Her eyes were red, and Brandy wondered if she was still high on crack. She normally only came back to scrounge money when she’d run out.
Brandy pushed past her mum and out of the kitchen. She heard her mum clattering on her heels after her, but Brandy swept into her bedroom and slammed the door behind her.
“Girl, get out here,” her mum was screaming. “Walk away from me bitch, you think you better than me ‘cos you got yourself some gangbanger? He ain’t all that honey, let me tell you that, I could go around there right now and show him a better time, don’t get it twisted girl.”
“You’d have some fucking trouble with that,” Brandy shouted back through the bedroom door, ignoring the pain from her split-lip. “Me and Troy broke up ages ago, and he’s in prison now so unless you get yourself locked up, which I wish you fucking would, then good luck with that.”
“Cow!” her mum shrieked, and there was a bang as something hit the door. Brandy wondered if her mum had thrown herself at it, but there was another bang and her mum cried, “Give me back my shoes girl, I’m telling you, don’t be stealing from me.”
She wondered over the cocktail of drugs and alcohol her mum was on today. It wasn’t even evening yet and she was on another planet. She hoped she was only stopping for a shit and shower and then going back on her way.
“Deanna, is that you?” Aunt Bo shouted. Doors slammed. “Don’t start screaming your head off, I just got your grandson back to sleep.”
“I don’t have no grandson,” Deanna snapped back. “You just want to make me sound old, you fat cow. I fucking hated you from the day you were born.”
Brandy rolled her eyes. Her mum was such a waste of space.
The television started blaring from the lounge and Brandy felt relieved that her mum had at least lost interest in pissing her off. Aunt Bo could always handle her better than Brandy could. Frazer’s screams added to the noise on the other side of her bedroom door.
Although she was safely inside the fear was not so easily shaken, and she sat down heavily on her bed and tried to ignore the ache of her body. The Banks brothers knew what number her mum’s flat was, they knew where they would be able to find her if they decided to come and finish what they had started last night.
They wouldn’t hurt her if they knew she was the mother of their nephew, she thought, but she didn’t want to tell them because then Troy would find out and she would never be rid of him. She liked to think that she had become a part of the Banks family over the years she’d been dating Troy, but she knew she hadn’t, not really. Troy’s mum had never liked her, and Tyrese and Trent had never really been taken with her either, she thought. Jessie, Troy’s sister, perhaps had liked her, but she remembered that Jessie had gone, and she doubted she had liked her enough to stand up for her anyway.
Brandy wondered what Troy felt towards her. Did he still want her back? Did he spend each night in prison wishing he had treated her better? She doubted it. She had given DS Patterson the knife he had used to kill Shaniqua; if it wasn’t for her, he might not even have been charged. He probably hated her, dreamt of the day he would get out and pay her back for what she had done. She remembered how angry he could get, how long he held a grudge. He would probably think the beating she’d got last night was pitiful; he’d probably use a cricket bat on her instead.
Brandy knew Troy hated betrayal; and she had betrayed him perhaps more than anyone else, even Clint. At least Clint had an excuse. Troy had tried to rape his girlfriend, he was bound to be pissed off, not even Troy could blame him for wanting to get his own back. Brandy had stabbed him in the back and she knew Troy would never forgive her for that.
Whether Troy was found guilty or not, he would be out of prison someday. If she went to court and gave evidence he would hate her all the more for it. Perhaps if she didn’t then he would gradually forgive and forget what she had done, and at least his brothers wouldn’t come round and kick the door in.
It was her only hope, she realised. She couldn’t give evidence against Troy, she couldn’t put her life at risk. She made up her mind. She would have to flee the Goldsworth Estate, flee London perhaps, and hide from Troy and his brothers. They would never find her, she decided, and only then would she really be safe.
* * *
Dante sensed that Troy was apprehensive as he returned to their cell after dinner that evening. Dante smiled at him as he lay back on his bunk and looked down at him.
“I put the phone back, don’t worry,” Dante told him.
