by Martina Cole
Jimmy laughed with his friend once more, and a few minutes later Glenford shot off. His smiling façade slipped away immediately.
‘You need anything else done today, Mrs Jackson?’
Lily Small had been cleaning Maggie’s house for five years, and she felt that they had a rapport. She came in five times a week and she cleaned the place from top to bottom, and she had sussed out ages ago that Mr Jackson had left his wife.
Mrs Jackson was putting a good face on it all, but Lily had seen the weight drop off her and the frown lines appear as if by magic. Losing that lovely little boy was hard enough, and maybe the strain had been too much for them. She could understand that, it was still too raw even for her, so God knew how this poor cow must be feeling.
She would give her eye teeth to know what Mr Jackson had done, if he had done anything of course, but trying to get anything out of this woman was impossible. She was tighter than a duck’s arse that had been superglued.
‘Can I iron Mr Jackson’s shirts?’
Maggie smiled then. She gave old Lily points for perseverance anyway. She could make Mo Slater look like a deaf mute, but before assassinating her nearest relatives or her neighbours, people whom Maggie had never met nor would want to, Lily would puff up her ample chest, pull on her cigarette and say the magic words that had made both Maggie and Jimmy roar with laughter once she had left the premises: ‘I am not one to gossip as you both know, but . . .’
Now, as she stood there trying to glean even a smidgeon of information on her employers’ predicament, she repeated her question, eyebrows raised and cigarette hovering near her orange-painted mouth. ‘Well, shall I iron Mr Jackson’s shirts? I know just how he likes them.’
‘If you like, Lily.’
Maggie knew she was annoying the poor woman but it was the principle of it all. Her life was hers, and she had no intention of gossiping with anyone, let alone Lily, whose lips, Jimmy used to joke, were looser than a Scandinavian whore’s. Even her poor mother had given up trying to find out what was wrong, so Lily had no chance.
Maggie understood what Jimmy had meant now. If she didn’t tell anyone then it had not happened. If he came back, no one would know anything and they could just get on as normal. He was right, sometimes things were best left unsaid, it made it easier to live with them somehow.
She poured herself a cup of tea and took it through to the conservatory. She had piles of paperwork to get done and now was as good a time as any. The salons were all doing well, extremely well in fact, and this knowledge didn’t have the normal effect on her. Instead of a quiet pride, she had no real interest in anything. Every day he was away from her, she died a little bit more inside.
She had not heard one word from him, and she had not attempted to contact him either. Money was still piling up in the bank so she just carried on as usual, but the loneliness was getting to her, and no matter how tired she felt, as soon as she got into bed, her brain went into overdrive and she relived two separate days of her life, over and over again.
Her son’s death, and the absolute grinding grief that it caused, and the day her Jimmy had walked out on her.
She imagined how she should have played it, reminded herself that if she had only kept up the pretence as she had until then, he would still be with her. They were both grieving for their child, and she should have left it all until they were feeling stronger emotionally. Until they could walk into his little room without breaking down, until the raw pain had eased.
For the first time in her life, she understood her sister’s jealousy of other women. She tortured herself with visions of him making love to another woman. Loving them, as he had once loved her.
She couldn’t eat, she couldn’t sleep, and she couldn’t rest.
And she had no one to blame but herself.
‘Come on, Mum, eat something.’
Kimberley was looking at Jackie with that worried frown she had come to love. She was a good girl, her Kim, and she had not been as good a mother as she could have been. That bothered her these days, and she tried to be nice to them all, nicer than usual.
Since Freddie’s death, the girls had been like proper troopers, they had really taken good care of her and their little brother. She was amazed at how well they had turned out.
She knew in her heart that it was Maggie’s influence that had helped her girls become what they were, but she didn’t feel the usual anger or the jealousy about that. She no longer felt as if she was being compared to everyone, and she didn’t feel the pressure of her failings either.
Now, she had made her mind up. She had made decisions and she had been pleased with herself for finally taking control of her life.
‘It was a lovely service, weren’t it, Mum?’
‘It was lovely, darling, and you were all lovely as well.’
Dianna’s face was gorgeous, she was a real little sweetie. Even Kim had never looked better. And Rox was getting a nice little lump and, unlike herself, she was making sure her body was not going to be blown out of all recognition, she was taking care of herself. Rox wouldn’t hear the man of her dreams, her child’s father, saying, ‘Fuck me, girl, you look like something from a Hammer horror!’ Her girls, they were like film stars, and Jackie only wished now that she had taken up Maggie’s offers of beauty treatments and slimming consultations years ago. But even her sister’s offering of them had felt like criticism, and so she had not gone. She had cut her own nose off, and now her face was well and truly spited! She wanted to laugh at her own thoughts, but she knew she mustn’t.
Once this day was over, she would finally be able to sleep, a real deep and comfortable sleep like she had experienced as a child, she was sure of that. It was what she needed and she knew it would do her the power of good, because in her dreams Freddie was back with her, and they were happy. They were deliriously happy, and she was slim, and didn’t drink, and he had eyes for no one but her.
