by Jacqui Rose
As Alfie went up the stairs – lit only by a flickering red light – to the flat above the club, he thought again about the promise he’d made to Franny. He’d told her he wouldn’t go around and see Charlie until they were certain about the fire, but when he’d put the phone down, he’d thought better of it. Jesus, this wasn’t just a few threats here and there; this was a raging fire that basically had wiped out the whole building and most of next door’s place. And okay, Franny had asked him not to go and pay Charlie a visit, but the way he saw it, what Franny didn’t know couldn’t hurt her.
He didn’t even want to start thinking about how much money they were going to lose through all the damage caused by the fire, and that was even before taking into account any future earnings. Yes, they had insurance but until everything had been investigated, the insurance company wouldn’t even think about paying out. It could all take months. And now with Vaughn gone, everything was going to be left down to him, which meant someone had to pay. And he was going to make sure that someone was Charlie Eton.
‘Hello, Charlie.’
Charlie, having just come out of the bathroom, looked at Alfie in puzzlement. He wiped his hand on the small, grey towel at the same time as making a mental note to pull up his men for letting Alfie slip by them.
‘What are you doing here? Though you look better than you did yesterday. That coke must’ve done you good.’
Alfie’s face darkened. ‘Let’s just say things have taken a different turn. You know what I’m talking about, so let’s not pretend.’
Charlie walked over to light himself a cigarette, keeping his gaze on Alfie. ‘You’re not being very nice given that less than forty-eight hours ago you were weeping like a baby on my shoulder.’
Angrily, Alfie screwed up his face. ‘That’s different, and besides, you know what I’m getting at.’
‘No, Alf, actually I don’t. As usual you’re talking in fucking riddles, and I take it now your club’s been somewhat destroyed, you’re not here to talk about our deal, which is a shame. I was looking forward to becoming a partner in your business.’
Alfie, taken aback by what he saw as Charlie’s brazenness, was bemused. ‘Are you having a fucking laugh?’
Charlie chuckled. ‘Yes, but clearly you aren’t, though I’m glad I’ve seen you because I wanted a word about my niece. I understand you’ve been looking after her.’
‘What?’
Blowing the smoke out of his mouth, Charlie laughed but at once he began to choke. Through splutters and spitting, he just managed to get his words out. ‘Shannon. She tells me you and Vaughn were good to her.’
‘Shannon’s your niece?’
Red-faced and with tears in his eyes from the coughing, Charlie grinned. ‘Oh yeah, for all the good she is. Ungrateful little bitch. By rights I should be pissed off that you nicked her from me but seeing as we’re mates, I’ll give you a squeeze. I hope she treated you well and didn’t charge you too much.’
Still slightly shocked to hear about Shannon, and not wanting to think about what Charlie had put her through, Alfie growled, ‘Firstly, we’re not mates, Charlie. Get that into your head. And secondly, I would never go near Shannon. The kid’s barely turned twenty.’
Charlie roared laughing. ‘Is that what she told you? I have to give it to her, she’s a hustler all right. She’s barely turned sixteen.’
Alfie felt nauseous. ‘Jesus Christ, she’s still a baby.’
Charlie shrugged. ‘Who gives good head.’
Alfie, unable to hear any more, charged into Charlie, pushing him hard and slamming him against the wall. ‘What happened to you, Charlie? Don’t you see? The man you hated most in the world, who abused you as a kid – well look, you’ve turned out just like him.’
Taken by surprise and seething with anger, Charlie clenched his fist, swinging it round into the side of Alfie’s head. He ducked just in time, bringing his knee into Charlie’s stomach before grabbing his hair and squeezing his face between his strong fingers.
Hissing with anger, Charlie sneered. ‘I’m nothing like him! Nothing!’
Alfie leant into Charlie’s face, smelling a mixture of alcohol and cigarettes. ‘No, Char, that’s where you’re wrong. Look around you, look at what you do for a living.’
‘No more than you.’
