The Reprisal

by Kerry Kaya

  As her cheeks blushed a bright shade of red, Cathy averted her eyes. She passed across her son to him, and smiled to herself, as Paul made a great fuss of the baby. He would make a fantastic father one day. The very thought made her heart lurch. She wondered then about the woman who would one day ensnare Paul’s heart. Whoever she was, she knew for a fact that she was going to be one very lucky woman.

  “Are you ready then?” Paul glanced at his watch. He intended to drop Cathy off at the church, then quickly come back and collect Jason.

  “I’m ready, and how about you? Have you got the rings?”

  Paul made a show of patting down his pockets and she tilted her head toward him. “Paul?” she warned.

  A slow smile crept across his face. “Of course I’ve got them.”

  Shaking her head, Cathy grinned. Yes, the woman who finally kept Paul’s attention long enough to make him want to settle down was definitely one very lucky woman.

  * * *

  The wedding ceremony that had taken place at St. Margaret’s Church, in Barking, had gone off without a hitch, much to Cynthia’s relief. She really didn’t think she could take much more of her daughter’s hysterics for one day.

  Seated at the reception, she smiled as she watched her daughter and new son-in-law take to the floor for the first dance. The haunting voice of Gregory Abbott belting out “Shake You Down,” filled the air and she smiled. The song was one of Stella’s favorites, and even though Jason hadn’t wanted that particular song for the first dance, Stella had got her own way, as she always did wherever her son-in-law was concerned.

  She turned to look at her son. He was a handsome devil all right. He took after his late father in that department. She watched as he whispered something into Cathy’s ear and smiled softly as she watched the young woman throw her head back and laugh. He was besotted with the little blonde and her son, and quite rightly so. Little Kieran was a lovely baby.

  She continued to watch them. She had always liked Cathy. She was a good girl, the type of girl any mother would be delighted to have as a daughter. She had often thought that they made a wonderful couple. Even when they had been young teenagers, she had believed they were a match made in heaven. How the girl didn’t realise that her Paul was in love with her, she had no idea, but Cathy seemed oblivious to his thoughts and feelings. Perhaps that was half the attraction?

  * * *

  Not one to usually drink alcohol, the champagne bubbles had gone straight to Cathy’s head and she felt a little tipsy. Excusing herself, she made her way to the ladies’ toilets, and as she pushed open the door and walked through, she recoiled slightly. She hadn’t expected to see Stella. She plastered a wide smile across her face and headed straight for the toilet cubicle. When she came back out moments later, Stella was waiting for her.

  “It’s been a lovely wedding, Stell,” Cathy beamed, “and you look stunning, truly beautiful.” She looked into the mirror and admired Stella’s dress. It was ivory, fitted, and the bodice was covered with thousands of twinkling diamantes. She truly did look beautiful. As she washed her hands, she caught Stella’s eyes and noticed that, much to her dismay, the other woman didn’t return her smile.

  “What are you doing here, Cathy?”

  Cathy’s stomach dropped, and switching off the tap, she turned around. “Paul invited me,” she said as she dried her hands on a paper towel.

  Stella thought this over. “Tell me,” she asked, “what really happened to Terrance?” Her eyes were hard as she asked the question. “What exactly did you rope my brother into doing for you? Did you ask him to kill your husband? Is that what you did?”

  “No.” Stunned, Cathy swallowed hard and shook her head vigorously. “Of course I didn’t.”

  Stella screwed up her face. “I was there in the pub that night. I watched him tear out, and the mood he was in, he was ready to commit fucking murder. He killed for you, didn’t he?”

  “Don’t be ridic …”

  Yanking on Cathy’s arm, Stella snarled. “I saw him.” She tightened her grip and her long French manicured fingernails dug into the soft flesh. “And let’s face it, he’s so obsessed with you that he would do just about anything you ask.”

