The Goldsworth Series Box Set

by Davie J Toothill

  She wondered whether her sister had made it up, but then she remembered that Leigh-Ann had indicated that Bolton had moved on, when they had spoken briefly the day before. Now the heartburn started in earnest, and tears welled up in Charley’s eyes. She rubbed her chest and sipped her glass of water, but nothing would ease the pain.

  * * *

  Outside the flats, Torey lit a cigarette and wondered if she had overstepped the line in telling Charley that Bolton had found a new girlfriend. She wasn’t even completely sure the rumours were true, but she’d heard the news from several people, and it had seemed true. Still, she felt guilty, remembering the shocked look on Charley’s face when she’d delivered her parting blow.

  Taking a deep drag on her fag, Torey shrugged off her doubts. She would have found out soon enough, and it was better for her to be prepared than taken completely unawares in front of someone else.

  She strutted down the street and smiled when a car beeped. She was pleased that she was getting attention. Whatever she had said to Charley, she had started to think that Devon wasn’t interested in her at all. Since they’d had sex, he had blanked her at school and ignored her calls and texts. Then she’d overheard him joking around with his mates about her, and Torey had blushed furiously and stormed past them. He hadn’t even bothered to apologize for that, and Torey felt the burn of humiliation every time she thought about how much she had liked him.

  Now, though, she had more important matters on her mind. Her stomach fluttered and she groaned and inhaled more deeply on her cigarette.

  She had missed her monthly and she was normally as regular as clockwork. It had her worried and having Charley sharing her room was a constant reminder of what her future might hold. The thought of having a baby was disgusting to her. She wasn’t even sure if she wanted children when she was older, let alone now, when she still had so much ahead of her.

  As she reached the pub, she crossed her fingers and prayed that she wasn’t pregnant, because if she was, she thought, her life was over. Her mother would see to that.

  * * *

  Bolton walked into Dante’s bedroom and was surprised to see his friend watching cartoons on a brand new flat screen television. He wondered how his friend could afford such luxuries, whilst also spending a small fortune on drugs and alcohol.

  “You all right mate?” Dante asked, stubbing out his joint.

  Bolton nodded.

  “Yeah, I’ve just been to see Uncle Jasper,” he replied. Dante sat up straighter, curiosity aroused. “He’s still pissed about the missing money.”

  “God, it’s been weeks now, can’t he just drop it?” Dante groaned, and Bolton was surprised by his words. Dante normally agreed with anything Uncle Jasper said. “It’s not like he’s hurting for cash, is it? You’d think a couple grand would be like pennies to him.”

  Bolton sat down at the end of the bed and scrutinized his friend. There had been definite changes in him and it made him suspicious.

  “It’s not really about the money, though. More about the fact someone’s had him over, and I guess we can’t really blame him.”

  Dante eyed him, frowning.

  “He needs to get over it, if you ask me.”

  “I’d like to see you tell Uncle Jasper that,” Bolton laughed. Dante’s face paled and he looked alarmed.

  “I didn’t mean it like that, I –”

  Bolton grinned.

  “Don’t worry, mate, I won’t say anything.”

  Dante looked relieved and leant back against the pillows.

  “I heard some news about you,” he said, glancing at Bolton. “Word has it you found yourself a new piece of skirt. Good on you, it’s about time you got over Charley.”

  Bolton sighed.

  He wasn’t sure where the rumours had started but he could guess. He had slept with a girl, sure, but that was as far as it went. He supposed someone had seen them together and told anyone who would listen. He wondered if Charley had heard the rumours and felt bad. He didn’t want her to think he had moved on so fast, but then again, he knew that she didn’t want him anymore. It had been evident when they’d had their fight, the way she had pulled away from him in disgust. No, he would have to move on from her one day.

  As if reading his thoughts, Dante shook his head.

  “Don’t go feeling bad because of that slag. She doesn’t want you, so she can’t expect you to wait around in case she changes her mind. Just bung her a few quid when the kid comes along, then be done with it. You’re well shot if you ask me.”

