Patterson walked across the courtyard, Troy walking a few paces in front of her, his hands handcuffed behind his back. She motioned towards a waiting police car and Troy muttered something that Brandy couldn’t quite make out. Patterson ignored him and opened the back door for him.
Troy looked up and his eyes met Brandy’s gaze. She looked down at him and then turned away. She heard the door slam shut and knew that he was safely inside the police car now. She opened the front door and found Keskia sobbing at the kitchen table. Ignoring her, she went through to Troy’s bedroom and picked up her handbag. A bin bag filled with her clothes stood on the floor beside it. She had packed it minutes earlier, ensuring that no trace of her was left in the flat. She picked it up, surprised at how light it was, and glanced around at the room.
She had once loved being here, lying on the bed with Troy, discussing their plans for the future and badmouthing other people. She smiled at the thought of it. She had been so naïve and so needy. Any moment spent without Troy had been a waste back then.
She flicked the light off and the room went dark. She crossed the lounge, ignoring Tyrese’s weary eyes, which she knew were following her. She ignored Keskia again and let herself out of the flat, closing the front door behind her. She glanced over the balcony wall and saw the police car that Troy had been put into reversing out of the courtyard.
She walked down the balcony, feeling lighter than she had done in years. Without Troy, she felt she could breathe again. She turned the corner and began down the steps, her heels clattering on the concrete.
As she crossed the courtyard, she felt eyes on her and knew that they were Troy’s. She wondered whether he was angry or scared, sad or elated. Then she realised that she no longer cared. She continued walking without looking back.
* * *
The flat was eerily quiet now apart from Zoe’s continued sobbing and Clint walked from the room. As he reached the door, Zoe caught up with him, her hand on his arm.
“Thank you Clint,” she said, wiping her eyes. “You saved Sienna’s life. I’ll never forget it.”
Clint nodded and left the flat. There were still flashing lights and he wondered whether Troy was still here or if he’d already been driven off to the station.
He walked quickly, aware of time slipping away, and reached his own front door at a jog. He pushed it open and heard raised voices.
His mother and father were arguing in the kitchen, and they didn’t pay any attention to Clint as he went into his bedroom and closed the door behind him.
Kojo was lying on his bed, curled up and trembling.
“You all right Kojo?” Clint asked, sitting down on the edge of his bed.
Kojo shook his head.
“They always fight,” he said quietly. “I don’t like it when they fight. It’s scary.”
Clint understood. He had felt the same way when he’d been younger.
The thought of getting away from the Goldsworth suddenly seemed distant. He wanted nothing more than to leave the estate with Aurora and be a good father to his baby, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t leave Kojo and Femi alone to face Rakhul’s anger and his drinking. That would make him as bad as the social workers that never seemed able to do anything or the neighbours that saw the bruises and the black-eyes but never wanted to get involved.
Clint looked down at his little brother, shaking in his blue pyjamas. His heart was bursting. He had to make his decision. He had to decide now and he knew that no matter what he decided, somebody would be heartbroken.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Troy watched as Detective Patterson and her assistant crossed the interview room and sat down across the table from him.
Patterson leaned forward and Troy resisted the urge to punch her in her smug face. She thought she’d gotten him good and proper, but Troy knew that they had nothing.
“You’re not scared?” Patterson asked, raising an eyebrow as she observed his expression. “Most people in your position would be. Facing three murder charges.”
Troy couldn’t suppress a smile.
“You think you’re going to make anything stick?” he said. “You’ve wasted your time.”
“I think we’ll manage it just fine,” Patterson said, smiling back at him.
“Clint probably won’t even turn up in court,” Troy said. “He’s spineless, just like the rest of them. Even if he does turn up, that doesn’t prove anything.”
Patterson looked inquiringly at him.
“What makes you think that?”
“Simple, ain’t it? Clint was jealous of me. See, his girlfriend had a bit of a thing for me. He’s just told you all this because he wants me out the way. Scared I’ll get in there with his bird.”
“That’s funny, because he tells us a very different story about you and his girlfriend,” Patterson said. “Apparently, you tried to rape her.”
Troy frowned but quickly pulled himself together. As long as he kept a level head, he would be fine. Then he’d be free and he’d have some people to sort out, starting with Clint.
“That’s what she says,” Troy said, yawning as if to drive the point home. “She tried it on with me and panicked. Nothing more than that.”
“Don’t worry, Mr Banks, we won’t be charging you with attempted rape.”
“As if you’d dare.”
“There are quite enough charges for us to get a nice long sentence without adding that to the list,” Patterson said. “Now, let’s start with Shaniqua Curtis. You admit to killing her?”
“No, of course I don’t,” Troy snapped.
The room was hot and he was starting to get impatient. He just wanted to get out and start planning revenge on everybody who’d enabled this embarrassing and frustrating scenario to take place.
“It would look better if you co-operated,” Patterson said. “Could help you in court.”
“This won’t get as far as court, you moron.”
“Well, we have statements from Clint Jackson and Zoe Taylor, both stating that you stabbed Shaniqua Curtis because she disrespected your girlfriend, Brandine Mason.”
