The Reprisal

by Kerry Kaya

  Yvonne Cassidy nodded her head. “That’s right, Don. That’s how me and your dad got this place.” She rolled her tongue across her decaying teeth and lounged back against the kitchen counter. Her stained T-shirt with the slogan “bite me” in big red letters strained against her bulging gut.

  In that instant, it was almost like looking into the future. What was that saying, like mother like daughter? At least Angie had a bit of nous about her and knew how to look after herself. He glanced down at his watch, and noting the time, he scraped back his chair and abruptly stood up.

  “Where are you going, Tel?”

  “Out.” Terrance looked down at the woman he had risked his marriage for and felt genuinely sick to his stomach. Even if she did find herself pregnant, how could he be certain that it was even his kid? Let’s face it, she’d been around the block more than once, had Donna.

  As he made his way out of the kitchen, he shook the dog away from his leg. All the bastard thing had done since he’d turned up on Donna’s doorstep was to try and hump him. He reached for the front door handle and resisted the urge to boot the randy little fucker up its arse. Instead, he bared his teeth and growled loudly, until the mutt ran back down the hallway with his tail between his legs.

  “When will you be back?” As she scooped up the dog, there was a whine to Donna’s voice that he had never noticed before.

  “When I’m back,” he answered. He watched as the dog licked her face and felt sick to his stomach. What was the betting the dirty cow didn’t even bother to wash the mutt’s saliva off of her face before climbing into bed later that night?

  “Oh, one more thing, Tel.” Yvonne joined her daughter in the hallway. On her hip, she jiggled the youngest of the Cassidy clan. The child’s constant screams went right through his head.

  Terrance raised his eyebrows impatiently. He had places to go and people to see and was already running late.

  Yvonne’s yellow nicotine stained fingers plucked a fresh cigarette out from the packet and she gave him a gap-toothed grin as she lit up.

  “Don’t forget to hand over your half of the rent money when you get back.” She gave him a sly grin. “You’re as good as family now, and if this is going to be yours and our Donna’s home, your little love nest,” she chuckled, “then it’s only right that you pay your way. After all, every little bit helps. Here, I’ll tell you what. I could even put a few quid away for yous each week, that way you and our Don will have some cash to fall back on once she’s up the duff.”

  “That’s a good idea. What do you reckon, Tel?” Standing beside her mother, Donna beamed with delight.

  Terrance stared at the two women. He opened his mouth to speak, but was rendered speechless. Like mother like daughter, the saying flooded his brain. Fuck that. He gave a shudder, and screwing up his face without bothering to answer, he stepped out of the flat and slammed the front door closed, leaving Donna and her skank of a mother firmly behind him.

  * * *

  With a rolled up twenty-pound note held between his thumb and forefinger, Lucas Vaughn lifted his head and glanced in the rear-view mirror. He watched as a car pulled into the carpark and swallowed down his irritation. After all, it wasn’t the first time that Terrance Matlock had kept him waiting. Shaking his head, he returned to the task in hand. Holding a compact disk case toward his chest, in quick procession, he expertly snorted two fat lines of cocaine from it. Sniffing loudly, he wrinkled his nose and pinched his nostrils, wiping away any excess powder in the process. Then licking his index finger, he gathered up the remaining remnants of white powder and rubbed it furiously across his gums. Glancing up at the mirror for a second time, he rolled his eyes, threw the case back into the glove box, and climbed out of the car.

  “You’re late.” Forcing himself to lean against the car, Lucas crossed his arms over his chest, then glanced around the otherwise empty carpark. “In fact,” he returned his glare on Terrance and squared his shoulders, “you’re starting to seriously piss me off.”

  Ignoring the remark, a wide grin spread across Terrance’s face and he rubbed his hands together as he strolled casually toward the car. “What have we got this time then?”

  Lucas gritted his teeth. There was something about Matlock that grated on his nerves. He was too cocksure of himself for a start, and considering his position in Dougie Ward’s firm, he had no reason to be. Without answering, he pushed himself away from the car and made his way around to the boot. Springing open the lock, he gestured toward several large cardboard boxes.

