by Edie Baylis
TEAGAN WAS CONFUSED. After her initial mix of surprise and elation to find Joe in Dulcie’s sitting room, she’d become uncomfortable with the rapid realisation that Dulcie was anything but happy.
She looked at Joe, his hands trembling. He never trembled. He was never nervous, always being far too laid back for that. What had happened? Regardless of his previous behaviour, she cared for him very much. ‘Joe? Is everything alright?’
‘This young man thinks that after the way he treated you, he can walk back into your life, snap his fingers and you’ll accept him back with open arms.’ Dulcie snapped as she glared at Joe with unbridled venom.
Teagan’s heart lurched. Joe didn’t want her out of his life after all? Relief coursed through her, but she refrained from rushing over. He didn’t look himself. He looked... different...
‘I’ve already told him he must have rocks in his head if he thinks you’d be so gullible,’ Dulcie continued. She swung around to face Joe. ‘I think you made your feelings quite clear the other day, boy.’
Teagan’s initial flood of elation subsided rapidly. Dulcie was right. Joe had cut her to the quick and broken her heart. Furthermore, he shouldn’t be coming to her place of work and inviting himself in – stressing Dulcie out.
What should she do? How should she react? Oh God, this was dreadful.
Joe looked up, caught Teagan’s eye and looked away quickly. This was a nightmare. The ultimate bloody nightmare. Here he was, getting shit off an old crone and having to take it up the arse. Why? Because he only had until tonight to get this done.
Cold sweat gathered in his hair. The thought of dealing with those two blokes again made him feel sick. He hadn’t slept a wink all night and was completely shattered. And now – now he’d finally got rid of Teagan, here he was, having to beg for her back. For fuck’s sake. It was the last bloody thing he wanted.
He took a deep breath and pulled his brain into a less scrambled mess, but it was difficult. He was all over the shop and could barely think, let alone form anything coherent to say which might possibly explain his U-turn. But he had to think of something and he had to do it fast.
His eyes flicked around, searching for Teagan’s handbag. She’d keep her keys in there, wouldn’t she? Where was it? In her room?
Joe turned his head to look at Teagan who was still frozen to the spot just inside the doorway, wearing that stupid wide-eyed expression that he’d always hated. He cleared his throat noisily and pushed his shaking hands under his thighs so the craggy old bag giving him the evils from the opposite chair couldn’t see how much everything was terrifying him. What was so special about what she’d got for those two psychos to want access so badly?
Joe moved his focus to the older woman, hoping her death stare wasn’t destroying his brain cells and wished more than anything that he’d smoked a joint before coming here. At least it would have chilled him out.
‘I realise I behaved badly and it wasn’t the best first impression,’ Joe said, keeping his eyes connected with the older woman before turning to Teagan. ‘I’ve fu... screwed up. I didn’t know what I was saying the other day. I didn’t mean it... I...’
‘You seemed pretty sure from where I was standing,’ Dulcie barked.
Joe’s eyes flashed with annoyance. Shut the fuck up, he thought. This was bad enough without her sticking her hooter in. He’d never get the keys unless he could get back with Teagan. Forcing himself to keep going, he smiled weakly. ‘I panicked... Things have been getting on top of me... Please forgive me Teagan.’
He stared at Teagan, his expression pleading. ‘I want things to go back to the way they were,’ Joe continued. ‘I-I want to be with you... More than anything...’ No, I don’t. I don’t. I. Do. NOT.
‘You can’t want to be with her that much otherwise why would you be swanning around like a bachelor after three years? Sleeping with other women?’ Dulcie interrupted, her eyes fiery. ‘Mr Singleton... fitting name...’
Joe looked up in surprise. What exactly had Teagan said to this old cow? Had she given her his life story? Told her what colour his underpants tend to be? The length of his penis?
‘I do want to be with her,’ Joe countered, the words grating. ‘And... and the women... they... I... Oh, tell me we can sort this out, Teagan? Please? Perhaps we could talk about this somewhere else? Could we talk in your room?’ If he could just get into her room – the keys would have to be in there, wouldn’t they? He hadn’t seen them in the hall. Christ.
