Blood Daughter: Flesh and Blood Trilogy Book Three (Flesh and Blood series)

by Dreda Say Mitchell

  ‘I’ve got a brother doing time.’ Babs’ mouth fell slightly open as she turned back round. Mags’ hands fretted in her lap. ‘What were your mum and dad like?’

  Babs smiled as she remembered Rosie and George Wilson. ‘They were cracking. I was the apple of my dad’s eye.’ Her face clouded. ‘We had a major falling out for a few years, but once we put that behind us we became a loving family again.’

  The other woman looked sick. ‘Wish I could say the same. You’re brought up to love and respect your mum, but mine was rotten to the core. God, she used to belt us, Monday through to Sunday. None of us said a peep; you didn’t backchat then, didja? What happened behind closed doors stayed behind closed doors. Even when we got big, she’d take a swing at us.’ She became paler, eyes staring ahead, unseeing. ‘One of my brothers couldn’t take it no more. I swear, one minute we were eating Sunday roast, she’s going on and on and on . . . next thing he picks up the carving knife . . .’ Her mouth moved like a fish, no more words able to come out of it.

  Babs quickly went over and put her arms around the grieving woman. ‘He got life Babs,’ she cried. ‘They wouldn’t take all the heartache and punishment into consideration. A really good man helped us, giving us money for a good lawyer, but it didn’t help.’ She eased out of Babs’ arms. ‘That’s why I do this work with the prison. I know people have done wrong, but I don’t want them to do any wrong again, so I give them a chance to sort themselves out.’

  Babs was touched by her story and vowed never to call her a busybody again. That was the thing; you never quite knew the ins and outs of someone’s life. Just like people didn’t really know what had happened that day with her, Stan and Courtney.

  Mags smiled shakily, took out a pretty hanky from her bag and mopped her eyes. ‘So you don’t need to worry girl, I understand. If you say your old man was a toerag, that’s what he was.’ A sudden, mischievous smile spread across her face. ‘I got those choccies you love in.’

  Babs groaned with utter pleasure. Chocolate. The only way to get any decent choccie inside was to owe someone and she wasn’t about to do that.

  Ten minutes later, Babs was humming ‘Dancing Queen’ happily away to herself, potting some gorgeous roses, when she noticed a hoodie character in the park. Nothing wrong with anyone being there but whoever it was was making a beeline for her. If they were out to mug her they were going to be sadly disappointed. Mind you, if they wouldn’t take no for an answer she could do some serious damage with her trowel.

  She stood, clenching her mini shovel by her side as the figure got closer and closer.

  When they reached her, she held the trowel up and growled, ‘What do you want?’

  The person flipped the hood down. ‘You planning to plant me one here as well?’

  Astonishment took over. ‘What the effing hell are you doing here Jen?’

  Babs grabbed her daughter by the arm and pulled her behind a tree. ‘You better have a bloody good explanation. If the big house finds out that could be my parole down the pan.’

  Jen tutted as she tugged her arm back. ‘What, like having a mobile phone stashed in your cell ain’t already doing that.’ Babs gazed at her guiltily. ‘You never did say who got the phone for you.’

  ‘Never you mind that.’ Her eyes suddenly grew wide. ‘It ain’t Courtney . . .?’

  Jen cut her off. ‘That little madam has been over-stepping the mark once too often these days. But don’t worry, I’m sorting her out.’

  Babs couldn’t quite meet her daughter’s gaze. ‘She’s a teenager. All those hormones make ’em moody.’

  Jen shook her head. ‘Nah, I think it’s more than that. I think she’s hiding something bad from me.’

  Oh heck, Babs thought. She’d made her grandchild swear not to breathe a word about their secret. If Jennifer ever found out . . . ‘Probably some lad she fancies.’

  Jen compressed her lips. ‘If it is, it had better not be that Dexter Ingram.’

  Courtney had a soft spot for Melanie Ingram’s young cousin. Dexter, or Rockers as his friends called him, was a real cutie, with good manners, but there was no way him and Courtney could ever become an item with the bad blood between the families.

  ‘Jen, whatever you want, you need to state your business quickly because I can’t be seen talking to people. You know the set-up.’