  “It ain’t that easy mate,” Bolton said.

  “You know what you need? A piss-up. Take your mind off things.”

  Bolton shrugged.

  “I guess it couldn’t hurt.”

  Dante grinned. He grabbed his phone off the bedside cabinet and flicked through it.

  “I’ll call some people, get a party going,” he said, lighting another joint. “Make it a proper mental one. And I’ll get some real decent gear for us. That should liven you up.”

  * * *

  A few hours later, Bolton was feeling the buzz from vodka, beer, several joints and a couple of fat lines of cocaine. Dante had called as many people as he could think of and now the house was heaving, the loud music shaking the walls, drowning out the laughter and singing from the party-goers.

  As he walked through the house, Bolton saw Sapphire flirting with a guy in a suit, and winked in her direction. Sapphire gave him a half-smile and returned her gaze to the man beside her. Dante was ensconced on the sofa with two blondes in his lap, his hands caressing their bums and his grin wide as they whispered into his ears.

  Bolton suppressed a smile. However much his mate had changed, he realised that some things never did. The thought made him feel reassured.

  Deciding he wanted another line, he made his way upstairs and let himself into Dante’s bedroom. The room was empty and he was glad. The party was fun, but he had quickly realised that he wasn’t really in the mood. His thoughts kept turning to Charley and whether she was missing him as much as he was missing her.

  He looked on the bedside cabinet but there was no sign of the bag of powder. He rummaged through the draw and the desk, wondering where Dante may have hidden it. One thing that definitely hadn’t changed was the fact that Dante didn’t like to share his gear, except with Bolton, or with girls he thought he had a chance with.

  Opening the closet door, Bolton saw a cardboard box at the bottom, half-concealed by a parka. He moved the parka and flipped open the box. Perhaps he had hidden it in here.

  As he looked into the box, he froze.

  The blow wasn’t in there. It was full of money, stacked and sorted, and he knew exactly where the money had come from. It was Uncle Jasper’s missing money.

  He heard the bedroom door open behind him and spun around.

  Dante stood there. He looked from Bolton to the open box and back again, grimacing.

  “I guess you found me out,” he said, shaking his head. His voice was quiet, calm, menacing. “Damn.”

  He stepped further into the room and closed the door behind him.

  Bolton felt a shiver of fear down his spine.

  * * *

  Charley, sat at the table in her mother’s kitchen, glaring at Toni in frustration.

  “You can’t stop me seeing my dad,” she insisted.

  Toni stopped mopping the floor and turned to face her, leaning against the mop.

  “I put up with it before because I had no choice. Now that you’re living under my roof, you’ll abide by my rules.”

  “This is so unfair,” Charley cried out. “He’s my dad.”

  “I won’t hear any more about this. Now go to your room.”

  Charley opened her mouth to protest, but the look on her mother’s face was dangerous and she daren’t risk angering her any more than she already had done. She had received a call from Nathaniel, wanting to meet up for a coffee and catch-up. Charley had been excited. It had become a fortnightly ritual
, but now it seemed Toni was determined to put an end to it.

  Reluctantly, Charley rose from the table and tread carefully across the wet kitchen floor to the landing.

  “It’s for your own good,” Toni said, in a low voice.

  Charley rolled her eyes, her back to her mother.

  “Yeah, whatever.”

  She went down the corridor and into her bedroom, settling herself down on her bed. Torey lay on her own bed, flicking through a magazine and didn’t look up.

  “I guess you’re not allowed to see him,” Torey said. Charley glanced at her. “That must suck.”

  “Yeah,” Charley admitted. “But just because she says I can’t see him, doesn’t mean I have to listen to her.”

  Torey looked at her over the top of her magazine.

  “She’ll skin you alive if she finds out.”

  Charley shrugged.

  “She’s not going to stop me seeing the only one who actually gives a shit about me,” Charley said, surprised by the conviction of her own words. “She can bloody do one.”