“Those two?” Troy laughed. “Fuck me, if that’s all you’ve got, I might as well go home now.”
He rose to his feet, but Patterson spoke with a stern voice that echoed around the room.
“Sit down, Mr Banks.”
Troy hesitated but sat down again, feeling his anger with Patterson mount.
“We also have a small kitchen knife,” Patterson said, placing a plastic bag on the table, in which Troy saw a knife with a black plastic handle. “With your finger prints on the handle.”
“So what?”
“There are also trace amounts of Shaniqua Curtis’ blood on the knife,” Patterson continued. “Forensics have now confirmed that the knife is the murder weapon. Care to explain?”
Troy felt his chest constrict. The knife had been found.
“Where did you get that?” Troy asked, before he could stop himself.
Patterson raised an eyebrow again.
“Recognise it do you?” she asked.
“No, don’t be thick.”
“How did your fingerprints end up on it?” Patterson persisted.
Troy shook his head, but he knew the game was up. They had the murder weapon. His finger prints and Shaniqua Curtis’ blood on the same knife. He would be going to court and he would be found guilty, he could tell now.
“How did you get the knife?” he asked, looking directly at Patterson.
She smiled.
“Brandine Mason gave it to us,” she replied. “Seems your girlfriend wasn’t too sad to see you locked up.”
“She gave it to you?” Troy asked, struggling to understand. “But she got rid of it, she told me she had.”
“She said that, yes. Turns out that she kept it hidden away in her mother’s flat, just in case.”
“In case of what?”
“She ever needed to use it, I suppose,” Patterson said. “She handed it over in return for
being kept out of the rest of the investigation.”
“And you agreed?” Troy asked, incredulous.
“Yes, we did. Now, you have been charged with the murders of -”
Troy didn’t listen as Patterson spoke. His fury subsided and he thought of Brandy. She had kept the knife and waited until she needed to use it over him. He had always known how shrewd she was, but he had never thought that she would turn against him.
With a start, he realised Patterson had risen to her feet. He stood up to and allowed her to lead him out of the interview room and down the corridor. She was quiet but he could tell that she was pleased with her collar.
Troy wished he hadn’t been such a bastard to Brandy recently. If he hadn’t, she wouldn’t have handed the knife over and he could have gotten away with it.
A few minutes later, they stopped outside a cell. Troy looked inside and felt his pulse quicken. He wouldn’t survive prison, he knew it already. He had always known it.
“In you go, Mr Banks,” Patterson said, and Troy had no choice but to step inside.
The door closed heavily behind him and he heard the bolts slide into place, barricading him in the tiny room.
A small grid opened in the door and Patterson looked in at him.
“You didn’t think I’d get you, did you?” she said, smiling. “But one thing you should remember, Banks, is that I always do. Remember that.”
She closed the grid and Troy was left in the gloomy light of the cell. He heard footsteps in the corridor outside and imagined Patterson heading off for bed. He wished he had that sort of freedom.
As he sat on the stone shelf and thin blue mat that served as his bed, Troy found himself crying. He wiped them away angrily, but it was no use. The tears came and Troy buried his face in his hands. This, he knew, would be his life for the foreseeable future.
* * *
Aurora looked around at the deserted platform and then returned her gaze to the large clock. It had been half an hour and there was no sign of Clint. She briefly allowed her mind to consider what may have delayed him, but she quickly forced them away again. She didn’t want to think the worst.
The train station was reasonably busy, but platform nine was empty apart from her. She crossed her legs and thought again about how uncomfortable the bench she was seated on was. Her travel bag stood beside her, filled with as many clothes and other items she’d been able to fit inside it. Her handbag was also filled to bursting with an assortment of items she’d deemed necessary to bring; her passport, the train tickets, her birth certificate.
She looked down at her right hand and stared at the photograph that she grasped between thumb and forefinger. The photo showed a picture of her family, before all the drama, before they’d fallen apart into misery and desperation. Her smiling father, before he died, and her waving mother, cheerful before she’d succumbed to alcohol and drugs, and Shaniqua, clutching Aurora to her side, before Troy had ended her life.
Now that she knew the truth of Shaniqua’s death Aurora felt clearheaded. It was as if a thick mist within her mind had lifted now and she could focus on the future. Shaniqua’s killer would be punished, she was sure of it, and she and Clint would live happily ever after.
Looking at the photo, she felt a stab of guilt. She had not had a chance to say goodbye to her mother. She hadn’t come home from the pub, even though Aurora had rung her mobile and asked her to come home urgently.
Still, Marlena was safer without Aurora around. At least from any retribution from the Banks brothers. She was still a danger to herself, but Aurora had accepted that Marlena was beyond help. She couldn’t bare standing by and watching her mother slip further into depression and drugs, misery and squalor.
She would phone her when they reached a new destination and let her know she was all right. Maybe, Aurora hoped, Marlena would begin to improve when she didn’t have Aurora around constantly watching her and berating her for drinking so much.