  “Same as last time.” He gave Terrance a sidelong glance, his tone sounding bored. “Dougie said to pop them out for a tenner each, okay?”

  Terrance pulled the nearest sealed box toward him and ripped apart the brown parcel tape. Filled to the brim, each box contained a selection of men’s designer shirts that were still encased in individual clear plastic wrappers with the price tags attached.

  “When is he going to put me on a proper job?” he whined. He flicked the box. “I’m getting sick and tired of selling knocked off gear. I hardly even earn anything from it.”

  Lucas ignored the question. Why would Dougie even consider giving Matlock anything remotely heavier than selling knocked off gear? Despite what he might think, Terrance was hardly a big player, hence why his position in the firm was at the very bottom of the ladder.

  “Tenner each,” he reminded him, and jerking his head toward Terrance’s car, he motioned for him to get a move on and shift the goods. He took a moment of satisfaction as he watched the man heave the boxes unaided, huffing and puffing from the exertion as he did so.

  The transaction complete, Lucas slammed down the boot and made his way back around the car. It didn’t escape his notice that he was driving a brand-new Audi, whereas Terrance drove a clapped-out Ford that would look more at home on the forecourt of a scrap yard than on the road.

  “Hey Matlock,” he called out, “about time you scrapped that shit tip, ain’t it?” He grinned as he watched Terrance’s eyebrows knit together and knew his words had the man’s back up. “You should try your luck and run it over to the Carters’ scrap yard over on the view, you never know,” he grinned, “if they’re feeling generous, you might even get a couple of quid for it.” He paused and scratched his chin as though thinking it over. “What is the going rate for scrap metal these days?” He chuckled out loud, and climbing behind the wheel, he slammed the car door closed behind him. In the rear-view mirror, he watched the flurry of anger crease Terrance’s face, and turning the key in the ignition, he laughed even harder, before screeching out of the car park.

  * * *

  “Fucking prick,” Terrance growled. With a scowl spread across his face, he watched the Audi speed out of the carpark, and slammed the car boot shut with as much force as he could physically muster. The Carters, the fucking Carters. He screwed up his face. He’d heard all about Jimmy Carter’s antics. Rumour had it that he had a liking for the one-eyed snake, the fucking Nancy boy. Why Tommy Carter hadn’t put his dirty cunt of a brother into the ground he had no idea. By all accounts, the brothers were as close as ever. The very thought sickened him and he gave an involuntary shiver. “Dirty fucking bastard,” he muttered out loud.

  As for Lucas fucking Vaughn, he wouldn’t mind, but who exactly was he, and where the fuck had he even come from? All he knew was that the younger man had turned up out of nowhere and quickly climbed the ladder, barging his way into Dougie Ward’s firm, and making himself indispensable in the process. Now look at him. By all accounts, he was one of Dougie’s right-hand men and was apparently well respected by the big man himself.

  His scowl deepened and he climbed inside the car. Vaughn was right about one thing, though. His motor was a shit tip. He swiped his arm across the empty cigarette packets, sweet wrappers, and takeaway containers that littered the passenger seat, and then closing his eyes, he leaned his head against the head rest and breathed heavily through his flared nostrils.

  Digging his fingers i
nside his denim pocket, he pulled out a handful of loose change. He stared down at the coins and cursed underneath his breath. He didn’t even have enough money to buy a pack of cigarettes. He stuffed the coins back into his pocket and his mind wandered to the boxes in the boot of the car, before hastily dismissing the idea. Dougie would have his head on a spike if he swiped a couple shirts and pocketed the money for himself, and that was putting it mildly.

  He recalled Yvonne’s demand for rent money and snarled once again. Why the fuck should he pay anything? It wasn’t even his flat, and the last thing he planned to do was stick around. His thoughts turned to his wife and the little maisonette that she kept spick and span. A slow smile spread across his face, and digging his hand back into his denim pocket, he pulled out the loose change. Across from where he had parked the car was a florist shop, and as he started the ignition, an idea formed in his mind and his grin grew even wider.

