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

by Dreda Say Mitchell

  ‘Does it have a basement or any outbuildings?’

  She sent him a steely stare. ‘Why all the interest in the nooks and crannies up at my sister’s?’

  ‘Oh, you know . . .’

  ‘No I don’t know. You wanna tell me?’

  Jen was no fool. ‘Dee – or rather John – has something that belongs to me. But your sister’s giving me the old brush-off, swearing blind she knows nish.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Nothing big. Just something personal I lent him a long time ago.’

  A blush burned from her neck up to her cheeks. ‘Is that why you’re going out with me? To drill me for info?’

  ‘I only go with the top sort of women Jen, that’s why I’m seeing you.’ And Jen was a pretty piece but there was something needy about her that put him in mind of his miserable childhood. He shook the feeling off as he reminded himself that she was a means to an end.

  She glanced at him shyly from under lowered eyes. ‘I ain’t always had a great time of it.’ Here we go – misery likes company! Kieran fixed his face into a fake smile ‘You’ve got my full attention’ as he indulged her. ‘I tied the knot with a fella who used to beat me black and fucking blue and I’ve got the blood of Stanley Miller running through my veins. The days of me being scared shitless by anyone are long gone.’ She sliced her finger twice in the air to emphasis the last two words. ‘I fancy you something rotten Kieran, but I need to know whether you’ve had a chance to ask Mum about my girls’ share of those houses.’

  Kieran’s thoughts turned sour. Frankly if he was in Babs’ position he’d sell those houses, thumb his nose at the money-grabbing lot of ’em and take off on a jet set cruise round the world. But that’s not what he told Jen. ‘Of course your girls deserve a cut. Look, I didn’t want to say nuthin to discourage you but Babs weren’t best pleased when I had a word with her about it.’ The truth was he hadn’t mentioned it to her and had no intention of doing so. Jen might think she had him dangling from a bit of string, but the truth was he was the one who had her in limbo. As long as she thought he was going to put in a good word with Babs, he had time to suss out what she might know about Dee, John and the gold. He quickly added, ‘But don’t worry yourself about it. I’m gonna keep at your ol’ mum until I wear her down.’

  Her hand reached under the table and she cupped his cock. Squeezed. ‘Thanks sweetheart . . .’

  A shattering noise followed by a piercing scream came from the reception area. Kieran belted out of the restaurant. He crashed into one of the girls from reception who was running for her life. Her face was the picture of pure terror. He pushed past her and entered the front of the club. A window was broken and his bouncers and security were looking at something on the floor. The sound of a ticking clock filled the air.

  He moved forward muttering, ‘What the . . . Fuck!’ On the floor was a bomb with a red digital clock ticking down.

  60.

  59.

  58.

  Kieran went into overdrive. He said urgently to his muscle, ‘Get everyone out of here now.’

  ‘But boss,’ his head bouncer said, ‘there won’t be enough time.’

  He roared, ‘There won’t be if you stand around like a fucking bunch of brainless mutts. Take ’em out the back. And not a word about what the problem was or I’ll have your guts for garters.’

  They ran, shouting at full volume for everyone to get out. Now.

  Kieran nearly jumped out of his skin when a distressed Jen appeared by his side. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Get the fuck outta here.’ Seeing she was ready to argue he yelled, ‘Now.’

  Her gaze found the bomb and her mouth fell open. Her eyes jack-knifed to his. ‘I ain’t leaving you here with that. No way Kieran—’

  ‘You don’t get a fucking say in what I can and can’t do with my life.’ Her lips trembled at his harshness, but it needed saying. ‘I’m not telling Babs one of her girls breathed her last on my watch. Now shift it.’

  After one last frantic look at the bomb Jen scarpered back into the club. Kieran turned back to the device.

  21.

  20.

  19.

  No fucking way was he watching his beloved club get blasted to kingdom come. He’d spent years working his way up the criminal ladder and The Lock was his fuck-you statement that he’d made it. This was probably the stupidest thing he’d ever do in his life . . .

  He ran forward, picked it up and sprinted outside. He headed across the road to lob it into the blackness of the Thames. He didn’t know how long he had, but he kept going. And going. Almost there . . .

  Then he tripped. Crashed to the ground and the bomb leapt from his hand. He could still see the clock.