Dulcie laughed loudly. ‘If you think I’d allow you to talk anyone into allowing you go up to this young lady’s room, you have a screw loose!’
Joe looked at Teagan beseechingly. ‘Teagan? Please?’
Tears formed in Teagan’s eyes. This was what she’d wanted to happen. Her throat constricted tightly. All she had to say was that she’d give Joe one more chance and her life could be back to normal. Her eyes flicked involuntarily to Dulcie, but Dulcie wasn’t even looking in her direction. She was staring at Joe, shaking her head. Teagan bit down on her bottom lip. Why wasn’t she jumping at the chance to accept Joe’s apology and get her life back?
Because she didn’t believe him. Something was wrong, but she didn’t know what.
She folded her arms across her chest and took a deep breath. ‘I think you should leave,’ Teagan whispered.
Joe’s head snapped up, shock evident on his face. Teagan wanted him to leave? She wasn’t running into his arms? What the fuck? No, no no. This couldn’t happen. He had to get her back on side. Those blokes... they’d... ‘Teag?’ he muttered. ‘Please... you’ve got to...’
Dulcie’s slow clapping interrupted Joe. ‘That’s a very sensible decision, dear,’ she said, her mouth smiling at Teagan, but her cold eyes were fixed on Joe. She got to her feet. ‘Off you go then, young man. My children won’t take kindly to hear someone refused to leave my home.’
Joe rose from his chair. Fuck. What the hell was he supposed to do now? He hadn’t expected getting Teagan back would be anything less than plain sailing. Shit. ‘Just think about it?’ he asked, forcing himself to smile at her.
Teagan looked away. This felt the right thing to do, but why did it hurt so very much?
Seventeen
JAMES SHEPHERD WALKED into Boots the Chemist, his heart sinking seeing two elderly people at the pharmacist counter. He’d been hoping by nipping in here mid-morning between appointments there would be no one else about.
Standing a polite distance away, James prayed they wouldn’t be too long or start rambling on about the weather in a bid to help fill their day. His thoughts were hardly charitable, but he couldn’t afford to be. He hadn’t much time to find out the information he needed.
He hadn’t broached the subject with Helen. He’d tried dropping a few hints – asking how the business was going or how she really felt about this or that, but it had got him nowhere. Every time he’d tried to get an inkling into anything, Helen looked at him like he’d dropped out of the nearest tree, dismissing his questions with thinly-veiled irritation.
James fidgeted uncomfortably, his arms hanging by his sides. For want of not knowing what else to do while he waited, he stared at the nearest display stand vacantly, stopping after getting a rather strange look from a woman and realising he’d been feigning avid interest in a rack of female incontinence pants.
Flustered, he looked away, grateful when the pharmacist beckoned him forward.
‘Good Morning, Sir. How can I help?’
James smiled awkwardly. ‘I, erm... I need to ask a question about some medication.’
‘Of course. Is this medication yours, Sir?’
James quickly shook his head. ‘No. It’s erm... it’s been prescribed for a friend of mine...’ He smiled, ignoring the pharmacist’s suspicious expression. Reddening slightly, he continued. ‘It’s Benztropine. Could you tell me what it is please?’
The pharmacist frowned. ‘What is the issue exactly? Have there been adverse reactions? Anything worrying?’
‘Not as far as I know. I just want to know what it is.’
‘Benztropine is an anticholinergic, Sir,’ the pharmacist answered, then seeing the look of confusion on James’ face, attempted to explain. ‘It’s used to block the effects of acetylcholine and dopamine – a chemical in the brain - a neurotransmitter.’
James must have still looked completely blank because the pharmacist smiled at him kindly. ‘Does your friend have Parkinson’s disease, Sir?’
‘Parkinson’s Disease?’ James spluttered. ‘I-Is this what these are usually prescribed for?’
The pharmacist frowned. ‘Well, usually, yes. They are used to help reduce the involuntary movements Parkinson’s causes. Are you sure the medication is definitely Benztropine? Could it be Benadryl, the antihistamine? The names are quite similar and it would be easily d...’