  * * *

  Balancing a cup of tea on the arm of the sofa, Cathy leaned back against the cushions and closed her eyes. Two weeks her Terrance had been gone and she was finally coming to terms with her new life as a single soon-to-be mother. She felt her baby kick inside her and she automatically placed her hand upon her bump and caressed it lovingly. She could do this, she told herself. She could bring her baby up alone, just like her mother had done before her. She had never met her father and her mum had only ever been vague about him. Sometimes she wondered if Angie even knew herself who he was.

  A knocking at the front door made her groan out loud. Talk of the devil. Ever since her husband had left, Angie had become a constant visitor. She placed the cup on the floor, pushed herself up from the sofa, and waddled toward the front door. The sight in front of her almost made her stagger backward. Of all the people she was expecting, her husband was not one of them. Quickly, she composed herself, and with a stony expression spread across her face, she leaned against the door frame with her arms folded across her chest. “What do you want?”

  Terrance spread open an arm. “I’m back, love.” He gave her a wink. “Did you miss me?”

  Cathy raised her eyebrows. “Miss you?” she exclaimed.

  “Well, I missed you.” He gave her a beaming smile. “And I want to come back home. This is where I belong, love—just you, me, and our kid—one big happy family.”

  “Has Donna thrown you out?” She took a moment of satisfaction to see him grovel. “What did you do?” She tilted her chin upward as though thinking the question over. “No wait, don’t tell me,” she placed her finger in the air, “let me guess, you raised your fists to her and gave her a clump for having the audacity to answer you back?”

  “No, love, nothing like that. Honest to God, me and her were nothing serious.” He shrugged his shoulders and a sly grin spread across his face. “It’s different to what me and you have got. What we have is special.”

  “She did throw you out then.” Having heard just about enough, Cathy made to close the door.

  “C’mon, Cath.” He jammed his foot inside the door frame in a bid to stop the door from being closed in his face, and his voice took on a desperate measure. “I’m back, love. You always knew I would be. This is where I belong, home, here with you.”

  “You’re like a bad penny,” Cathy groaned. Despite herself, she couldn’t help but smile and call her a fool but to know that she’d got one over on Donna Cassidy made her smile even wider.

  “Can I come in?” Terrance put on his best grin. “I promise that I’ll be on my best behavior. Look, I bought you these.” From behind his back, he produced a bunch of pink carnations, the petals already drooping.

  Looking from the flowers to her husband, Cathy rolled her eyes and pulled the door open wider. “Best behavior,” she warned.

  “On my life, Cath.” He stepped around her, walked through to the lounge and plopped himself down on the sofa. “How about making a cuppa for your old man?” He rubbed his hand over his stomach. “Oh and I wouldn’t say no to a bacon sandwich either, if you’ve got one going,” he winked.

  Cathy rolled her eyes. So much for him changing his ways, she thought. She flicked the switch on the kettle, opened the fridge door, and took out four rashers of bacon. Dropping them into a pan of sizzling cooking oil, she stood back against the kitchen worktop, watching her husband. Crossing her fingers, she sent up a silent prayer that she hadn’t just made the biggest mistake of her life by letting him worm his way back into her life.

  Chapter 4

  “Oh Mum, look at this, isn’t it lovely?” Cathy and Angie were at the Dagenham Sunday market, and pointing to a wicker Moses basket adorned in ivory satin and cream coloured lace, Cathy’s face lit up.

  “If it’s what you want, then get it,” Angie answered as she ran her hand across the smooth satin and smiled her approval. The basket was beautiful, even she had to admit that.

  “I don’t know. What do you think? It is lovely though, isn’t it?” Tightly clutching her purse, Cathy was in two minds. She lifted the price tag and felt her heart sink. She was at least fifteen pounds short.