That was why she wanted to get the sleep back. She needed those dreams to help her heal.
As she smiled at her son he nodded at her, and she watched as he left the house. He would be missing his dad. He had loved him so much, unlike his feelings for her. She was painfully aware that the child had never liked her and, if she was honest, she didn’t really like him that much either.
Freddie Jackson Junior was walking to a friend’s house when he saw two of his little neighbours walking on the pavement opposite. He hated Martin Collins. He was eleven years old and small for his age, but he had a way with him that made him popular with everyone. His brother Justin looked after him, and Freddie was interested to see how far he was willing to go to achieve that end.
Little Freddie crossed over the road and caught up with them. Martin Collins looked at him warily.
‘All right?’
Martin nodded cautiously. ‘Yeah, you?’
Little Freddie grinned. ‘Got any money?’
Justin Collins was nervous. He was older than Freddie Jackson, but he was not as big and he was not as aggressive.
Martin shook his head. ‘No, I ain’t got any money, Freddie.’
Freddie stared at the boy for long calculated moments before he drew out a long, thin-bladed knife. He watched in glee as the two boys stepped back in fright, and when Justin pushed his little brother behind him he laughed. ‘Looking after the wimp, are you?’
‘Leave him alone. I mean it, Jackson, go and pick on someone your own age.’
‘And if I don’t, what are you going to do about it?’
Cars were flying past them and the smell of diesel was thick in the air.
An old man was watching the little tableau from his flat window. He was deciding if he should call the police when the bigger boy, that Jackson lad whose father had been murdered, stabbed the blond boy in the heart.
Martin was screaming in fear as his brother lay on the filthy pavement clutching his chest. Blood was everywhere and Freddie Jackson was watching it flow as if he was in a trance. Then he snapped his head
towards Martin and said quietly, ‘Now give me some money.’
Martin handed over the two pounds fifty his mother had given them to go and get her a paper and ten cigarettes from the corner shop.
As Freddie Jackson Junior walked away the shrill sound of sirens could be heard coming over the Barking flyover.
Justin Collins died ten minutes later in the ambulance.
‘Are you sure you will be all right, Mum?’
Jackie forced a smile on to her face and only just managed to prevent herself from screaming at them. She knew they meant well, but she wished they would leave her alone sometimes.
‘I just want to get into bed and have a sleep, that’s all. I am exhausted, it’s been a hard few months and whatever he was or he wasn’t, I loved your father more than anything. I want to lay here alone and think about him, all right?’
The three girls nodded in unison, and then they all took turns to kiss her good night even though it was only three o’clock in the afternoon.
Downstairs they saw their nana on a mobile and the sight made them all laugh. She hushed them all with a hand gesture as she walked out the front door to finish her call.
‘That was so funny.’
The girls laughed again, and Kimberley sighed. ‘She ain’t right, is she? She is almost nice.’
Roxanna grinned. ‘I know it’s a bit disturbing at times, but it can only be a good thing. It seems weird thinking we buried our dad today, don’t you think?’
She was pouring herself a mineral water, while her sisters were drinking white wine. They all sat on the large, battered sofa and looked around the room which, thanks to their hard work, was clean and shiny.
Dianna started to cry again.
‘Oh, come here, you poor little mare.’
Kimberley hugged her sister, who said, through her tears, ‘What a terrible way to die. I keep thinking of him being murdered . . .’
Rox shook her head. ‘We told you not to read the papers or listen to the news. You can’t let what happened to him get to you, babe, he was not a saint, as we all know. In his world, it’s almost an occupational hazard, and you have to accept that or you will never get back on track.’
Since the revelation about poor Maggie, any feelings Rox might have harboured for the man who had sired her were long gone, but she was not going to make her sister’s grief any worse than it already was.
‘But who would do something like that to our dad? Why ain’t the police out looking for them?’
Rox and Kimberley exchanged looks over Dianna’s head. They had their own ideas about that but they were keeping them close to their chests. They were upset about what had happened, of course, but unlike Dianna they were realists and they privately wondered how it had not happened long before. Freddie had more enemies than Vlad the Impaler and he made a point of goading them at every opportunity. Dianna was like their mother. She saw only what she wanted to see in people, especially when she was dealing with her father, who in fairness had loved her more than the other two since the moment he got out of prison.
As Kim and Rox had started to see their father for what he really was, they had been pleased that no real connection had ever been made between them. He was a vicious bully who had destroyed everyone who came into his orbit.
They were glad he was gone. Now they could all finally live in peace.
Jimmy drove along at a snail’s pace, and pondered the call he had received from Lena two hours earlier. It was the first time he had heard from any of the family since his departure, and he had initially felt very awkward because he had practically lived at her house as a kid. He was wrong to have blanked her and Joe along with Maggie. He thought the world of them, and they reciprocated that affection.
Lena had not said anything about that, but her call had thrown him into a quandary. He also knew that she was right when she had made him promise never to tell Maggie she had contacted him. Maggie was like him in that respect, her pride would not appreciate the gesture, however well meant.
