by Kerry Kaya
Spencer balled the blanket in his fist and screwed up his face. “I want them to pay for what they did.”
“Pay?” There was disbelief in Fletch’s voice. He looked up to see where their mum was, and seeing that she was still talking to the nurses, he gave his brother his full attention. “What are you talking about, Spence? Pay for what?”
“Uncle Frank.”
To say that Fletch was shocked, was an understatement. He stood open-mouthed, staring at his brother.
“I thought that if I could make him pay, then it would make everything better for Frank.”
Mickey Shank. The name popped into Fletch’s mind, and he recalled the sinking feeling he’d had at the time, when he’d found out the man had been topped. “Was it you, Spence? Did you kill Shank?”
Spencer looked away.
“Was it you, Spence? Did you do it?”
“I was angry, Fletch.”
Fletch’s breath caught in the back of his throat and he shook his head vigorously. “No, Spence, please, tell me you didn’t.”
“I’m sorry, Fletch.” He lowered his eyes. “Are you mad at me?”
How was he supposed to answer? He felt like punching something, anything would do, as long as he could take his anger out on it.
“You are, aren’t you? You’re mad at me.”
Fletch closed his eyes. He really couldn’t take much more of this today. “I’m not mad, Spence,” he finally answered, “but this has to stop, do you understand me? You can’t go off on fucking rampages.”
Spencer gave a slight nod of his head, leaving Fletch unconvinced that his words had actually sunk in.
“Here we are.” Jenny placed two Styrofoam cups filled with tea on top of the portable table. “Only water for you, Spence.” She lifted the water jug and poured out a glass of water. “Just little sips,” she said, as she lifted the glass to her son’s lips.
“Mum, I’ve got to go.” Fletch rubbed wearily at his temples. All he wanted to do was sit in a darkened room to think through the day’s events.
“What about your tea?”
“You have it.” He began backing away.
“Okay, darling.” She reached forward, pulled him back toward her, and kissed his cheek. “I’ll stay here for a bit, just until Spence has been settled onto a ward, and then shoot off home and bring him back some bits.”
Barely even listening, Fletch had already turned and walked away. Outside on the corridor, Stevie joined him.
“Well, what happened?”
Striding toward the exit, Fletch ignored the question.
“Oi.” Pulling back on his mate’s arm, Stevie raised his eyebrows. “What happened?”
“Nothing.” Pulling his arm free, Fletch continued walking. “I fucking hate hospitals,” he stated.
“Don’t we all,” Stevie agreed, wrinkling his nose. As they continued on their way to the car, he threw Fletch a sideways glance. “Talk to me, man.”
“I can’t.” Fletch shook his head. “There’s too much to tell, and you wouldn’t understand.” He climbed behind the wheel, purposely looking everywhere other than at his best friend.
“Try me.”
Fletch ignored the comment. He started the ignition and inched out of the car park. After a few minutes, he spoke. “You know how much I love my brother, right? That I look out for him?”
“Yeah.” Stevie turned his head. Of course he knew, everyone knew.
“It’s just, sometimes …,” Fletch paused, “… sometimes I don’t understand what goes on inside that head of his.”
Stevie sighed. He didn’t know how to answer, and wasn’t entirely sure that Fletch expected one from him. Finally, they turned into his road and he cleared his throat. “I think me and you need to have a proper chat, mate. Maybe we can work this problem, whatever it is, out between us.”
“Yeah, maybe.” He watched Stevie climb out of the car. “I’ll give you a bell tomorrow.”
Tapping the roof of the car, Stevie made his way toward the flats. Fletch watched him go. There was a heaviness in his heart, a heaviness that he was unable to shrug off.
The truth was, he didn’t know what to do with himself. He didn’t want to go home, and didn’t want to go to his uncle’s house either, and as for going back to see Susan, well, that was out of the question. Starting the ignition, he put his foot down and just drove.