Alfie shook his head. ‘I might be a lot of things and I may do a lot of things wrong. I may never get to heaven but what I do know is, I will always have a clear conscience when it comes to kids. Young girls. I don’t know how you can live with yourself. Franny won’t even have the girls near the club if she doesn’t check their ID.’
With his face still squeezed tightly between Alfie’s fingers, Charlie gave a scornful laugh.
‘Franny! Don’t talk about her like she’s some kind of saint. You have no idea, do you?’
Letting go of Charlie, Alfie, puzzled, stared at him. ‘Now who’s talking in riddles? What the hell are you on about?’
Charlie looked at Alfie evenly, wondering whether or not to tell him all he knew about Franny, not that he knew an awful lot; Shannon hadn’t known much and Ma had been pretty secretive, calling him up to ask him to leave it all down to her, and although he hadn’t had time to ask her exactly what her plan was, he knew when it came to his sister it would be bound to be about money. For Ma, money was oxygen.
But then, if Alfie thought that it was all right to come around reeking of attitude then it was well in his rights to wipe the smile off his face. So maybe although he wouldn’t tell him everything, he would just dangle a carrot, or rather dangle a word. One word …
‘Bree.’
As Charlie had thought, Alfie’s face dropped.
‘Bree? What do you know about Bree? And what’s she got to do with Franny? What the fuck are you talking about?’
Seeing Alfie on the back foot, Charlie shrugged, amused. It was only this year that he and Alfie had started speaking again after a very long time, twenty-odd years in fact, and he liked it that Alfie didn’t know much about him anymore. Unlike him who knew everything there was to know – all about Alfie’s relationship with Bree, courtesy of Ma – with Alfie not having a clue he was related to her and in a roundabout way, related to Bree as well. And that certainly amused him.
Knowing more than his friends knew, his enemies knew, always put him in a position of strength. That was the way he liked it, and he was going to keep it that way. ‘Oh nothing, Alf, just something that Shannon said, though you can take it with a pinch of salt what some crackhead says, can’t you?’
Alfie stared coldly. ‘Can you, because either you’re playing games with me or you’re not telling me something.’
Just as coldly, Charlie, who was certainly not going to tell Alfie anything else, said, ‘What is it you wanted anyway, Alf? Because I feel my time is being wasted here.’
Alfie strode back across to where Charlie was standing, his eyes full of hatred. ‘Tell me about the fire, Charlie. Tell me why you did it.’
Charlie turned his head to one side. ‘Me? You think I started the fire?’
Alfie’s tone was dangerously low. ‘I don’t think, I know you did, and in my mind, that’s crossing a line. Everything has a consequence, and you’re just about to find that out.’
Aware his employees must be otherwise occupied, leaving him alone, Charlie began to backpedal. ‘Listen, Alf, you’ve got this all wrong. I didn’t even know that someone had started the fire. I thought it was an accident. That’s what I heard anyway.’
‘Don’t lie to me, Charlie.’
‘I’m not, I swear! I’m not the one who’s lying to you.’
‘I don’t believe you, and what the fuck is that supposed to mean? I don’t like games.’ Pulling out his gun from his inside jacket pocket, Alfie jabbed Charlie in the chest. Charlie’s face drained of colour and, full of fear, he put his hands in the air.
‘Come off it, Alf, you ain’t being serious. You can’t kill me, not here, not like this.’
Angrily
, Alfie said, ‘Kill you? Who said anything about killing you, Charlie? That would be a little unfair, don’t you think? Until I know for certain about the fire, I’m going to leave you my calling card as it were, a little reminder never to take me on.’
And as Alfie Jennings aimed the gun at Charlie’s kneecaps, thinking about the fire, thinking about Shannon, thinking about all the other young girls Charlie had taken advantage of over the years, without hesitation, he pulled the trigger.
But as he walked away, hearing Charlie writhe and scream in agony, Alfie heard something else, something just before Charlie blacked out.
‘Ask Franny about the baby … Ask about Bree’s baby.’
24
Epping Forest was somewhere that Franny knew well. Her father had taken her on many occasions and not just for a walk in the woods. From her earliest years he had taught her everything he knew about the business. And one of those things was where to dispose of something so that nobody would ever find it.