As he turned off the M25 and made towards his house he felt nervous. The feeling was alien to him these days, but as Glenford had said, the longer he left it, the harder it would become.
Now he was ashamed of his silence - she was his wife after all. But after a week’s angry silence, he had not heard from her and so he had done what most men do. He had fed his anger, nurtured it, and eventually it had been a month and more and he could find no excuse to call her and he convinced himself that she could just as easily call him if she wanted him. But he knew that he had walked away from her, and in their marriage that meant he had to make contact.
If Lena had not called him he would never have made the first move, and if what Lena said was true, he would have regretted it all his life.
Once he saw Maggie, looked at her, he would know finally whether he could ever live with her again in peace and happiness. The flip side was that he might instead realise instinctively that he couldn’t. If he couldn’t put the images that tortured him out of his head their marriage would be finally and irretrievably over.
He pulled into the car park of his local pub. He needed to think this through, and he needed a drink to help him muster up some courage.
The knock on the door was heavy and unexpected. Even on the day of their father’s funeral no one had bothered to come to offer either their condolences or respects, and the girls had been sensible enough not to have expected it anyway.
Roxanna assumed it was Little Freddie back from his jaunt. She opened the door wide to see two uniformed policemen and two CIDs. Plain-clothes police had always been referred to by her father as coppers in disguise, dressed up like real people. The thought popped into her head and she wanted to laugh. Her natural-born animosity for the police was straight to the fore though and she said sarcastically, ‘If you are after me father, you’re too late. We buried him today.’
The taller of the two plain clothes stepped forward then and, flashing his badge, which for all she knew could be a bus pass he had done it so quickly, said in a deep and serious tone, ‘I am DCI Michael Murray, and I am looking for a Freddie Jackson all right, but it’s the son this time.’
Roxanna said in annoyance, ‘Oh, have a day off, will you, and leave us to grieve in peace.’
‘Is he on the premises, Miss Jackson?’
This Murray was starting to get on her tits. ‘What is he supposed to have done now? He was at his dad’s funeral most of the day so I think you will find he has a cast-iron alibi.’
Roxanna was feeling incensed. Of all the days to come knocking . . . and then she noticed there were three squad cars parked up and they were all holding uniforms.
‘What’s going on? He is only a kid, what are you doing round here mob-handed? Don’t tell me he’s being accused of robbing a fucking bank! Come on, what’s he supposed to have done?’
‘He is wanted in relation to a fatal stabbing that occurred earlier this afternoon by the Roundhouse public hostelry.’
His convoluted language made it hard for her to work out what he was saying, but two words stuck out like moose horns. ‘A stabbing?’
The incredulity in her voice was communicating itself to the policewoman standing behind Murray, and who was sorry for this pretty girl who had just buried her father. ‘We sympathise with your loss, miss, but it is imperative that we locate him as soon as possible. We have a warrant to search the premises.’
Murray looked at the WPC with open hostility. Her civil tone and friendly approach were highly unsuitable when dealing with this particular family. He couldn’t wait until the girl had her first experience of Jackie Jackson. Now that would be a sight worth seeing.
Jackie had stood on this very step with a baseball bat before now. Even his most hardened officers were very loath to approach her and they had done their time keeping the peace at Upton Park. They would rather face a herd of screaming West Ham supporters than Jackie Jackson with a few drinks inside her.
Still, the warrant had got them
an invite, so he walked in warily, expecting a lunatic in a black dress in honour of the occasion, and wielding some form of weapon. Instead he was pleasantly surprised to see Lena Summers, whom he had known since his beat days, and the other two Jackson girls.
‘Where’s Jackie?’ All formality was gone from him now. This was serious and he wanted to know the answer so he could take the appropriate precautions.
‘She is asleep upstairs,’ Lena told him, watching as the house slowly filled up with the uniforms. All she could think of was her husband’s predictions concerning their grandson. He said Little Freddie would end up killing someone and she had no doubt whatever that he had finally done it. Filth didn’t come round this quick, with a warrant and enough uniforms to have a séance unless they had one eyewitness at least.
Poor Jackie, today of all days.
‘Go and wake your mum up, Kim. They will be tearing the place apart soon looking for him or the weapon. Bless her heart, as if she ain’t got enough to contend with.’
Murray grinned then. ‘I think this WPC can have that honour. The main bedroom is the third door on the left.’
Rox smiled as the young woman walked up the stairs. Like Murray and the other old hands, she was intrigued to see how her mother took this latest interruption from the police.
They were not disappointed. The girl screamed loudly, and Murray only stopped chuckling when she bent over the landing and vomited all over him.
Lily brought through a pot of decaffeinated coffee and a sandwich. Smiling her thanks, Maggie finally sat back in her chair and stretched her aching muscles. As always Lily sat opposite her, ready to give her an update on all the people she now knew intimately but had never met.
Paperwork was Maggie’s friend these days. It was the only thing that took her mind off her troubles, and she delayed Lily’s chat by busily gathering all the papers together in a neat pile.