Thirty
After her appointment at the doctor’s on Thursday morning Dee drove home and sat in her convertible like she was paralysed. Even the discarded fries carton she’d seen on the garage floor when she arrived, evidence of John abandoning his health kick, didn’t penetrate her shock. She gripped the steering wheel as the doctor’s devastating news hit her over and over again. Oh God, what am I going to tell John?
Dee wasn’t one to waste her life on tears, but she leaned her head against the dashboard and cried.
Babs hugged a tearful Pearl Hennessey tight. Her next door cellie was finally going home. Babs was surprised by her own tears; she hadn’t realised how she’d taken to this old lag. Sure, she rolled her eyes when she chewed her ear off, which was a lot, but she’d mostly been a good mate. Apart from grassing up the mobile of course, but Babs understood the pull of family. It wasn’t what she’d have done, but wanting to see your family was an important thing.
Pearl wiped a tear from her eye. ‘Gonna miss you Babsie girl.’
She let out a heartfelt smile. ‘Same here.’ She leaned in close. ‘You owe me, don’t forget,’ reminding her of what she’d asked her to do once she was out.
‘It’s at the top of my list. You won’t be disappointed.’
Babs stepped back sadly. That was one of the contradictions of prison – you wanted your mates to be released but at the same time you didn’t want to see them go because they were your prison family.
‘Be seeing ya Babsie,’ Pearl whispered.
Then she stepped out onto the landing where the other girls had all gathered to give her a rousing send-off. The girls started clapping as Pearl made her way to the metal stairs. Then they started singing the song they always did when one of them got out – Gloria Gaynor’s ‘I Will Survive’.
‘I don’t believe you John,’ Dee muttered furiously at her mobile phone. She’d been trying to get him on the ol’ dog for the last hour with no joy. In less than twenty minutes Nicky was bringing his latest steady, Angel, around to meet them over a slap-up lunch. And this girl better be an angel; only the best for her Nicky. John was meant to be here, but he’d gone into town to take care of some business and hadn’t come back. She’d been on the blower so many times she’d lost count. Where was the Herbert? She’d give him what for when she got her hands on him.
Dee ran her gaze over her reflection in the large, heart-shaped mirror in her dressing room. She didn’t want to go overboard on what she wore, or come across as mutton dressed as lamb, but she didn’t want this Angel getting the impression that Nicky’s old lady was some bun and flower-print skirt wearing, prim and proper suburban mum. Her teeth twisted into her bottom lip as she worried whether Nicky would approve of her get-up.
She wore a turquoise shift dress that looked simple but was made of luxury duchess silk that shifted with the lines of her body. She’d gone to the hairdressers to have her better-put-a-ring-on-it Beyoncé weave toned down to soft, fluffy curls. The one thing she wouldn’t compromise on were her Choos – four-inch, cut out gold, suede heels.
Staring at herself reminded Dee that she hadn’t told John what the doctor had said. Her gaze intensified as she raked it over her body. She knew she was going to have to tell him sooner or later . . . Later, much later.
The doorbell went off. Blimey, they were here.
Dee went downstairs and quickly inspected the dining room. She’d got in a catering company to put on a spread fit for royalty. Dishes upon dishes were laid out, most of which had names Dee couldn’t even pronounce. A chilled bottle of Cristal was ready to pop on the sideboard.
A key turned in the lock and Dee hurried out to greet her son and his girlfriend. The front door opened and the pair strode in. Nicky looking very pleased with himself in a russet suit and open-necked shirt, his girlfriend on his arm. She clutched him tightly as if he were a valuable handbag. She was dressed in an LBD and expensive heels that showed off her figure so powerfully it left aftershocks; her long hair was both done up and hanging locks down her neck. Dee bet she had track extensions in it to give it extra bounce. A girl after her own heart.
And then Dee saw her face and was struck dumb. In fact, she thought she might have gone into shock.
‘Alright Mum? This is Angel.’ Leaving his girlfriend behind in the hallway he strode towards the stairs. ‘Just got to pop to the can, it was a long journey and I’m dying for one, you get me?’ He turned to his girl. ‘Make yourself at home baby.’
He rushed up the stairs and the two women were left alone. Angel tilted her head back and gave Dee a long and knowing smile. Then she twitched her nose like a rabbit.
