by Martina Cole
He shook hands with Shamus before helping him sling his brother into the back of the van and giving him directions to the nearest hospital.
‘No hard feelings, son, but you remember to pay on the nail in future if you want to carry on doing business with me, OK?’
He was being magnanimous, he was being the big man and letting the lad know that it wasn’t personal, it was just business. He was trying to help him with his future endeavours, giving him a lesson in the big boys’ way of trading.
After all, it was Easter Sunday. He could afford to be nice one day of the year.
Jackie was rocking, and her loud laugh was getting even louder. She was taking the piss out of Maggie as usual, calling her Mrs Bouquet in one breath, and reminding her of her beginnings in another.
It was a pattern and Maggie was used to it, but she knew that Jimmy never would be, that he was on the verge of throwing her out. He wasn’t worried about Freddie’s reaction to his aiming Jackie out the front door, though, he was more worried about hers. Freddie was always urging him to send his wife home, telling him it was his house and he should not let Jackie mug them off in it.
But Maggie understood her sister’s disappointment in her own life, and knew that every time she saw her she was reminded of a youth she had thrown away on a man who had no real care for her and who, for some strange reason, she could not live without.
Joseph stared at his eldest daughter. She was so far gone he knew it was a miracle she was still able to talk. They were all in the dining room. The meal had been perfect, and the kids had been good, even Little Freddie who always underwent a personality change at Maggie’s house. They were now enjoying port and brandies and the cheese platters Maggie made up so beautifully, and Jackie was getting personal and vindictive.
‘Why don’t you shut your fucking trap for once?’
Joe was pointing at his daughter with a cheese knife, and Lena was trying to pull his arm down all the while saying quietly, ‘Leave it, Joe, you’ll only make her worse.’
Jackie poured more brandy for herself. ‘Well! Who does she think she fucking is, with her fucking family dinners and her fucking big house, looking down her fucking nose at me?’
Maggie sipped her port and sighed. She had been here many times before, and as ever she would sit it out until Jackie went into the lounge and fell asleep.
‘Well, let me tell you something, lady,’ Jackie poked herself hard in her ample chest. ‘I am a better person than you, remember that. I am a better fucking person than you will ever be.’
She was now pointing at Maggie with a long fat finger. The nail varnish was chipped and her hands were chapped and sore looking. ‘I don’t need cars and fucking houses to make me feel good about meself.’
This was a familiar rant and Maggie ignored her, waiting for her to get it out of her system, but Kimberley shoved her head towards her mother and said nastily, ‘Why would you need cars to make you feel better, Mum, you’ve got fucking alcohol.’
Somewhere in Jackie’s head the words penetrated and she knew the girl was speaking the truth, but the thought of her daughter saying that to her was like a knife in her chest.
Lena was nearly in tears. She dreaded this and every time it happened it upset her more. She knew it was all their own fault. They had allowed Jackie to get away with it, and consequently she now believed she could do and say what she wanted whenever she wanted. This should all have been nipped in the bud years ago.
‘How dare you talk to me like that? I am your mother.’
Jackie had the self-righteous tone off pat, and she also had the look of a woman who had been whipped once too often. She’d been a complete manipulator of everyone around her, and as the years had gone on she’d become unable to see that none of it was working any more. Especially with her girls, who knew her too well.
‘You are a piss head, Mother, and you ruin everything because you can’t stand to see anyone doing well, can you?’
‘Stop it, Kim, leave her alone.’ Maggie’s voice was calm and she handed her sister a cigarette and then lit it for her.
It was what Jackie wanted - if Maggie wasn’t annoyed with her then she was still in with a chance of redeeming herself. She puffed on the cigarette as if her life depended on it and looked out of the sparkling clean patio doors into the garden.
Everyone was talking again in low voices, and Jackie felt the urge to cry that always came when she was with her family. Opposite her chair was a long gilt mirror and she could see her reflection. At first she had wondered who the hell it was, the dark-circled eyes, with their bitterness and hatred burning out, and the heavyset body and hunched shoulders encased in a white frilly shirt that made her look even bigger than she actually was. Despite her denial, on one level she knew it was her, and seeing the destruction of herself just made her angrier, because it showed her the abortion her life had become.
Jackie glanced back out of the window and stared at the green lawn and the small summerhouse that was freshly painted. It was a lovely day, warm and bright, with the sun glistening down on the ornamental fishpond. It looked so nice, so normal and it was this normality that frightened her.
This should have been her, this should have been her house, her home, and Freddie should have been sitting with her and loving her like Jimmy did Maggie. They showed her life up for what it was, and she couldn’t bear it sometimes.
Even her children only tolerated her. As the girls had grown up they had grown away from her, further and further by the week. Maggie and Jimmy still didn’t have kids, they were waiting for the right time. They planned everything and they made sure they had enough money and enough time to bring their plans to fruition. Even Maggie’s little shop was now one of five hairdressers and beauty parlours she had spread all over Essex and the East End. Jimmy had a pub, a garage and a night club, and that was without his hot-dog vans and the houses they rented out. And they worked them all together, they did everything together. They even had a place being built in Spain.
