bannerman had half-battered him to death, and felt nothing but anger toward his boss, and even more so, his protégée.
Even though he knew that Billy was supposed to be in Spain, on the off chance, he had driven over to the house to see for himself if the man was, in fact, abroad. He couldn’t help but wonder if it was all just another lie, another situation he had been left out of the loop of. For all he knew, Billy may never have even left England.
He studied the house, noting that it was in darkness and that Billy’s car was in actual fact missing from the drive, an obvious indicator that he wasn’t at home. He’d been about to turn the ignition, when he saw the front door open. He pushed himself down, hidden out of sight, watching everything that went on through the gap between the two front seats.
A figure stepped over the doorstep. From his vantage point, Joseph narrowed his eyes. “What the fuck?” he muttered to himself. Even though his car was absent, he’d fully expected to see Billy himself step outside the house.
He pushed himself down the seat even farther, watching as a car pulled out of the driveway. He waited until he could no longer see the car’s tail-lights in the rear-view mirror, then straightened up and turned back to look at the house.
Why the fuck was Fletch creeping out of Billy’s house at this time of night? An upstairs light snapped on, and he sat contemplating what this could mean.
His mouth dropped open, and after getting over his initial shock, he almost laughed out loud at this latest development. There could be no other explanation for it.
The wonderful protégée, Fletch, must be having it away with Billy King’s missus. He started the ignition. A wicked grin was spread across his face, and he debated with himself whether or not he should inform George Bannerman of these latest developments. If he did, then it was bound to earn him a few extra brownie points, and God only knew how much he needed them.
* * *
The Royal Oak public house, in Barking, was where Fletch found his brother and best friend. As he strolled into the public bar, just making it in time for last orders, a wide grin was spread across his face.
“Are you okay, bruv?” He slung his arm around Spencer’s shoulders. A pang of guilt rippled through him. Ever since Susan had entered his life, he’d neglected his brother. More often than not, Spencer followed him around like a lost puppy. There and then, he decided to make more time for him. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you; why didn’t you answer your phone?”
“I didn’t hear anything,” Spencer groaned.
“They had a bloody singer on,” Stevie explained further. “Fuck me, she was bad; my ears are still ringing.”
Fletch turned his head to watch the woman in question, as she packed away her speakers and equipment.
“What are you having, Fletch?” Downing the remainder of his lager,
Spencer placed the empty pint glass down on the bar top and pulled a twenty-pound note from his jacket pocket.
Turning his head away from the singer, Fletch cast his eyes across the pumps. “I’ll have whatever you’re having.”
“Where’ve you been anyway?” Stevie eyed his friend over the rim of his pint glass. “I thought you said you were coming out with us tonight?”
“Yeah, where’ve you been, Fletch?” Spencer looked over his shoulder as he waited in line to get served at the bar. Held aloft in his hand, was the twenty-pound note.
“Nowhere.” Fletch shrugged his shoulders. He could barely keep the smile from his face.
Taking in the grin across his friend’s face, Stevie narrowed his eyes even further. “Come on, out with it,” he laughed. “Where have you really been?”
“I told you, nowhere.” He took the filled pint glass from his brother and swallowed a mouthful of the amber liquid down.
“Were you with that bird?” Stevie nudged his friend in the ribs.
“What bird?” As Fletch narrowed his eyes, a slither of panic ran down his spine. Had he found out about him and Susan? “What d’ya mean by that?” he demanded to know.
“You know, that one from the Two Puddings. The one who gave you her phone number last week? You know.” He brought his cupped hands up toward his chest. “The one with the big tits?”
Relieved, Fletch shook his head. He was barely able to recall the girl in question’s name and had promptly thrown away the scrap of paper with her telephone number scrawled across it. “Nah. I’ve already told you, I’m not interested. I only went along with it so you could pull her, mate.”
“So, where’ve you really been then, Fletch?” Spencer asked.
He tapped the side of his nose and winked. “Never you mind.” He downed his beer and turned his back on his brother and best friend.
“You’re turning into a right touchy bastard,” Stevie complained. “It ain’t like you to be so cagey.”
“Leave it out,” Fletch groaned. “I don’t have to tell you two everything. I am entitled to have some privacy, you know.”
“Privacy, hark at him.”
“I reckon he’s got some bird on the go.” Spencer gave a lopsided grin.
Stevie burst out laughing. “Yeah, he’s definitely got a bird. He was like this when he fancied Lisa Munford, back in school. He actually reckoned he was in with a chance with her.”
“I was in with a chance.”
“Yeah, you and everyone else,” Stevie winked.
“True.” Fletch couldn’t help but laugh along with them. His thoughts turned to Susan. The way he felt about her was no schoolboy crush, and there was certainly no denying the fact that he had fallen for her, hard. The smile slipped from his face and a looming image of Billy entered his mind. He could only hope and pray that she wouldn’t bring about his downfall.
* * *
Stevie playfully punched his best friend on the arm. “Fucking hell, Fletch,” he laughed. “You have got it bad. Must be serious then, between you and this bird of yours?”
Fletch shrugged his shoulders. It was the next morning, and they were standing outside a jeweller’s shop at the Dagenham Heathway.
“What do you reckon?” He jerked his head toward a heart-shaped golden locket with a matching gold chain hanging in the shop window.
“Yeah, it’s nice.”
“Yeah, it is.” Fletch nodded his head. He wanted to buy Susan an early Christmas present and planned to give it to her on the quiet, at the joint Christmas and welcome-home gathering Billy was putting on later that evening.
