by Martina Cole
He wondered for the hundredth time what his father was doing and where he could have gone to. Joseph had a lot of cronies from the old days, and so Tommy assumed he must have looked some up. He had given various names to the police but they had come up with nothing. But then, they wouldn’t, would they?
He had not given them all the names, he wasn’t that stupid. He didn’t want his father turning up again.
His face looked awful. They had made sure he had no mirrors in the room, but he saw his reflection in the window sometimes and he knew how bad he looked. But, he had decided, he had not looked that great to start with.
It was the only way he could cope.
He dreamed of his mother most nights, felt her hold him as she had when he was a little boy. If she had still been alive none of this would have happened, he was sure of that much.
He was eating again, comfort eating.
He wished he had never clapped eyes on Kira Brewer. His father had been right all along. It would only cause trouble, he had said, and he was proved right once more. Why hadn’t Tommy listened to him?
The nurse brought him a carafe of fresh water and he ignored her. Actually, of course, she was ignoring him. None of the nurses really spoke to him, and he knew they didn’t enjoy touching him. But then again, that had been true for most of his life.
No one ever wanted to be near him.
Except Kira, of course.
And look at the trouble that had caused.
He sighed and opened up another Mars bar. As he chewed on it aimlessly he wondered how long he would be here before he was moved once more. They were moving him constantly.
Was he on the run? He supposed he was in a way.
That was food for thought, as his mother used to say.
Jon Jon was meeting a bloke from North London. He was a Rasta, originally from Jamaica and then from Newcastle upon Tyne. The man smiled at him and they shook hands, mutual respect evident in their stance and in their faces.
‘Good to meet you at last.’
Sippy smiled at the two of them. He was glad he had brought them together. Sippy loved Jon Jon. There was a natural affinity, both business and personal, between them. Since his sister’s disappearance they had become even closer. Sippy had a sister who had been caught in a gang shoot-out in Jamaica. She was still a child in her mind even now she was a woman in her body. He paid a substantial amount each month for her to be taken care of in a clean and caring environment in Surrey. At the end of the day she was blood and that was all that mattered. The fact he didn’t advertise her existence was his business. But he had confided in Jon Jon to help him understand how you got over things.
Even the worst things.
Now as he watched Errol and Jon Jon he was glad that he had arranged this meet. If anyone could find this Tommy it was Errol. He had all the filth in his pocket, could get literally anything about anyone.
Now he was tracking down the man they believed to be responsible for Kira’s demise, and demise was the right word.
She was dead, they all knew it.
It was how she’d died they wanted to find out.
Sippy leaned forward in his chair and said quietly, ‘If Jon Jon had a body he could bury her, and half the hurt would be gone, Errol. It’s the not knowing.’
Errol nodded his huge head. He was handsome and knew it. Much taken to wearing white vests with blue jeans, he looked the epitome of the Rastaman - until, that is, he stepped into his limited edition Mercedes Sports.
He rarely wore shoes, favouring Reef sandals, and his body was well pumped up from weight training.
Errol sat back in his chair and sipped gladly at his pint of Guinness.
‘Well, we might have some good news. I have two possibles for you. One’s in Sheffield and the other in Birmingham, both suffering from burns, both under assumed names. I got this from a boy I own in the Met. Good lad. He works for the CPS - and for me as well.’
He threw back his head and laughed as he added, ‘I always said he would go far.’
Sippy and Jon Jon laughed with him even though Jon Jon couldn’t think what the fuck he had to laugh about, but he knew how to play the game and he liked Errol. Under different circumstances he would have roared his head off.
Errol slipped him a piece of paper with the addresses on.
‘There are two numbers there. You ring them and you’ll have specialised back-up to go with you, OK?’
Jon Jon nodded.
‘Thank you, Errol, I appreciate it.’
He shrugged, embarrassed.
‘I hope you find him and I hope you find your sister. It must be hard, man, very hard.’
Jon Jon nodded.
Sippy sat quietly, ‘He need revenge, know what I’m saying?’
Errol nodded once more.
‘Of course he does, and we’ll see that he gets it.’
They chatted then about nothing, just chilling, all of them aware that Jon Jon couldn’t wait to leave and follow up the information. But he stayed a while out of politeness because Errol had done him the favour of a lifetime.
Jeanette was talking to Liz Parker. The two girls got on like a house on fire.
‘So, how much do you earn in an average night?’ Jeanette asked.
Liz sighed and put her head on one side, thinking. The action made her look much younger than usual.
‘About three hundred quid usually. If I do the special parties I can earn much more, of course.’
