The Goldsworth Series Box Set

by Davie J Toothill

  “Wait, you knew about this?” Brandy interrupted her.

  “It was a long time ago,” Aunt Bo explained, her voice gentle. “I didn’t approve, of course.”

  “You don’t approve of anything fun, do you sis?” Deanna snorted, raising the bottle to her lips. “Not unless it involves a Bible or a fucking crucifix.”

  “Fun is fine,” Aunt Bo said. “Not sleeping with a happily married man.”

  “Happily married?” Deanna said, a smirk on her lips. “Why was he fucking me if he was so happy with that grumpy bitch?”

  “You didn’t care whether he was happy or not, did you?” Aunt Bo turned to her, her voice angrier than Brandy had heard before. “You wanted him and you went after him, with no care for the consequences, not caring that he had a wife and daughter at home.”

  “He wanted me just as much as I wanted him,” Deanna said, cradling the vodka bottle. “Couldn’t keep his hands off me.”

  “Will someone tell me what the fuck you’re talking about?” Brandy shouted, looking from one to the other, her impatience rising with her temper.

  “I was fucking her husband, that’s why she started on me down there,” Deanna snapped, “She’s always had it in for me since. Years she’s held a grudge against me. She could never stand the fact that he loved me.”

  “Oh, he didn’t love you, Deanna,” Aunt Bo said, shaking her head with disapproval. “He ended it, and he stayed married to Marlena. She has every right to hate you.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” Deanna sneered. “Take her side. So much for family loyalty, eh?”

  “It’s time you knew the truth,” Aunt Bo said quietly. “He regretted being with you. Why else did he never leave his wife? He went on to have another daughter. He only stayed in touch with you because of –” She trailed off, with an uncertain look at Brandy, but realisation dawned on her.

  “Because of me?” Brandy finished for her. She thought about that, and felt a chill seep through her body as she began to understand. “You’re telling me that she had an affair with Aurora Curtis’ dad, and got pregnant with me.”

  “I’m afraid so,” Aunt Bo nodded. “But –”

  “But that means that –”

  “You and Aurora Curtis are sisters,” Deanna interrupted, sounding bored of the conversation now, knocking back some more vodka.

  “Half-sisters,” Aunt Bo corrected her. “You have the same father.”

  “And Shaniqua,” Brandy realised.

  “Don’t be –” Aunt Bo began, sounding alarmed, but Brandy cut across her.

  “Shaniqua Curtis was my half-sister,” Brandy said solemnly. She shuddered at the thought. “And Troy killed her because of me.”

  “Now, don’t go blaming yourself,” Aunt Bo said, stepping towards her, looking concerned by her train of thought. “You weren’t to know that –”

  “Is this a nightmare?” Brandy asked quietly. She felt that it must be. She couldn’t be their sister, or half-sister, or whatever. “How can this be true?”

  Deanna laughed, giving her a venomous look.

  “Sweetheart, welcome to real fucking life,” Deanna said, waving the vodka bottle in her face. Brandy looked at her coldly. Deanna smiled. “You killed your big sister. Who gives a fuck?”

  Aunt Bo gasped, but Brandy couldn’t bring herself to argue. Her mum was right, she thought.

  She had caused her half-sister’s death.

  * * *

  The courtroom was filling up again and Troy watched as people sat down in the public gallery, eyes shooting in his direction, but he didn’t care what any of them thought about him. All he cared was what the jury thought, and they weren’t here yet, so he could scowl as much as he wanted without having to worry.

  He knew who was due to testify this afternoon and the thought made him nervous. He had trusted Clint Jackson, above anyone else, even Brandy. They had been best mates for so long, almost all his memories involved him. He had never thought he would feel so anxious about seeing him, but he did feel nervous. Clint knew too much, and he was sure Clint would reveal it all.

  When he thought of how he had boasted to Clint and Tamar at one of his parties about being the one to shoot Sasha and Wright, he wondered how he could have judged his former best friend so wrong. He had thought he would always be there, as a friend and as a supporter, someone who would congratulate him as he rose through the ranks of the Banks brothers’ empire.