  4.

  3.

  He knew he was done for. When he was a kid, cops, teachers and social workers were all agreed he would come to a sticky end. Turned out they were right after all. At least he was going to go out with a bang; not many folk could say that. His only regret was that he hadn’t got to kiss Babs ta-ra.

  Kieran waited. And waited. Nothing happened. He gave it a couple more seconds. Still nothing. He almost crawled over to it but remembered he was the great Kieran Scott and it wouldn’t do for anyone to see him on his knees. He got up and approached it. The clock had stopped ticking. Kieran jumped back as music started blaring – Spandau Ballet’s ‘Gold’.

  The bomb was no bomb at all, but a dummy. Uncle Frank and the mysterious vault owner were turning the screws. This meant he had to pile on the pressure too – on Dee. She knew where the gold was and he wanted it back. He inhaled a blast of river air, then booted the bogus bomb with unleashed fury.

  ‘Dee, what the effing hell is going on?’ Babs asked her daughter quietly but firmly. She was sitting on the edge of her bed in her dark cell, the mobile held to the left side of her face because the other cheek was bruised from the earlier attack.

  She compressed her lips when she noticed Dee’s hesitation. ‘I don’t know what you mean. Everything’s hunky dory.’

  ‘Hunky dory my Aunty Nora.’ She sucked in her breath as her face started to ache from the force of her words. ‘I got jumped . . .’

  ‘You what?’

  ‘That’s right. Two thugs tried to give me a good hiding, but someone sorted them out for me.’ She hadn’t told any of her girls about Knox. If they knew someone had to watch her back they’d only start to worry themselves silly.

  Dee was beside herself with anger. ‘No one puts their hands on my mum and gets away with it. You give me their names and I’ll show them what it’s like the next time I come up.’

  ‘Funny thing was, the reason they were having a go was because they wanted to send a message to you.’

  ‘What?’ Her daughter sounded deflated instead of stunned.

  ‘Said you’d made a monkey outta the wrong people. Now stop fobbing me off and give me the lowdown.’

  Dee’s breath galloped down the line. ‘I’m really sorry Mum. I’d hoped that you’d never find out.’

  ‘Find out what?’

  ‘You know I loved John to bits, but the pillock only went and organised a robbery . . .’

  ‘Are you talking about that gold?’

  ‘How do you know about that?’

  ‘We do have TVs in here you know. What was he thinking?’

  She could almost feel Dee shake her head. ’And you know who his partner in crime was? Bloody Kieran Scott.’

  ‘My Kieran?’ Her eyes grew wide. She was about to say no way but then she remembered his line of business, the truth she’d always found hard to come to terms with. ‘But how did he know John?’

  ‘That don’t matter. What does is Kieran and the owner of the gold think I know where it is, which I swear on my life I don’t. Now Jen’s thrown her lot in with him . . . I’m sorry Mum but as far as I’m concerned she’s dead to me.’ Babs could feel her heart breaking. Her family was falling apart. ‘And, of course,’ Dee raved on, ‘she’s after her share
of the houses for her kids. This ain’t a good situation Mum, not good at all.’

  Those bloody houses again! Her instincts had been right when she’d first told the girls, anything that came via Stanley Miller could only be a bad luck charm. But she didn’t mention that. ‘Who’s the gold’s owner?’

  ‘Not the foggiest. Uncle Frank says he’s a not right and it’s gonna be a one-way street of pure badness if he don’t get it back.’

  The alertness for sounds that Babs had developed since she’d been inside kicked in. She could hear distant footsteps on the wing landing. ‘One of the kangas is on the prowl. You look after yourself.’ Then she punched off.

  Babs tucked her mobile under her pillow, snuggled into bed and quickly shut her eyes. The footsteps got closer and then, mercifully, kept going on their merry way. She gazed sadly at the ceiling. What was happening to her family? Jen and Dee against each other, Tiff against Jen, Nicky hand in glove with that bitch Flo. And Kieran smack bang in the middle of it. It was him she was most angry at. She’d told him point blank to stay away from her daughters. Babs almost called him up but decided against it; what she had to say to him had to be done face to face. She loved that boy but when she saw him there was going to be a reckoning.