Jeanette was intrigued.
‘What are the special parties?’
‘Well, it’s when you look really young like, no makeup, a gymslip and ankle socks!’ She was laughing. ‘Some geezers pay a fortune for all that, see, and you can get three bar just for a couple of hours’ work. You have to act all shy like, unless they tell you different. Some of the blokes like you to be all virginal and others like you to be a right little slapper, it depends, but they all pay well. Plus, you’re round their house, see?’
Jeanette saw and liked what she saw.
‘Once, I was round this bloke’s house and his wife come home . . .’
Jeanette’s eyes were like saucers now.
‘No! What did you do?’
‘I run out the back door, had to take the baby oil and me uniform and everything with me. He pushed me out that house like I was on fire or something. Anyway, I was up the road when I realised I hadn’t been paid.’
Jeanette’s eyes were now stretched to their utmost.
‘You never went back there?’
Liz grinned.
‘Nah, but me pimp did and he got the money quick smart, I can tell you.’
‘Does Paulie Martin do all that too then?’
Liz was careful how she answered this. She knew Jeanette’s mother and Paulie were an item that went back years. There was no way she was going to fuck herself with a few words out of place now. Men like Paulie Martin had a way of knowing exactly what was said about them.
‘Oh, Paulie’s Mr Smooth these days, love,’ she laughed. ‘Why the big interest anyway?’
Jeanette shrugged.
‘No reason. Just interested, that’s all.’
Which she was - because she was thinking of doing it herself. Jeanette wanted a place of her own, somewhere she and Jasper could be alone together without Karen’s motor mouth going round the clock.
‘Who did you do these parties for then?’
Liz was quiet for a few seconds.
‘Why do you want to know?’
‘Just curious.’
‘A bloke called Pippy Light, and he’s a piece of shit. Your brother hates him.’
‘Does he? Why?’
Liz was getting in over her head here and she knew it. Jon Jon would not take kindly to her telling his business to all and sundry, especially not his sister.
‘He just hates nasty pimps, that’s all.’
‘Where does this Pippy hang out then?’
Liz laughed.
‘Are you thinking of going on
the bash or something?’
Jeanette laughed with her.
‘’Course not! I’m just wondering, that’s all. A healthy curiosity, nothing more. That’s what Jon Jon always says when he questions me about where I’ve been and what I’m doing. He thinks I don’t know he’s trying to keep tabs on me.’
‘He cares about you, Jeanette.’
The girl flicked back her long brown hair in a gesture of contempt.
‘He wants to live my life for me, you mean.’
Her face was dark now as she thought of how hemmed in she was these days. Her mother was as bad. Didn’t want Jeanette back home - not full-time anyway. Kept saying she needed her space, time to mourn her loss. Kira again. It was always about Kira even now she was gone for ever. But Joanie still nagged Jeanette, got on her case about the bits of thieving she did, and the girl had had enough of it. She wanted her own life.
‘Don’t knock it, love. I wish someone had ever cared that much about me. Even once,’ Liz said wistfully.
Jeanette grimaced.
‘Well, you wouldn’t if they did. It’s a pain in the fucking arse.’
‘After what happened to your sister . . .’
Jeanette jumped up then and said brusquely, ‘Is that the time? I must get going, me mother’s waiting for me to visit her.’
She always changed the subject when people mentioned her sister. Couldn’t bear to think about Kira, feel once more her own scalding guilt for the way she had treated the child.
As she walked to Joanie’s flat she wondered once more what had happened to her little sister. It was all she thought about when she was alone. She had a strong urge to be with someone else, not to suffer this pain alone. Jasper was good to her but the person she really wanted was her mum. This was happening more and more lately to Jeanette, though no one seeing that hard little painted face would ever have guessed at the desolation behind it.
Jon Jon watched the changing expressions on his mother’s face and his heart went out to her.
‘Do you think he’s really up there?’ she asked eagerly.
Jon Jon nodded.
‘Meself I think he’s in Sheffield. I don’t know why, just a feeling, but I’m going to visit the Birmingham address first, and then if I have no joy I’ll carry on up North. This Errol was a right nice fella. He’s still looking for us and wouldn’t take a penny for his trouble, you know.’
Joanie nodded.
‘People come up trumps at times like this.’
She was pouring out yet another drink as she spoke and Jon Jon sighed, trying hard not to say anything to her about it and avoid another row. But her drinking was out of hand these days. Even though he felt he should try and stop her, he knew her circumstances were hardly normal and she needed something to bolster her through each and every empty day. Maybe when he’d sorted Tommy for good his mum would start pulling herself together.