  He had been mistaken, and Troy couldn’t forgive what Clint had done. He had betrayed him and now he was set to do it all over again, in front of the jury and the judge and all these strangers, and the thought sickened as well as angered him.

  Troy stood up with the rest of the room as Judge Harksaw came in from his chambers at the back of the courtroom, and sat when Harksaw told them all to sit down again. Troy was no longer scowling, as he glanced across the room at the jury.

  “Mr Lindhurst, are you calling your next witness?” Judge Harksaw asked. Troy swallowed hard as he watched the fat prosecutor nod.

  “We call next to the stand, Clint Jackson,” Lindhurst announced, standing up.

  Troy’s eyes drifted to the main entrance to the courtroom as the door opened with a soft creak and the clerk led Clint Jackson, once his best mate, to the stand.

  * * *

  “You were close to Troy Banks, is that correct?” Lindhurst asked.

  “Yes,” Clint said, feeling less nervous now he was on the stand. He cleared his throat. “We were best mates for a long time.”

  He felt Troy’s eyes on him, sensed his anger, but kept looking at Lindhurst.

  “And you were with him and some other friends when Shaniqua Curtis was stabbed, yes?”

  “Yeah,” Clint confirmed. “We were all together, just hanging out.”

  “Can you tell us what happened when Shaniqua Curtis arrived on the scene?”

  Clint nodded and recounted the night Shaniqua had been stabbed. As he spoke, he found himself visualising the darkness pressing in on them, the way they had closed around her, jostling to see Brandy spew her venom at the poor stranger.

  “When did the knife appear?” Lindhurst asked.

  “Troy pulled it out of his pocket,” Clint said. “I didn’t even know he had one.”

  He remembered the moment he had seen the flash of the blade, how panic had gripped him. He had stepped back, feeling shocked at the sight of the knife.

  “What happened then?” Lindhurst asked.

  “Troy stabbed her in the stomach,” Clint recalled.

  He could picture the look of shock on Shaniqua’s face when the knife pierced her, then the moment of realisation as she had looked down and seen the blood seeping across the fabric of her top from the wound. Then she’d let out a little gasp as Troy had pulled the knife back out, and silence had descended over them.

  Clint could almost feel the horror envelope him again, the look of surprise on Troy’s face as he had withdrawn the knife. Then they had scattered, and Clint had glanced back only once to look at Shaniqua, staggering forward as if drunk.

  “You saw Troy Banks stab Shaniqua Curtis?” Lindhurst asked again.

  “Yes,” Clint said, his voice firm. “He stabbed her. He killed her.”

  “No further questions,” Lindhurst said.

  He smiled at Clint, but Clint didn’t smile back. He could still picture the look on Shaniqua Curtis’ face, his mind haunted by the image of her eyes widening in fear as she realised that she was going to die.

  * * *

  Clint watched as Troy’s defence lawyer came to the centre of the court, facing the gap between the witness box and the jury.

  “Mr Jackson, if you were horrified by what had happened, as you say in your statement,” Khan said, “Then why did you keep quiet for such a long time?”

  “I don’t know,” Clint admitted, shaking his head. Now he thought about it, he wondered why he hadn’t gone to the police straight away. “Troy was my best mate and we didn’t know she was dead at first.
Then, when we heard, I guess I thought it was too late.”

  “Yet that didn’t stop you going to the police at a later date,” Khan pointed out, looking at him with suspicion. “You gave Patterson a statement, completely voluntarily, is that right?”

  “Yeah, I went to the station to find her,” Clint said.

  “Why did you choose that moment?” Khan asked. Clint was quiet, remembering the tears on Aurora’s cheeks, the fear in her eyes as she had told him that Troy had tried to force himself onto her, and she had found out that he himself had been involved in Shaniqua’s death, the crushing realisation and anger that had swallowed her. “You’d kept quiet for so long, there must be a reason?” Khan prompted him.

  “I felt guilty for not saying anything,” Clint replied. “I had for ages, but I didn’t want to get Troy in trouble. It sounds stupid, but –”

  “Would it not be more realistic to say, Mr Jackson,” Khan interrupted him, “That you went to the police because you had heard Troy had attempted to seduce your girlfriend, Aurora Curtis?”

