The Goldsworth Series Box Set

by Davie J Toothill

  “They’re nice!” Jessie protested. “Corey is sweet and funny, and he’s -”

  “Dead,” Tyrese interrupted. “I’m going to kill him with my bare hands.”

  “No, you can’t,” Jessie said. “You don’t understand. He’s my boyfriend.”

  Troy watched as Tyrese’s eyes bulged angrily. Troy clenched his fists, the guilt he’d been feeling minutes before replaced with a burning anger.

  “Right, that’s even more reason to pay him a visit,” Tyrese said, pushing Jessie forcefully out of the way.

  Keskia cried out and began sobbing and Troy jumped to his feet.

  “I want to come too,” he said.

  Tyrese surveyed him for a moment and nodded.

  “No,” Jessie continued. “You don’t get it. I’m pregnant.”

  Her words rung out in the room and even Keskia’s sobbing stopped as they all looked at Jessie. Troy felt his anger mounting and was sure his brother was feeling the same, but when Tyrese spoke his voice was surprisingly quiet.

  “Pregnant?” he repeated. “And it’s Corey’s?”

  “Yeah,” Jessie replied. “And we love each other.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, it’s not some stupid way of pissing people off,” Jessie said earnestly. “We love each other. We couldn’t help it.”

  Tyrese looked at his sister’s face, the tears on her cheeks, and sighed heavily.

  “Okay,” he said. “We’ll have to meet him, sort some stuff out, but this changes things.”

  Troy couldn’t believe his ears.

  “Are you serious?” he stammered, looking from Jessie to Tyrese. “He fucking put Trent in hospital, and we ain’t getting him back?”

  “You put him in prison,” Tyrese said. “But I haven’t broken your legs, have I?”

  “But, he deserves it.”

  “Oh shut up,” Jessie snapped. “You’ve done more damage than anyone else, so you’re hardly one to talk about deserving punishment.”

  Troy’s anger flashed so suddenly he thought he’d been electrocuted. Jessie was disrespecting him as if he was a piece of shit on her shoe. He’d proven himself far more than Corey had, yet she was acting as if Corey were a God and Troy just a peasant.

  Jessie’s smug look of satisfaction was the final straw. Troy crossed the room in two swift strides and delivered a blow across her face, sending her flying back against the wall. Keskia screamed and Tyrese lunged forward, knocking Troy backwards.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Tyrese shouted, pushing Troy backwards again.

  Troy was shaking with anger but he knew he couldn’t hope to win in a fight against his brother. He looked round his shoulders and saw Keskia crying again, an arm around Jessie’s shoulders. Jessie was looking at him with a mixture of hatred and pity, her hand rubbing her jaw.

  “You fucking deserved it,” Troy shouted at her, trying to side-step Tyrese. “Fucking slag, sleeping with a Healy.”

  “Cool it,” Tyrese said warningly, keeping a grip on Troy’s arm.

  “I want you out,” Keskia said suddenly, crossing the room to face Troy. “I don’t want you staying here anymore.”

  “What?” Troy asked, caught off guard. “What the fuck you on?”

  “I know what you’ve been doing,” she said. “I know about Shaniqua Curtis, and the other two. I know all about them, Troy.”

  Troy looked incredulously at his mother, but then he suddenly understood. He had wondered why his mother was acting differently around him over the past few weeks, and this explained it. The cold looks and the lack of her usual loving adoration. She had known all along.

  “So what?” Troy replied. “You can’t kick me out.”

  “Can’t I? I’ve put up with enough from you. From you all. But this is the final straw. Innocent people dying, because of you. You’re selfish and rude, you’re arrogant and you have no idea that what you’re doing is wrong. I can’t take it anymore. I can’t have you around here, risking my family. You’ll have to go.”

  “Fuck off,” Troy laughed. “You don’t mean that.”

  “Yes I do.”

  Troy looked in his mother’s face and realised that she was serious. This wasn’t an idle threat or an angry rant. She was deadly serious. She wanted him out.

