The Reprisal

by Kerry Kaya

  The bomb detonating could be heard throughout Barking. The explosion that took place was ferocious enough to rock the neighbouring properties to their very foundations. Engulfed in a raging fireball, there was virtually nothing left of Paul’s car.

  In the aftermath, and amidst the smoke and rubble that littered the pavement, in a daze, the customers of The Jolly Fisherman warily made their way outside onto the pavement.

  Taking in the wreckage before her, Sue became hysterical. Instinctively, she knew that her bosses were gone. Just one glance at the tangled, twisted, burning wreckage that had once been Paul’s car was more than enough to tell her that.

  Chapter 20

  The sound of the doorbell chimed throughout the house, and leaping up from her seat, Cathy called out to her niece and sister-in-law.

  “The food’s here.”

  With the money held in her hand, she pulled open the front door. The sight that met her made her frown.

  “Can I help you?” As she said the words, fear clutched at her heart. It wasn’t every day that the police turned up on the doorstep. It had to be Paul, he must have had a capture, a day she had always secretly dreaded. Instinctively, she knew there would be nothing incriminating in the house. Paul may have been a lot of things, but he wasn’t stupid enough to leave evidence lying around.

  “Mrs. Mooney?”

  Willing herself to calm down, Cathy nodded her head. She watched the officer remove his peaked hat and place it underneath his arm, and narrowed her eyes even further. “Is there a problem?”

  Police Constable Steven Brent gave a gentle smile. “May we come in?”

  Nodding her head, Cathy pulled open the door and looked between the two officers. “What’s this about?” she asked. Behind her, Stella and Katie had joined her in the hallway.

  “Mrs. Milner?” Looking past her to where Stella was standing, Steven gave a gentle nod of his head.

  Cathy let out a strangled sob, and placing her hand across her throat, panic began to set in. “Something’s happened,” she shrieked. “Is it Paul and Jason? Have they been in a car accident?”

  Beyond where the police officers were standing, she saw through the open front door the bright headlights of a vehicle pulling up outside the house. For a brief moment, her heart surged, thinking it was Paul. Until that was, she remembered the pizza delivery. The second police officer walked onto the drive and sent the driver away. In that moment, she knew, she knew the police were there to tell her not only something unimaginable, but something that would shatter her whole world to pieces.

  “No,” she cried. “Please no.” She felt Stella’s arms wrap around her, and as the enormity of the situation hit home, and the police officer began to speak, she sunk to her knees. “No,” she screamed, “not the boys, not my boys.”

  * * *

  Placing a joint between his lips, Devan Barkley was in the mood for a party. In his hand was a glass of spiced rum, and on his lap, a naked woman with short spikey blonde hair, whose name for the life of him he was unable to remember, gyrated her hips in time to the music.

  “To us.” He lifted the glass in the air and nodded his head across to both Sean, and Marty. On the sound system, Bob Marley blared out and he stifled the urge to laugh out loud. “And to the demise of Mooney.” He took a long sip of his drink, rinsing it around his mouth before swallowing down the sweet caramel flavored liquor. “Fucking cunt that he was.”

  Sean sat forward in his chair. In his hand, he held a bottle of brown ale. His sly, ferret like eyes observed everything around him, a habit he’d acquired from his days of serving in the Army. The bomb had been his idea, his masterplan, and the knowledge that it had been a success, brought a sadistic twisted grin to his face. It wasn’t often he smiled, but what the hell, he was celebrating. In fact, he couldn’t wait to read the newspaper headlines, couldn’t wait to read all about how clever he was for building the bomb that had ripped Paul Mooney and his passenger to pieces.

  He swallowed down a mouthful of brown ale. The Army would be sorry for kicking him out. Medical discharge, they called it, on the grounds of his mental health. They seemed to think he was unhinged, that he was some kind of a looney tune. No, they would be sorry. After all, they had let slip through their fingers a fucking genius.

  * * *

  Days later, the doorbell chimed once more, and as she wearily opened the front door, Cathy’s mouth fell open. She blinked rapidly at the woman on her doorstep. Talk about blast from the past, she could barely believe her eyes.