They were a constant reminder of what she didn’t have, had never had.
Jackie hated them for that.
Freddie had dropped Pat back at her house and stayed for a couple of hours. They were an item, he supposed, except she still acted like she was a single woman.
He loved her house. It was bright, clean and quiet, so bloody quiet. Her sound system was the best that money could buy, and like him she listened to it down low, not blaring out and blasting your eardrums the way Jackie and the kids preferred. Pat had a chocolate fridge and a fridge for beers - it was like a different world. She was also so independent. Even though over the years this had annoyed him, he liked it about her now, especially since one of his little amours had given him an ultimatum.
He was going to pop in to see her before going to Jimmy’s for his dinner. Jimmy knew he had a bit of business so he wasn’t expecting him until late.
Freddie drove on to the Thamesmead estate and parked outside a tower block. Locking his stacked-head Mercedes, he sauntered over to the main doorway and observed the kids hanging around like little clones of one another.
Jimmy had recruited a few kids off this estate when he had started doing the flowers years ago. He had got a couple of boys from here to work the plants for him, and they had been sound little workers. He had driven them all over the place and settled them in lay-bys with a flask of tea and their flowers all bucketed up in water. Freddie had thought he was mad until he saw the money he was pulling in, then he had worked them with him.
Nowadays, of course, it was all taken care of for them and they just picked up their poke at regular intervals, but it had been the catalyst for him listening to Jimmy’s ideas. He had a good business brain, and so did little Maggie. Look at how she had turned those shops into gold mines. Seven years on, that girl had a small empire and, in fairness, she had built it on her Jack Jones. And she hadn’t even dropped a chavvy yet, she still had her tits in the right place and a stomach like a washboard. Jimmy was
a lucky fucker.
Freddie still had an ambition in life, and fucking Maggie was it.
She looked at him and he knew she was looking down her pretty little pointed nose, but the time would come when he would bring her down a peg. Like his father always used to say, wait long enough and you’ll get what you want from life. Just make sure it was worth the wait.
He walked into a flat on the ninth floor. The door was open, the door was always open. The flat was occupied by a nineteen year old called Charlene, who had thick blond hair and green eyes framed by thick dark lashes. There was no doubt about it, she was a looker, and her neat little body was made for Freddie Jackson’s large, brutish lovemaking. However, she had a kid called Deandra, a name she had heard on a TV show and loved. The child was a nice little thing, and she was also at Charlene’s mum’s, as it was a weekend.
As he walked into her tidy front room he was smiling. Charlene, however, was not.
‘You took your fucking time.’
Freddie was doing his best not to laugh at her. She really thought she was something special. What was it with these girls? Did they really believe a few fucks and a couple of Indian meals represented a relationship?
Pat was getting suspicious, and if he cared about any woman it was her. This whore had actually phoned her house and then threatened him with exposure, not only to her but also to his lawful wife!
Now that was a melon scratcher as far as he was concerned, and he knew he had to shut this fucker up once and for all or she was going to be one of those girls who caused more trouble than they were worth.
‘Hello, Freddie, good to see you, Freddie. Ain’t that what you are supposed to say to me?’ His sarcasm was lost on the girl, who all her life had been fêted, first by her father and mother and then by everyone in her orbit, because she was so beautiful.
She had got pregnant by a no neck at sixteen, and he had gone on the trot without a backward glance. He was now doing an eighteen for armed robbery and drugs offences, so he was definitely out of the picture. She had latched on to Freddie because he was good looking, he had plenty of poke, and he was also the number one diamond geezer in her vicinity.
She had what he wanted - a lovely face, a good body, and she knew how to make a man feel like a king in the kip. Now she was flexing her little muscles. She wanted him full time, was not happy with his erratic style of courtship, and she was under the impression that he was as up for this fairy tale as she was.
He looked at her dispassionately. She was lovely, really lovely, but she had about as much conversation as a junkie in a holding cell. Her only allure as far as he was concerned was that she had her own drum, clean knickers, and made a decent cup of tea in the morning: his criteria for a good shag.
Charlene was sitting upright now, on her second-hand three piece, and looking at him daggers. She really thought she had enough nous to keep a man like him interested in her. It was unbelievable the way these young girls kidded themselves when they were there for the taking for men like him.
They were in every pub and club he frequented, they were like leaves on the ground. When you dumped one, another one would be standing in the same place in the same bar a few hours later.
They wanted him, they wanted what he was, and what he had to offer. They were like those young girls who married old geezers who were caked up with dosh. When one of them married some old fucker with no poke, except his pension, and moved into his sheltered accommodation, he would believe it was love.
Until then, bollocks to them all.
This girl would spout love if he wasn’t careful. He had been there, done that.
‘You can’t treat me like some fucking tart, I won’t have it.’ She was all on her dignity and full of her own self-importance.
