by Martina Cole
It was said as a threat and both men were aware of that fact. They fell silent then, a hard unyielding silence that jangled the nerves.
Heidi Marks read the report before her carefully. It seemed this child Kira Brewer had been in hospital for alcoholic poisoning but staff there had believed it to be a prank, a one off. However, a follow-up had revealed the child to be possibly drugged and undoubtedly left alone. A brother who she now knew had a file the size of a phone book had said the girl had been left with an older sister, who also had a large file devoted to her, and that he had only been gone twenty minutes. He thought the older sister, Jeanette, had possibly gone out to look for him.
It was feasible except for the child being knocked out. She saw that the social worker had written in red pen that the child ‘looked drugged or maybe drunk, possibly both?’ Alcohol had played a part before, as they well knew.
The older children had both been in and out of care while small due to the mother’s convictions for prostitution. But she was, it seemed, a good mother in her own way. The anomaly was, most prostitutes’ children were well dressed and well fed as this was one of the main reasons women went on the game in the first place.
The older children were typical of their age and background. Truants, petty thieves, yet seemingly adult enough to survive in their world. Jeanette Brewer had run away from home and from council care on many occasions. She had been in homes up and down the country, and had left during the night and refused to go back once collared. Same with the boy, Jon Jon. What kind of name was that anyway?
The youngest child, however, had never been near them. Never been in care, and until now had never even come to their attention. The school said the girl was very well behaved, slow due to her learning disabilities but well nourished and cared for. In fact, she was better fed and dressed than many of her contemporaries. She tried hard, attended regularly, and was a well-liked and balanced little girl. In fact, the school went to great pains to maintain that she was one of their more privileged pupils, having a good family network looking out for her. She was almost always escorted to and from school, and her mother was a caring parent, interested in her daughter’s education.
So what was the score?
Heidi would think carefully about this before rushing in, but if the other children were anything to go by maybe this one had slipped the net? She read and reread the case notes on all three children. There was something wrong here but she could not for the life of her put her finger on it. She had a twenty-four-carat shit detector in her brain and it was working overtime as she tried to piece together exactly what it was that was bothering her here.
The mother she understood was now going into full-time paid employment - another no-no for prostitutes who almost never seemed to get out of the quagmire that easy money led them into. Money easily earned was easily spent, that had been proved over and over to her. She had visited women who earned hundreds of pounds a night and yet still didn’t have a slice of bread in the house for their children or else failed to put decent shoes on their feet.
But then, that was generally after the drink or the drugs got to them. Most took up pastimes like that in order to carry on doing the job that paid them so well.
It was a vicious circle.
Men were lucky really; she had always thought so. Look at this poor woman: three kids and no man on the horizon so she had sole responsibility for their care while their fathers went through life impregnating women and then moving on to the next one without a second’s thought for the children they had abandoned. Often not even knowing they had left anything behind other than an odd sock or maybe a shirt. Yet the end result of their lust became a living, thinking, breathing person who would have to deal with the fact their own father was an unknown quantity. Life had kicked these poor children in the teeth before they had even drawn breath on their own.
Heidi Marks felt sad for them, but then she often felt sad.
She had that kind of job.
Joanie was back at work and enjoying it as much as she could considering all she had to contend with. But what was bothering her most was that she had lost all desire to see Jeanette. Had lost all interest in her, in fact.
The flat was quieter without her, and the rowing had all but stopped. It was amazing what a vacuum one person could leave in the space of twenty-four hours. But although no one said it out loud, since Jeanette had gone their lives were all the better without her constant upset.
So Joanie now felt guilty about this even as she struggled to put her emotions regarding her elder daughter on hold. It was funny but in some ways she could finally sympathise with her own mother. Joanie herself had been a Jeanette, but then she’d had every reason to be. She knew that the succession of men trailing through her young life thanks to her mother’s haphazard dating system had been reproduced in her own life and the lives of her kids. One-night stands, occasional week-long associations, and always the inevitable hurt and betrayal after they had left, usually with her purse and/or some electrical items. She cast these thoughts from her mind. Paulie had stayed longer, he had been the only one to do so. Yes, he had left her in the end, but he always came back. This last lot had proved that to her.
That was then and this was now.
Unlike her mother Joanie had tried to mend her ways and this showed in Kira. She had had all the things Joanie had never had, and neither of her other children had had. She was going to be all right, Joanie’s youngest child, she was determined on that much. And she had firm plans for the future now and would be putting them into operation as soon as she could. Once the cloud of Social Services’ interest had passed she was going to look at renting a nicer place in a better area.