Chapter 17
Three hours later, darkness had descended. He’d put off the inevitable long enough. He had to go home, and as much as he didn’t want to have to face Tina, there was nowhere else he could go. Having parked the car, he took the lift to the fourth floor and let himself into the flat.
Thankful that the place was in darkness, he made his way through to the lounge, sank down on the sofa, and brought his hands up to his face.
“Fletch.” Tina switched on the table lamp.
Inwardly, he groaned. He couldn’t deal with Tina on top of everything else. He looked up in time to watch her as she walked back across the lounge and positioned herself on the arm of the chair opposite from where he sat.
He noted that she pulled down the hem of her short nightie. It should have made him happy to see that she’d finally taken the hint and realised that he wasn’t interested. It did the opposite, and only depressed him even further.
“What’s wrong?”
“What makes you think anything is wrong?” He shook his head at her, annoyed that she would even ask him that question.
She gave him a gentle smile in return, a lot gentler than he actually deserved, and he held his head in his hands once more, feeling thoroughly ashamed of himself. Susan, Billy, Spence—images of the three of them plagued his mind, and he slammed his eyes closed, in a bid to block them out.
“Because I know you, and I know when something is wrong.” She walked across the room and knelt down beside him.
He wanted to shake his head at that. She didn’t know him at all. If she did, she would run a mile in the opposite direction and take Austin with her. “Where’s the baby?”
“In his crib, fast asleep.” She smiled up at him.
“You should run away from me.” He dragged his hand through his hair, not looking at her.
Tina cocked her head to one side, puzzled. It was the most civil he had actually been to her in weeks. “Why would I do that?”
“Because I’m not good for you, Teen, either of you,’” he sighed.
She reached out to touch his arm, and he snatched hold of her hand. Any other day, he would have thrown it away from him and warned her not touch him. Tonight, he did no such thing. He needed to feel her, and so pulled her hand closer toward him, as though it were a lifeline.
The action startled her and a gasp escaped from her lips. She stared down at his hand covering hers.
“Fletch …,” she began.
He shook his head silently, begging her not to speak, and lifting her to her feet, he placed her down on his lap and buried his face in her hair. The first start of tears welled up in his eyes, and in an attempt to hide the despair that raged through him, he pushed his head into her long dark hair even farther.
Tina held onto him, and slowly, his stiff body moulded with her own. She had no idea what had caused him to react like this, and she bit down on her bottom lip. As much as it was what she had always wanted, she couldn’t help but feel scared. If she was being totally honest with herself, it was downright unnerving. She tilted her head back and studied him. Her voice wobbled as she spoke.
“Has something bad happened?”
Had something bad happened? Fletch almost laughed out loud. Even if he wanted to tell her, which he didn’t, he would have no idea where to even begin.
“Has it?”
“Spence was stabbed.” He saw her eyes widen and quickly added, “He’s gonna be okay; they stitched him up.”
Tina nodded her head. He continued to hold her in his arms, and she held her breath, not wanting the moment to end. Using her fingertips, she wiped
strands of dark hair away from his forehead.
“That’s a good thing, right?”
“Yeah.” He nuzzled his face into her hair once more. For a brief moment, he considered tipping her from his lap and telling her to go to bed. Before today, he actually would have done just that, but now, right now, he couldn’t. He needed this.
His hand reached out and snaked the length of her bare thigh, and she wriggled in closer. In the back of his mind, he knew it was wrong of him, and that when the morning light shone through the windows, he would feel differently, that he wouldn’t want her, that he was only using her for a second time to try and get over the loss of Susan.
He tipped her back onto the sofa, and her short nightie rose up. He noticed that this time, she didn’t attempt to pull it down and cover herself. Even with the knowledge that she wanted another baby, and not to mention that she had tricked him into getting her pregnant with the first one, it wasn’t enough to stop him. He eagerly kicked off his trainers and jeans. He didn’t bother to ask her if it was what she wanted, he already knew it was. He could see the want, the lust, the need, in her eyes.