  ‘Mum, I know I’ve said it before, but you need to give my girls a share of those houses.’

  Babs rolled her eyes, thoroughly fed up with this muck-around. ‘No. That’s not how it’s gonna be. If I cut your kids in then I’ll have to provide for Dee’s Nicky too. And what if Tiff has some nippers in the future, they won’t get a share coz they weren’t around when the dosh was being dished out.’

  Jen huffed. ‘As if! They don’t have kids—’

  ‘Well, that’s where you’re wrong. There’s a couple of girls inside who are of that persuasion and they have children. Why can’t you just—’

  Babs’ heart lurched when she noticed that Mags was coming out of the office accompanied by a man in shades. She desperately pleaded with Jen, ‘You’ve gotta get out of here. That’s the woman who runs the place. If she sees you I’m in the shit up to my eyeballs. And that fella she’s with could be checking up on me.’

  Jen maintained, ‘This ain’t finished Mum; not by a long shot.’ But as she tugged her hood back up, Mags called out Babs’ name, making them both freeze.

  Babs muttered, ‘I’m done for now.’ She warned her daughter, ‘We’ll have to make up some Mickey Mouse story. Let me do all the talking.’

  As soon as Mags and the man reached her Babs spurted, ‘This lady was just looking for . . .’ until she realised who the man was.

  Kieran.

  Babs immediately said, ‘I don’t know this fella.’

  Mags’ face crinkled into a sunny smile. ‘Of course you do.’ To Babs’ astonishment, she leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. ‘He did me a favour many years ago.’

  It didn’t take Babs long to figure out what that favour had been. Kieran had been the ‘good man’ she’d spoken of earlier who had given her money to get a decent lawyer for her brother. How like Kieran to help someone who had been standing trial for murdering the mother who had abused him as a child. Kieran had once been in that position himself. Thank God Kieran had never gone the way of Mags’ brother.

  ‘So, when this darling lad asked me to do a favour in turn,’ Mags gazed adoringly up at him, ‘what could I do?’

  As she walked merrily back off to the office, Babs asked Kieran, ‘You got her to sort out this job for me?’

  He smiled cheekily at her. ‘Anything for you Babs.’

  Jen chimed in, none too pleased, ‘Are you the one who got her hooked up to T-Mobile in her cell?’

  Kieran held his hand out. ‘You must be Jennifer.’ Tiff and Jen had been too young to remember Kieran when he was living on The Devil. And when he’d moved away Babs had decided to keep it that way. As much as she wanted her girls to know the young boy she’d helped raise, she didn’t want them anywhere near his badlands lifestyle.

  But Jen only had eyes for Kieran. ‘How do the two of you know each other?’

  ‘We go back yonks,’ Babs filled in. ‘Kieran used to live on the estate when you and Tiff were still nippers.’

  Jen continued to eye him up. ‘Well, you must’ve done well for yourself,’ her gaze slid to her mother, ‘because there’s some of us still stuck on that shithole coz their family won’t help them out.’

  ‘Jen . . .’ Babs warned tightly.

  ‘Nice meeting you. I’m off.’ Anger coloured her features again. ‘But it’s not fair Mum, not fair at all.’ She strode off, Babs keeping her mouth tightly zipped. What was the point in arguing? Jen was never going to see it from her point of view.

  Instead she launched herself at Kieran, wrapping him in a big, warm hug. ‘My old eyes can’t get enough of you.’ And it was true. In times of trouble, if she ever needed him, her boy was always there
for her. The only time she’d kept him well away was when Stan had turned up again.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Babs asked.

  ‘I’m not stopping long but I just wanted to see me ol’ mum.’

  They walked back to Mags’ office, arms linked together.

  Fifteen minutes later Kieran pushed his foot to the pedal of his flash motor when he saw Jen up ahead in the distance, almost at the train station. She stopped when he pulled up alongside her.

  He activated the automatic lock on the passenger door and it sprang open. ‘Jump in, I’ll give you a lift.’

  Jen wavered before taking him up on his offer. She flipped the mirror down and touched up her lippy. He punched the CD player and Frank Sinatra Live filled the car with ‘My Way’.

  As he took off, he asked, ‘So how’s your sister Dee and her husband John getting on?’