  “Fine, I’ll go,” he snapped. “Fuck you all.”

  He pulled himself out of Troy’s grip and crossed the room, sneering at his mother and Jessie as he passed them. In the kitchen, he briefly wondered whether he should go to his room and collect some of his belongings, but decided against it. He could come and collect them another time.

  Something caught his eye on the counter. A bag of cocaine, left over from the party no doubt. He pocketed it and threw the front door open. He turned and saw Keskia, Tyrese and Jessie watching him from the doorway. Their faces were stern, unreadable, but he knew that there was no trace of regret on them.

  Troy slammed the door shut as hard as he could and set off across the estate.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Troy knocked on the door and felt his temper rising once more. The short walk across the estate had momentarily calmed him, the cool air numbing his mind. Now, though, standing at Brandy’s front door, he fought the urge to kick down the door. What was taking so long for her to answer?

  The door opened and Brandy appeared, illuminated by the hallway light behind her. She was wearing a skimpy dressing gown over her underwear, her soft skin visible, but Troy wasn’t in the mood and pushed past her into the flat.

  “What’s wrong?” Brandy asked, closing the door and following Troy down the corridor and into her bedroom.

  Troy ignored her and sat down on the bed, the mattress springs creaking annoyingly. Brandy lit a cigarette and opened the bedroom window, eyeing him with concern.

  “You sure everything’s okay?” she asked, blowing smoke out the window.

  Troy didn’t answer but pulled the bag of cocaine out of his pocket and dropped it onto the duvet beside him. He fumbled in his pockets for a note and found a crumpled fiver. He rolled it up and crossed to the small desk in the corner of the small room.

  “Where did you get that?” Brandy asked.

  “Does it matter?” Troy snapped.

  Brandy bristled but kept quiet, and Troy was relieved. The last thing he needed was for Brandy to start giving him shit on top of everything else. He shook some of the fine white powder out onto the desk and split them into narrow lines. He put the rolled-up fiver to his nose and snorted three lines, one after the other.

  He leant back on the small swivel chair and felt slightly calmer.

  “So are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Brandy asked, crossing the room and snorting a line herself. “I guess you’ve fallen out with someone. Was it Clint?”

  “No,” Troy replied. “I got kicked out.”

  “By your mum?” Brandy asked, surprised. “Why?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  He didn’t want to have to explain the evening’s events to her. It would just get him worked up again and he knew he’d do something he’d regret.

  He tipped more cocaine out and snorted a few more lines, aware of Brandy watching him closely.

  “So you want to stay here tonight?” she asked.

  Troy nodded, and Brandy smiled.

  “My mum’s gone out for the night,” she told him. “She probably won’t be back for a few days, so you can stay as long as you want.”

  She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him lightly on the top of his head. Troy shrugged her off him and tipped some more cocaine out onto the desk. He wasn’t in the mood for Brandy’s clinginess, not now.

  “Haven’t you had enough for now?” Brandy asked.

  “No way,” Troy replied.

  He snorted three more lines and felt the drug course through his body. He was already feeling better than he had before he’d arrived. Brandy was eyeing him carefully, and Troy resisted the urge to hit her. Maybe, he thought, it had bee
n a mistake to come here.

  “Why don’t we watch a film?” Brandy suggested.

  Troy shook his head and tipped more cocaine out. Brandy was looking apprehensive now.

  “Wait a bit,” she said. “You don’t have to do it all now. You can do some more later.”

  Troy ignored her again and snorted one line. Then another.

  “Troy, what’s going on?” Brandy said, exasperated.

  “Mind your own fucking business.”

  He snorted the last two lines and sat back, trying to block out Brandy, with her arms crossed against her chest, an angry look on her face.

  “The least you can do is tell me what’s going on,” she said. “After all, you are staying here.”

  Troy was feeling the buzz of the drugs properly now and he looked witheringly at Brandy. He knew that it had been a mistake to come to her flat. She was just going to nag him all night until she either fell asleep or he hit her.

