The Goldsworth Series Box Set

by Davie J Toothill

  “Yes,” Bolton said.

  Uncle Jasper considered him for a long few moments, as if sizing him up, his eyes narrowed slightly.

  “Excellent,” he said, resuming his normal tone. “You may leave.”

  Bolton thanked him and left the flat. He felt unnerved after the meeting. He knew that there must have been more to the exchange than what had been said, for he knew that Uncle Jasper did not invite all his employees into his office for a quick catch-up. There was something going on, and Bolton wondered again whether it had anything to do with the stolen money. He shook his head, savouring the cold air as he stepped outside the building. His secret was safe, as long as he and Dante kept quiet and their heads down.

  His phone started to ring and he answered without checking the caller. He was surprised to hear Toni’s voice, breathless and worried.

  “What’s going on?” Bolton asked, feeling his heart rate quicken again. “Is it Charley?”

  He heard Toni take a deep breath down the line.

  “She’s having the baby,” she said. “You’ve got to get here.”

  * * *

  Charley lay on the bed, her legs wide, her knees apart and bent, face screwed up in pain. She squeezed a nurse’s hand tightly, whilst another mopped her forehead with a damp cloth. She murmured encouragement and reassurance, as the gloved doctor shouted instructions.

  It seemed as if she had been in labour for days, but it had only been a few hours. She wanted desperately to go home, for the pain to stop, but she knew that this was not something that could be rushed. The baby would come out when it was ready and not before. Her mother had disappeared hours ago, and Torey popped in and out, seemingly not comprehending what she was going through.

  “You’re doing great,” the nurse said in her ear.

  “Where the hell is Bolton? And mum?” Charley cried out, trying to control her breathing in the way the nurse had shown her.

  The doctor’s head appeared from between her legs.

  “Right, Charley, it’s time for you to start pushing,” he said, his voice sounding surreally calm to Charley. “The head is crowning.”

  Charley looked at the nurse and she nodded in support.

  “Come on,” she said quietly. “You can do this.”

  Charley took a deep breath and began to push.

  * * *

  Toni sat on the plastic chair beside Asher’s bedside, gripping his hand tightly. He was wired up to machines that beeped and whirred. On the other side of the bed, Carl clutched his other hand and was still pale-faced.

  Asher had not yet regained consciousness and nurses came in and out every few minutes to check his vitals and jot notes down on the clipboard at the foot of his bed. A doctor had come in several times, looking grave-faced each time, leaving Toni in no doubt that her beloved eldest son was in serious danger. She had sent Torey to keep watch over Charley, unable to tear herself away from her son’s side, irritated by Carl’s presence.

  “They didn’t even phone me,” Toni grumbled to nobody in particular. “If I hadn’t been here already and seen him in that state, God knows when they’d have told me.”

  “You’re not his emergency contact,” Carl said over Asher’s unconscious form.

  “Excuse me?” Toni snapped, eyes narrowing.

  “You aren’t his emergency contact,” Carl repeated.

  “Of course I am, I’m his mother.”

  “You’re not his emergency contact,” Carl sighed. “I am.”

  “You?”

  “Yes, me,” Carl said, holding her furious gaze, not intimidated. “You didn’t want anything to do with him, remember? And we live together.”

  Toni opened her mouth to respond, but the doctor returned. She settled for gritting her teeth and shooting him a venomous look. Carl ignored her and looked up at the doctor, eyes anxious for information.

  “Did you get the scan results back?” he asked.

  The doctor nodded.

  “There’s good news and bad news,” the doctor sighed, consulting his clipboard. “Now, the scans of his skull show that whilst there is damage, it’s not life threatening.”

  Toni breathed a sigh of relief.

  “However,” the doctor went on. “He’s lost a lot of blood. He could need a blood transfusion.”

  “I’ll do it,” Carl said instantly, half-rising from his chair. “I’ll give him blood.”

  The doctor shifted on his feet, looking uncomfortable.

  “I’m afraid that’s not possible, Mr Hurst.”

  “Why not?” Carl demanded.

