The Graft

by Martina Cole

  If Nick would only hold her once more as he had then. It was the holding she craved most, the feeling of being safe in his arms, desired by the man who she loved so much it was like a physical pain to her just to look at him.

  Chapter Twelve

  Gino was wired. It was 9.30 in the morning and he felt as if he had been hit by a truck. His whole body seemed to ache and he had an incredible thirst. He was also still sick to his stomach and the coffee he had drunk weighed heavily inside him. Jude had advised him to stick to fizzy, sugar-loaded drinks for the thirst because it also tamed the urge to fix for a short time until you could sort yourself out. He filed that titbit away for future reference.

  It would be a few days before he stopped eating properly and a few weeks before the weight dropped off him. He was also only a few weeks away from the gnawing pains that would make him literally do anything for a fix.

  At the moment, though, it was all still new to him and he was determined to make the most of it and embrace this new feeling with as much dignity as he could still muster. He walked into the dirty bathroom and looked in the mirror. He had black rings under his eyes and his skin was pale and flaky. He was shocked by his own appearance and knew that one look at him would alert his mother to the fact he was taking hard drugs. It was her biggest fear and he felt a prickle of unease as he surveyed his own haunted reflection. He really loved her but her constant moaning drove him mad. Since his father had gone she had relied on him too much. Now she had a new bloke on the scene he had more free time, though.

  In fairness, she did worry about him and since Sonny’s death had watched him like a hawk. He had promised her time and again that he would not go the way of the majority of teens on their estate. But it was so hard because it was exciting to take drugs. It relieved the boredom and it gave you a certain credibility around the area.

  Users were well known, it was a kind of fame really, and like a lot of the youngsters where he grew up it was the only fame he was ever going to have. ‘Skaghead’ would be his moniker from now on.

  He had enjoyed the initial rush, and when he had finally gone on the nod had felt a sort of completeness that really made him feel good. It was like being asleep even though he was aware he was awake. It was awesome. The high had been momentary, but once he had gone on the nod he had never felt such a feeling of complete and utter abandonment before. His limbs had felt heavy and his skin had flushed all over when the chemical hit his brain. Then it was like being in a bath of sticky caramel. Movement was restricted for a while but it didn’t matter because there was nowhere else he wanted to go. The feeling was wonderful: no worries, no cares, just being. The effect had worn off within a couple of hours and he had immediately wanted to do it again.

  Gino rolled up the sleeve of his John Rocha T-shirt and gazed at the pin pricks in his arm. Smiling to himself in the mirror, he decided to do it once more. Then, as Jude had promised, he would achieve the oblivion he so desperately craved.

  It was like she said: what could the world offer that he couldn’t find inside his own head?

  Nick snuck into the house at 7.30 the next morning to a sight he had never before seen. His mother and his wife sitting in the kitchen talking together: not shouting, fighting or being sarcastic, but actually talking to each other.

  It was almost surreal.

  He always liked to joke that the last time he had seen Tammy in the kitchen was before her implant operation and that was only because they kept the case of vodka in one of the larders.

  After an uncomfortable night in the Range Rover he had hoped to get in, shower in the boys’ bathroom, find some clean clothes and be out before Tammy managed to raise her weary head from the mascara-stained pillow. Instead she was sitting here with his mother drinking tea and they both looked less than pleased to see him.

  He had scored a double this time. If his mother was on her side, he was well up the proverbial without so much as a paddle.

  ‘You managed to get home then?’ This from Tammy.

  ‘Nah, I’m a fucking hallucination. We’re all having them today - I thought you was sitting there pleasantly with me mother. Maybe someone dropped some Es in the water supply.’

  Tammy wanted to laugh but knew it would be dangerous to do so. Nick had a knack for making her laugh and once she cracked a smile he knew he was back in her good books. She was determined not to fall for it today.

  ‘I could murder a cup of tea.’

  He knew she was on the point of laughing and would much rather make her do that than cry, though lately that was not always the case.

  ‘Really, no burglars around then?’

  Tammy watched her husband’s face pale and she wished she could take the remark back.

  ‘That was out of order, Tammy.’

  He wasn’t even shouting at her. He walked from the room and she heard him thumping up the stairs.

  ‘That was bad, Tammy, even for you two. Go up and talk to him,’ her mother-in-law prompted her.

  She shook her head and said honestly, ‘I can’t. I want to hurt him, Angela, that’s how I feel inside lately. If I go up there I’ll only start a fight trying to find out where he was last night. He will say he slept in the car and I will know he is lying, I’ll say so and cause a big fight and then it will all go even further downhill.’

  She smiled at her mother-in-law.