  “He tried to rape her,” Clint corrected her.

  The jury muttered quietly, and Khan shot him an angry look.

  “Let’s stick to facts, if you don’t mind,” she said coldly. “You heard that Troy, your best friend, had tried it on with your girlfriend. You were angry, you wanted to get him back, and you decided the best way to do that was to have him arrested, is that a fair statement?”

  “No,” Clint objected. “I didn’t do this out of revenge. I wanted to do the right thing.”

  “Then why not do it straight away?” Khan asked.

  “I thought Troy regretted it,” Clint said, desperate to get his point across. “I thought he felt bad for killing Shaniqua. Then I realised he didn’t, that he was dangerous. He confessed to killing Sasha Morton and the guy she was with, and then he tried to rape Aurora, and that’s when I knew he had to be stopped, so –”

  “Mr Jackson,” Khan said heatedly, her calm composure slipping. “Those charges were dropped because there was no evidence, and there was never a report made about these attempted rape allegations you have referred to. Let us please stick to facts.”

  The judge nodded in agreement with her.

  Clint swallowed hard and stared at Khan. She looked unmoved, so he turned to look at the jury, whose eyes were all on him, uncertain as to whether he was speaking the truth. He had to make them see, he realised.

  “I wish I had told the police the truth straight away,” he said, his voice pleading. “I wish I had, but I didn’t, because I thought that Troy, who had been my best mate for years and years, regretted it. I thought it was an accident maybe, or at least that he hadn’t meant to do it.”

  “Mr Jackson –” Khan objected, but Clint pressed on.

  “But he told me he was pleased he’d killed her, because it meant he had a chance to get some respect, to get into his brothers’ gang,” Clint said, speaking fast, before Khan got a chance to stop him. “He didn’t regret it, he was proud of what he’d done. That’s why we’re not friends anymore, because Troy is a cold-blooded killer, and he doesn’t regret anything he’s done, anyone he’s hurt.”

  “That’s enough,” Khan snapped, her temper fraying. She turned to Judge Harksaw. “Objection to that,” she said, but Judge Harksaw took a long moment to consider it.

  The judge looked down at Clint. Clint hoped he saw honesty in his eyes, but he couldn’t be sure.

  “Sustained,” Judge Harksaw said. He looked at the jury. “Strike that last statement from the record.”

  Clint felt his shoulders slump, but he thought he saw uncertainty in a few of the juror’s eyes. They might have been told to forget it, he thought, but perhaps his words would resonate with them, perhaps there was a chance they would listen.

  “No further questions,” Khan said promptly, not looking at Clint.

  Clint sighed with relief, pleased that it was over, hoping the jury would listen to him.

  * * *

  Troy watched Clint walk between the banks of seats in the public gallery towards the exit and glared at his retreating back. He hated him in that moment, he realised, perhaps more than he had ever hated anyone before.

  He hated what Brandy had done, and all the other pieces of shit that had betrayed him and taken it upon themselves to try and get him sent down, but Clint had been his best mate, and he had tried his best to make Troy look like a monster.

  Troy felt shaken by the testimony. He had seen the jury swallow down Clint’s story about how he had shown no remorse, that he had been pleased to kill Shaniqua, and though it was true, he felt rage boiling inside of him, and his fists were clenched at his side as he watched Clint leave.

  He didn’t think his trial was lost, though. Khan had seemed to lose her composure, but he was sure she would pull herself together and save him. She had fucking better do, he thought to himself.

  He still couldn’t imagine spending years behind bars, locked up in prison away from everyone, so he had to hope that he would still be found not guilty.

  When that happened, and he was allowed to walk free from court, he would take great pleasure in finding whatever rock Clint Jackson was hiding under, and he would happily kill him. He would make him suffer. Clint had mentioned the night he had tried to rape Aurora, and now that she wasn’t pregnant, Troy felt his old attraction stirring again.

  He would fuck her and make Clint watch. Then he would kill his former best mate, and he would make it painful. He would make him suffer, and he would enjoy every sweet, beautiful moment of Clint’s pain as he did it.