  “You’re Mr Brunns’ partner?” the doctor asked. Carl nodded, brow furrowed. The doctor grimaced. “I’m sorry, but, well, you won’t be able to donate blood if you’ve had same-sex relations in the last three years.”

  “But he’s my partner,” Carl protested. “He’s gay, too.”

  Toni swallowed down an objection.

  “That may be so,” the doctor said. “But it’s against the law. You can’t donate your blood.”

  Toni looked at Carl’s face. He was desperate to donate his own blood to save her precious Asher. He wanted to save him and this doctor wouldn’t allow him.

  “If he wants to give blood, you should let him,” Toni demanded, and the doctor sighed as he turned to her. He opened his mouth, but Toni pressed on. “Asher’s not going to object, is he? They live together, for goodness sake.”

  “I’m sorry,” the doctor repeated. “Mr Hurst is not eligible for donation.”

  “I don’t have any infections, if that’s what you’re getting at,” Carl insisted.

  The doctor held up his hands in a gesture of helplessness.

  “Rules are rules, I’m afraid.”

  “This is ridiculous,” Toni snapped, rising to her feet, the chair scraping loudly behind her. The doctor took a step back. “He’s not got any diseases. He wants to do it. He wants to save my son. You can’t stop him just because he’s gay, he’s still got the same blood, he’s still a person –”

  Toni stopped. The truth of her words washed over her. She looked from Carl to Asher and felt herself deflate. She could not tell off this doctor for not allowing Carl to donate his blood because he was gay, when she had disowned Asher for the same fact. It made her a hypocrite and she sat down heavily in the chair.

  She wished she had reacted differently. Of course she had been devastated when Asher had told her he was gay. Now he could die, and she had finally realised that she did not much care who he spent his life with, as long as he was happy and had found love, no matter who it was with.

  Asher remained unmoving on the bed. Carl and the doctor looked at her expectantly, bewildered by her descent into silence.

  Toni clutched Asher’s hand and prayed that she would get a chance to make amends with her son, beg for his forgiveness, that her realisation had not come too late.

  “I’ll donate my blood,” she said. “I’ll do it. Just save my son.”

  * * *

  Uncle Jasper was agitated. He was not used to being lied to and he did not appreciate it at all. He thought of Bolton, sat in the chair as if he had done nothing wrong, whilst all along he had been hiding the stolen money from him.

  His anger was rising, but he knew that he would have to be careful. He could not let his anger cloud his feelings.

  He had called Dante over and was pleased when he heard Barry direct him through to the office a few minutes later. Dante walked in and stood in front of the desk. Uncle Jasper smiled widely, taking in Dante’s appearance. The slightly bloodshot eyes, the redness of the skin around his nostrils, and the nervous habit of scratching his chin.

  Normally, he would not have accepted a heavy drug user into his workforce. They were too unreliable, too likely to mess things up or get careless, and those were traits that got people in serious trouble and brought the police sniffing around. Dante, however, could prove to be extremely useful, Uncle Jasper thought.

  “I’ve spoken to Bolton this evening,” he sai
d, and Dante’s body went tense. “He showed no signs of keeping secrets from me.”

  “I told you the truth,” Dante said, nervous. “I swear. He’s got the money, probably hidden it somewhere.”

  “That may be the case, but I need to retrieve the money before anything happens to him. That’s why I have a special job for you.”

  Dante looked more anxious at this, but nodded.

  “What kind of job?”

  “I need you to ask Bolton where the money is and retrieve it for me,” he said, and Dante nodded, seeming to relax. “And then I want you to kill him.”

  Dante looked shocked, and Uncle Jasper watched with satisfaction. He thought this was the perfect plan. This way both of the boys would be punished. Dante’s punishment for stealing the money in the first place would be to kill his friend. His atonement. And Bolton would die. All the loose ends would be snipped. And if Dante got caught, it wouldn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. He would give him some money to keep quiet and do his time, and he would have gotten rid of a potentially unreliable worker all in one go.

  Yes, Uncle Jasper thought, the plan was one of his more ingenious ones.