‘No, it was definitely Benztropine,’ James muttered, his mind reeling.
‘If you bring the bottle in for me, I can certainly double check it for you. Do you know if it was dispensed from here?’
James forced his attention back to the pharmacist. ‘Oh, erm... I don’t know... Maybe I got the name wrong. I’ll double check. Thanks for your help.’
Turning, James hastily left the store before the pharmacist asked anything else and before he could not hold back the tears that were desperately trying to escape from his eyes.
Did his wife have Parkinson’s? Was that what was happening? Oh, this was dreadful.
JOE SWEATED like a beast as he frantically stabbed another text message out to Teagan. Pressing send, he scraped his hand across his brow, before slamming the phone down on the bedside table.
Why wasn’t the stupid cow responding? He’d sent her about fifty bloody texts so far since she’d turned him down, not to mention the voicemails. In fact, he’d left so many there was no longer any room to leave one.
‘Pick up your messages and respond, you fucking bitch,’ Joe muttered, his fingers fumbling for his Rizla papers. He shakily put together a joint – he needed something.
Teagan had always banged on that he never bothered to text or phone and now he was, she was playing hard to get!
Pulling a lighter from his jeans pocket, Joe’s hand shook as he lit the joint. Christ, look at the state of him! Teagan had best get in contact soon. She had to. Because of her and whatever she was involved in, Alan and Dave weren’t speaking to him. When they’d got back from the pub last night they’d blanked him and they’d done the same again all bloody day so far, apart from Alan reiterating that if this business wasn’t sorted out and if those nutters kept turning up then he’d be out by the end of the week.
Joe scowled. He wasn’t losing his place and his best mates because of Teagan. Plus, he had nowhere else to go. He couldn’t afford to rent anywhere else even if he wanted to. For fuck’s sake, he couldn’t even afford a hotel for a night at the moment, let alone anything else being as he’d blown all of his cash on this last wad of grass.
Inhaling deeply on the joint, he held the pungent smoke in his lungs for as long as possible before slowly breathing it out towards the ceiling. Good job he’d bought it. He needed something to calm him down.
His face screwed into a grimace. He’d been certain Teagan would have had him back. No, he’d been counting on it. He’d have even bet his weed stash on it and that he’d never do unless he was certain he was right. There hadn’t been a smidgen of doubt that she wouldn’t come running into his arms, but she hadn’t. And that meant he was screwed.
Why had she not jumped at the chance to take him back? The girl was crazy for him – everyone knew that. That’s why she bordered on the obsessive where he was concerned. But now she suddenly wasn’t interested? It wasn’t possible. It must be something to do with that crusty old boot putting ideas in her head. If he’d had a bit more time, he’d have been able to talk Teagan round, He still could. She just had to answer the phone.
Joe’s eyes narrowed. He had to find a way of getting her to listen otherwise he was fucked. Those nutters were due back tonight and they’d expect him to have results. How could he get the fuck into that house and get what they wanted if Teagan, the stupid cow, was ignoring him?
Joe lay back on his bed and took another deep drag of the joint. Was it not bad enough that he’d had to beg for another chance? All that grovelling and it had achieved nothing.
Feeling the effect of the cannabis, Joe began to relax. What time were those gorillas coming back tonight? Had they even mentioned a time?
He mentally shrugged, feeling his confidence return. Sod them, they’d have to wait. He couldn’t give them something he hadn’t got and he was not sitting here waiting for them to come and drown him in the shower or whatever they were planning.
Puffing out thick smoke rings, Joe’s brain buzzed nicely. Fuck it. He was done with stressing out and being dictated to. Teagan would return his calls soon enough. She was too hung up wanting to play happy families not to take him up on his offer. Not that it would last. No fucking way. He’d get what these blokes wanted so they were off his case and then he’d crack on with his life. Without Teagan.
One thing was for certain – he wouldn’t be hanging around tonight waiting for those nutjobs to turn up. Alan and Dave had already arranged to go on the piss without him, so they wouldn’t be here. He knew this because he’d heard them planning their jolly earlier. How long would that go on for? It was already getting on his tits. The three of them had been mates for donkey’s years and just because of this they thought it gave them the right to sideswipe him?