“Are you gonna buy it then or not?”
“Yeah.” Still standing outside the shop, Fletch continued to admire the necklace.
“Well, go on then.” Stevie rolled his eyes and pushed his friend forward. “We ain’t got all day, Fletch.”
“All right.” Fletch made to enter the jeweller’s. “Wait here for me.”
Stevie rolled his eyes for a second time. He glanced down at his wristwatch and tapped it impatiently. “Come on then, mate, get a move on, eh? I wanna go and get me barnet cut before we go out tonight.” He pointed to his dark hair. “I’m starting to look like I’ve got a fucking busby stuck on me head.”
* * *
Despite only arriving back in England earlier that morning, Billy was on a mission. He was sitting inside his car with Joseph beside him in the passenger’s seat. Lighting a cigarette, he leaned forward over the steering wheel, not taking his eyes away from the breakers yard in Crow Lane, Romford.
“What are we doing here then?” Joseph glanced across to the yard, where scrapped cars were piled high on top of one another.
“Just some business I’ve got to take care of.” Remaining tight-lipped, Billy placed his hand on the door handle, ready and waiting to jump out.
“Surprised you ain’t got Fletch with ya.” A sly expression creased Joseph’s face.
“We’re not joined at the fucking hip,” Billy snapped.
“I did wonder,” Joseph mumbled.
“What’s that you said?”
“Nothing.” Joseph shook his head and shifted his weight in the confines of the cramped car.
“No, come on out with it. If you’ve got something to say, then say it.” He gave his onetime number two a sidelong glance. “Well, come on, it ain’t like you to keep tight-lipped.”
Joseph shrugged his shoulders. What was the point in even saying anything? All thanks to Fletch, he’d been well and truly pushed out of the loop. He hadn’t even been involved in the planning of the rave robberies, and had only found out about them hours beforehand.
“He’s driving my Susan around anyway,” Billy stated. Not that he would have brought Fletch to the breakers yard. He was a touchy little so and so at the best of times, and seeing as this was the final resting place of Albie Bannerman, he had a feeling it wouldn’t have gone down too well.
“Bet he’s loving that.” A sly grin spread across Joseph’s face once more.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Flicking his cigarette butt out of the window, a vein at the side of Billy’s temple twitched. “What the fuck do you mean by that?”
“Just that they seem to get on well.” Joseph shrugged his shoulders.
“He treats her with respect.” Billy stabbed his finger forward. “If he didn’t, I’d break his fucking neck.”
Joseph raised his eyebrows. Respect, is that what they called it nowadays? Fletch was definitely slipping King’s missus one. Where was the respect in that? He was about to voice his opinion, when he snapped his mouth closed. He’d already said too much, and planted a seed of suspicion in Billy’s mind, not to mention, he still hadn’t, as of yet, decided whether or not he should inform George Bannerman of these latest developments. The car engine purred to life and he glanced across to his boss.
“Thought you were going inside.”
“Nah, it can wait,” Billy growled. He flicked the indicator and pulled out into the road. Joseph’s words were ringing in his ears. A sense of jealousy rippled through him. There and then, he decided to keep a closer eye on his wife and protégée.
* * *
Resembling a Santa’s grotto, Billy King’s mansion was decked out with a seven-foot Christmas tree, expensive garlands, and glass baubles. Fletch had never seen anything quite like it before, and it put his uncle’s lounge with the paper chains strung up on the ceiling with peeling cello tape and the three-foot artificial Christmas tree, multi-coloured lights, plastic baubles, and tattered tinsel, to shame.
In the kitchen, he gave Susan a wide smile. As he watched her pouring out drinks into crystal glasses, he could hear his uncle’s booming voice cracking jokes from inside the lounge.
“I’ve got something for you,” he said quietly.
Susan placed the brandy bottle down on the kitchen counter and turned around.
“What is it?” she smiled.
“This.” Glancing nervously toward the kitche
n door, Fletch delved his hand inside the pocket of his jeans and pulled out the gold locket.
“For me?” Susan gasped.
“Yes, for you. Who else would I buy it for, eh?” He gave her a little wink and indicated for her to turn around. Checking that the coast was clear first, he pushed her hair to one side and brushed his fingertips across her skin, as he secured the safety clasp in place at the nape of her neck.
“It’s beautiful.” Susan looked down at the locket. “Thank you.” She stood on tip-toes to kiss his cheek, and he caught hold of her hand.
“When can I see you again?”
“You’re seeing me now.” There was a twinkle in Susan’s eyes, and she cocked her head to one side to look up at him. “And you’ll see me tomorrow when you come to collect me so I can go Christmas shopping.”
“You know what I meant, Suze.” He swooped in for a kiss and held her to him. “When can I see you?” he whispered in her ear.
“Soon,” she smiled, breathing him in and savouring his familiar scent of cologne and tobacco. “I promise.”
* * *
Taking a sip from his bottled beer, Stevie glanced toward the lounge door. What was taking Fletch and Susan so long? He turned to look at Billy. He was engrossed in a conversation, oblivious to where his wife and protégée were, and tore his eyes back to the door. It didn’t take this long to pour a few drinks, surely? He was in half a mind to take a wander into the kitchen and see for himself what the holdup was, when Billy called out.
“What’s keeping those drinks?”
“Yeah, come on, we’re dying from thirst in here,” Frank shouted.