When Dee recovered herself she folded her arms. ‘So, you’re Angel are you?’
The young woman’s accent made the Queen sound common. ‘That’s right. Angel by name, Angel by nature.’
Dee whispered, ‘I don’t wanna show my boy up, but later on me and you are gonna have words.’
Angel nodded. ‘That’s good because I’m hoping to have a word with you too.’ Then she added archly, ‘Shall I call you Mum this evening?’
Dee clenched her fists and hissed, ‘You can if you’re ready to leave here in a body bag.’
‘Oh dear, that’s a shame; Nicky promised me that you and I would get on like a house on fire. But if you prefer, I’ll stick with calling you Dee.’
‘You wouldn’t believe what I’m gonna call you later.’
Nicky bounced back downstairs and came round to give his mum a hug. As he went past Angel, he grabbed a handful of her arse. She winced in disgust but by the time Nicky was facing her again, she was all smiles. But still she said, ‘Don’t do that Nicky; you’ll embarrass your mother.’
‘Embarrass my ol’ mum? Impossible. She don’t do embarrassment. Ain’t that right Mum?’
Dee could barely contain herself. ‘Yeah, that’s right.’ The words felt like sand in her mouth.
Poor Nicky didn’t seem to have noticed the doom-laden atmosphere. He clapped his hands together. ‘Right, what’s for grub then? I’m starving. I hope it’s proper food and not that catering company crap. Where’s Dad by the way?’ He took Angel by the hand and led her past Dee towards the dining room. As she went by, Angel gave Dee a knowing smirk.
Dee was left standing alone. She gasped under her breath. ‘What the fuck?? What the fucking fuck??’
Because Nicky’s girlfriend Angel wasn’t really Angel at all.
She was Flo Miller.
Nicky didn’t notice that he was doing all the talking but then he usually did all the talking anyway. As Flo had noticed, he was a mouthy little sod. The two women faced each other over the table like a couple of boxers at a weigh-in. Both looked relieved when Nicky finally said, ‘I need another Jimmy Riddle.’
Dee turned to him. ‘Why don’t you take your time babes.’ She slapped a sweet grin on. ‘Gives us two girls a little mum and Angel time.’
‘Girls’ talk, eh? That’s cool. I’ll powder me nose as well while I’m up there – and I ain’t talking about me coke habit either.’ He waited for a laugh but didn’t get one. As he stood up, he gestured at Flo with his thumb. ‘Classy bird, eh Mum?’
‘Yeah, very classy.’
Nicky finally noticed that the evening wasn’t going as warmly as he’d hoped and looked downcast. ‘Alright then, I’ll see you both in a long minute.’
When the door closed, Flo reached for her handbag. ‘Do you mind if I smoke Dee?’ She didn’t wait for an answer but took a cigarette out of a packet of Marlboro Lights and lit it. She blew smoke over the table and tapped the ash into a Limoges saucer. ‘Well, nice too see you again my dear. It’s been a long time.’
‘That’s right, it has. When did we last cross swords? Must have been at that solicitor’s office when you and your father Stan were trying to diddle my mum outta her houses.’
Flo shook her head. Her accent was changing like the leaves in autumn, going from BBC announcer to Cockney sports presenter at a rate of knots. �
�Nah, that was the time when my dad was trying to stop your mum diddling him out of his two houses—’
Stunned, Dee said, ‘His two houses? You’ve got that wrong bitch, those houses came to Babs from somewhere else.’
Flo laughed full and loud. ‘Your dear ol’ mum can’t even tell you the truth. That’s why he came back, to get his hands on the houses that witch robbed from him.’ She scoffed, ‘Like Babs Miller has got the brain or cash to invest in property.’
Dee was still for a moment, hearing the truth in her words. Hadn’t she asked Babs whether they were once Stanley’s and been told no? She shook her head; wherever those houses had started up they were now legally her mum’s. ‘Those belong to Babs fair and square. If your old man gave them to her then he’s a grade A idiot.’
Flo bristled. ‘Don’t you talk about my dad like that. The last time I saw you was at your old girl’s trial when she got away with murdering my old man by pretending it was manslaughter. Amazing what a good brief can persuade a dopey jury to believe, ain’t it?’