  Thirty-Two

  ‘My goodness me, what’s happened to you?’ Flo’s granddad asked, raising his head from Navy Weekly and staring at her. Strangely he didn’t look shocked at her appearance.

  Still in a strop after her battle with Dee, Flo hung her handbag over the beak of a stuffed flamingo. She examined her face in the stylish art deco mirror. ‘I don’t know what you mean; I’ve had a lovely day.’

  ‘Your dress is torn and you’ve got bruises and scratches on your arms.’

  ‘Oh that. I slipped on some ice.’

  ‘It’s summer my dear.’ He sighed heavily and added, ‘You’ve been fighting again haven’t you? It’s not often I wish you took after your mother but I’ll say this for her, at least she doesn’t get involved in any fisticuffs.’

  Flo was still checking the damage to her face. ‘Mummy hasn’t got the bottle, that’s why.’

  The Commander was pained. ‘And I wish you wouldn’t use vulgar expressions like bottle either or I might start to think the money spent on your education was wasted.’

  ‘Yes, sorry about that, I’m afraid I’ve been in Essex.’

  ‘Essex? Ah, that would explain it. Your young gentleman comes from the area?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  The Commander put his magazine down. He was curious. ‘Who exactly is this young chap then?’

  Flo was finger combing her hair. ‘His name’s Nicky Black. His father is John Black, a retired East End gangster, and his mother Dee fancies herself as a bit of a scrapper. But I’m afraid she picked on the wrong opponent this time.’

  ‘East End gangsters? Are you going around with people like that because of your father?’

  Flo’s fingers stilled in her hair. It was the one thing that they couldn’t agree about – Stanley Miller. The Commander might not like his daughter but he strongly disapproved of the man who had hoodwinked her into a bigamous marriage. She tightened her lips, not willing to get into it tonight.

  Instead her granddad said, his tone conciliatory, ‘The Blacks from Essex? That must be interesting for you.’

  Flo smirked, enjoying the way it twisted her lips in the mirror. ‘It certainly will be for them. His mum’s only going to push Nicky further into my arms.’ She shook her hair back. ‘Right, I’m off for a bath. Do you want a sherry before I go?’

  ‘Yes please. Oh and Flo, keep the noise down upstairs. I’m afraid you’re not the only householder who’s been in the wars today.’

  Flo was disgusted. ‘Not Jezebel again?’

  The Commander shrugged. ‘Yes, I’m afraid the tom from over the back came snooping around and as you can imagine that was a red rag to our Persian Blue.’

  ‘That tom’s about twice Jezebel’s size. Did she win?’

  The Commander hitched his brows high. ‘Of course she won, she always wins. The tom scarpered with a flea in his ear and half the fur on his tail missing.’

  Flo was impressed. ‘Good for her. I’m starting to warm to that cat actually. I’m going up to have a long soak.’

  Just as she reached the door he informed her, ‘If your Nicky needs a place to rest his head he’s welcome here anytime.’

  With a smile she walked over to him and kissed him gently on the forehead. ‘I love you Granddad.’

  Courtney was surprised the first time she saw her counsellor, Sally Foxton. Instead of being a dead ringer for one of her deadbeat teachers as she’d presumed, she was youngish and had three silver studs in each ear and a gold one in her nose. And she was expecting to meet in her a boring office but they were in a quiet corner in a burger bar. And she said she liked to be called Foxy, which Courtney thought was kinda cool, but she didn’t let on. Instead she slouched back in her seat with her lip curled.

  ‘So what do you fancy Courtney?’ Foxy asked.

  ‘What do you mean?’ she shot back suspiciously.

  ‘Food. Do you want some fries? A burger? I like the cheeseburger myself. And they do a mean apple pie.’

  Courtney couldn’t believe her ears. This woman wanted to buy her some nosh. She thought the counselling sessions would be this woman chucking loads and loads of questions at her while she told her to piss right off. But at the same time it felt like she was offering her a poisoned apple. ‘Nuthin. I don’t want nuthin,’ she answered stubbornly.

  ‘Well, I’m going to have a chicken burger with large fries and a cuppa.’