That would ensure Kira had a good chance as she grew up of meeting regular people. People with proper jobs and proper lives. Jon Jon was going to help as well. He was even talking about buying somewhere in the future, a thought that made Joanie feel almost dizzy with delight.
And he would do it as well. He was capable of doing anything he wanted, that boy. Even Paulie was impressed by him and took him everywhere now. The fact her son had not harmed Jasper again spoke volumes as well. He was learning to keep himself under control. That was Paulie’s influence, she was sure.
So, other than Jeanette, all in the garden was looking decidedly rosy. But every time Joanie thought of her giving that precious child Temazepam her heart hardened even more against her elder daughter.
Jeanette had made her own bed. Now she could lie in it as long as she wanted. Let her have a bellyful of Karen Copes. That should be punishment enough for anyone.
Liz Parker was just leaving her flat to go to work when she saw Pippy Light leaning against a garden wall a few houses down.
She sighed.
This was all she needed; she was already late.
He was smiling lazily at her and she marvelled at a man who could look so innocent and even handsome in a rough and ready kind of way yet who was as mad as the proverbial hatter. And Pippy was mad. Not mental, not touched, but bona-fide mad. In fact, he was responsible for more vicious assaults than Saddam Hussein and all his henchmen put together. He wasn’t big, he wasn’t physically powerful, but what Pippy had was a total disregard for human life, his own included, that bordered on mania. He would attempt to kill anyone and die in the attempt if that was what it took to achieve his end.
So Liz was understandably wary as she approached him.
‘Please, Pippy . . .’
He grinned, holding up a well-manicured hand. He had recently smoked a couple of tabs so he looked reasonably relaxed. She was grateful for that much anyway.
‘It’s OK, Liz. I know you’re working for Martin and I can only applaud your choice of pimp.’
The sarcasm was evident in his voice.
‘All I want is a little favour, and you owe me, girl.’
She nodded her assent because she had no other choice and they both knew it.
He smiled again.
‘I h
ave been asked to provide the entertainment for a few businessmen who come to town every so often.’
She nodded once more even though she felt sick with apprehension because she knew that she was to be the entertainment for them all. It was one of the corporate gang bangs that were so popular at the moment. This was Pippy’s way of punishing her without having to touch her himself. She consoled herself with the fact that with his temper she had actually got off quite lightly.
‘There will be between seven and ten blokes and you do whatever you are asked. I want you at Jesmond’s by nine tonight, OK?’
She nodded again.
He was giggling now as he watched her face.
Jesmond was a large black man who dealt in literally everything. You wanted it then Jesmond would find a way to provide it. Pippy and Jesmond were kindred spirits where any kind of deviation was concerned. It was why they got on so well. The only person who had any real rapport with Pippy was Jesmond and that was because he was nearly as mad as his friend was. In Jesmond’s favour, however, was the fact he had a long-term girlfriend and two children, all of whom he adored.
Pippy, on the other hand, had no one he cared about or who cared about him. Liz had known she would not get off lightly when she left his employment but as long as this was a one-off she would swallow it. After all, she had done these kinds of shows before.
Once, they had been her stock in trade. Fresh from her children’s home, she had run away at thirteen and swiftly become immersed in the seedy world of child prostitution. A world she had initially embraced because the money gave her freedom and the men she dealt with treated her like a queen. However, after a while they had not been so kind and the money had become less.
She was not to know that what had happened to her was part of the usual pattern. Give the little girls and boys love and affection, money and a certain status, then when they’re feeling secure for once start to treat them badly, make them worry that their positions could be usurped by other, prettier girls and boys. And there you have the perfect recipe for a grand-scale but very lucrative disaster.
Liz had believed once that she was in the know when all this time later she finally realised she actually knew nothing. Except of course how to manipulate men for money, and how to use her body to its best advantage.
She had no real sexual feelings, and emotionally had confused sex with love on the few occasions a man had shown any kind of normal healthy interest in her. But she was a survivor and so she battled on, wondering how she found herself continually on the receiving end of the cruelty of the Pippys and Jesmonds of this world even while she accepted that this was her life, the one she had inadvertently chosen. Telling herself continually that she ought to get used to it and accept it.
Still, at least Pippy would soon be in the past so she would grit her teeth and smile until this last show was over.
If it got him off her back and stopped her ever having to do another show then it was worth every second.
Tommy was showing Kira the bedroom that had been his father’s. He had bought new paint for the walls, a bright pink, and a paler shade for the cupboard doors. It was going to be the Barbie room and Kira was in raptures over it.
He had always bought Barbie magazine and had kept every edition and its centre-page poster. These were going to adorn the walls. In proper frames, as he pointed out, not stuck on with Blu-tack.