  As the minutes wore on, Dante battled with his doubts, but under Uncle Jasper’s watchful gaze, he relented to the idea. He nodded, his face resolved.

  “I’ll do it, boss,” he said.

  “Excellent.”

  * * *

  Torey stood outside the entrance to the hospital, inhaling deeply on her cigarette, and watching an ambulance crew smoking a few metres away, enjoying their quick break from saving lives. She wondered briefly at what was going on upstairs, but pushed the thoughts away. She and Charley were getting on better than they had ever done before, but watching her sister give birth was something she felt was pushing the boundaries too far. She had quickly grown tired of her sister’s groans of pain and had gratefully slipped out of the room when a nurse had sent her to get some water, a knowing look on her face.

  She was torn from her thoughts when she saw a familiar figure running across the tarmac towards her. Bolton was wearing a tracksuit and sweat dripped from his forehead, as though he had run all the way from home.

  “You took your time,” Torey said, as he drew level with her. “She’s not happy with you, trust me.”

  “Has she had the baby yet?” Bolton asked, catching his breath.

  Torey shrugged.

  “She was getting there when I came down here, but nobody’s said anything. So I think you’re in time.”

  Bolton sighed with relief.

  “Where are they then?” he asked.

  “Come on,” she said, dropping her cigarette and stamping it out with her heels. “I’ll take you up there.”

  * * *

  Toni clutched Asher’s hand, Carl holding the other, the room silent, as the doctor let himself in and the door shut with a click behind him.

  “I have some good news,” the doctor said, smiling. “He’ll need recovery time and a lot of support, but he will make a full recovery.”

  Toni let out a cry and felt tears splash from her eyes. Carl seemed to deflate, the air he’d been holding in, hardly daring to breathe, seemed to finally escape with his relief.

  The doctor explained that the surgery had been a success; there had been no need for the blood transfusion after all. When the doctor left, Toni was surprised to find Carl looking at her, not at Asher.

  “Thank you,” he said quietly.

  “For what?”

  “Offering to donate your blood,” Carl said. “For wanting to save his life.”

  “I would do anything to save him,” Toni protested. She swallowed hard. She had something to say, and it would not be easy for her. “I should thank you, too, Carl.”

  Carl averted his gaze.

  “Really, I’m truly thankful,” Toni said. “You wanted to save him too. I know you must think I’m a monster, the way I reacted when Asher told me, well, that he was gay. And I am sorry for that.”

  “Thanks,” Carl said. “But it’s really Asher you should be saying all this to.”

  He gestured towards Asher and Toni did a double-take, her heart fluttering. Asher’s eyes were flickering and then they were open, staring hazily up at them both.

  Toni smiled at him and clutched his hand again. Carl did the same. As Asher began to come round, Toni and Carl exchanged a smile of relief; she realised he loved her son, just as she did, and she was surprised to find she was happy. Happy that Asher had found love. Asher opened his mouth to speak, but Toni hushed him.

  “Don’t worry, Ash, my love,” she said. “Me and Carl are right here, and we’re not going anywhere. Neither of us are.”

  * * *

  Bolton ran down the corridors, straining his eyes against the overhead strip lighting, and narrowly avoiding running into a wheelchair parked outside a private room. Torey clattered along a few paces behind, swearing and muttering under her breath, panting from the exertion.

  “Hurry up,” he called behind him, anxious to get there, “If I miss this because you’re –”

  “Keep your bloody hair on,” Torey snapped back, catching up with him. “Once you get in there, you’ll wish you’d taken your time.”

  She sped up and Bolton was relieved when they reached the room. He pushed past Torey, ignoring her protests, and rushed to Charley’s side. She was sweating heavily and looked like she was in a lot of pain. She smiled weakly at the sight of him.

  Bolton took Charley’s hand and felt her crush his fingers in her powerful grip.

  “I’m sorry I’m late,” Bolton said in Charley’s ear.

  “It’s all right,” she managed, through deep breaths and pushes, “At least you came.”