  He rose to his feet and Brandy looked at him expectantly.

  “Film then?” she asked.

  “I’m out of here,” Troy said, heading for the door, grabbing the half-full bag of cocaine and shoving it into his pocket as he went.

  Brandy followed him down the corridor to the front door, demanding answers.

  “You’ve only just got here,” she protested. “Where else are you going to go?”

  Troy continued to ignore her, pretending her voice was the buzz of a particularly annoying bee and nothing more. He opened the front door and stepped out into the fresh air. Brandy was still talking but Troy walked away without looking back at her, and a few moments later he heard the door slam shut.

  He crossed the estate and realised he had already decided where he was going. There was only one thing that could fully satisfy him now. Only one person whose touch could lift his mood. He was going to see Aurora. The time had come for her to give herself up to him. He wanted her badly now and he knew that he would get her.

  * * *

  The night was cool and Aurora was grateful that Clint’s arm was wrapped around her shoulders, protecting her from the harsh breeze that whipped across the Goldsworth.

  “We could call him Jack,” Clint suggested. “Jack Jackson, got a ring to it, don’t you think?”

  Aurora laughed and shook her head.

  “I still don’t see why you’re so convinced it’s going to be a boy,” she said. “I think it’s going to be a girl.”

  “Nah, you’re carrying a future football star, I can feel it.”

  Aurora laughed again and found her heart soaring. She had never been this happy. She had spent the whole day with Clint after telling him about the pregnancy and when his parents had returned, they had taken their leave and had spent the short walk to Aurora’s front door discussing possible baby names.

  “I still think Amelia would be a nice name,” Aurora said, but Clint pulled a face and they both laughed again.

  As they turned a corner and began climbing the steps, a poster flapped in the wind. It was pinned up on the concrete wall, but half had come detached and was flapping loudly in the wind. Clint lifted it to see it better and quickly took an intake of breath.

  Aurora sighed. It was a poster advertising for information on Shaniqua’s murder. She had struggled to walk past them when they’d first been put up but now they came as a surprise whenever she saw one.

  “You all right?” Clint asked, pulling her against him as they continued up the steps.

  “Yeah,” Aurora said. “I guess I’ve gotten used to it now. Her not being around.”

  Clint nodded but remained quiet.

  Aurora continued, “I would have thought they’d had more success. The posters, I mean. There’s a financial reward and everything.”

  “Yeah, but maybe nobody saw anything,” Clint said, a strange tone to his voice.

  Aurora looked inquiringly at him.

  “But somebody must’ve, I mean it’s the Goldsworth.”

  “Maybe,” Clint said, clearly uncomfortable.

  “Sorry,” Aurora sighed. “I keep forgetting how morbid it must be for you, hearing me go on about stuff like this.”

  Clint shushed her, “Don’t be silly. You’ve got every right.”

  “Still, we should be celebrating right now, not being sad,” Aurora said, smiling and hugging Clint closer. “We’ve got the future to look to now. I can’t keep looking back all the time.”

  They had reached the top of the stairs now and Clint walked apprehensively forwards, but Aurora smiled again.

  “I already told you, mum knows everything,” she said, tugging on Clint’s arm, pulling him right to her front door. “And she’s just got to deal with it now.”

  Clint smiled and kissed her tenderly on the lips.

  He waved goodbye and Aurora watched him disappear into the darkness. When he’d gone, Aurora fumbled in her bag for her keys and let herself into the dark flat.

  * * *

  Tyrese looked down at his sister and wondered, for the first time, how he had not noticed such changes in her. She had grown-up in a matter of months and he hadn’t realised. He hadn’t been paying attention and now she was beyond his reach.

  “I told you, I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I can’t say it anymore.”

  Jessie surveyed him for a moment, clearly unimpressed.

  “You keep saying that,” she said. “But it never changes anything.”

  “Look, I’ve already said that I’ll go and see him tomorrow. We’ll make arrangements, or whatever. Everything will get sorted, I promise.”