  “No.” Cathy wrenched her arm free and shook her head sadly. She could sense the anger coming off of the other woman in waves. She’d always had a temper, had Stella, even grown men were wary of her. “You don’t own him, Stella.” Her voice was quiet and composed. “The way you carry on isn’t natural. Why do you see me as such a threat?” She tilted her head to one side. “And despite what you might think, he is his own man. I didn’t ask him to kill anyone. Why would I even do that?”

  “Because,” Stella snarled, “you wanted to get rid of your husband so you could ensnare my brother. That’s what you’ve always wanted. I’ve watched you hanging onto his every word. You don’t take your eyes off of him.” She screwed up her face. “It’s sickening to watch. You know that he’s worth a bob or two, that he’s going places, and you want a share of it. You want to be the big I Am.”

  Cathy pulled herself up to her full height, all five feet, two inches of it. She knew that if she didn’t put Stella in her place and fast then she would never know a day’s peace again. Stella would do anything in her power to wrench Paul away from her, even if all they were ever going to share was a friendship.

  “You’re right.” Cathy sucked her teeth. She couldn’t show her fear. “Terrance is dead, but it wasn’t Paul who killed him.” She watched Stella’s beautiful face pale underneath the brightly lit fluorescent bulb. “I killed him.” She spread open her arms. “It was me, and let me tell you now, lady, before you even think about spouting my business to anyone else or informing the old bill, you should know this. Your brother, oh, and also your new husband, let’s not forget his part in all of this, well, they are up to their pretty little necks in this, almost as much as I am. You see, they disposed of the body, buried him, in fact.”

  Stella gasped.

  “So,” Cathy pointed her finger toward Stella’s chest, “stop with the little digs, Stell, because from where I’m standing, it’s me that holds all of the cards, not you. I mean, just what would happen to your precious brother and your wonderful new husband if I should suddenly grow a conscious and find a need to confess my wrong doings to the police of all people?”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  Cathy raised her eyebrows to the ceiling. “Wouldn’t I?” she asked innocently. “Do us both a favour, Stella, and leave me and Paul alone.” She shook her head and gave Stella a pitying look. “You know, I used to like you. I even thought we could have been friends once, but now,” she looked the woman up and down with distaste, “now you are nothing but an irritation to me.”

  With those parting words, she held her head high and exited the ladies’ toilets. She had a sneaky suspicion that Stella wouldn’t cause her any more problems, not if she knew what was best for her. Within moments, she was back at the table, and seeing Paul hold her son in his arms, she smiled down at him.

  “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

  “Yes.” Cathy’s smile grew even wider, and for the first time in months, she genuinely did feel okay. She sat down, and catching Stella’s eye, raised her glass in the air in a toast. She then turned toward Paul. Perhaps it was the champagne giving her more confidence, she didn’t know, but she pointed the glass toward him. “To us,” she smiled.

  Paul mirrored the action and he lifted his own glass in the air. “To us,” he grinned back.

  * * *

  Once the wedding reception had ended and Paul had escorted her home, Cathy invited him in for a coffee. Somehow she felt that something between them had shifted. Whether that was her imagination or not, she didn’t know, but she took a wild guess that only time would tell. If she was about to make a fool of herself, then so be it.

  Taking a sip of her coffee, Cathy gave a shy giggle. “I was just thinking back to when we were kids.” She sucked on her bottom lip and gave him a
coy grin. “Do you remember when …”

  Paul’s cheeks flamed. He had a good idea as to what she was referring to and he put his head into his hands and groaned. “Don’t fucking remind me.” He looked up then and smiled. “Not that it wasn’t good,” he was quick to point out, “because it was. In fact, it was better than good. It was out of this fucking world, but fuck me, Cath, I don’t think I even knew what I was doing.”

  Cathy giggled and she gave him a wink. “We were just kids,” she grinned, “how could either of us have known what we were doing?”

  “Well, let me just say that I’ve improved my game a great fucking deal since then.” He groaned as soon as the words had left his mouth and momentarily closed his eyes, feeling mortified. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”

  Cathy smiled. She watched him set his mug on the floor and give an embarrassed cough.

  “I think that maybe I should get going. You’re probably tired, right?”