“You went on the pill, right?” As he lowered himself down, he took a moment to pause.
“Of course I did.” Tina chewed on her bottom lip. She hadn’t, but wasn’t about to tell the truth and put an end to what was about to take place.
“Good,” he muttered in return.
* * *
A pounding at the front door roused Fletch from his sleep. With one eye still closed, he reached out his hand to feel for Tina’s side of the bed. The sheets were cold to his touch.
Slamming his eyes closed, he groaned out loud, as the memory of the previous night’s events came back to haunt him. He turned over and lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He couldn’t believe he’d been so careless, so stupid, and had gone back to Tina for a second time. The worst part of it all was that he couldn’t even blame it on alcohol. He’d been as sober as a judge.
“Babe.” Fully-clothed, Tina poked her head around the bedroom door. “Stevie’s here to see you.”
He rubbed at his jaw, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and hastily pulled on a clean pair of boxer shorts and T-shirt, before making his way through to the lounge.
“I’m taking Austin to the health centre for his weekly check-up.” Placing their son into his pushchair, Tina looked up and gave him a wide smile.
He gave her a small smile in return, and watched as she left the flat.
“She seems happy, for once.” Stevie raised his eyebrows and jerked his thumb in Tina’s direction. “I even managed to get a ‘hello’ out of her this morning.”
Shrugging his shoulders, Fletch dragged on his jeans, then slumped down on the sofa. “She’s probably after money.” He averted his eyes away from his best mate’s quizzical stare. There was no way on earth he was going to tell the truth, and admit that the only reason she was happy, was because she now believed everything was okay between them, that they were together, a couple.
“So?”
“What?” Fletch looked up.
Stevie narrowed his eyes. “You know, what.”
“No, I don’t. What?” Fletch repeated.
“We’re gonna be here all day if we keep on like this,” Stevie chuckled out loud, only it sounded hollow to Fletch’s ears. “What’s going on with Spencer, Susan, and Billy?”
“You know what’s going on with Susan and Billy.” Fletch tilted his chin in the air. “You were there.”
“Yeah.” Stevie gave a nod of his head. Fair enough, Fletch had him on that one. “And what about Spence?”
“What about him?”
“For fuck’s sake, Fletch.” Losing patience, Stevie’s face turned red. “Don’t you know how to give a straight answer to a question anymore?”
Fletch swallowed. “It’s not that. It’s just, there isn’t anything to tell.”
“Don’t give me that crap. Someone stabbed him. Who was it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Jesus fucking Christ.” Walking across to the patio doors, Stevie leaned his palms on either side of the glass. As he looked out at the view across Romford town centre, the muscles in his back strained against the thin fabric of his shirt. “I ain’t leaving here today without an explanation,” he warned. “So,” he turned back around, “you’d best start talking, and fast.”
Fletch paused. He didn’t understand any of it himself, and Spencer was his own brother, so how the hell did Stevie expect to be able to get his head around everything that had gone on? “It’s Spence, he …”
“What?” Stevie bounded across the room and came to stand inches away from the sofa. “C’mon, spit it out.”
Pulling in his knees, Fletch sat forward. He really didn’t know where to start. Finally, he spoke. “My name, Fletch … it’s a nickname, and comes from my surname Fletcher, right?”
“Yeah, I already know this,” Stevie spat. He didn’t understand. Why he was being told something that he already knew?
“But the truth is, my surname isn’t Fletcher.” He looked up at Stevie. “It never was.”
“What are you talking about? Of course it is.” Stevie thought back. He’d known his best mate for most of his life. They’d even gone to school together.
“It’s not.” He paused and rubbed at his temples, not sure how to continue. “My real name is Harry.”
“Yeah and?” Stevie could recall the teachers calling him that back in school. It was nothing new to him. He’d always known Fletch was just a nickname.
“It’s … it’s Harry … Bannerman.”
Stevie’s face paled and he took a step backwards. “Bannerman? As in, George Bannerman?” He tilted his head to one side. “That’s just a coincidence, right?”