  “A promise from you? That doesn’t mean much,” she snorted.

  The kitchen was bright and Tyrese felt his eyes begin to ache. He was tired. Tonight had drained him, not just physically but mentally. Yet Jessie was still demanding his time. He turned to look at his mother, who was sat on a wooden chair, watching their disagreement, looking worn out and on the verge of tears again.

  “What else do you want me to do?” Tyrese sighed. “That’s all we can do. Try and make things right.”

  “Don’t you think that it’s a bit late?”

  “Not if Corey and Jayden are willing to listen. Maybe we can make some deals, make sure everyone’s happy. Then there’ll be no more problems. No more fighting.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Jessie said. “It’s all gone too far. I’ve got to leave.”

  “Don’t be stupid. Where are you going to go?”

  “I’m going to get Corey, get on a train and get out of here. That’s what I’m going to do.”

  “Now you’re just being crazy.”

  “You have a better idea?”

  “Stay here and let me sort everything out.”

  “No, I know what your idea of sorting stuff out is, thanks.”

  Jessie’s face was set and Tyrese felt, for the first time in his life, helpless.

  “Why don’t you sleep on it?” Keskia said weakly.

  Jessie turned to her mother, her face resolute.

  “I’m sorry mum,” she said. “But I’ve got to do this. I’m having a baby. I don’t want to be a single mum. I want Corey to be there, and that can’t happen if we stay here.”

  “Why not?” Tyrese interrupted. “If we can all sit down and talk, we can sort things out.”

  “Really?” Jessie said, voice raised. “After you’ve worked your way through half their friends, killing and crippling them? I don’t think so.”

  “Just give me a chance.”

  “It’s too late,” Jessie said.

  She picked up her small suitcase and stepped around him to the front door. Tyrese was reminded of Mercy and quickly pushed the painful thoughts from his mind. Keskia was on her feet, sobbing as she pulled Jessie into a tight embrace.

  “I wish you didn’t have to do this,” she sobbed. “I wish you could just stay.”

  “I wish there was another way too,” Jessie said. “But there isn’t.”

  She kissed her mum on the cheek and turned to Tyrese.
Her eyes were moist and she was clearly working hard to keep herself composed.

  “Bye, Tyrese,” she said.

  Tyrese had expected a hug, tears, but there were none. Jessie opened the door, blew a kiss to Keskia, and then stepped outside. The door closed behind her and she was gone.

  Tyrese stared at the front door for a few minutes, hoping for her to return, but he knew that it was just wishful thinking. Keskia rose to her feet and wiped her eyes.

  “I’m sorry, mum,” Tyrese said, catching her arm as she headed for her bedroom.

  Keskia turned to face him and Tyrese was surprised to see her lip curled in disgust.

  She drew back her arm and slapped him hard across the face. Tyrese’s cheek stung where her hand had struck and he was shocked. He had never seen her mother use violence on anyone, let alone her favourite son.

  “It’s too late for apologies,” she said, her voice shaking but determined. “I hold you responsible for this. For everything. Jessie, Trent, Troy. You’re the oldest and you’ve set a bad example to them all. You’ve dragged them all down into the gutter with you.”

  “What -” Tyrese began, but Keskia cut across him again.

  “I hope you’re proud of yourself,” she said. “You’ve single-handedly destroyed this family.”

  With that, she went into her bedroom and closed her door firmly behind her. Tyrese stood in the empty kitchen and felt tears sting at the corners of his eyes.

  * * *

  Clint closed his front door, careful not to let it slam shut in case it woke up Rakhul. He crept down the hallway, his trainers muffled by the threadbare carpet. The kitchen light was on and he poked his head around the door.

  His mother stood at the counter, her back facing him, and he could tell that she was crying. Her shoulders shook gently and her hands were over her face.

  “Mum?”

  He was careful to keep his voice low as he went to his mother’s side.

  “Oh, I thought I heard you come in,” Femi said, trying to keep her voice light.

  “I thought you’d be in bed by now,” Clint said.