  Cathy nodded her head. He gave her a smile and made to walk past her. When she reached out to take his hand, she felt his body stiffen.

  “Don’t leave,” she said looking up at him, “not yet. Stay the night.” It was said quietly, surprising both her and Paul.

  “Are you sure that is what you want?”

  “I’ve never been surer.” Getting up from the sofa, Cathy gripped his hand even tighter. “Now take me to bed and show me just how much you’ve improved.”

  Paul didn’t need asking twice, and leading the way, he practically ran up the staircase, much to Cathy’s delight.

  Chapter 10

  Angie was angry and it showed.

  “You told me, he was taken care of,” she spat, “that his days on this earth were numbered. So, answer me this, why the fuck is Mooney still walking, talking, and more importantly still fucking breathing?”

  Samson let out a long sigh. “These things take time,” he answered.

  “Take time?” Angie’s shrill voice filled the air. “I don’t have time.” She had seen just how close her daughter and Paul Mooney had become and she didn’t like it one little bit. Her daughter was beginning to rely on him a little too much, in her opinion, and that could never be a good thing. Mooney had well and truly crawled his way into Cathy’s life, and as a result, she was livid.

  “I’ve already told you that the situation is in hand.” Samson spread open his arms. “And it is. Like I said, his days are fucking numbered.” He smiled to himself. As far as he was concerned, his little plan to dispose of both Mooney and the mad bastard Dougie Ward was on track. As he’d already stated, these things took time.

  Slumping back on the sofa, Angie sighed angrily. “It had better be,” she snapped.

  “It is,” Samson placated her. A slow grin spread across his face. At this very moment in time, Jerry Dolan, his right-hand man, was lifting out a package of cocaine from the bag that Paul Mooney had dropped off earlier that afternoon, and replacing it with an identical bag filled to the brim with baking powder. Just as he had done, in fact, every time Mooney had dropped off.

  He steepled his fingers across his chest and stifled a laugh. When the shit hit the fan, and he confronted Dougie about the snidey bags of coke, he was bound to put two and two together and believe that Mooney was on the take. Samson, grinned even wider. Paul Mooney wasn’t going to know what had hit him, and as for Dougie, well, the mad bastard’s head was going to roll when, even after Mooney’s demise, coke would still be replaced. The plan was a masterpiece and it would give him the perfect excuse to take Ward out without any repercussions coming back on himself. After all, everyone in their world would see that he’d had no other choice but to end the thieving mad bastard. As far as he was concerned, he would be killing two birds with one stone, much to his pleasure.

  * * *

  Two weeks later, Cathy sat at Angie’s kitchen table. In front of her was a mug of tea, and taking a sip, she grimaced at the taste.

  Angie raised her eyebrows. “Something wrong with my tea?” she asked. “Is it not good enough now for her ladyship?”

  Cathy laughed heartily and she pushed the mug across the table and away from her. “The tea is fine, Mum. It’s me, I just can’t stomach it.”

  Angie frowned, and as she sat back in her seat, she lit a cigarette and angrily blew out a thin stream of smoke. “How long?” she barked out.

  “Six weeks,” Cathy replied happily.

  Shaking her head from side to side, Angie glared at her only daughter. “Oh, Cathy, you stupid, stupid mare. Are you not content with raising one fatherless child? You want to add a second one to the mix?”

  “How will my baby be fatherless?” Taken aback, Cathy frowned. Admittedly, she hadn’t expected Angie to be truly overjoyed at the prospect of a second grandchild, but at the same time, she’d expected a bit more support than this.

  “What is wrong with you, Cathy?” Angie banged her fist down on the table. “Didn’t I teach you anything? To not open your legs for all and fucking sundry for starters? And as for Paul Mooney,” she stabbed her finger forward, “he’s bad news and you know that as well as I do.” She gave a bitter laugh. “And you thought that you had problems with Terrance? Well, let me tell you now, lady. They were nothing compared to being stuck with him, Paul, for the remainder of your life.” She was thoughtful for a moment. “It’s not too late to get rid of it. We could nip to the doctor’s in the morning and get you an appointment with the abortion clinic. By tomorrow afternoon, it will all be over with.”