Her eyes were made up and her lipstick was perfect. She had been expecting him and he knew she had been dolled up to the nines every day waiting for him to arrive.
She really was a lovely little thing.
She was about to experience one of the worst days of her life and he was sorry for her because of that. But needs must when the trollop drives!
He walked to her and dragged her up from her seat by her thick blond hair. Pushing his face close to hers he said quietly, and with deliberate menace, ‘Who you talking to?’
He was so close to her face she could smell his breath, and the sweet aroma of the grass he had smoked earlier.
‘You are going to tell my old woman about us, are you?’
Charlene was trying her hardest to shake her head but he was holding her like a vice.
‘No one threatens me, lady, and anyone who does, man or woman, is a cunt. Do you understand what I am saying to you?’
She was terrified. Her lovely green eyes were filled with tears, and she was thankfully speechless with terror. This was going to be easier than he thought.
‘If my wife or kids ever hear about my little wander into your flat, I will blow this fucking place off the face of the earth. Do you hear me?’
She was desperately trying to nod her agreement.
He let her go then and, smiling at her with that charming dead smile he had, he kissed her on the forehead and said, ‘You know it makes sense, darling.’
Then he pushed her back on to the sofa and left.
She could hear him whistling to himself as he walked back towards the lifts.
Chapter Eleven
Jackie had drunk herself sober by the time Freddie arrived at the house.
As he pulled up outside he was impressed despite himself. This was his idea of a nice place, not like Jimmy and Maggie’s last one with its pantiled roof and all the old-fashioned fireplaces. He liked the newness of this house, the clean lines, the integral garage. He would love a drum like this, and he could have one if he wanted to.
He always reminded himself of that when he was around them, and he always promised himself that it would happen sooner rather than later. If Jackie wasn’t such a dirty bitch he would have gone for it years ago, but no matter how much he weighed out, no matter how much they decorated, their place was still a shit hole.
Dirty, scruffy and in constant need of redecoration.
Young Jimmy had always bought for cash and then remortgaged, that way the money was clean. It was a perfect way of laundering their robbery and drugs cash. Freddie had missed the boat in a lot of respects. It was getting harder to do that now, unless you bought really cheap. But his money went through his hands like water. He would put on large bets, lose the money and then recoup and lose it all once again. He was constantly out and about. He would make the night last as long as possible because there was nothing to go home to. He ended up paying for everyone, not just with the drinks but also with the gear. He attracted hangers-on, the piss heads and the druggies who knew he was always good for a night out because he could never let the night end.
Jimmy would have a couple of beers and say his good nights. He was happy to go home to Maggie and their nice bed and their nice life. Freddie had never been able to do that, even when the kids had been young. Maybe it was a personality trait, or something missing in him, he didn’t know. But he had sat for twenty-four hours at a time and spent huge amounts of wedge on people he didn’t even really like.
The money just disappeared. He had no real back up if there was an emergency, and he knew he was ashamed of that because they had earned real money. Most people would kill to earn like they had, and he had pissed it all away.
And with Jackie having their place decorated on a regular basis he knew he was just throwing good money after bad. Jackie had nagged at him until, a few months ago, she had been delivered of a new white wood kitchen, and already it was rotten. Even while the men were fitting it she had not bothered to clear her dirty dishes away, or make it habitable. He had seen the men tiling the walls and having to move used plates and mugs out of the way themselves.
He had been so embarrassed he had caused ructions. But Jackie, she was a lost cause and they both knew it. He told himsel
f that was why he didn’t bother, he was trapped with her and he had accepted it. Since his son’s birth he had been tied to that place. The worse his son behaved the less he wanted to be there, but the tighter the hold she had over him. He hated his life and yet he didn’t know what to do about it.
If it wasn’t for Patricia he knew he would lose it completely. Even though he wanted her more than he had ever wanted anyone before, he knew it suited him that Pat was not the clingy type. Jackie would completely fold without him. Although he knew they were not healthy together, if he left her it would be the end of her world. He was the only thing she had ever really wanted until his son had been born, and now Little Freddie had to try to make up for his father’s absence.
Jimmy let him in to the house and they hugged. This was a new thing with them which had started a few months before when they had been drunk, and now it seemed right to show the deep feelings they had for one another. And the feelings they had for one another did run deep, even though as time was going on it was becoming harder for Freddie to ignore Little Jimmy’s success.
In the dining room he saw that Paul and Liselle had already gone, but the usual hangers-on were still there, his family included. He kissed his mum, said his hellos and sat down. He barely glanced at his wife, but as Maggie put a plate of food in front of him he smiled at her nicely. ‘Thanks, mate.’
She smiled back. It was a game they now played.
Maggie looked beautiful, her hair was now dyed a deeper blond, and it had white highlights that made her look even more angelic than usual. It was her teeth he really admired, though, straight and a startling white. But then she was always tanned these days. She was the epitome of the nineties woman, independent and well groomed, and she was sensible enough to make sure her husband was fed and watered and shagged into submission into the bargain.