  ‘I know what I do, you see? I know I’m silly and I should keep me trap shut like they tell you in magazines. But I can’t. I have to say it to him, I have to know.’

  She got up.

  ‘Might as well get the fight over with now, before he showers.’

  She walked from the room, taking her mug of tea with her. In the square entrance hall she saw herself reflected in the full-length mirror. She looked good, she knew she did. Why couldn’t he see that?

  In the bedroom Nick was already in the shower and his mobile was ringing. Tammy slopped tea all over the polished oak flooring in her quest to get to it first. The Dam Busters tone was loud and shrill.

  ‘Hello?’

  The voice was feminine.

  ‘Who’s that? Is that you, Nick?’

  Tammy said quietly, ‘It’s his wife.’

  ‘Oh, hello, Tammy. It’s Gary’s wife here, is Nick about? Only Gary ain’t come home again . . .’

  Tammy was relieved and consequently pleased to hear from Maureen. There was no way Nick’s bit on the side was her, she was a right state, consequently Tammy could be nice to her.

  ‘Nick’s in the shower. I was just going to jump in with him, you know what he’s like!’ The lie tripped easily off her tongue as usual. ‘I’ll get him to ring you back, OK?’

  ’At least Nick showers, Gary and water don’t really mix.’

  Tammy laughed.

  ‘I know he met up with Nick last night, ain’t seen the fucker since, and we are due to go shopping for a new sofa this morning,’ Maureen continued.

  Tammy nodded, forgetting that she couldn’t be seen.

  ‘I’ll get him to ring you.’

  ‘Thanks, love.’

  Tammy rang off and stood tapping the mobile phone against her chin as she looked out over the garden. So Nick had come home and Gary had not. Nick had had every intention of staying home, she thought now, and she had sent him out into the night.

  But to where, and more importantly whom?

  She started to look through the mobile’s phonebook for unknown names but realised he was far too shrewd to leave anything in his phone. He would know any dodgy number or numbers off by heart. And what was all this stuff about Gary Proctor doing an all nighter? Who would want to go near him without a massive monetary incentive?

  She was curious now to find out what they were both up to.

  Lap dancers maybe?

  ‘Had your look, Tam?’

  Nick’s voice made her jump and she threw the phone at him half-heartedly.

  ‘Gary Proctor’s wife just rang. He never came home last night.’

  N
ick shrugged.

  ‘So?’

  Tammy sighed.

  ‘She said he went out to meet you.’

  ‘He did, we had a quick drink, did a bit of business - and what the fuck am I explaining myself to you for?’

  Nick started to dry himself and she looked at him in wonderment. To her he was perfect. There was something about the sheer size of him that always attracted her.

  ‘Where were you?’

  She hated herself for asking but she had to know.

  ‘I slept in the car. Now, if you ask me one more question I am going to open the balcony doors and sling you over the railings all the while whistling the tune to Love Story, my favourite film because his wife dies at the end.’

  He was smiling at her, though, and she felt the old attraction flowing once more.

  ‘I do love you, Tams, and I am going to see a doctor, I promise you.’

  It was said humbly. But how many times had he promised her that in the past, and how many times had it placated her only until the next big fight?

  ‘What are you doing today?’ he asked.

  She shrugged.

  ‘Lunch with the girls.’

  ‘No change there then. Will there actually be anyone you like among the bunch of horrors out today?’

  Tammy was grinning once more. She loved his dry sense of humour, and when he was like he was now, contrite and trying not to hurt her, she loved him again.

  ‘We all have a lot in common, Nick.’

  He laughed out loud now and said loudly as he walked back into the en-suite, ‘The only thing you lot have in common is you all started life with brown hair.’

  She followed him into the bathroom.

  ‘Where were you really, Nick?’

  He wrapped the towel around his waist as he started to fill the sink with hot water for his shave. He had the TV on. She saw it was on Sky News.

  ‘I swear to you, Tammy, that I slept in the Range Rover. I also swear on my mother’s life that there is no other woman in my world.’

  He locked eyes with her in the mirror and she knew somehow that he was telling her the truth, yet still couldn’t let herself believe him.

  ‘Fuck knows, I have enough trouble with you, girl!’

  He smiled sadly at her.

  ‘But I have told you before, if you want to go, or you want me to go, then I will. It’s all yours, Tams, because I can’t live like this any more. It’s hard for me, being like I am, not being able to perform. I have swallowed your little boyfriends and swallowed everyone thinking you rule me because I don’t do anything about them. But we have to sort this out once and for all, love.’

  He was still watching her and she could feel her lips trembling. He turned to her then and hugged her tight.