So, it was here in the dark of the night Franny found herself driving as near as she could to the area of the woods she needed to be in.
With the rain still falling, blanketing the trees with a ghostlike mist, Franny pulled up, switching off the engine and the lights of the car. Surrounded by nothing but blackness, she waited a moment in the unsettling silence, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness.
She sat staring ahead, her body going from hot to cold. Her shivering turning into violent spasms and sweats. Her breathing was tight. She felt like she had someone’s hands around her neck and the pulse behind her left eye throbbed as she covered her face with her hands, images of Bree and Vaughn rushing through her mind.
Overwhelmed, Franny sat motionless for a couple of minutes, hearing her own breathing as her tears ran through her fingers. But knowing she needed to get herself together, she slowly straightened up, wiped her face and took a long deep breath.
Forcing herself to get out of the car, Franny’s hand hovered over the door handle then, hesitantly, she stepped out, walking to the boot and opening it up.
Trying not to think, Franny began to hum, desperate to disconnect herself from the moment. She checked around, more for herself than out of necessity. The area she had driven to was always deserted, a place her father had at one time or another brought his own baggage to ‘dispose’ of.
She could see how much her hands were shaking as, still humming, she dragged Bree’s wrapped-up body out onto the ground with a loud thump. Next, she reached to the back of the boot, grabbing the spade that she’d picked up from the DIY shop, along with a packet of fox-deterrent powder; the last thing she needed were the animals of the forest digging up Bree.
Checking behind her once more and reassured there was no one around, Franny placed the spade and sachets of powder on top of Bree’s body and began to drag her through the trees and bushes to the small area beyond the thickets where her father had always said was a safe, hidden spot.
With her whole body sweating already, Franny nervously surveyed the space, grateful that it had rained so the earth was now soft, making it relatively easy for her to dig. With a weary sigh, she picked up the spade, but she stopped, frozen, hearing a noise … a voice. Someone was calling her name.
‘Franny. Franny.’
She whirled around, trembling, staring through the mist, which was getting ever thicker. Her heart was pounding as she stepped forward. Suddenly she stumbled, tripping over Bree’s body, falling down onto the wet ground. She let out a small scream and panicking she scrabbled, the sound of her panting filling the air, fear running through her as she used the gnarled tree next to her to pull herself up.
Her chest moved up and down in exaggerated movements as she pinned herself against the trunk, listening, watching … waiting. But the only sound she could hear was the pattering of rain against the leaves.
Jesus, she had to pull herself together. What was she thinking? She was being weak. Stupid … again. She was letting her mind play tricks on her. She of all people should know better. She knew there were always strange sounds and noises in the forest. Calls of animals and birds. An owl. A fox. A badger. It could’ve been anything making a sound. It was an easy mistake to make thinking that someone was calling her name, wasn’t it? Because after all what else could it have been?
Nervously looking around, Franny took a deep breath. She rubbed her head, massaging her temples. Christ, it felt like she was losing it; this was so unlike her and she hated the way it was making her feel. Or maybe she just needed to sleep, put her head down and get some rest – perhaps that’s all it was. After all it had been days since she’d had a proper night’s sleep. Yeah, maybe that’s all it was …
Determined to pull herself together, Franny picked up the spade and convincing herself her shaking was just from the cold and nothing else, she began to dig.
Two and a half hours later, having dug the shallow grave, which was much more difficult and took more physical effort than she had imagined, Franny rolled Bree’s body into the grave. She winced at the thud of Bree’s body hitting the bottom of the grave before shovelling earth back on top of it. Trying to push her emotions to one side, knowing this was the only way forward, Franny flattened out the ground surface, placing leaves and branches over it, then carefully undid the sachets of fox repellent and scattered the powder all over the area.
Exhausted but having finally finished, Franny picked up the spade and walked slowly through the mist-strewn forest, unable to shake the feeling that someone was watching her.