Well, he could play at that game too. He’d go somewhere himself, get smashed and find a decent bit of skirt. He’d kip at her place and by the time he got back tomorrow morning Teagan would have had a predicted change of tune, he’d get in that house and copy the keys as requested. Job done.
After that, Dave and Alan could eat shit and apologise for having so little faith in his ability to rectify things.
Pushing himself off the bed before he got too zoned out on this extremely decent batch of sensimilla, Joe shoved a few bits into a rucksack and ambled out of the flat with a smile on his face.
JONAH KNITTED HIS FINGERS TOGETHER. He’d listened intently whilst Nero had brought him up to speed, but nothing was helping the tension headache he’d woken up with this morning.
His plan of speaking to Lena over dinner last night about more whispers he’d heard from the girls about her bitchy comments and threats hadn’t happened. Arriving home later than planned, he’d found her holed up in the spare bedroom. And not only was she in the spare bedroom - she’d locked the fucking door.
No one locked the door on him.
Jonah’s jaw clenched. In any other given scenario he’d have kicked the door in, dragged Lena out by the hair, pointed out that no one locked him out and then put her bang to rights, but he was in unfamiliar and unchartered waters. She was pregnant with his child and therefore he couldn’t do half of what he wanted to do.
Correction. He couldn’t do any of what he wanted to do.
What he would do though was anything to make sure his son or daughter arrived into this world safely and so, despite it being nowhere near what he’d had in mind for Lena Taylor to be the mother of his child, she was and that was all there was to it.
By the time Lena had surfaced this morning he was halfway out of the door. He’d felt almost guilty for wanting to rip her to pieces last night when she’d apologised for squirreling herself away. The morning sickness had begun to last most of the day, as well as into the evening, she’d explained. She had looked bloody dreadful too.
Jonah massaged his temples and then stared at his left hand – the one which would very shortly be sporting a wedding band on one of the fingers. His head pounded and nausea rose. What a fucking mess.
‘How do you want us to move forward from here?’
Nero’s voice jolted Jonah from his thoughts. Jesus he’d forgotten they were even here. That showed how much all this shit wi
th Lena was playing with his mind. He had to concentrate.
Jonah’s dark eyebrows knitted together. ‘You say this stoner is giving you a key to the Adams’ house – Footlights? And you’re getting this tonight? Is that correct?’
‘That’s the plan, but being as stoners are hardly the most reliable of people, I have the distinct feeling that we’ll need to up the ante before he delivers,’ Nero said, ignoring the buzzing electric he sensed radiating from Keith when the slight prospect of violence was on the cards.
Jonah felt unable to hide his escalating irritation over how Lena’s behaviour was distracting him from the thing he held above everything – taking revenge on the person who had ripped the firm off all that time ago. ‘Just do whatever needs to be done. If the thick fuck needs it spelling out, rather than being asked nicely, then so be it.’
He’d had enough of people pissing around. If Keith wanted to rip this dickhead’s arms off in return for getting into Dulcie Adams’ house, then he didn’t give a rat’s arse. He had to move on this and wouldn’t hang around any longer. ‘Just make sure you clean anything up.’
Nero looked between Jonah and Keith and inwardly sighed. Keith always made a bloody mess - his beatings were never tidy.
‘Oh, and that bloke – the one you saw at that old folk’s home?’ Jonah continued.
Nero frowned. ‘The bloke who met Shepherd?’
Jonah nodded, his eyes cold. ‘Yeah, him. I want gen on him. Locate him. Is he her lover? Who is he?’
‘Dunno, but by the looks of what we saw I wouldn’t have said that. He had a clipboard,’ Keith said, itching to get out of the meeting so he could go and mess that stoner kid up.
‘Clipboard?’ Jonah poured himself a whisky. He wouldn’t offer these two a drink. He wanted them back on the road. ‘A doctor then? Someone working at the old fogey’s place?’
Nero eyed Jonah’s tumbler of whisky longingly. ‘More likely an estate agent. I saw a noticeboard saying there were two apartments available for sale. It’s her industry and she clearly knew him.’