Fearless

by Jessie Keane

  ‘Oh, nothing. Just that maybe this is all a little too civilized for you, really.’

  ‘Phil—’ started Tanya.

  ‘Tanya doesn’t know your background, of course. Not like I do.’

  Shauna looked at Tanya, then at Chloe. She thought of Josh, blowing Andrew Meredith’s head off his shoulders at Philippa’s husband’s request. She was crazy-mad with that high-toned bitch across the table, but she was going to have to rein it in, be careful. ‘I’m a gypsy,’ she said. ‘My husband’s a bare-knuckle fighter,’ she told Tanya. ‘I think Chloe already knows that.’

  ‘Oh yah. Sure,’ said Chloe, her elbow slipping from the tabletop.

  ‘Just thought you ought to know, Tanya,’ said Philippa, her eyes glittering with malice as she smiled across at Shauna.

  Shauna guessed that she wasn’t going to be included in Tanya’s round-robin dinner parties after all. She’d seen the shocked and – yes – disgusted look on Tanya’s face. While Tanya walked out to Chloe’s Porsche with her, there was a moment in which Shauna was alone in the hall with Philippa. The maid was in the kitchen, washing dishes. Shauna looked left and right, then she shoved Philippa up against the wall so hard that the blonde’s head banged into the plasterwork. Philippa let out a cry. Shauna glared with feral hatred into the woman’s shocked eyes.

  ‘What the f—’ gasped out Philippa.

  ‘What the fuck is this, you cow. I know things about your family, your husband, that you wouldn’t want repeated. I know things that would make these tarts shun you like a leper. So watch your fucking mouth or I promise you, you’ll be getting all those expensive pearly-whites of yours back in an ashtray – and then I’ll fill the “girls” in on all the grisly details about dear sweet Dave and the company he likes to keep.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ said Philippa, but she looked shaken.

  ‘No. You don’t, do you. Ignorance is bliss. So keep that poisonous mouth of yours shut, or you’ll be opening a can of worms you’ll wish you hadn’t.’

  Shauna let Philippa go, turned and walked out to the BMW. ‘Bye then, Tanya. Bye, Chloe,’ she called warmly, and got into the car with her hands still trembling with rage and her guts knotted with tension.

  That bitch.

  Shauna knew she was going to have to work very hard with Tanya and Chloe to repair the damage done today. Well, she’d warned Phil now. But she was furious. Maybe a warning wasn’t enough. So when she got home, she phoned the Cleaver farm.

  61

  ‘What the fuck’s up with you then?’ asked Bill Cleaver when he came out of the kitchen door and found Jeb standing outside, staring moodily into space.

  One of their dogs, a big black Boxer, came sniffing around his leg and Jeb booted it. The dog cried out and slunk away.

  ‘Nothing,’ he said.

  ‘Face on you like a cow’s arse,’ said Bill, picking up his stick.

  ‘I told you, it’s nothing.’

  ‘You’re not still mooning around over that Shauna bloody Everett, are you? Or Shauna Flynn as she styles herself these days. Christ, she’s been gone over three years now – what the fuck’s wrong with you?’

  Jeb eyed his father beadily. The old fart would get a thump around the head if he wasn’t careful. Yeah, Bill ruled the roost here, but Jeb was big enough now to give the cunt a pasting, and he would.

  ‘Bitch thinks she’s free of us all,’ sniffed Jeb. ‘Lording it in a big house with that Flynn git, she don’t want to know her old pals any more. She’s made that damned plain.’

  It hurt him. He could scarcely credit it, but it did. He was soft on the bitch. And that – his own weakness for her – made him angrier still. Now she’d been on the phone to him, asking him to do a job on one of her snooty pals. She was using him. Keeping things on her terms.

  ‘That’s harsh,’ said Bill.

  ‘Harsh? It’s out of the fucking question. She owes us. If it weren’t for us, she wouldn’t have Flynn. She’d still be wiping her arse with dock leaves back in the camp, and the Milo bitch would’ve had him. But is that cow grateful? She is not.’

  ‘Damned right,’ said Bill.

  The back door swung open and Ciaran came out, followed by Rowan.

  ‘What’s this? Family conference?’ asked Ciaran, looking from Bill to Jeb. He was the eldest son; he had to be included in everything.

  Jeb looked at Ciaran with stark dislike. Big-headed bastard, he thought.