25
Walking back into the empty house in Soho Square, Franny headed for the shower. She bagged up the clothes she’d been wearing in a black bin liner, knowing that she needed to get rid of them as soon as possible along with the suitcase of Bree’s belongings, which was still in the back of her car. There were a number of rubbish dumps just outside London, so getting rid of the stuff would not only be easy, but also totally under the radar.
As she stepped into the steaming shower, the water pounded down on Franny. She could feel the burn of the water on her chest. The sting against her skin, the pain of it scorching her body. She closed her eyes and sank to the floor, burying her head into her knees as she began to wail. As the water continued to buffet down, she scrunched her eyes tightly, desperate to shake the image of Bree’s dead, staring eyes, and of little Mia.
‘Fran?’
Franny looked up, brushing her wet hair away from her face. She gave a small smile as she looked at Alfie.
‘Hey, Franny, what’s wrong, darlin’?’ Alfie, looking worried, stared at Franny. She couldn’t really remember a time when he’d seen her cry like this.
Uncomfortable with her own emotions, Franny shrugged. ‘You caught me feeling sorry for myself.’
Passing her a large, fluffy white bath towel, Alfie wrapped it around her as she turned off the water, stepping out onto the black marble floor. ‘You look tired, Fran. You need to sleep. It won’t help anything if you make yourself ill. Driving around Richmond isn’t going to do you any favours either.’
Franny was puzzled. ‘Richmond?’
It was Alfie’s turn to look puzzled. ‘Yeah, you said you drove there.’
‘Oh God, yeah, sorry, I’m not thinking straight. I can’t even remember what I was doing five minutes ago. I’m all over the place.’
‘And you still haven’t heard about Mia?’
Tightly Franny shook her head.
‘What’s that?’ Alfie pointed to the black bin liner in the corner.
Sounding as casual as she could, Franny wrapped her long hair up in a bun before pulling on a clean, grey cashmere tracksuit. ‘Just some clothes I’m throwing out. I was trying to keep myself busy by doing a bit of a tidy-up.’
As Alfie looked at Franny, he couldn’t quite help but think she seemed different. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but there was something strange, something distant about her, though perhaps that was only to be expected after what happened with her
friend’s baby.
From thinking about Mia, Alfie’s thoughts then shifted to Shannon, to Charlie, to what he had said about Bree’s baby. He wasn’t going to tell Franny what had happened to Charlie, after all he had promised her he’d leave well enough alone and the last thing he wanted was to add on any more stress. It certainly didn’t look like she could handle it.
But not saying anything about Charlie didn’t mean that it wasn’t bugging him, eating away at the back of his head. How did Shannon know about Bree? And why would Charlie say to ask Franny about Bree’s baby when there was no baby? Maybe he’d been talking about her daughter, Molly. But why would he call Molly, who was almost seven, a baby?
Though he supposed Charlie had always been a headfuck. He’d always got off on playing games with people’s minds, and maybe saying what he had done was just part of his amusement, knowing that it would wind him up … upset him, and it wasn’t hard to work out how he’d found out about it.
After all it wasn’t just Vaughn and Franny who knew about Bree’s miscarriage. His ex-wife – who still had a lot of contacts in Soho – knew about it, and so did his friend, Lola Harding, and as much as he told them on countless occasions not to make him and his affairs the centre of their gossip, they had mouths like the Mersey Tunnel – big and wide – and they just couldn’t seem to help themselves. Though even taking all that into account, it was strange, because something still didn’t feel right in his gut, and over the years following his gut was what had kept him alive and on top for all this time.
Sighing and following Franny down the stairs into the kitchen, Alfie poured himself a drink of orange juice, still thinking about Shannon and Charlie.
‘You’re a bit quiet. Are you okay, Alf? Listen, I’m sorry if I’ve worried you recently and I know what I did about the letters was so wrong. We can talk about it if you like, if that will help?’
Alfie shook his head, not wanting to go there. ‘I’m fine, but I did want to ask you what you know about Shannon.’
Franny held a fixed smile on her face. ‘Who’s Shannon?’