Dee leaned forward. ‘Alright Flo, let’s cut the banter. What are you up to?’
The other woman gave her a wide-eyed innocent look. ‘I dunno what you mean.’
‘With Nicky you little bitch, you know full well what I mean.’
Flo giggled and cooed like a teenager. ‘Oh that. Me and Nicky met and fell in lurrrvv! You know, in lurrrvv!’ She scowled, blew smoke again and sneered, ‘It’s just like the movies. A real life Romeo and Juliet.’
Dee squinted. ‘You’re after the houses ain’t you? It won’t work. When I tell Nicky who you are and what you’re up to, he’ll drop you like the tuppenny tart you actually are.’
Flo shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. He won’t believe you. You seem to be forgetting he’s an eighteen-year-old boy and I ain’t the usual Essex trailer trash that lads like him cop off with. I’ll tell you, what I can do in the bedroom is nobody’s business; I’m a veritable circus contortionist. You think he’s giving that up for some shaggy dog story his ol’ mum’s gonna tell him? He’s loved up . . . babes . . . and he ain’t going nowhere. Face it Dee, there’s gonna be a war for these houses and your son’s gonna be on my side. Of course, if you were willing to be reasonable, I could tearfully tell him it’s over and he can go out with a bird called Tracy from Basildon instead and everyone’s happy. But that’s up to you, of course.’
Dee rose to her feet. ‘You’re a piece of work aren’t ya? Taking advantage of an innocent young guy for your own greedy, selfish ends. Pity my mum didn’t do you over and all, along with your old man.’
Flo stood up in turn, resting her fists on the table. ‘Oh that’s a laugh; I’m getting a lecture on morals from a member of the Miller family. I hear you cut a few corners when you went after your hubby, darlin’. Didn’t his fiancée fall off the love cart while you were driving it? So get off your fucking high horse sweetheart. We’re birds of a feather, cut from the same cloth. Fight me if you like but don’t look down your nose coz I ain’t buying it.’
‘Fucking get out!’
Flo chuckled nastily. ‘Oh don’t worry, I’m going.’ She marched out of the room shouting, ‘Nicky! Move your arse, we’re leaving, I ain’t staying here to be insulted by some gangster’s moll.’
Dee followed and grabbed Flo by the hair. ‘Oh no, you’re going on your own, my son’s staying put.’
Flo rammed her elbow back into Dee’s ribs. ‘I don’t think so.’
The two women grappled and fell into the hallway, screaming, punching and kicking each other. Nicky came bombing down the stairs and pulled them apart. He turned to his mother and shouted, ‘What the fuck have you done?’
Behind them, Flo called out to her outraged hostess, ‘Think about it babes. I want my property back and I’ll go toe to toe with you for it, any time, any place.’
Dee saw Nicky’s horror when he realised that his girlfriend was walking out. He made to race off after her, shouting ‘Angel! Angel!’
Dee grabbed him and twisted him around. ‘Fuck her.’
His face was stained red with rage. ‘What the effing hell’s going on?’
She grabbed his shirt and jerked him close. ‘That, you prat, is no angel, she’s Flo Miller, Stanley Miller’s bastard kid.’
She released him as she saw the news dawn on his face. Then he was back to being defiant. ‘So what? I don’t care. I like her.’
She thrust forward into his space as if hoping her words would slam into his brain. ‘All she wants from you is to get close to me so she can get her hands on Babs’ houses, which she’s mistakenly got into her nut belonged to her dad and so belong to her.’
He scowled. ‘If Stanley had anything to do with those houses then surely she deserves a cut.’
‘What she deserves is a kicking she won’t forget.’
He shook his head, thoroughly fed up. ‘I’m outta here Mum.’
She roared after him, ‘Nicky! Nicky!’
Dee heard Nicky’s sports car engine rev up and then the two love birds tore off down the drive at high speed, wheels spinning.
Dee slammed the front door and went back to the dining room. She sat down, massaged her temples and tried to think. There was already war going on between three sisters and now a fourth had been added to the mix. And this one, she bet her life on it, was the most ruthless of them all. Dee was worried. Would Nicky see sense before Flo hurt him? She had no doubt that bitch would use him any which way to get her hands on those houses. But Dee wasn’t going to give in. No fucking way.