  ‘Jeb’s telling me the Everett girl’s cooled on him,’ said Bill with a black-toothed grin. ‘And you two as well, I guess.’

  ‘Well fuck it, I say,’ Ciaran said. ‘That one was always going to move on and up. I knew it the first moment I set eyes on her. She got that hungry look. The look that says, OK, this’ll do for now, but soon? You can kiss my arse ’cos I’ll be gone.’

  Jeb looked sullen. ‘Best fuck I ever had,’ he said.

  ‘And me,’ said Rowan.

  ‘Shit, all of us,’ said Ciaran, and Rowan snickered. Even Bill raised a grin.

  ‘It ain’t funny,’ said Jeb. ‘All the stuff we done for that bitch. Now she’s on at me to do more stuff, when not five minutes ago she’s shouting in my face, telling me to sod off.’

  Rowan held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. His younger brother was literally steaming with rage.

  ‘You want a little advice from your old dad?’ asked Bill.

  ‘No. But go the fuck on anyway,’ said Jeb.

  ‘Who’s making the rules here?’ asked Bill, looking around at his sons in disgust. ‘Her, or you? Listen. OK. Girl owes you. She owes us all, good fuck or no. Now she thinks she’s too good for us?’

  ‘So what do we do?’ asked Jeb.

  ‘Teach her a lesson. Bring her smack back down to earth. Let her know who’s in charge here.’

  ‘Yeah, fine. Suggestions?’ said Ciaran, shoving Rowan as he continued to laugh.

  ‘Woulda thought that was damned obvious,’ said Bill. ‘Way I see it, he’s the problem. Josh Flynn. She’s taken up with him and he’s earning big and it’s turned her head. Right round.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So get rid of the son of a bitch. Hand him his arse cooked on a dinner plate. And then? Coast is clear. Do what you want with her.’

  There was a loud silence as the three Cleaver boys looked at each other. Then Ciaran nodded.

  ‘We’ll do it,’ said Ciaran. He looked at Rowan. Rowan was always his wingman, they worked well together. Jeb was too hot-headed to be relied upon in a tight situation, and it was clear his judgement was off where the Everett girl was concerned. He put a heavy hand on Jeb’s shoulder. He was the eldest, he’d sort it out. ‘I never did like that cunt Josh Flynn. Me and Rowan. It’ll be a piece of piss. We’ll set this right, Jeb. Don’t you fret.’

  ‘I’ll do the job for her, the one she’s phoned about,’ said Jeb, brightening. ‘That way she won’t suspect a thing. Come as a big shock to her when Josh Flynn gets his, and serve the bitch right.’

  ‘That’s the ticket,’ said Bill, and smiled.

  62

  The illegal bout in Oxford was set up in a big room where wedding receptions and wakes were held, over a public bar. People shoved back the chairs and laid their bets and soon a huge crowd gathered around the edges of the room. Josh faced a big blond-haired man called Don Swatley. He had a broken nose and KILLER tattooed across his huge hairy chest. The referee hit a copper pan with a ladle, and they were off.

  The blond came in with a left, and then another, whacking Josh back a step. No one had told Josh the man was also a southpaw. This made things tricky from a defensive viewpoint. Josh flicked back a couple of staccato hard rights, then a piston-hard left flick. But the blond swiped in left-handed again, cracking Josh on the ear so that his head rung like a bell. Josh felt sticky blood flowing there, and thought better wrap this up quick.

  The man was more powerful than Josh had expected. Supremely self-confident in his strength and ability, Josh
realized he’d become too cocky for his own good. He turned up the heat as the crowd roared louder and louder, throwing out a flurry of vicious lefts to the ribs until the man’s guard dropped. Then he went in further, pulverizing him until he started to weave and sag. A sharp hit to the temple sent the blond crashing to the floor.

  The ref stepped forward and counted to ten. The blond didn’t get up. So the ref lifted Josh’s arm in the air and declared Fearless Flynn the winner. Josh stood there, sweat-stained and blood-soaked, and grinned around at the crowd in triumph. And it was then that he saw someone moving at the back of the room, someone he recognized.

  63

  After he’d washed up and claimed his winnings, Josh grabbed his sports bag and went downstairs, looking again for that familiar face. And Rowan Cleaver was right there, drinking scrumpy at the bar. Josh elbowed his way through the crush until he reached him.

  ‘Thought it was you,’ he said.

