The Graft

by Martina Cole

  ’Ain’t there any food?’

  He was annoyed. He would have cooked for himself, would not have expected Tammy to do it, but now there was nothing even to cook.

  She shook her head.

  ‘Your mum normally shops on a Friday, and in case you ain’t noticed she ain’t here any more.’

  He swallowed back the angry retort that was dying to escape from his mouth and instead poured himself a livener.

  ‘Bit early, ain’t it?’

  The vodka was swallowed down quickly and expertly and for some reason this bothered Tammy. She was the one who did all the mad things in their marriage, not Nick. He was the sensible half of the partnership usually and if he stopped being sensible anything could happen. She glanced round the kitchen. Like the rest of the house it looked grubby. Well, she wasn’t cleaning it, she wouldn’t know where to start. It was a far cry from the early days of their marriage when she had scrubbed and cooked to her heart’s content. But she had been happy then, so happy.

  Tammy observed her husband and realised she was still frightened of him. He was over the top now and it had taken her a while to see that. Recently he had turned into a male version of her. Last night had shown her just how far apart they actually were. This was a Nick she didn’t even like.

  It had been hard enough for her the day before. Suddenly she had not wanted to be in the wine bar, didn’t want to listen to all the empty talk around her, even coke couldn’t lift her mood. She had drunk so much it had stopped having any effect, and listening to those stupid bitches telling her how great she was had paled after the first two hours. Funnily enough the only bright spot had been Janine Aldridge actually having the nerve to tell her she was going over the top too often and should sort herself out before it was too late.

  Janine had had to sort herself out big-time, and she had. There was a time when she had been in Tammy’s shoes, and she had worn them out. Her husband had been a player and Janine the player’s wife. Simon Aldridge had been murdered getting into his car one fine Sunday afternoon. He had been taking his boys to football practice but two shots to the back of his head had put paid to that.

  Once the shock had worn off Janine had changed beyond recognition. From the Queen she had become the Queen Mother and actually found she enjoyed it. Once the pressure was off, she said, the need constantly to obliterate her own way of life was gone and she had retired gracefully to bring up her kids and live off her husband’s ill-gotten gains. She’d told Tammy last night that you knew when you had torn the arse out of something when it stopped feeling good, be it love, drugs or marriage, and Tammy knew exactly what she meant now.

  She had torn the arse out of everything around her and nothing made her feel good any more. She didn’t even want her husband at this moment, though she knew from experience that could change.

  She watched the fleeting expressions on Nick’s face and decided she didn’t want access to his private thoughts today. She had a feeling they would not be anything she wanted to hear. Normally she wished that the Japanese would build a computer that read people’s minds. Now, even if it was on special in Argos she wouldn’t want it. Janine had opened Tammy’s eyes to what was going on around her and she didn’t like what she saw, but she knew that only she could change it. Janine had shown her the future and Tammy was considering her position. She wouldn’t do anything just yet. She would do what she always did, let circumstances take over and then go with the flow. But she had an odd feeling that circumstances were changing rapidly in Nick’s life, and what affected him affected her.

  All she could do was wait and see how things worked out for them both.

  Nick left the house an hour later and Tammy still had not left the kitchen. She was watching The Golden Girls again and wondering what to do with the rest of her day. She might take Janine Aldridge up on her offer of lunch. It was funny but Tammy actually liked her. Which was more than she could say about most of her other mates.

  Sally looked at the clock and gritted her teeth. The boys were in their bedrooms and the usual sounds of Saturday morning were coming down the stairs: music, laughter, and the occasional shout of excitement. She could already feel a headache coming on. Until Tyrell had left she had never realised just how much he had done with them. By that she meant, of course, how much he had taken them out and left her to do her incessant cleaning.

  She glanced at the clock once more. It was after eleven and Tyrell was over an hour late picking them up. No call, no nothing, and she couldn’t raise him on his mobile. It was ringing but not being answered.

  She wondered if it was because he was with another woman. She couldn’t help wondering if it was Jude. She hated Jude with a vengeance as she had hated Sonny though she could only admit that to herself now.

  She tried Tyrell’s mobile once more and her call was rejected on the second ring. Now her anger was spilling over. When he finally turned up he would regret that for the rest of his days. Black-Eyed Peas were screeching out ‘Shut Up’ over and over again and the boys were singing along to it at the top of their voices, their laughter at the lyrics overriding any fear of her. Sally had already planned a nice calm afternoon, cleaning and ironing and watching the Coronation Street omnibus on ITV 2. It was her Saturday afternoon treat because none of her friends was even aware she watched the programme.

  The music was still pounding out and the man she loved was still not answering his phone when Sally forgot her usual dignity and reserve as she ran out into the hallway and screamed: ‘Turn that fucking music down!’