Troy checked anyway, and seemed satisfied, because he didn’t say anything, falling onto his own bunk beneath and remaining quiet.
“You had a good day?” Dante asked to make conversation.
Troy didn’t reply, and Dante rolled his eyes. He didn’t want to spend this time, however long they would be cellmates, in complete silence.
“You always this chatty, mate?” Dante offered.
“What the fuck do you want from me?” Troy groaned from the bunk below.
Dante thought on the question a moment. He wanted a lot of things from him; a step onto the ladder, money, power. He didn’t think that was what he wanted to hear.
“I heard you was a proper big deal in here,” Dante said, hoping he sounded earnest, as if he really were in awe of him. “And on the outside and all.”
Troy was silent, and Dante wondered if his flattery hadn’t worked.
“Well, I suppose I am a bit of a name,” Troy said, and Dante knew his plan was working. “How did you hear about me anyway?”
“I’m from the Goldsworth and all,” Dante replied. “Well, near enough to it. You’re a fucking legend, man.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Troy agreed, obviously pleased by the compliment.
Dante thought it was too soon to broach the subject of the drugs operation he knew Troy was running inside and he didn’t want to fuck things up this early on.
“So, how come you got to be such a big name?” Dante asked, “I mean, I heard stories like everyone else, but now I’ve met you man –”
“Well, it’s a pretty long story,” Troy said, though Dante could tell he was eager to recount it.
“We’ve got ages,” Dante suggested.
Troy murmured an agreement and began to talk then, and Dante smiled as he listened. He was sure most of what he would say would be utter bullshit, but he also knew that the best way to get in with people like Troy was to play to their egos and soon enough, if his plan worked, it would be Dante who was running it all.
* * *
Clint felt the warmth emanating from Aurora’s skin against his own and she shifted on the mattress, nestling in the crook of his arm. He wondered how she had managed to fall asleep with such ease when he felt wired, unable to close his eyes.
He could not stop thinking about tomorrow, when they would return to London, to the Goldsworth Estate, and everything they had done to keep themselves safe, out of sight from the Banks brothers, would be in jeopardy.
Though he knew that there was no way he could persuade Aurora and Kojo to stay in Manchester, especially now that they were packed and excited for the trip, he regretted agreeing to them coming with him. He was putting all their lives in danger and if anything happened to them he would never forgive himself.
There was so much at stake. The Banks brothers would be after him, and then there was his father, who was as dangerous as they were if he raised his fists to one of them. Aurora wanted to see her mother, but Clint remembered how upset she had always seemed to be as her mum sank into depression and drink. Now that Aurora was pregnant, he didn’t want her getting stressed out and he was sure that her mum had not recovered as she had tried to lead Aurora to believe during her infrequent calls.
He couldn’t stop them from coming with him though, and he knew that part of Aurora must want to see him take the stand, testify against Troy. He wondered if she had truly forgiven him for his role in Shaniqua’s death. He had not held the knife, he had not started the argument, and he had
been horrified by Troy’s actions, but he had kept quiet for so long, lied to Aurora, and he knew that she had not forgotten it, as much as she might try to pretend that she had long forgiven him.
If she saw him on the stand, heard what he had to say about that night, would she be able to forgive him? It didn’t matter, he thought, he had no choice but to give his evidence, or Aurora really would never forgive him.
Exhausted but unable to sleep, Clint listened to Aurora’s gentle breathing and felt the beating of her heart as he held her in his arms, and hoped returning to the Goldsworth was not as big a mistake as he thought it was.
* * *
The following day, Clint watched as Kojo leapt into a table seat beside the window, and Aurora followed, sitting opposite him. Clint gave a last contemplative look back to the closing doors of the train and sat down beside Aurora in the aisle seat. Kojo was already pulling a pack of cards out and laying them out on the plastic table between them. Their suitcases were safely stowed in the luggage rack, and yet Clint felt his chest constrict with each passing moment.