  For the next twenty minutes Foxy got stuck into her grub and talked endlessly about the day she’d had. Courtney’s mouth started watering, she couldn’t help eying the meal. In the end she got Foxy to order her some nuggets and a milkshake. And that’s what they did for the first session, just ate and chatted about Sally’s new motor, her dog Bagsie and her love of junk food.

  Jen was a bag of nerves as she anxiously waited for Courtney to come out of her first counselling session. There weren’t many times in her life when her mouth fell open, but finding Sally Foxton waiting for them outside a burger joint instead of a bona fide office had been one of them. She’d nearly grasped her daughter by the shoulders and swiftly marched her away. A burger bar for Christ’s sake! It had taken the counsellor a full five minutes to soothe her feathers and allow the session to go ahead. That hadn’t stopped her nail-biting worry as she waited. But at the end of the day, what alternative did she have? Things with Courtney couldn’t go on the way they were. Call it mother’s intuition, Jen knew that if something didn’t change something serious was going to happen. She could feel it deep in her bones.

  She jumped out of her glum thoughts as the passenger door opened and Courtney got into the car.

  ‘How did it go, hun?’ Jen searched her daughter’s face as if trying to see an immediate change in Courtney’s behaviour. She slumped back slightly with disappointment when the only thing she saw was the same old same old sullen teenage girl expression. Jen mentally ticked herself off for expecting the counsellor to be some kind of miracle worker. Getting through to Courtney was going to take time.

  ‘Alright,’ her child mumbled back.

  ‘So,’ Jen drew out the word, ‘is there anything you want to tell me about?’

  ‘Foxy says—’

  ‘Who the heck is Foxy?’

  Courtney’s voice filled with life. ‘It’s what everyone calls her. You know, coz her surname is Foxton.’ Jen pressed her lips together with disapproval. Foxy indeed! Her daughter continued. ‘She says that what we discuss is between her and me.’

  ‘Oh she did, did she? Maybe I need to remind her who’s paying for the sessions?’

  As soon as she saw the angry, vulnerable trembling of Courtney’s chin she wished she’d kept her mouth well and truly shut. On impulse Jen pulled her eldest into her arms and hugged her tight. ‘I’m dead proud of you. No mum could ask for a better daughter.’

  ‘Mr Scott? We’ve got Environmental Health here,’ The Lock’s receptionist informed Kieran.

  He felt a prickle on the back of his neck as if his hair there was really standing up. If his visitors were Environmental Health he was Prince Harry. He paid a regular backhander to the health inspector to turn a blind eye an
d, more importantly, not to come calling. Environmental Health often paid evening calls because that was when the type of premises they kept their eye on opened. But in his gut, he knew that something was off here. He didn’t know what was going on but he couldn’t take the chance that the mysterious owner of the gold wasn’t already on his case. And a secret part of him still didn’t trust the man who had shown him the criminal ropes – John.

  ‘They’re insisting they need to speak to you during the inspection or they’re going to issue a notice and shut the place down immediately,’ she finished.

  If there was any shutting down to do Kieran would be the one doing it.

  He played it nice and easy. ‘Find the duty manager, tell him to pretend to be me and show these inspectors around the kitchen. I’ll take care of the rest.’ She didn’t ask any questions. Number one rule about working at the club was never to question Mister Scott.

  He went to the filing cabinet he used as a makeshift wardrobe and changed into a pair of black trousers and a white shirt. After checking the CCTV to make sure no one was hanging around outside his office or on the stairs, he went down to the staff changing room on the ground floor. He put on one of the blue jackets that the porters used and went into the kitchen, picking up a crate of vegetables as he went so he could look busy. He spotted both inspectors straight away, together with his manager, a Yorkshire man doing a very, very bad impression of a Cockney club owner. ‘Right, d’you wanna look in the freezer then? I dunno what this is abaht, you people were only here last munf. I mean, leave it aht, I’ve got a bizness to run ’ere, you know what I mean?’

  The manager caught sight of Kieran as he pretended to rifle through the veg but he gave nothing away. In the meantime, Kieran studied the two visitors. One was a middle-aged woman in glasses who seemed to have a stick up her rear end. The other was a pudgy bloke with a combover. The Jackal he wasn’t. They were both wearing official ID badges but Kieran knew you could get them run off at any print shop.