  ‘Since that boy died, Tams, I hate this fucking house. I hate being in it and having sex is the last thing on my mind. Remember what that quack said in America? He said it was all stress-related, didn’t he?’

  She nodded.

  ‘So can you imagine the stress I am under now? I see him all the time in me mind’s eye. I think I can hear him in the house. I don’t even want the boys home for the holidays because I feel nervous around them. I’m terrified something like it might happen again.’

  She was stroking his back gently.

  ‘None of that was your fault . . .’

  ‘Well, it feels like it. I have ducked and dived all me life and I have hurt people - really hurt them at times. But he was a kid, Tams, a young boy.’

  She squeezed him to her, enjoying the feel of his body against hers.

  ‘I am sorry, Nick, I don’t know what gets into me at times. I’m so bloody jealous.’

  ‘I am the one who should be jealous, Tams. You’re getting it after all whatever the situation is between us, and I don’t cause any hag because I know it’s my own fault.’

  It was the first time he had ever said anything about her other life out loud.

  ‘It means nothing to me, Nick. They just make me feel better . . . make me feel wanted.’

  ‘But you are wanted, Tams!’

  She looked up into his eyes and was surprised to see tears in them.

  ‘I only wish I could believe that, Nick.’

  ‘Believe it.’

  ‘It still wouldn’t be enough, whatever you said.’

  He sighed.

  ‘Which brings us back to square one then, don’t it? Should I stay or should I go?’

  Louis Clarke and Tyrell were eating a large breakfast in a café off the Wandsworth Road. It was a real heart attack breakfast and they were enjoying it immensely.

  ‘Look, it might not have gone too well last night, but for fuck’s sake, Lou, this is all new to me, ain’t it? Why else do you think I wanted you on board?’

  ‘I think you should leave it. I have a bad feeling about it all.’

  Tyrell didn’t answer. He carried on eating, wondering how long it would be before the pain inside him eased.

  ‘I can’t, Lou, but I would understand if you left me to it.’

  Louis smiled.

  ‘We need to sort something out here, Tyrell. I think Terry is up for helping us full-time - he said as much.’

  Tyrell nodded.

  ‘Thanks, Lou.’

  ‘Shall we go and see Jude then?’

  It seemed the logical place to start as far as Louis was concerned but he had been nervous of saying it to his friend.

  Tyrell nodded but he was gradually losing his appetite. His biggest fear was that he’d discover Sonny’s death could have been avoided, and it was Jude, not himself, who could have made sure of that. Tyrell pushed the terrifying thought from his mind. He didn’t know how he’d cope with a discovery like that.

  ‘I just need to sort me blokes out then we can get off. You know Jude, she don’t surface with the rest of the world. She’ll still be out of it.’

  Louis, who hated her with a vengeance, didn’t answer. Instead he concentrated on his food and berated himself silently for getting involved with something that could only bring his friend added grief.

  But what else could he do?

  Louis had seen Jude out of her nut, being taken to a locked ward, and poor distraught Sonny Boy clawing at the ambulance doors as he and Tyrell tried to coax him into their car. She had got off with court fines after shoplifting charges and even assaults because of Sonny and the way he could not cope without her. The boy had done anything he had purely to feed her and her habit. So why was Tyrell so determined to find out the worst about him? God himself knew he had few illusions left concerning the boy as it was.

  Louis had a bad feeling about the lot of it. Something was not right about Sonny Boy’s death and he for one was not sure he wanted to know what it was.

  ‘Mrs Proctor?’

  Maureen nodded, instinctively wary of the two men on her doorstep.

  ‘I might be. Who wants to know?’

  The older man sighed.

  ‘Come on, stop playing games, where’s Gary?’

  She shrugged.

  ‘How the fuck should I know?’

  ‘Well, his car has been found abandoned at Stansted airport and there was over a kilo of cocaine in the boot. So we wondered if he had gone on a little holiday, see?’

  She shrugged, closing the door on them.

  ‘I ain’t seen him. If you catch up with him before I do, give him my best, won’t you?’

  They had played this game before.

  ‘Can we come in?’

  The policeman’s voice was loud through the front door.

  ‘Have you got a warrant?’

  Her voice was even louder. She had been playing the game a lot longer than they had.

  ‘No . . .’

  ‘Then fuck off !’

  ‘We can get one.’

  Maureen didn’t bother to answer. Instead she went upstairs and ransacked the house for anything incriminating. By the time they came back with the warrant she was leafing through the sofa catalogue. She
had disposed of anything dodgy-looking by handing it over the fence to her neighbours who, fortunately, had no warrant pending on their house.