  “I never knew who he was.” Donna Cassidy smiled, it was a gentle smile that made her look a lot younger than she actually was. “To me, he was just my Kieran. If I’d have known …”

  “What are you talking about?” Cathy shrieked out the words, and narrowing her eyes, she looked the woman up and down. In the twenty years since she had last seen her, Donna had barely changed at all. Only the slight crow’s feet around her eyes portrayed her true age. “Your Kieran? Your fucking Kieran? He was my son, not yours.” Tears pricked at her eyes, and it took all of her strength not to break down in front of this woman, the very same woman she had loathed for the majority of her life.

  “I saw it on the news. I saw his photograph.” Donna bowed her head for a moment to gather her thoughts before looking Cathy in the eyes. “I didn’t know who he was, I swear to you. How could I have?” she repeated. “And, I don’t want to cause trouble, honestly I don’t, but …” She placed her hand upon her tummy.

  “What?” Staring down at the woman’s hand, and more importantly, where it was placed, Cathy’s heart began to beat faster. No, please no. She wanted to scream. This could not be happening, not now, not when her son was unable to even defend himself, and more importantly, deny he had been anywhere near this woman.

  “Cathy, I’m pregnant with his child.”

  “I don’t believe you.” Cathy gasped out loud and gripped onto the wooden door frame, feeling suddenly light-headed. “My son would never.” She stopped herself. The fact that her boy, her Kieran, was more like his father than she had ever given him credit for was forced from her mind. “No, he wouldn’t.” Tears sprang to her eyes. “No, not with you. With anyone, but you.”

  Donna’s cheeks flamed bright red, and she gave a slight shrug of her shoulders. “Like I said, I didn’t know who he was, I swear to you. If I’d have known … ”

  “What?” Cathy sneered. “You would have steered clear of him? You wouldn’t have tried to steal my baby away from me like you did his father?” She knew she was being irrational. Her boy had been his own man. He could be a stubborn bugger, too, when the mood took him. If he’d have wanted Donna, then nothing she or Paul could have said would have changed that fact.

  “It’s the funeral, you see.” Donna gave her a gentle smile. “And well, I’d like to go. I’d like to pay my respects, and more than that, I just want the chance to say goodbye.” Her hand travelled to her tummy once again, and it took all of Cathy’s strength not to lash out, to beat this woman to a pulp. It was only the fact that a lingering part of her son could very well be growing inside of Donna that she kept her clenched fists firmly at her sides.

  “Please, it would mean the world to me. I loved him, you see. He just never knew that, at least I don’t think he did.” She gave a shy smile. “I never actually told him, and that will always, until the day I die, be my biggest regret.”

  The sincerity in Donna’s words threw her for a moment. To know this woman had loved her son so much so that she had turned up on her doorstep, despite knowing full well the reception she would receive, was her undoing and the tears began to roll down her cheeks. They were never far away, always threatening to spill from her eyes, and she berated herself for that fact. She wanted to be strong, strong for both Paul and the boys.

  She closed her eyes tightly. She knew she must look a state. She had barely even pulled a comb through her hair since the night the police had turned up on the doorstep and told her that her whole world h
ad been turned upside down, that they were gone. Her perfect family was gone, and with it, her perfect life. She couldn’t even speak to Paul’s mother, nor her sister-in-law. She couldn’t bear to see the grief she herself felt written across their faces. And little Katie, she, too, had lost not only her father, but also the father of her unborn child, just like this woman on her doorstep had. She felt Donna’s arms wrap around her slim frame, and clinging to the woman, she sobbed her heart out. Her babies and her Paul were gone, really gone, forever.

  Twenty minutes later, the two women were sitting at the breakfast bar in Cathy’s large spacious kitchen. In front of them were cups of steaming coffee. If truth were told, Cathy would have preferred a glass of wine, or even the whole bottle, but seeing as Donna’s predicament meant that she shouldn’t drink, she had automatically switched on the coffee percolator.

  “Do they know what happened? Why it happened, or who was responsible?” Donna sipped at her coffee.