He longed to grab the bags, drag Aurora and Kojo off the train and return home, but he remained seated, hands clenched into fists in his lap beneath the table. He tried not to show his unease to the others but he knew he must look strained, because Aurora shot him concerned looks and more than once tried to reassure him.
An announcement came over the loudspeaker and a few moments later the train rumbled into life and the platform began to disappear from sight. Manchester was soon flying past the window in a blur as the train picked up speed as it headed on towards London, and Clint knew it was too late for them to go back now.
“Calm down,” Aurora said under her breath, “It looks like you’re about to have a seizure. You need to relax.”
“I’m trying,” Clint shot back.
Kojo either didn’t notice the tension from his brother, or chose to ignore it, as he finished shuffling the deck of cards and looked expectantly from Clint to Aurora.
“Want to play?” he asked, hopeful.
“No,” Clint snapped.
Kojo scowled, and Aurora reached forward.
“Maybe we’ll play in a little bit,” she suggested.
“Forget it,” Kojo said, dropping the cards back to the table.
“Clint’s just –” Aurora tried to excuse him, but trailed off. Kojo didn’t look like he much cared what his brother was, still scowling. Aurora tried to smile, “Why don’t you go get yourself some breakfast from the catering cart?” she asked.
Kojo rolled his eyes but slid out from his seat, holding out his hand for some cash. Aurora nudged Clint gently and he reluctantly dug his hand into his jeans’ pocket and pulled out a fiver.
“I want the change,” he warned his brother, as Kojo snatched the note and disappeared down the aisle and out of the carriage.
With Kojo gone, Aurora turned on him.
“I know you’re worried, but you can’t take it out on him,” she said reprovingly. “It’s not his fault what’s happened.”
“I know,” Clint admitted, abashed. “And I feel bad. But I’m worried, I can’t help that. This was a bad idea.”
“No, it’s not,” Aurora insisted. “I know you’re worried about the Banks –”
“It’s not just them though is it?” Clint snapped. “What about my dad? Kojo can’t wait to see him, and what happens when he gets a smack round the head for his trouble, eh? It’ll be us that have to deal with it, won’t it?”
Aurora was quiet and Clint wondered, not for the first time, if she was regretting bringing Kojo with them when they had fled London. He knew she had found it hard to adjust to having him with them, but he had hoped she’d gotten over it. He knew she understood why he’d had to bring him with them, but Aurora was having a baby of her own – their baby – and he knew she didn’t need the stress of raising Kojo too.
“We’ll be staying with my mum,” Aurora reminded him. “Kojo won’t be at risk, not if you’re there with him.”
“I don’t know,” Clint sighed. “Maybe he’ll be in more danger with me.”
“We won’t know until we get there,” Aurora said quietly. “We just have to hope for the best, okay? That’s all we can do.”
Clint knew that she was right. He wished that there was another way, but there was no sending Kojo or Aurora back to Manchester now. He reached across the table and picked up the cards, giving them another shuffle.
“I suppose a few games of cards won’t hurt,” Clint said, a hint of a smile, and Aurora nodded approvingly at him. “It’ll take my mind off –” He trailed off and Aurora’s look darkened, and he knew that she too shared his fears as the train rumbled across the countryside, each minute bringing them closer to London.
* * *
Dante dropped down from his bunk and looked at Troy dozing on the bottom bed. He wondered how some people could be so fucking stupid. Troy really thought he was a key player out on the streets – and inside – and Dante had struggled not to laugh at some of the shit he’d come out with last night as he had told Dante of his many victories out on the street and how he’d earned so much respect. Dante had remained composed, though. It would not do to give it all away, as much as he might want to give this idiot a beating, teach him some real respect. Troy clearly thought he was just some kid who was in awe that he’d had the good luck to meet one of the Banks brothers in prison – and that was exactly what Dante wanted him to think. His plan depended upon that fact and he knew he’d succeeded so far.
The monotony of prison life seemed to bore Troy, whereas Dante found it gave him plenty of time to plot his next move and after much deliberation he had come up with it.