  “Get rid of it?” Tears sprang to Cathy’s eyes and she blinked them away furiously. “I’m not getting rid of my baby.” Her hand automatically travelled to her tummy. “You don’t know anything about Paul. You haven’t seen how good he is with me and Kieran. He loves this little boy like his own.”

  “But he ain’t his, is he?” Angie answered. “One day that boy’s dad will be back and then what, eh? Are you going to go for round two, make it a hat-trick and have yet another fatherless child?” She laughed nastily, a high pitched cackle that rang loud in Cathy’s ears. “At least two of them would share the same DNA.”

  Scraping back her chair, Cathy got to her feet. She placed little Kieran on her hip and his podgy little legs kicked out excitedly as she stared down at her mother. “You’re a fine one to talk, Mum. Let’s face it, you would know all about fatherless children, wouldn’t you? Where is my dad exactly, and more to the point, who is he?” She looked down her nose at her mother. “To be honest, it really wouldn’t surprise me if you didn’t even know yourself who he is. Like Donna Cassidy said, you’d do anything for a bit of free meat. So what exactly was my father offering you? I’m guessing it was a bit more than just money?”

  Angie jumped up from her seat. The slap across her daughter’s face was both hard and loud. Immediately, the baby began to scream and she instantly regretted what she had done.

  “Oh my God, Cath, I didn’t mean to do that, honest to God, I didn’t.” She went to make a fuss of the baby, checking that he was okay when her daughter backed away from her.

  “Yes you did, Mum, and it isn’t the first time either, is it?” Pressing the back of her hand to her cheek, Cathy spat out the words. “But I can tell you now, it is the last time. My Paul has never raised his fists to me and you have the cheek to stand there and look down your nose at him?” She shook her head sadly. “I’m not a kid anymore, Mum. Nothing you say will turn me against him this time.”

  Angie had the grace to look away. Her daughter had just hit the proverbial nail on the head, and it was true, in the past she had torn the two apart. Lie after lie, she had told her daughter, all in the hope that Cathy would turn against him, and after a lot of perseverance, her devious plan had eventually worked. If truth were told, she’d been consumed by jealousy, and watching the budding romance grow stronger by the day had made her feel sick to her stomach.

  “If you can’t be happy for me then just stay away. I mean it, Mum. Paul is my life now. I’m having his baby, an
d the quicker you get that into your head, the better.”

  As her daughter raced from the room, Angie pressed her hand across her mouth and slumped down onto the nearest chair. She really could cut out her own tongue at times. Oh, she better than anyone, knew that she had a wicked streak inside her, but to lash out, she stared down at her hand as if the limb were suddenly alien to her. Oh God, she had sworn the last time she’d slapped her daughter that she would never do it again, and now look at her. She’d not only gone and done it, but had done it when Cathy had been holding little Kieran, her grandson.

  * * *

  Paul kissed the top of Cathy’s head, and as he pulled her underneath his arm, he whispered in her ear. “I love you, you know that, right?” He meant every word, really meant it. Whenever he was with her, she made him feel level headed. She had a calming influence about her that made him want to reign in his formidable temper, and it was formidable. The reputation that proceeded him was proof of that. Even when they had been kids, she’d had always known exactly what to say to calm him down. It was just what she did, and for that fact alone, he loved her.

  Cathy grinned. “I’ve got a good idea.” And it was true, she did know that he loved her, loved both her and her young son. Her hand reached down to softly rub her still flat tummy, and he would love this little one when he or she was born just as fiercely, she was certain of it.

  “Will you put the girl down?” Cynthia’s voice was stern, but her eyes twinkled with joy. “My first grandchild, eh?” She looked down at Kieran and quickly corrected herself. “My second grandchild,” she said, rubbing his podgy little hand.

  “You’re not going to start crying again, are you?” Paul rolled his eyes before winking across to Cathy.