Footsteps echoed along the platform and Aurora looked up hopefully. It wasn’t Clint. She was beginning to feel the first real lickings of fear now. Troy was violent, he was capable of murder, and she wondered if Clint had become Troy’s fourth victim.
There was a noise and the train conductor announced over the loudspeakers that the train at platform nine was now ready for boarding. Aurora remained sitting, scanning the platform again.
She hesitated and stood up. She put the photograph of her family into her coat pocket. There were raised voices coming from the stairs and Clint ran round the corner, dragging his younger brother, Kojo, by the hand. They were both carrying sports bags over their shoulders, and a security guard pounded after them. Aurora squealed and ran forwards, forgetting about her luggage.
Clint was smiling triumphantly and pulled her into a tight embrace, swinging her around, her feet momentarily leaving the floor. Kojo clapped as he watched them with a smile.
“You made it,” Aurora said, kissing Clint. “I thought for a minute that -”
“I’ll never make you wait again,” Clint said, kissing her back.
The security guard caught up with them and scowled at them.
“You don’t have tickets, you ain’t allowed to be here,” he grunted.
Aurora pulled out the two tickets she had bought and the ticket inspector examined them.
“What about him?” he asked, gesturing towards Kojo.
“He’s coming with us,” Clint said, glancing at Aurora apprehensively.
“He’ll need a ticket then.”
“I’ll pay,” Aurora said, and handed the man some money. He sighed and handed her a third ticket.
Clint looked at her and she nodded, silently letting him know that she understood why he couldn’t leave Kojo behind and that she was happy to have him with them.
Aurora led the way back to the train, grabbing her own luggage on the way, and they boarded. They walked down compartments and found four seats facing each other around a small plastic table.
They stowed their luggage and they all sat down. Aurora felt butterflies in her stomach and all her previous doubts melted away. She knew that she was doing the right thing now.
A few minutes later, the train pulled away from the station and Kojo drifted off to sleep. Aurora folded up her coat and placed it under his head like a pillow. Clint smiled at her, grateful to her. They looked at each other, silent, for a few long moments.
Clint reached out and touched her face, then her stomach.
Aurora smiled, “This is the start of the rest of our lives.”
“I love you so much,” Clint said. His face was a picture of happiness.
Aurora looked out of the window and watched the London cityscape transform into darkness, which she knew hid fields and farmyards. Clint grunted as he fell into a gentle sleep. Aurora turned from the window and looked down at Clint and Kojo, her two boys. She felt her stomach and couldn’t help but feel that, no matter what life dealt them, they could survive it. They had survived so much already that anything else would be easy.
BABYFATHER
BOOK 2
CHAPTER ONE
The door slammed, rattling the flimsy frame. Footsteps came down the hallway, the door to the kitchen flew open and a large black woman with a menacing look on her face appeared.
Charley Brunns looked up at her mother and knew that she had been found out. Although she was now fifteen years old, she still found her mother to be a formidable woman. Toni was a force to be reckoned with; what she lacked in height she made up for in mass, her voice loud and deep. Charley, on the other hand, was taller than her mother, prettier and slimmer.
She remained frozen in her seat, looking at her mother standing at the door, blocking any escape.
They were both silent, the only noise coming from the rattling old fan on the ceiling and the small moths flapping their wings as they floated around the light bulb that flickered intermittently. Outside, the darkness was broken by the lights of other high-rise blocks of flats around th
e Goldsworth Estate. After a few moments, Toni broke the silence.
“You’re still awake then?”
“Yeah.” Charley thought about the unusual question. It was a way to break the tension, ready for the conversation that would follow. It was unlike her mother, almost unheard of even, to be indirect in her approach. She knows, she thought, and felt her stomach constrict.
“I’ve just been talking to Leigh-Ann’s mother.”
“Really? How is she?” Charley asked.
Surely Leigh-Ann wouldn’t have betrayed her trust? They had been best friends since the start of school.
“She’s fine. She told me something interesting though.”
This was it.
“Oh. What was it?” she asked, trying to keep her voice level.
“Apparently she found a note you wrote to Leigh-Ann in class. She showed it to me,” Toni answered, her voice unnervingly normal. “She thinks that it sounds like you might be pregnant.”
“Pregnant?”
“So is it true?”
It was now that Charley saw the panic behind her mother’s eyes, awaiting her reply.
“Mum, please.”
“I take it that means yes?” Toni asked slowly, shaking her head, already knowing.
“Yeah.”
“How far along?”
“I don’t know.”
“And the dad?” Toni asked, “Bolton?”
“Yeah.”
Now Toni’s face contorted with outrage. She had never liked her daughter spending time with Bolton, she thought he was a bad influence. She’d lectured Charley for hours about how much better she could do and how she would soon grow out of her attraction to him. That Bolton and his friends were bad people. They caused problems all around the estate and that she should find herself a future lawyer, not a future convict. It was too late, Charley had always known, but she had suffered through the lectures, nodding her head absentmindedly. She loved Bolton and he loved her.
Charley was torn from her thoughts when Toni landed a heavy fist on the table, making her jump and the table groan in protest. Charley had wondered how long it would take her mother to explode with rage, and the moment had arrived.
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