  “One final push,” the doctor said, over Charley’s knees. “You’re nearly there.”

  Bolton watched as Charley gave a huge groan and her face scrunched up as she pushed as hard as she could. Then she gave a huge gasp of relief, and the doctor and nurse rushed forward. Then the sound of a baby crying filled the room. Everyone looked as the doctor held the baby in his arms, detaching the umbilical cord. The nurse took him and returned moments later, the baby clean.

  She passed the baby to Charley, who smiled as she looked down at the child now in her arms. Bolton put an arm round Charley’s shoulders and admired the beautiful creature that he and Charley had produced, that was directly descended from them both, made in their images.

  “So beautiful,” Charley said, her voice weak but full of pride. “Look, Bolton. Our gorgeous baby boy.”

  Bolton smiled and felt tears in his eyes. Everything that had happened over the past few months suddenly seemed stupid, materialistic and immature. He had been so focused on providing them with a life full of riches that he had forgotten that the only thing that mattered was their child. And now he had a healthy, handsome, baby son. This was his life now.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Dante paced around Sapphire’s living room and ran a hand over his shaved head, wondering whether he could go through with his promise after all.

  Watching from the sofa, Sapphire felt concerned.

  “You’re starting to freak me out now,” she said. “I know you said you couldn’t tell me what’s going on, but I ain’t stupid. This is something big, and you obviously aren’t sure about it. If you tell me, maybe I can help with something.”

  “You can’t help me,” Dante said, shaking his head. “Nobody can.”

  “How do you know if you don’t tell me what’s going on?”

  Dante knew his cousin was speaking sense, but the thought of voicing what he was planning to do made him more unnerved. If he spoke the words, it would be like it was real, inevitable, and that made him scared as hell.

  “Fine, if you won’t tell me what’s bothering you so much, why don’t you tell Bolton?” Sapphire said, breaking through his thoughts. “He might be able to help.”

  Dante considered it and began to laugh. Sapphire, surprised by this, felt her unease begi
n to grow.

  “Dante?” she asked uncertainly. “What’s so funny?”

  Dante continued to laugh. He laughed hard, until his throat hurt and his body shook, and then he stopped. He dropped onto the sofa beside Sapphire and put his head in his hands. He felt the urge to cry.

  Sapphire put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

  “Sometimes talking about it makes it better,” she said.

  Dante lifted his head.

  “I stole some money,” Dante said, unsure why he was opening up to her. Maybe it was because he trusted her, maybe it was because she might sympathise. Maybe it was just because he needed to tell somebody. “Money from Uncle Jasper. This other guy, Ritchie, stole it first, but I stole it off him before we killed him.”

  Sapphire was shocked by the casual way he spoke of this, but she kept her own counsel and let him continue. She knew better than most that voicing an opinion could be dangerous. It was better to keep quiet.

  “I wanted to spend the money on drugs and drink, all the fun stuff,” Dante continued, his voice hoarse. “But Bolton found it and took it for himself. He said he was going to hand it in to Uncle Jasper, make it sound like we’d found it, like I hadn’t stolen it. But he never gave it back. He just kept it for himself.”

  Sapphire nodded, as if she could understand where he was coming from. She knew he needed to get this off his chest. Dante sighed.

  “When I realised he was keeping it for himself, I was so pissed off,” he said, a trace of anger in his tone now, and Sapphire resisted the urge to pull away from him. “He’d made out like I was a twat for taking the money, but he did just the same as me. So I went and told Uncle Jasper everything. About how I’d taken the money and that Bolton took it, and that he was keeping it for himself.”

  He paused for breath, glancing at Sapphire. He was no longer close to tears. His anger was pounding through his body, and he suddenly felt righteous in his anger.

  “I mean, he was mugging me off, I had to do something,” he spat. “Then Uncle Jasper went and had a chat with him. Probably thought I’d made it up or something, like I’m not as trustworthy as his fucking precious Bolton. But his bullshit didn’t fly, Uncle Jasper saw right through him. And now I’m the one he’ll be training up. Once Bolton’s out of the way.”