  Then, seeing the blue vase with the yellow roses on it that Sonny had bought them one Christmas sitting on the hall table, she picked it up and launched it with all her might at the kitchen door. The sound of it smashing was almost cathartic.

  Two handsome dark heads looked round the top of the stairs and she could see the shock in her boys’ faces as they stared as if they had never seen their own mother before.

  Louis Clarke was with his brother Terry on their way to meet with Tyrell and look this so-called rat house over. They were meeting for a drink first at Wapping Wall in the Prospect of Whitby. Tyrell was going to fill them in on what was going on and they were to try and talk him into meeting with Nick Leary. Billy thought it might make life easier for them all. He wanted a day and time set and he wanted it over with, it was all getting on his nerves.

  As they walked into the pub Terry glanced around him through force of habit. He had had so many tear ups the chances were he’d meet someone who knew him and had to watch his back in any new place. He was not disappointed. A tall man with reddish hair and an easy smile said to him: ’All right, Tel? How’s tricks?’

  To which an irate Terry answered sharply, ‘I am a bank robber, mate, not a member of the Magic fucking Circle!’ He pushed the man out of his way and walked purposefully to the bar. Terry hated over-familiarity and this geezer had crossed the line.

  Terry didn’t even know him really, why would he want to talk to him?

  The front of some people never ceased to amaze him.

  Louis winked at the bloke and said quietly, ‘Ignore him, he’s got the raving hump today.’

  The man, though, who was with a couple of friends was not to be lightly placated and answered back loudly.

  ‘He wants to take care because one of these days his brothers ain’t going to be enough to keep someone off his back.’

  Louis glanced over at Terry who, mercifully, was too busy looking down a dark-haired woman’s cleavage to hear what had been said. Stepping towards the man, he grinned.

  ’Are you on a fucking death wish, mate? Only your pals don’t look like they want a piece of him so you’ll be on your own.’

  The man looked around and saw the truth of what was being said.

  ‘Now finish your drink and leave us to ours, eh?’

  Louis sighed. He had a feeling that this was going to be a foretaste of the rest of the day. Terry was up for anything, and the trouble with Terry was, he usually got it
.

  Jude was completely alone and it felt wrong. Gino was locked away at his mother’s house and she knew she was not going to get to him. None of the other boys had been near or by for a while and she had the terrible feeling she was finally, and irrevocably, on her own.

  Even her neighbours were blanking her, and that was a first because usually they would have talked to her just to get the gossip about what had happened the night before. She was completely on her Jack Jones and knew it. Sitting on the sofa, she lit a cigarette with trembling hands and poured a stiff vodka into the glass of orange juice she already had.

  The place was still mashed up from the day before but she didn’t notice it. The methadone was kicking in.

  She picked up Sonny’s mobile and stared at it for a few seconds. Then she carefully dialled the number she had got from Big Ellie.

  The phone was answered on the first ring and this threw her. She had not expected that to happen.

  ‘Hello.’

  The familiar voice made her go clammy with fear.

  ‘Who is this?’

  ‘It’s me, Sonny’s mum.’

  Her voice sounded much stronger than she felt. Her hands were already shaking and her nerves, already in shreds from the brown stuff, were on their last knockings.

  ‘What do you want?’

  The voice was colder than an Arctic breeze and Jude swallowed deeply before saying, ‘Money.’

  The line went dead and she sat back on the sofa, terrified now by what she had done. But she would keep with it. Sonny Boy had told her everything, and this was just the first number on a long list of men she was going to fleece. She was starting with a little fish and making her way up to the big one. It had actually been easier than she had first thought. Now the initial fear had worn off she felt quite pleased with herself.

  After the last few weeks of worry, she almost felt like laughing at the fact that she had been so frightened of blowing apart a world that her son had not only embraced but had also enjoyed. The men who had enjoyed it with him owed her, and she had to make sure they understood that. If she could start with the small fry she could work her way up the chain to the big pay-off.

  That had been the idea when Sonny had robbed that bastard’s house. Well, Proctor was dead and gone but the others were still alive and kicking and she knew that it was the right time to play her trump card.

  Sonny Boy had always told her everything and she had filed it all away for future reference. Most people would have seen Sonny’s actions over the years as wrong, but she had seen him for what he was a long time before he had known it himself. As far as she was concerned, if he could turn his little foible into an earner all the better. She had sold her own body before now, even giving a few blow jobs when necessary to top up her income support. But unlike Sonny Boy, she had not enjoyed it. As he had once said, job satisfaction was half the pleasure of a job well done.

  She had kept her trap shut to Old Bill, expecting to have been given compensation long before she had had to resort to this little game.

  The filth would have loved to hear her side of the story, but fair’s fair, or so she had thought. Wait till it all dies down, but not any more. Life was too fucking short and her needs were too immediate to keep up this bollocks any longer.