She looked painfully pleased by his news and the thought that this was the only pleasure she was likely to feel for a long time, hearing the whereabouts of the beast who had murdered her child, almost made him weep. Instead he hugged her. Joanie hugged him back, enjoying the comforting smell of him, wondering what life was going to throw at them all next.
He left the flat fifteen minutes later and when he’d gone Joanie made a quick phone call. Then she ran around quickly sorting her stuff out. She had her coat on ready to go when the mini-cab bibbed her. She ran straight down the stairs and shoved her overnight bag into the car ahead of her. She told the driver to take her to the station as quickly as possible.
‘You’re in a rush, love.’
‘And you are a nosy bastard!’
The tone of her voice told the cab driver to keep schtumm and he did.
Joanie opened the holdall and checked she had everything she needed.
She was smiling.
Jon Jon would do his crust when he realised she had gone to Sheffield ahead of him. He was arranging to go up to Birmingham the next day but first he had to cover himself for work, and the new parlour was opening tonight so he had to be there.
She, though, had both addresses and if she didn’t find the fucker in Sheffield she would make her way down to Birmingham, pop in on her way home so to speak.
Joanie felt elated.
If she could she was going to find out where her daughter was, but whatever happened she was going to make Little Tommy pay for what he had done to her and her family. As she had waved her son off she’d wanted to laugh with joy and excitement. He wouldn’t be home until the morning and by then she would be long gone. This was something she wanted to sort out for herself.
Jeanette came home to a dark deserted flat. No sign of Joanie apart from a near-empty bottle of vodka and the overflowing ashtrays. She made herself something to eat and went back out again. She was miffed and it showed.
No one bothered with her these days. Her mother, she knew, still blamed her for her sister’s disappearance. More to the point, Jeanette blamed herself.
Disconsolately, she made her way round to Jasper’s. She didn’t know where else to go.
Chapter Nineteen
Jon Jon was enjoying the opening night of Angel Girls, something he hadn’t thought would be possible, considering all that had happened in the last few months.
Starting up this place had taken his mind off his sister when he had most needed it and for that he would be forever grateful.
Tonight it was buzzing, had a great atmosphere. The new parlour was going to be a real money-spinner, and it was all down to him. He was proud of what he had achieved in such a short time.
Unlike the other parlours this one was getting a proper opening night. Normally they opened quietly and discreetly to allay the usual protests from housewives and do-gooders who were actually more worried about their husbands using the place than they were about seeing the neighbourhood go downhill.
As long as they kept it low-key they were in with a chance. The licences were acquired by a reputable legal firm and they would do their best to keep a low profile. No fighting in the street, whether between the girls, or girls and punters, was permitted. No foul language, and definitely no drunkenness.
Tonight, though, they had champagne and wine. They also had music. Jon Jon was crossing his fingers that everything would go like clockwork because he had almost made Paulie sink his money into this place.
It had been like a passion with him for the last seven weeks and he had opened this place in record time. Which was something he knew would score him brownie points if nothing else did. Paulie always wanted everything yesterday, and Jon Jon was a bit like that himself.
Angel Girls had everything: state-of-the-art booths for the workers containing the best massage oils and perfumed candles. The towels and sheets were top quality; they had skimped on nothing. Every wall was mirrored so the clients could observe themselves performing from any angle, and the booths were soundproofed too so they could also make as much noise as they liked. Each had its own CD and DVD player for soft porn or music, whichever was preferred. The place rocked and Jon Jon was proud to have been the instigator of it.
He and Paulie had sent out personalised invitations to all the big businesses hereabouts and tonight they had seen a really wonderful turnout. Their prospective clientele had money to burn and the handpicked girls were all very good-looking. They’d been briefed to talk to the prospective punters in a sincere and intelligent fashion - or as intelligent as they could manage anyway. As long as the subject stayed on them they should be all right. This was far more upmarket than anything Paulie had attempted before.
Jon Jon studied his boss’s face as he smiled smugly around the crowded room, and felt himself relax. Paulie was weighing up exactly what this had cost him, doing his accounts as he assessed their client base. They’d decided they were charging four hundred quid for half an hour here. Serious money would soon be rolling in.
The place would pay for itself in just under three months, everything else was bunce.<
br />
This was going to work; the City gents already had lap-dancing clubs but this was to cater to the more stressed businessmen. The girls here actually had proper qualifications for aromatherapy, Reiki, even first aid. One was a qualified sports therapist, or at least Jon Jon had bought her the diploma. Her sports were more active movement than football, but she had the piece of paper nonetheless.