  “Is it what you want?” In a moment of tenderness, Angie placed her arm around her daughter’s shoulders. It wasn’t often she openly displayed affection to her only child, and pushing a lock of blonde hair out of Cathy’s face, her voice was gentle. “If it’s what you want then get it, Cath.”

  “I can’t. I don’t have enough money.” Cathy flicked the price tag. “I’ve only got twenty pounds on me.”

  Slipping her hand inside her handbag, Angie pulled out her purse. “That husband of yours should try getting a job. It wouldn’t hurt him to put his hand in his pocket. That baby you’re carrying is his responsibility, too, you know.”

  “He has got a job,” Cathy sighed.

  “Selling a bit of knocked off gear isn’t a job, Cath.” Angie pursed her lips. “The lazy bastard should try getting out of bed before lunchtime once in a while.”

  “Mum!”

  “All right.” Angie held up her hand. “I was only saying, so stop being so bloody touchy.” She unzipped her purse and took out a ten-pound note, then fished around in the bottom of her handbag for a few pound coins. “You can pay me back when you’ve got the money, or better still, Terrance can pay me back,” she winked.

  Cathy rolled her eyes. “Thanks, Mum.” She reached out to touch the cream lace. She could just imagine her baby asleep in the basket, lovely and warm, and as snug as a bug, as her Nanna Pat used to say.

  “We’ll take this one.” Lifting her hand, Angie caught the stall holders attention, and passing across the money, she smiled as she watched him place the basket into a large see-through plastic bag. “There you go.” she passed across the package to her daughter. “Can you manage, darling?”

  With the basket tucked underneath her arm Cathy nodded her head. It wasn’t too heavy and she couldn’t help but feel proud. Nothing but the very best would do for her baby.

  “Look who it is.” Looking through the crowd of shoppers, Angie sucked her teeth. “She’s got a nerve showing her face around here.”

  Cathy looked up. Walking toward them was Donna Cassidy, surrounded by several of her mates. “Just ignore her, Mum,” Cathy groaned. “I don’t want to cause a scene, not here, in the middle of the bloody market of all places.”

  As they passed one another by, Cathy lifted her chin in the air and kept her back ram-rod straight. Oh, how she hated Donna Cassidy. Just being in close proximity to her husband’s mistress was enough to make her blood boil.

  “Oh, by the way,” Donna stopped, and with the backing of her sniggering friends, she placed her hands on her hips, thrust out her chest and smirked, “he only went back to you out of pity.”

  “What?” Slowly turning around, the fine hairs on the back of Cathy’s neck stood up on end. Finally, she was face-to-face with the young woman her husband had been sleeping with. And she was young, too, a lot younger than Cathy could have ever imagined. Beyond the makeup and hair extensions, Donna looked exa
ctly what she was, a kid. Only just out of school, her skin was still smooth, youthful, and fresh, even if the image she was trying to portray was not.

  As she looked the girl over, Cathy felt nothing but repulsion. Her mum was right, Donna was a soapy looking cow, and in a way, she supposed that wasn’t Donna’s fault. It was probably all she’d ever known, and it was common knowledge that the rest of the Cassidy family was just as grimy. Just one glance at the girl’s parents was enough to tell her that. How her Terrance could even think about putting his hands on this child, let alone actually carrying it through, she would never understand. And to know that he had crawled into bed beside her after touching the young girl was enough to make her want to vomit. “What did you just say to me?”

  * * *

  Despite the cold weather, Donna was dressed in skin-tight light grey tracksuit bottoms and a white T-shirt with a plunging neckline that showed of her ample cleavage, all thanks to the push-up bra she had put on that morning.

  She gestured toward her body. “You heard me,” she smirked. “My Tel, he couldn’t keep his hands off of me and he told me himself that he was only going back to you, because he felt sorry for you. I mean,” she looked around at her friends and gave a cocky grin, “as soon as you’ve dropped that kid, he’ll come running back to me. He even told me that he couldn’t wait to see the back of you, for once and for all.”

  “Ignore her, Cath.” Tugging on her daughter’s arm, Angie spat out the words. “She’s just some dirty little slapper.”