He nudged Troy and his cellmate’s eyes flew open, instantly weary and alert. Perhaps he wasn’t such an idiot, Dante considered. Troy caught sight of him and seemed to ease, and Dante knew he was gaining his trust, little by little.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to make you jump,” Dante apologized. “I guess you must’ve made a lot of enemies on your way to the top, you don’t let your guard down, that’s a good thing.”
Troy clearly didn’t hear the bullshit and patronising tone in his voice.
“Yeah, well, always got to be alert,” he nodded. “You don’t get respect without making some enemies along the way, you’re right there.”
Dante nodded. Their cell had been opened a while ago and Troy had slept since then, which played to Dante’s advantage.
“Hey man, I wanted to give you the heads up,” Dante said, lowering his voice. Troy looked weary at his words. “I think something’s going down man.”
“How do you mean?” Troy demanded at once, eyes narrowing. “You ain’t been around here long, you shouldn’t start getting paranoid or shit like that. I was like that when I first arrived,” he said, then quickly backtracked. “Only ‘cos I knew people would want to target me, you know, I got a reputation.”
“Yeah man,” Dante nodded, trying not to roll his eyes. “You’re probably right, I just thought it was a bit weird, but –” He trailed off, shrugging in his shoulders, and made to leave the cell.
He was nearly at the door, fearing Troy hadn’t risen to the bait, but then Troy called him back.
“Wait, you might as well tell me,” he said.
Dante turned and saw Troy was sat up now, leaning forward. He could see that Troy was interested despite himself, and he resisted the urge to smile at how easy it was becoming to manipulate him.
“You never know,” Troy shrugged, his eyes belying his casual gesture. “Come on man, tell me what’s got you twisted.”
“It probably ain’t nothing –” Dante said, pretending to hesitate.
Troy gave him a stern look, and Dante tried to look cowed.
“Okay,” he said, and went and sat on the plastic chair beside Troy’s bed. “It’s just earlier, when you were still sleeping, one of the PO’s came in.”
“To unlock?”
“Nah, after that,” Dante repl
ied. “He just poked his head in, had a look around, and then when he saw I was awake he left. Didn’t say anything.”
“Weird,” Troy said, though he didn’t seem alarmed. “But you get some like that. Probably a queer, you’re lucky he didn’t frisk you man.”
“Yeah,” Dante nodded. “But when I went out, he was chatting to one of the others. They kept looking back at the door, and then they stopped when they saw I was looking.”
“Mm,” Troy said, and Dante saw that this was starting to concern him. “Still, probably nothing.”
“Probably,” Dante agreed. “Anyway, I’m off for breakfast.”
Troy nodded but didn’t answer, and Dante left the cell, knowing that Troy was more worried by what he’d said than he dared let on to him. He could already picture him texting his brothers for help. He hoped that Troy would dwell on his words. Though they were lies, Troy didn’t know that, and if Dante was right in his thinking, Troy would soon be getting as paranoid as he had claimed Dante was. He was counting on it and he crossed his fingers it would work.
* * *
Tyrese read the text from Troy with frustration. He wondered if he had been wrong to think Troy was more valuable locked up. Perhaps he was just a liability wherever the fuck he was.
He sat up in bed and looked around his bedroom. He had his own bedroom now, the room that had once belonged to Troy. The flat seemed a lot bigger now that Troy and Jessie were no longer staying here, and he pushed the familiar twinge of embarrassment that both he and Trent remained at their mother’s flat though they were long past the age it was usual to move out.
Pushing the thoughts away, he climbed out of bed and pulled some jeans on over his boxers and left his bedroom. The lounge was empty, but discarded beer cans and an overflowing ashtray remained from last night, and Tyrese wondered how long Trent had stayed up drinking after they had got back from the party they’d attended. He heard his mum in the kitchen, whistling along to the radio, and tuned her out, knocking on his brother’s bedroom door that led directly off the lounge.
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