  ‘Yeah, s’me all right, Josh Flynn,’ said Rowan, grinning, and Josh thought that he’d had more than a couple of pints of that stuff, and it was strong.

  ‘Surprised you came all the way up here for this,’ said Josh, thinking of ordering a drink for himself and then thinking better of it.

  Rowan was a giggling arsehole but he could also be a Trojan horse; the other Cleaver boys could be out in the car park, waiting to set upon Josh. Maybe they did still bear a grudge against him for stepping out from Cloudy’s shadow. Who knew? So it was best to keep a clear head. It was the Cleavers who had always benefited hugely from Cloudy’s insistence that Josh be the fall guy, so it was wise to be watchful.

  ‘How’s that sexy missus of yours?’ asked Rowan, slapping Josh on the shoulder. ‘Mrs Flynn now, eh? What a turn-up.’

  ‘What?’ Josh was wrong-footed. How the hell did Rowan know him and Shauna were married? Granted, Pally might have gone back home and announced Shauna’s pregnancy to all and sundry, but marriage? How could they know about that?

  ‘Your missus! Shauna Everett who was. You got a family and everything I hear.’

  ‘How did you hear that?’ They knew about the baby too. This was odd. And worrying.

  ‘Ah, ol’ Jeb likes to keep in touch with her even now. Does little jobs for her – well, he did one just this week. Christ knows they been bedmates for years.’ Rowan chuckled. It was an ugly sound. ‘Although she told him to piss off the last time he called on her. That offended him. He was hurt. He got feelings, like everyone else. Deep feelings. So he spoke to the rest of us and we decided Ciaran and me, we’d meet up at yours and have a chat.’

  ‘What the hell are you talking about?’ Josh felt like his brain was spinning. Jesus! Shauna had been communicating with the Cleavers? With Jeb? Bedmates? This was crazy!

  ‘Don’t go thinkin’ that we minded you winnin’ that fight against Matty O’Connor,’ said Rowan, calling to the barman for another. ‘Shauna set us straight on that. She heard you and that cute Milo girl talking about it and she came and told us. So we made a mint on that fight.’

  ‘Go on,’ said Josh, trying to take this all in. Shauna. Back in the camp, she’d been listening in when he spoke to Claire about the match. And since then? She’d been meeting up with this fucking rabble.

  The next pint of scrumpy arrived and Rowan supped it thirstily.

  ‘You know what?’ said Rowan, clapping him on the shoulder again.

  ‘No. What?’

  ‘Your missus was the best fuck any of us had ever had. Phew! What a girl. But God she was wicked. She didn’t tell you any of this, did she? No, I can see from your face that she didn’t. It was her who made sure Claire Milo cleared off. She asked us to put the shits up sweet little Claire, and Ciaran and Jeb did. Good and proper. Girl ran off. Did the dog, while we were at it. Put that fucker in the grave in that little church down near the camp, you know the one?’

  Josh felt as if he was dreaming.

  Rowan was saying that Shauna had been behind Claire going. Shauna had used the Cleavers to get rid of Claire, and she had been seeing Jeb since . . . for what? He couldn’t even imagine. Visions of Shauna romping in his bed with Jeb Cleaver shot into his brain. His whole world seemed to spin on its axis then. This was his wife Rowan was talking about. The woman he should be closest to in the whole world. Yes, he was aware that Shauna had been wild in her youth. But this . . .

  ‘What do you mean, a chat?’ he said, his mouth dry as dust. ‘What the fuck you talking about?’

  ‘Jeb’s been sweet on your girl for years. And she’s liked it that way, know what I mean?’ Rowan winked. ‘Can’t be doin’ with people choppin’ and changin’ that way, our Jeb, and he’s right,’ said Rowan, taking a gulp of scrumpy and belching loudly. ‘Loyalty’s what counts in this world. Your Shauna, she thinks she can move on up and get rid of ol’ Jeb, shake him off like a hound shakin’ off a flea? She can think again.’

  Josh thought of Shauna, back at the house.

  We’re going to yours . . .

  He thought of baby Connor, the light of his life.

  ‘Where’s the bogs here?’ he said to Rowan.

  Rowan was draining his pint while pointing to the left of the bar. ‘But don’t you go wanderin’ off now. You an’ me, we’re goin’ to meet up with old Ciaran at your place and then your good lady is going to be told once and for all that she can’t fuck with us Cleavers and get away with it.’