Kira could see it all in her mind’s eye and made comments to Tommy about where to put the dolls and their accoutrements.
To her, as for Little Tommy, this was a dream come true.
‘How are you feeling, petal?’
She smiled.
‘Better than I was, Tommy.’
He stared into her blue eyes and the breath caught in his throat. She really was exquisite. He held up Cinderella Barbie against her and said sadly, ‘It’s like looking in a mirror.’
He hugged her to him tightly, and she hugged him back.
‘Now then, how about I go down the offie and get us some treats, and then when I get back you can help me plan her office space. I mean, Barbie must have an office, eh?’
Kira nodded.
‘Also I thought, if it’s all right with you, Tommy, that we could put all her clothes in the wardrobe over there, and all her little shoes and bags can be put with whatever outfits they belong to.’
‘You are so clever, Kira. You can start the sorting if you like while I nip out for our sustenance, eh?’
She grinned happily.
‘OK.’
He left her kneeling on the floor of the bedroom pouring the contents of the shoeboxes on to the floor. He almost skipped to the shops. Now his father was gone life was fantastic. Absolutely fantastic. He had free rein in his own home. No more worries about his beloved Barbies being pissed on, no more worries about having to hide them from his father’s sight.
Little Tommy was almost dizzy with joy.
DI Baxter was drinking tea in the police canteen, thinking about Jon Jon Brewer and his latest little escapade. As usual they had nothing on him, or nothing concrete anyway. And now he was bosom buddies with Martin he was almost untouchable. Paulie Martin was a pillar of the community in some respects, always in the paper for his charitable works even though he had more girls on the game than all the pimps in Sodom and Gomorrah put together.
It galled Baxter even as he admitted that he himself had been on the receiving end of Martin’s generosity on a few occasions. Everyone had at one time or another. If you wanted tickets to the boxing he was the man to get them for you, at a fair price and all. He could also, for a favour, arrange for you to meet the fighters in the dressing room and have a photo done with them. He was good like that, was Martin. But it didn’t mean they had to like him or swallow his outrageous behaviour any more.
But fuck Martin, it was Jon Jon Brewer he was after. That slippery little sod was getting a name for himself so bad the stench was making its way into every station this side of the river.
Baxter would wait. Watch and wait. Carty was out of hospital now, and so was Jasper Copes. Something would occur; it was the law of the street.
‘Well? I said, clean the cubicle.’
The girl was high, but not so high she didn’t know what was going on around her.
‘I cleaned it earlier, Joanie.’
It was said in a friendly way but the undertone of defiance was there nonetheless. Joanie kept the place much cleaner than Lazy Caroline ever had and most of the girls went along with it. But one or two couldn’t be bothered even though since she had introduced the new regime the place smelled much better.
Joanie grinned and disarmed the girl in front of her.
‘Don’t be a prat. Just give the place a once-over with the spray. It ain’t a lot to ask and I ain’t sending no more punters in until you do, Deirdre, all right?’
Deirdre sighed but nodded.
‘OK then. But it’s stupid because it will be full of oil and God knows what again in a minute.’
Joanie shrugged.
‘And pick up the condom wrappers and wipe the floor over before someone goes flying and sues us for a broken cock or something!’
Deirdre rolled up then. Say what you like about Joanie, she was a laugh. She cleaned the cubicle and Joanie went back to her office.
The phone was ringing and she picked it up. She loved this job so much. It was just like being a real secretary.
Jon Jon and Sippy were having a beer in the Mad Hatter on the South Bank. It was a nice pub and they were guaranteed not to see anyone who knew them there. As they exchanged details of their different livelihoods and sorted out their usual business they made a strange pair. Two Swedish girls were giving them the come on and they were trying to ignore them until business was out of the way.
Sippy was pleased with Jon Jon’s newfound status, especially as he had predicted it himself. Men were getting the big jobs younger and younger nowadays because the heavy sentences handed down by judges took people out of their bal
lpark quickly and efficiently. Consequently, they both had friends just a bit older than them who were away for the duration and this made them take their own businesses far more seriously. If caught they knew they would be finished once and for all. Sippy had a wide network of people that the police would have to get through before they could finger him, and he was advising Jon Jon to do the same. He was listening avidly to everything his friend and mentor was telling him.
‘How’s that Liz?’
Jon Jon shrugged.
‘Don’t know. Don’t care.’
Sippy didn’t believe him and it showed.
‘I hear she’s still doing a bit of work for that Pippy. Watch out for that bastard - he’s one mad boy.’
Jon Jon shrugged.