Fletch shook his head. Shame flooded through him, and he could barely look his best mate in the eyes.
“Okay, so somewhere down the line, he’s a relative, like a distant cousin or something.”
“No, and believe me, I wish that was the case.” He took a deep breath. “He’s … he’s mine and Spence’s dad.” There, he’d finally said it, and in a way, it felt good to have finally got it off of his chest, to have come clean.
“Are you kidding me?” Stevie placed his hands onto the arm of the leather chesterfield sofa. The shock across his pale face was quickly replaced with anger, and he backed away. “And what, all this time, you’ve been in cohorts with Bannerman, playing us?”
“No.” Fletch leapt off of the sofa and held out his arms. “It wasn’t like that, mate.”
“Don’t call me, mate,” Stevie sneered. “It was you all along. All this time, you’ve been running back to Bannerman, telling him what was going down. You’re the fucking grass.”
“No.” Fletch inched closer and there was a desperation in his voice. “That wasn’t me. It really was Joseph; you have to believe me on that.”
“Believe you?” Stevie puffed out his cheeks. How was he supposed to believe anything that came out of his so-called best mate’s mouth ever again? He didn’t even know who he was anymore.
“My mum, she took us away from him when we were kids. Up until recently, I hadn’t seen George in years. I didn’t even want to see him. I still don’t want to see him.”
“I don’t understand this.” Side-stepping the baby changing mat on the floor, Stevie sunk down on the leather chair and dragged his hand across his face. “Is this true? Bannerman’s really your old man?” He looked up at Fletch through hooded eyes.
Fletch nodded his head. “I’m hardly gonna make that up, am I? Why do you think I don’t have a driving license or a passport? I can’t risk anyone seeing my name, or finding out the truth.” He paused for a moment, allowing his words to sink in. “The thing is, what happened to Albie …”
“Your uncle?” Stevie interrupted him.
“Yeah, I suppose so.” Fletch looked into the distance. He’d never really thought of it like that. “Well, it was Billy. Billy
and Spence who topped him.”
“No, hold up a minute.” Stevie held his hand up in the air. “Let me get this straight. You’re telling me that Spencer killed his own uncle?”
“Yeah, but he didn’t know.” Fletch hastily defended his brother. “Spence has no idea of who our dad even is.”
Shaking his head, Stevie looked down at the floor. “I can’t get my head around any of this.”
“How do you think I feel then? The thing is, Spence has got it into his nut that he needs to avenge Frank. It’s like he’s on some fucking crusade. It was him who killed Mickey Shank, and then last night, he went for one of Bannerman’s henchmen, only they got to him first. That’s how he ended up getting stabbed.”
Stevie’s mouth dropped open and he slammed his fist down on the arm of the chair. “Then put a stop to it, and tell him the fucking truth.”
“I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?” Stevie growled.
“Both.” Fletch shrugged his shoulders. “Spence must never know the truth. He can’t ever find out who our dad is, or what he put us through as kids.”
“Jesus Christ, Fletch. Have you heard yourself?” Stevie stood up and began to pace the floor. “You need to end this now, before this causes a war.”
“I can’t. I’ve already told you that.”
Stevie stopped pacing. He stabbed his finger in Fletch’s direction. “Then you need to do all of us a favour, and take Spencer out of the picture, before this spirals out of control, before we end up getting killed in the crossfire.”
“What?” Air whooshed out of Fletch’s mouth. He felt as though he’d been kicked in the gut. The very notion of even harming his brother was alien to him. All his life, he’d only ever looked out for him. He slumped down heavily on the sofa. “He’s my brother. I can’t do that, you know that I can’t.”
“There it is again, that word can’t.” Stevie screwed up his face. “He’s a fucking liability, that’s what he is, and the worst part of all this, is that he’s doing it in our name. Have you, even for one second, asked yourself what’s gonna happen to Spence when Bannerman gets his hands on him? When he learns the truth?”