  Cathy shook her head and turned to look through the patio doors and the sprawling garden beyond. She seemed to do that a lot lately, just stare into space. Before she knew it, hours had passed without her even having any recollection of the morning or afternoon she had missed.

  “Maybe, once those responsible have been brought to justice …”

  The words broke Cathy’s reverie and she lifted her shoulders in a shrug. Deep down, she wondered if the police were even taking much of an interest. As far as they were concerned, it was a gangland killing, thugs wiping out thugs. So long as no innocent bystanders were injured in the crossfire, then what did they care?

  “How could you have not known who he was?” It was said in an accusing manner.

  Donna shrugged. “He told me his surname was Smith. I thought he was a plumber. He even fixed my mum’s leaking tap in the bathroom.”

  Despite herself, Cathy laughed. “He did a short plumbing course back in school.” She took a sip of her coffee. “He was the image of Terrance though.”

  “He was, but,” Donna paused before continuing, “he was different, nicer I suppose. He didn’t have Terrance’s spiteful streak. He was just a really nice bloke,” she smiled gently. “I’m not saying that there wasn’t another side to him, there must have been, seeing who his father was, but with me and my kids, he was just lovely.”

  Cathy nodded. It was nothing new to her; she already knew her son had been one of the good guys, that he’d been lovely, as Donna had so rightly pointed out. “Will you keep the baby?”

  A wide smile creased Donna’s face and her hand fluttered toward her tummy once more. “Of course I will. This baby is the only thing of Kieran’s that I have left.”

  Cathy nodded her head and sighed gently. It was exactly what she had expected Donna to say.

  “It’s bound to be a boy.” Seeing Cathy’s eyebrows rise, Donna laughed gaily and she pushed a lock of dark hair off of her face. The action was both dainty and feminine, and for the first time since opening her front door, Cathy could see her son’s attraction to the woman. “I only seem to have boys, me.” She picked up her coffee cup and took another sip. “This’ll be baby number five. My eldest, Adam, is eight, the next one, Darren, is six, then, Connor, is five, and then there’s the baby, Daryl, he just turned two last month.” She took another sip of her drink, her cheeks blushing. “I expect you’re wondering about the fathers?”

  “It did cross my mind,” Cathy smiled. As much as she hated to admit it, there was something endearing about Donna. She was up front, and there were no hidden agendas. It was refreshing, and she liked that about her.

  “Well, the elder three, they share the same dad, useless ponce he was. In the end, I couldn’t wait to get rid of him. He even raided the kids’ piggy bank once,” she said in a scandalous tone. “There wasn’t much in there, mind, only a few quid I suppose, but that wasn’t the point. It was my boys’ money. I knew then that I had to get shot of him for once and for all, and the baby,” she sighed deeply, “let’s just say that his sperm donor was an even bigger ponce. I never seemed to have much luck with men.”

  Laughing, Cathy wrapped her hands around the cup, savouring the warmth. “And then there was my Kieran.”

  Donna’s face lit up. “He was my keeper,” she smiled. “He was going to be the one, the one who I could depend on, if you know what I mean. I know he would never have let me down.” She raised her eyebrows theatrically. “He would have never raided the kids’ piggy bank for starters.”

  “No.” Cathy laughed harder. It was a laugh she wouldn’t have even believed she had inside of her. “That is one thing he would never have done. Put money in, yes, but he would never have taken it out.”

  Finishing her drink, Donna set the china cup down on the breakfast bar. “I suppose I should get going. I left the kids with my mum and they’ll be wanting their tea soon. My boys are a fussy lot. They’ll only eat the finest chicken nuggets I’ll have you know. None of that cheap crap me mum buys for them from the supermarket.” It was said lightly and Cathy wanted to thank this woman for bringing some light relief to her life. For just a few short moments, she’d pushed the misery that had become her existence to the back of her mind.

  “Will you visit again? Maybe next time you could bring the boys with you. I’d like to meet my grandchild’s brothers.”