When Dee stood up to get herself a proper drink, she winced with pain from one of the blows Flo had landed. The girl had quite a kick on her.
Ruthless and with quite a kick on her?
There was no doubt about it. She was Stanley Miller’s daughter alright.
She dismissed Flo when she heard her mobile going in The Hollywood. She found it near the popcorn maker, but the ringing had already stopped. It pinged with a text.
Have you put ur sisters straight?!?! B
Dee groaned. She’d forgotten all about organising a sit-down with her sisters. She’d told Tiff but not Jen. She’d been feeling so unwell it had clean gone out of her head. She texted back.
It’s all in hand.
Thirty-One
‘I’ve just popped the kettle on. Fancy a brew?’ Maggie Sparks asked Babs in the office at the memorial gardens.
Mags’ family-run business had the contract to keep the memorial garden in tip-top condition with loving care and respect. She was a similar age to Babs and had grown up in London before moving out this way, so they got on like a house on fire, although Babs thought she had busybody tendencies.
Babs took off her gardening gloves and plonked herself down in a chair. One of the responsibilities of the open prison was to find inmates jobs to get them ready to face the world again. Babs was gobsmacked to find that some of the women didn’t take up the option. I mean, who wouldn’t wanna get out for a couple of days a week? It was Pearl Hennessy who gave her the lowdown that some found it too agonising to be on the out for any length of time without doing a runner. The urge to be with family was so strong. Babs had similar feelings, but scarper? No way. That would royally mess up her parole chances. In fact, she loved tending the plants and flowers because it reminded her of how she’d looked after her family. Another plus was despite gardening being a dirty job she no longer got those crazy urges to wash her hands manically. That support group had done her good. Babs knew she wasn’t cured, but heck had she come a long way.
Mags popped a cuppa in front of Babs and groaned as she sat down. ‘My corns have been playing up something terrible,’ she uttered in her sing-song voice.
Babs sipped her tea. ‘You wanna start wearing flip-flops like I do. Gives your feet breathing space.’
Mags shook her head. ‘Nah, my Harold wouldn’t want me to be seen around town like that. We’ve got an image to uphold.’
Mags had married up, to a man from a fa
mily with money and a few businesses well on the go. Most times, Mags looked like a woman modelling clothes from an old Kays’ catalogue and talked in a la-di-da fashion. Only around Babs did she let her hair and speech down.
Mags squinted at Babs and cradled her mug. ‘You know me Babs, I’m not one to poke my beak into other people’s bizz,’ like hell! ‘and you know the prison’s not allowed to say, but what exactly are you doing bird for?’
The tea nearly sputtered out of Babs’ mouth. Crikey! It wasn’t something she talked about. A few of the other girls had tried to worm it out of her but she stayed schtum. One of Babs’ big rules was, you mind yours and I’ll mind mine. Well, that’s what she told herself, but in her heart she was scared that as soon as word got out she’d lose any friends that she’d made. Come on, who wanted to be mates with a convicted killer?
‘Only my Harry,’ Mags continued slowly, ‘says you’re in for . . .’ she lowered her voice, eyes darting around as if checking that no one was earwigging, ‘doing in your old man. He remembers the case from a few years back.’
Babs’ mouth filled up with spit. That’s how she got every time she remembered that rotten animal, wanting to gob a large one on the floor. She hated, hated, even thinking about Stan, much less the day he’d had the life snuffed mercifully out of him. It made her feel yucky. All those years she’d tried to be the best missus a man could have and what had he done in return – chucked a load of bollocks and shit right back in her face.
Instead she spat bitter words. ‘That foul cunt deserved it.’ Babs could’ve bit off her tongue. Whatcha go and say that for? Might as well wave ta-ra to this cushy job.
Mags’ hands were shaking, her face bloodless, as she placed her cup on the desk. With a huff Babs spoke before the other woman could say anything. ‘You don’t have to worry, I’ll be outta your hair by the end of today and then you can ask the prison to send someone else.’ She looked away but her new friend’s voice stopped her.
Blood Daughter: Flesh and Blood Trilogy Book Three (Flesh and Blood series) Page 18