  Forty-Eight

  ‘You ready then?’ Tiffany asked Dee the following morning.

  Impatiently she dangled the car keys in front of Dee, who was stretched out on her prized chaise longue. Dee had a couple of cucumber slices over her eyes and was resting, although she’d only been up a few hours. Tiffany had got alarmed when she’d seen Dee chucking up one morning and didn’t understand why her sister wasn’t on the blower to the doctor’s. Tiff didn’t understand why Dee kept insisting nothing was up so she’d taken matters into her own hands and booked an appointment.

  ‘Oh that?’ Dee didn’t move. ‘I told you I don’t need to go.’

  ‘Come on babe, move your arse or they’ll give your booking away to some old dear and her on-going lumbago problem and then we’ll have to sit there all day.’

  Dee snatched the cucumber slices off her eyes and glared at her sister. ‘I told you, I’m not going.’ Her gaze zeroed in on something. ‘Hold up a minute, has someone moved the fish food?’ Tiff looked at the packet on the floor and shrugged. ‘I always leave it right by the tank . . .’

  ‘Stuff the tank, you’re going to the doc’s.’

  ‘No can do. I’ve cancelled it.’

  Tiff nearly jumped out of her skin. ‘Cancelled it? Are you nuts?’ She pulled out her mobile and called the private clinic. ‘Yeah hello, my sister had an appointment this morning which she rang to blow out. Well, she’s taken a turn—’

  ‘I’m pregnant,’ Dee cut over her softly. ‘Fallen for a baby as Aunty Cleo would say. I’m four months gone.’

  ‘You’re in the club?’ Tiff terminated the call. ‘After all these years? How is that even possible?’

  Dee gazed at her with an arched brow. ‘Don’t you know how a girl gets pregnant? I know you bat for the other side but I’d have thought even you would have heard something about what happens along the way.’

  ‘Poor John.’ Tiff parked on the sofa opposite. ‘And he never knew. Although that would have scotched the rumours anyway.’

  Dee got furious on her dead husband’s behalf. ‘What rumours?’

  ‘No disrespect sis but word on the street was that John was a Jaffa. Firing blanks. Although it was a very quiet word for obvious reasons.’

  Dee collected herself. ‘We always assumed he had a problem coz his previous wives never got up the spout. And in the end we thanked God for giving us Nicky and that was enough.’ She laid her palm protectively over her tummy. ‘This baby’s a miracle for me and John.’ Her voice became fierce. ‘You hear anyone say anything to the contrary, they’re a fucking liar.’

  ‘What kind of lies?’ Tiff enquired in a very different tone. ‘Like you were diddling away from home with some other bloke?’

  Dee’s gaze appeared wild. ‘I never said that . . .’

  Tiff turned on her. ‘Yes you fucking did, more or less. Who they saying you went with? Because . . .’ Her voice dribbled away as she read her sister’s guilty face. ‘Oh Puhleeeeeze – don’t tell me the baby isn’t John’s? Don’t tell me you really were playing away?’

  Dee was defensive, ashamed and angry all at the same time. ‘It was just once, right. I lost my head and was a tad tipsy. It didn’t mean fuck all.’

  ‘Fuck all indeed,’ her sister blasted back. ‘So who’s the proud daddy?’

  Dee turned nasty. ‘Don’t take the moral high ground with me little missy. You’re one to talk. You’ve played enough dirty strokes in your time.’

  ‘But I’m talking about you and John. You loved that man to bits. I used to look at you two sometimes and wish I could find my dream girl just like you’d found your dream fella.’

  Dee did the one thing she rarely ever did – started sobbing. But Tiff remained in her seat offering no comfort, shell-shocked by her big sister’s revelations. Finally, Dee looked at her as she sniffed the tears and the pain away. ‘Truth is I . . .’ She clammed up.

  Although her tone was more forgiving, Tiff still let rip: ‘You might as well spit it out. I’m gonna suss out soon enough who the bloke with the wandering dick is.’

  Finally Dee broke her silence. ‘Well, let’s put it like this, who would be the worst possible father at this particular juncture?’

  Tiffany’s voice fell to a whisper again. ‘Oh, please don’t say Kieran, that would be too much.’ It sounded like a joke but when she got no answer, Tiffany sat back in her seat and closed her eyes. ‘For fuck’s sake.’