  “Course I will.” Donna gripped hold of Cathy’s hand, and looking into her eyes, her cheeks blushed bright pink. “I’m sorry, you know, about what happened before. I was just a kid. I didn’t realise, I didn’t even understand what it was like to love a man, and to be loved back by him.”

  Cathy flapped her hand dismissively. “You did me a favour in the end. I didn’t realise it at the time, but because of you, I had my Paul, and through him, my Jonah.” She sighed sadly and placed her hand above her heart. “And I wouldn’t change that for the world.”

  She felt Donna’s arms reach around her, and she instinctively hugged her petite frame back with meaning.

  “See you soon then.” Donna made her way toward the front door, and as she turned back to face Cathy, she gestured around the grand hallway. “The little sod,” she grinned, “he came from this, but never once let on. He seemed to love my little flat. Even the mismatched furniture and chaos didn’t seem to faze him.”

  Smiling gently, Cathy looked around her. She’d loved the house, too, once. It had been a real family home, but with her Paul and the boys gone, it was nothing but bricks and mortar, an empty shell.

  “Well,” Donna opened the front door, “bye, and I’ll see you soon.”

  Cathy watched Donna leave, and as she neared the end of the driveway, she called out to her. “It’s on Monday.” She watched Donna cock her head to one side, her forehead furrowed. “The funeral; it’s on Monday.”

  “Thank you.” Donna’s face lit up. “I’ll be here. I’ll do him proud.”

  Left standing on the doorstop, Cathy was deep in thought. She looked down at her dressing gown and ran her hand through her matted hair. To see her looking like this, so bedraggled and unkempt, would have broken her Paul’s heart. Taking a deep breath, she closed the door, leaned against it for a short moment, then made her way toward the staircase. A hot bath, hair wash, and fresh clothes were very much needed, and if nothing else, Donna’s visit had given her the push she needed to sort herself out.

  Her mind wandered to the impending funeral. Just like Donna, she, too, would do her boys proud. She would make sure of that, even if it was the last thing she ever did. Forcing a smile across her face, she walked sedately up the staircase. Once the funeral was concluded, once she had laid her family to rest, she would get down to the business of finding the bastard who was behind the murder of her babies, and make them pay, she fucking would.

  Chapter 21

  Standing in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom, Cathy smoothed down her sleeveless dress. The black designer garment skimmed over her curves, and as she moved her body from side to side, for the first time in her adult life, s
he couldn’t care less if the outfit showed off any lumps or bumps. Next, she slid her arms into a matching bolero jacket, and then slipping on her black high-heeled shoes, she stood back to inspect the final ensemble. Her hair had been freshly washed and blow dried, and her makeup, she kept to the minimum—just a touch of foundation and some mascara.

  From downstairs, the faint lull of conversations had filtered up to her room. She wanted to tell them to go away, but she wouldn’t, not today of all days, not on the day she was going to say goodbye to her Paul and her two sons, her babies.

  As she descended down the staircase, her hand gripped tightly onto the rail, her knuckles turning a deathly shade of white. Reaching the bottom step, she took a deep breath then made her way toward the lounge. Pushing open the door, her eyes settled on Lucas. He looked broken, his eyes red rimmed, his face pale and pinched. She turned her face away, unable to feel any pity for him. Over and over again, she had wondered why his life had been spared. Why take Paul, Jason, and the boys and leave Lucas behind? Still, it made no sense to her.

  “Auntie Cath.”

  Cathy turned her head, and seeing the tears roll down her niece’s cheeks in big fat streaks, she held open her arms. “Come.” She closed her eyes tightly as Katie walked into her embrace. “It’s going to be okay,” she soothed.

  “No,” Katie’s voice shook, “no it isn’t, Auntie Cath.”

  “I know.” Cathy swallowed down the hard lump in her throat. Of course it wouldn’t be okay, nothing would ever be the same again. From across the room, she gave Donna Cassidy a weak smile.

  “What the fuck is she doing here?” Glaring at Donna, Angie’s booming voice was loud. She’d already been at the brandy and was, as usual, half cut.

  “Shut up, Mum.” Gritting her teeth, Cathy looked over her shoulder to where Angie was standing.