  There was going to be blood. Drunk though Rowan was, Josh could see it, could feel it in the prickling of his skin, in a heightened state of awareness that was so much a part of his life as a boxer. Connor was there at home with his mother, unprotected. In danger. The rest of it, about Shauna? He couldn’t think of that now. Later – if he was able – he would address that, make sense of it. But not now.

  With every pulse in his body beating a sick tattoo, he hurried off in the direction of the men’s toilets. When he was out of sight of Rowan, he surged off through the crowds and found a door that led through to a red-furnished snug. He went straight through there to the outer door and almost fell out into the night, glancing around him at the dimly lit car park. But there was no ambush. Not yet, anyway. He looked over to where his car was parked and half-started toward it, but then stopped. If they were so familiar with his wife, then they must know his car. Rowan could have fiddled with the brakes, done anything.

  Christ! What to do?

  Then a man came out of the snug door and Josh knew.

  64

  Josh left his car there in Oxford and bummed a lift from the punter who’d come out from the snug. The man chattered all the way to Josh’s door, but Josh didn’t hear a word.

  ‘Look, shut your yap, will you?’ said Josh when they neared his house.

  All he could think was that Shauna was at home with Connor. Ciaran could already be there. And Rowan would have realized he’d been given the slip and would probably arrive soon, too. Christ knew what had been going on with Shauna and those arseholes, and right now he didn’t even give a shit, he’d sort that out later, but Connor . . .

  The man sent Josh a hurt glance. ‘I’m doing you a favour here mate. I’m five miles out of my way.’

  Josh looked at him. ‘Sorry. But my head’s throbbing like a bastard. You got any tools in this car?’

  ‘Why d’you ask?’ They were at the end of Josh’s road now.

  ‘Stop here, will you? That’s close enough. I just want to borrow a spanner or something, that’s all.’

  Now the man was looking at Josh like he was mad. ‘I got some stuff in the back,’ he said.

  ‘Good.’ They got out, went round to the boot. Josh looked in the toolbox there and wished for the Magnum that was inside the house, out of reach. He selected the biggest monkey wrench, hefted it. It would have to do. ‘Thanks, mate,’ he said and trotted off into the darkness.

  ‘I’ll want that back,’ the man said.

  Josh ignored him. He ran on.

  Shauna was passing through the hall to go upstairs and see to Conno
r because he was crying. Someone was leaning on the doorbell. Yanking the door open, she was ready to give whoever it was a piece of her mind. Some silly git out late selling door-to-door, probably. But the sight of Ciaran – huge and unkempt and standing there with one milk-white blind eye and one mean blue good one, a scruffy beard and – oh shit! – a shotgun pointing straight at her head was enough to make her heart turn right over.

  ‘Christ!’ she yelped.

  ‘Hello, Shauna gal. Nice place,’ he said, stepping over the threshold and into the hall, leaving the door open behind him.

  ‘What the fuck do you want?’ she said, backing up, rigid with fear.

  ‘Just waiting for Josh to come home, that’s all,’ he said.

  ‘You’ll have a bloody long wait. He’s out of the country.’ Her voice shook.

  Ciaran shook his head, almost smiling at that. ‘Nah, he’s up the road in Oxford. Rowan’s up there keepin’ an eye on him. Thought I’d come down here and then we’ll both have a word with you.’

  ‘We?’ echoed Shauna, mesmerized by the gun.

  ‘Yeah, me and Rowan.’

  ‘Why do you need a gun, just for talking?’ She couldn’t look away from it. No one had ever pointed a gun at her before. It was terrifying.

  ‘Well, it’s a serious sort of talk,’ said Ciaran.

  Christ, what am I going to do? wondered Shauna. She could feel the blood pounding through her veins. The baby was still shrieking upstairs. ‘I have to go up to him. The baby. He’s crying.’

  ‘Let him cry. Let’s go along the hall here.’

  Shauna gulped down a breath. Tried to think straight. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I have to see to the baby. Come on! What harm can it do?’

  For a long time it looked like Ciaran was going to overrule her. But then he nodded. ‘Right then. But I’m coming up with you.’

  Shauna turned and headed up the stairs, hearing Ciaran’s heavy tread right behind her. If she turned, suddenly . . . but no, he could shoot her, maim her horribly. She couldn’t take the risk. Up in the nursery, she hurried across to Connor, who was yelling fit to burst now.