  The words tumbled out and Dee whined, ‘It weren’t my fault. He was hanging around with John and it just sorta happened. John obviously didn’t want me to know who he was, he introduced him as a golfing partner and builder called Tom. The day we did the dirty he let slip what his real name was. I finished with him on the spot, banned him from the house and told John how much I hated the little bastard.’ Her face crumbled. ‘John guessed though . . .’

  ‘You’re joking.’

  Dee shook her head. ‘He said it didn’t matter. That the baby’s his.’ She turned to her sister with a fierce gleam in her eyes. ‘And that’s how it is Tiff, you get me? If I hear anyone say different I know where it came from.’

  Tiff’s face softened. ‘Get a load of bad boy Kieran. First he goes with you, now Jen. Fuck me, if I was straight I expect he’d be wanting a go at my vag too.’

  They both laughed, breaking the tension in the room.

  Dee lifted her head slightly as she heard a noise outside. Her face lit up. ‘Maybe it’s Nicky. Maybe he’s driven her so mad she’s chucked him out.’

  On the drive outside, a motorbike could be heard ambling its way up the gravel. It pulled up but the motor was left idling. Dee went to the door to see who the visitor was.

  But before she could open it, the house seemed to come down around their ears. There was a continuous roar while the windows upstairs crashed in one after the other, brickwork and walls were blasted and the interiors shattered. It took a few seconds before Dee realised what was happening – someone was machine gunning the house. She turned to Tiffany, whose face was contorted in terror, and grabbed her, pulling her to the floor.

  She shouted, ‘We need to get out back, downstairs will be next.’ Hugging the floor, Dee dragged Tiff down the hallway to the kitchen.

  She was right. After a long pause, the motorcyclist opened fire again, demolishing the downstairs windows and thudding bullets into the wooden door. There was another long pause before the motorbike revved again and made its escape down the drive.

  They remained on the floor in silence.

  Tiff gripped the tile as if she was afraid she might fall off it. She slowly switched her terror-stricken gaze to her sister. ‘Someone just tried to kill us.’

  Dee got slowly to her feet and Tiff was surprised that she didn’t look pa
rticularly scared. ‘Did you hear what I said?’ Her voice rose in disbelief.

  ‘I heard you.’ She held her hand out and helped Tiff to her wobbly legs. ‘Relax sis, the geezer wasn’t here to kill anyone. It’s a message.’ She walked off to inspect the damage muttering. ‘Three men want to give me a message – Uncle Frank, Carats or Kieran.’

  Tiffany was white and shaking like a smoker who had just given up. ‘What you gonna do?’

  Dee pursed her lips. ‘John taught me in this type of situation you need to be as patient as a cat creeping up on a bird. So I’m gonna call a glazier and a plasterer.’ Dee surveyed the damage to her beloved house. ‘Then I’m gonna let my feelings be known.’

  ‘What the fuck do ya want?’ Flo blasted out, reverting to her Cockney heritage, when the man appeared at her and Nicky’s table.

  They were in a trendy café in Portobello Market. It was the kind of place that dished up food to turn Nicky’s stomach, like lentil and beetroot soup and spinach salad that looked like a bowl of leaves raked up from the garden. He’d said nothing because Flo liked the place. He was glad for the interruption because Flo was still asking him questions about his parents and those houses. She was starting to do his head right in.

  Nicky had never seen the man before in his life. He looked slightly younger than his dad and had a small scar on the bridge of his nose. The man glared at Flo. ‘What did you say to me bird?’

  Nicky wasn’t having that, even though Flo had enough nuts to fight her own battles. ‘Watch your lip with my girl,’ he warned.

  Instead of fronting up the man grinned. ‘I thought as much. You’re just like your old dad.’

  ‘You knew John?’

  The man shook his head. ‘Chris. You are Chris Keston’s boy?’

  Nicky’s heartbeat did a strange little dance. ‘You knew my dad?’ Then he remembered, ‘But everyone says I look like my mum.’

  The stranger cocked his head to the side. ‘She was a gorgeous, classy lady. Gentle and kind-hearted. You look like her alright, but Chris is staring right at me as well.’

  Nicky got excited. ‘Pull up a chair.’