  Torey raised an eyebrow. They sat in silence for a few minutes. Charley was debating how she could meet Nathaniel without her mother finding out. She decided the best thing to do would be to pretend she was going to see Leigh-Ann, and hope that Leigh-Ann’s mother and Torey kept their mouths shut. That was the best hope she had of seeing him again.

  When Torey went to the bathroom, Charley tried to ring her father. The call didn’t connect and Charley realised she had run out of credit. Just what she needed.

  She thought of Torey’s mobile, sitting unused in her handbag. Torey was out of the room. She would only need it for a few seconds to send a text to her father, asking him to call her back on her own phone. Torey would never know, and Charley would be forewarned when she heard the toilet flush.

  Moving quickly, she got off her bed and fumbled in Torey’s handbag for her phone. A paper bag was taking up most of the bag, so she pulled it out and discarded it on the bed. Her fingers closed around the phone, but Charley stopped.

  Her eyes fell on the paper bag lying on the duvet. The contents had come out of the bag. At that moment, the toilet flushed and before Charley could move, Torey came through the door. She froze at the scene.

  “What the fuck are you doing going through my stuff?” she said angrily, stepping forward and snatching everything out of Charley’s grasp. “Get some fucking respect.”

  Charley remained standing, looking at her sister closely. Torey was throwing everything back into her bag, including the paper bag and the thin box it contained.

  Charley grabbed her sister’s shoulders and swung her round so they were face to face.

  Her voice was low but the anger and concern were evident, even to Torey.

  “And just what the fuck are you doing with a pregnancy test?”

  * * *

  In the kitchen, Toni continued mopping the floor, feeling as though her life was getting out of control. She liked things to be clean and orderly, and now that Nathaniel was back, things were getting messy.

  She had not wanted Charley to meet her father in the first place, but her daughter had done what she wanted, as usual. Then when Charley had moved, Toni had been unable to track their visits, and she knew that Charley was slipping out of her grasp and that Nathaniel was becoming an important part of her life. It had to stop.

  Now that Charley was living with her again, Toni thought she would have been able to exert more control over her daughter, but tonight had proved that she was mistaken.

  Though she had forbidden any further contact, Toni knew that Charley was too strong-willed for her own good and would try and find another way to remain in contact with her father.

  He was a dangerous man, Toni reminded herself. He had destroyed lives, even ended them. Yes, she thought. Her daughter would be far better off without him. Now she just needed to find a way to make sure they never saw each other again.

  * * *

  Bolton stood his ground in front of the closet as Dante took a step forward, turning the key in the bedroom door, locking them in.

  “Don’t want anyone disturbing us, do we?” Dante said, catching Bolton eyeing his movement.

  “That’s Uncle Jasper’s money,” Bolton said, a statement more than a question.

  Dante smiled, but Bolton noticed it didn’t reach his eyes. They were cold and blank. His friend was too high, or perhaps he had always been like that, and Bolton had just never realised before now.

  “Well done,” Dante sniggered, clapping his hands together.

  “Why’d you steal it?”

  “Steal it?” Dante repeated, letting a small laugh escape from between his lips. He had stopped walking, standing by the bedside cabinet, still blocking Bolton’s way to the door. “Hah, you can’t steal what’s already been stolen.”

  Bolton groaned.

  “Fine, why did you have to take it?” he asked.

  “I wanted it, so I took it,” Dante shrugged.

  He was being so blasé about this, and Bolton wondered if he had been on drugs when he had stolen it.

  “You know Uncle Jasper will kill you if he finds out about this.”

  “But he won’t, mate,” Dante said, one of his hands hovering over the bedside cabinet, and Bolton glanced down. There was a small blade lying on the surface, which they used for cutting blocks of weed. Dante caught him looking and smiled widely, “Not unless you tell him.”

  “I wouldn’t do that,” Bolton said quickly.

  Dante smiled wider.

  “So what’s the problem then?” he asked.

  Bolton kept one eye on the blade as he looked at his best mate.

  “You risked your life for a couple of grand,” he said, shaking his head. He wanted to help Dante, but his friend didn’t seem interested. He was still smiling, a manic look in his eyes that disturbed him. “What’s gotten into you?”