  The silent calls should have alerted them all to the fact she was on to them. That alone should have brought her in a few quid. Not a fucking brass Razoo though, from any of them, and they all had a hefty wedge. Well, fuck them now, she was after her insurance money on her boy and she was going to get it.

  ‘You look fucking terrible, Tyrell.’

  Terry laughed jovially.

  ‘That nearly rhymes, don’t it? Terrible Tyrell. Makes you sound like a Romanian despot.’ He pulled a face and pretended to twirl an imaginary moustache. Tyrell grinned back. When Terry had a lightning change of mood like this he could be funny, could be a laugh, and he needed a laugh.

  The dark woman with the humungous breasts was still at the bar and Terry was working on buying her another drink. Tyrell and Louis knew it would be pointless trying to remove him from the pub just yet.

  ‘How about another, love?’

  Terry turned to the barman and said sotto voce: ‘Stick a quadruple brandy in that port, would you?’

  The woman was laughing good-naturedly.

  ‘Just the port will do, thank you.’

  Terry rolled his eyes at the ceiling. Tyrell and Louis both knew this might be a long one. He could spend hours cracking a bird and then take her outside, give her one and be hard pushed to remember her name within hours. With Terry it was all about the thrill of the chase. He was chasing this one big style, and in fairness she was gorgeous. In another life Tyrell might have gone after her himself. Still, it was fun watching Terry at work, he really was a master.

  ‘Here, Tyrell, have a guess what? Leonie here is a Jack the Ripper! Why am I not surprised?’

  He was thrilled and so was she. A match had just been made in shag heaven as far as Terry was concerned. A stripper was his dream woman.

  ‘Have another drink, my sweet. I think this could be an interesting couple of hours, don’t you, guys?’

  Louis laughed. Terry after a bird was a sight to see, and he was always after birds.

  He said to Tyrell, ‘We are in lumber now, mate, he ain’t going nowhere till he’s cracked it.’

  In a way Tyrell was glad of that fact. He needed to psych himself up for it all tonight. He had a feeling it would go downhill from here. They would be far better off under cover of darkness anyway. According to Willy it was lively on a Saturday night in the rat houses.

  Tyrell had texted his boys, explaining he could not pick them up today, and they had texted back saying it was fine. He couldn’t see them today anyway. It would be too hard trying to act normal with all that was going round in his head. So now he had a long afternoon stretching ahead of him and as Terry was driving he could have a few drinks. He might use the excuse to go and take care of another bit of business that needed to be sorted.

  When he finally saw her again Jude was going to get the shock of her life. In a way he was frightened to see her in case his feelings got the better of him and he totally flipped. The hatred he felt for her now was obscuring everything good that had ever happened between them. She had served her own son up on a plate, Tyrell had no qualms about admitting that to himself now. She had thrown their son’s life away to feed her addiction, and he had let her. He had stepped back and let her because it made his life with Sally easier. Two women, so different and yet so alike. Two women who always seemed to get what they wanted.

  Well, not any more.

  He would have another couple of drinks first and see how he felt then. This new lifestyle was very seductive. He could fall into a face’s routine very easily. You just took care of business and then enjoyed the fruits of your labour. And as far as Tyrell was concerned, not before time either.

  Jude was in a good mood. She had found a bag of brown under the sofa. It must have been knocked off the table in the fracas of the day before. It was a good sign as far as she was concerned. It meant that things were looking up, that everything could only get better. At least she hoped that was what it meant.

  She had a knack for making things into what she wanted them to be. It had stood her in good stead over the years. When her life was at its lowest points she always managed to fight her way back to the top. For Jude that meant getting some gear and forgetting whatever she had done to others in the meantime.

  Sonny had loved it when she was on top. He would sit and brush her hair for hours, telling her how much he loved her and listening to her stories about growing up and her first loves. He had been really good like that. He was the only person who’d still wanted to talk to her, be with her. Over the years any friends she had made soon disappeared, her habit had seen to that. She had borrowed money, used them in any way she could, and eventually stolen from them. No one took that for long. Sonny on the other hand had
given her just what she wanted without a murmur and before she had the chance to take it. Even his birthday money was not sacrosanct yet he had never mentioned it if she stole it from him.

  Jude was feeling sad now, at what she had lost. No one realised just how much they had done for each other. Now he was gone, and he would never come back, and those men owed her. They all owed her for that.

  When Sonny had caught his big fish she had been inordinately proud of him. A boy who was so naturally sensitive and kind had to have homosexual leanings, it stood to reason. So she had only pushed him to follow his natural inclination. Or that at least was what she told herself over and over again.

  But he had been such a good-looking boy, such a lovely boy. Why should he sell himself cheap? She knew the street better than anyone and had steered him in the right direction. And Sonny had wanted to be steered.