  * * *

  Brandy reached for the vodka bottle and snatched it out of her mum’s hand. Deanna raised her hand as if to strike her, but Aunt Bo stepped forward, her bulk enough to put off Deanna, and she resorted to glaring angrily at her daughter as Brandy took a long drink, the alcohol burning her throat and making her stomach churn.

  “I can’t believe it,” she said eventually, her lips tingling from the vodka. “Why did neither of you tell me?”

  “None of your business, that’s why,” Deanna snapped.

  “You what?” Brandy shouted, “This is my life we’re talking about.”

  “Boo-fucking-hoo,” Deanna spat. “It’s my life and all.”

  “You never thought I might want to know I had two half-sisters living on the same estate as me?” Brandy asked, her anger flaring. “They live across the courtyard from us and you didn’t think I deserved to know. I know you’ve never been a good mum, but the least you could do was tell me that, surely?”

  “Ever wondered how I felt?” Deanna hissed, her voice low and threatening, as she snatched the bottle back off Brandy. “Ever thought maybe it hurt me? I had to live a stone’s throw from the man I loved, watching him play happy families with his wife and kids. How do you think that made me feel?”

  “I doubt you felt that much,” Brandy replied. “You’re always drunk or high or just plain fucking mental, I’m surprised you can even remember any of this.”

  Deanna stepped forward, shoving Aunt Bo out of her way and raising her hand. She slapped Brandy hard across the face, the sound ringing around the kitchen. Brandy gasped, rubbing her cheek, and Aunt Bo dragged Deanna away, pushing her against the counter on the other side of the kitchen.

  “Don’t raise your hand to her,” Aunt Bo said, “Don’t ever hit your child.”

  “Oh, I was wondering when you’d step in,” Deanna laughed. “Always in the background, aren’t you Bo? Never do anything, oh no, too much fucking trouble. You just sit back and wait to get all righteous when things go wrong, don’t you?”

  “You’re drunk,” Aunt Bo said sternly. “You should go to bed.”

  “So you can fill her head with lies?” Deanna laughed, pointing at Brandy, “Hell no. If she wants answers, I’ll be the one to goddamn give them to her.”

  Brandy lowered her hand from her face, and Aunt Bo grabbed the vodka bottle off Deanna. Brandy took it from her and lifted it
to her lips, her cheek still raw from where Deanna’s hand had struck her.

  When she had drank, she looked at her mother, wondering how it was possible to hate her own mother so much.

  “How long was the affair?” she asked.

  “Ten inches,” Deanna laughed, but Aunt Bo glared at her. Deanna scowled, and thought a moment. “A few months. It would’ve been longer, if that Marlena hadn’t stuck her oar in, made him finish with me.”

  “What did you expect?” Aunt Bo asked. “You slept with her husband, of course she made him finish it.”

  “Whatever,” Deanna rolled her eyes. “The bitch had it coming. She never pleased him, not like I did. He loved me, even if he never said it.”

  “Aurora’s my half-sister,” Brandy said, shaking her head. “And she fucking hates me so much. And Shaniqua –” She stopped. She had always thought her dad would come to rescue her, but now she knew it was never going to happen. Not just because he was dead, but because surely he must hate her, wherever he was, whether he was looking down at her or not. She had caused the death of his eldest daughter, and he must wish she had never been born. The thought was upsetting.

  “If I’d known, I never would have done it,” Brandy said, downing more vodka. “I never would have started that argument, I wouldn’t have –”

  “Too late for all that,” Deanna shrugged. “The bitch is dead. And if you ask me, she deserved it. If it weren’t for that fucking kid, Shaniqua or whatever her bloody name was, then he would have left Marlena and we’d be together.”

  Brandy looked at her mother and saw how bitter and twisted she really was. She wondered if she would be like this when she grew older, hating the world and knowing the world hated her back.

  “I’m going to my room,” Brandy said. “I need to be by myself.”

  Deanna snatched the vodka from her hand.

  “Don’t go taking my alcohol,” she growled. “And don’t go feeling sorry for yourself either. Your daddy was a good man.”

  Brandy turned at the doorway.

  “How would you know?” she asked. “He cheated on his wife with a drunken slapper like you. That doesn’t sound like such a good man to me.”