  Dante’s arm twitched and Bolton’s breath caught in his chest, but Dante was just pulling a fag out of his jeans pocket. He lit it and blew smoke across the room, seemingly debating his answer.

  “It’s the way life is,” he said, flicking ash on the floor. “You got to do what you got to do to stay in the game.”

  “You don’t half come out with some shit sometimes mate,” Bolton said, shaking his head. “You had no right to take that money.”

  Dante took a step forward, his eyes wide. Close up, they were bloodshot.

  “You going to lecture me about right and wrong?” he hissed, his lips barely moving as he spoke. “You killed a man, Bolton, don’t forget that.”

  “And you helped.”

  Dante wagged his finger at him, shaking his head and licking his lips.

  “I might have given him a good going over, but you dealt the final blow,” Dante said in his quiet, threatening tone. “You fucking ripped half his brain out and threw it across the room.”

  He laughed at his own words, flecks of spit flying from his mouth. Bolton wanted to step backwards, away from him, but he knew that any movement he made would be noticed. His words, far from amusing him, made Bolton feel sick. He still pictured Ritchie’s death and tried not to think about it.

  “Am I making you feel sick?” Dante said, still smiling. “Poor Bolton, can’t handle a bit of blood. Fuck knows what Uncle Jasper sees in you, mate.”

  “At least he can trust me,” Bolton retorted, pulling himself together. “You wonder why he don’t respect you, when you go steal his money first chance you get?”

  Dante’s smile vanished.

  “Yeah, but he doesn’t know about that does he,” Dante said angrily. “Nah, you’ve always been his favourite, right from the start.”

  He said this with a disgruntled look at Bolton, his jealousy obvious.

  “That’s not my fault,” Bolton said.

  “I don’t blame you, it’s his problem if he’s got shit for brains,” Dante said, still bitter. He turned on Bolton, eyes flashing angrily. “But you never put in a g
ood word for me, did you?”

  “I tried –”

  “Like hell you did,” Dante cut across him. “You enjoyed making me drive you round didn’t you? You liked thinking you were more important than me. That I was some dumbass driver and you was the fucking bee’s knees.”

  Bolton sighed.

  “You know I never thought that –”

  But Dante wasn’t listening, too fuelled up with self-righteous anger.

  “Proved you wrong though, didn’t I?” he continued, as if Bolton hadn’t spoken. “Both of you. You both thought I was just some dumb kid, but whose laughing now? I’m the one with a big stack of notes in my closet.”

  Bolton made a decision. He had to put a stop to this. His friend wasn’t himself right now and he would understand, soon enough, why he had to do what he had to do.

  “I’m taking it back to Uncle Jasper.”

  Bolton’s voice was low but Dante’s eyes snapped to his as if he had shouted. As Bolton reached down and to pick up the box, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye and realised he had forgotten the blade. Dante stood between him and the door, the knife held tightly in his hand, pointed at Bolton.

  “Fuck off,” Dante said, waving the knife at him. “You ain’t touching it.”

  Bolton shook his head. He didn’t know what had happened to his friend, because the Dante he had cared about was no longer in the room.

  “You’ll have to kill me if you want to stop me,” Bolton said, surprised at the confidence in his own voice. Inside, he was shaking with fear. “Because if you don’t let me walk out this house with that box, I’ll tell Uncle Jasper everything.”

  Dante eyed him with caution now. He had thought the sight of the knife would make Bolton back down, but it hadn’t.

  “You wouldn’t grass me up,” Dante said, and Bolton was pleased to hear the nervousness in his voice.

  “I’m doing this for your own good,” Bolton said. “I’m saving you from yourself.”

  Dante held the knife, pointed at Bolton, but was quiet. His mind was reeling. His plan had not gone as he had expected. Maybe, he thought, Bolton had more balls than he’d given him credit for. And he knew that if Uncle Jasper found out what he’d done, he would be dead. He remembered Ritchie and how he had died, and knew he didn’t want to go the same way.