The Goldsworth Series Box Set

by Davie J Toothill

  “Morning,” he greeted Aurora, sticking his hands into his pockets and shifting nervously from foot to foot in the doorway. He was not sure how to act, how to behave around her. He did not know if she wanted him to look permanently repentant, or if she just no longer cared at all what he did or how he looked.

  Aurora smiled and murmured a reply, though she did not quite look at him as she put Angel back into her cot. Marlena made her excuses to leave to give them time alone together, but Clint almost wished she would stay.

  “I’m glad you want to spend time with her,” Aurora said.

  “Of course I do,” Clint said, surprised that she could have thought otherwise.

  Aurora got off the sofa and smoothed down her blouse. Clint realised she was fully dressed and wore shoes, realising instantly that she did not intend to spend time with him. She blushed as he looked questioningly at her, and smiled, though it looked forced this time.

  “Whilst you spend time with Angel, I thought I might get a few bits done that I’ve been putting off,” Aurora said. She reached for her handbag and heaved it over her shoulder. “I’ll be back in an hour or so, but you’ll be fine with her. Mum will be here too if you need anything.”

  Clint tried to quell his disappointment that she would not be here with them, though he knew that they were no longer a couple, no longer a family that spent time together.

  “I just thought -” he started, then stopped himself.

  Aurora let out a sigh. Clint wondered if she had anticipated his reaction, if she was irritated by it or felt as saddened as he did that it had come to this.

  “Clint, what did you expect?” Aurora said. “We broke up, you moved out. I’m happy that you’re seeing Angel, but nothing has changed between you and I.”

  “Aurora -”

  “Just don’t,” Aurora cut him off, putting a hand up and breezing from the room. She brushed past his shoulder and he felt a rush of longing for her, wanted to reach out and touch her, pull her close to him, but he did not, letting her go instead.

  The front door opened and closed after some muttered conversation between Marlena and Aurora, and then the sound of the bolt being thrown once more. Clint sat down on the sofa and smiled down at Angel, who looked up at him happily, blissfully unaware of what was going on, what her parents were going through. He reached down and picked her up, cradling her against him, bouncing her gently on his knee, feeling the familiar rush of love for his daughter, almost forgetting his troubles.

  He realised how much he was giving up by no longer living here as he played with Angel, and it was too soon that the front door sounded, and Aurora bustled into the lounge a few minutes later. She scooped Angel up into her arms and planted a wet kiss on her forehead, and Angel beamed at her.

  “Did you have a nice time together?” Aurora asked.

  Clint nodded.

  “Yeah, of course,” he replied. “And you, did you -” He trailed off, not sure if he had any business knowing what she had been doing. Aurora seemed not to notice, not paying him any attention, focused on Angel.

  “I should go then,” Clint sighed, getting to his feet.

  Seeing Aurora and Angel together had made him realise that he would do anything he could to protect them, to keep them safe and happy. He knew that for as long as Troy was around they would always be in danger. Troy’s threats echoed in his mind and Clint, his eyes on Aurora and his daughter, could not allow him to act on any of them.

  He knew what he had to do. He had to take care of things. He had to be the man of the family and do what any good boyfriend, any good father, would do and protect them.

  “Are you okay?” Aurora asked, her face worrying at the expression on his face.

  Clint forced himself to smile at her and nod.

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he said. Aurora did not look convinced. Clint sighed. “I promise you, Aurora, I’ll sort things out. I’ll make sure nothing ever happens to either of you. I won’t let Troy do anything.”

  “What do you mean?” Aurora asked, concerned now.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll think of something,” Clint said firmly. “It’s my responsibility, okay?”

  “No, Clint, I think -”

  Clint could not let her go on, did not want her to try and convince him otherwise. She had made it clear recently that deep down, she blamed him, that it was his responsibility to make things right, to make up for what he had done, for failing to protect Shaniqua.

  He held up a hand and shook his head.

  “Leave it to me,” he said quietly. He turned from Aurora and smiled at Angel, “Daddy will see you soon, okay baby.” He blew her a kiss, and left the room, waving goodbye to Marlena, and let himself out of the flat. The latch slid back into place behind him.

  Outside, he knew that he was right, that he needed to protect his family, and he knew what he had to do to get Troy out of their lives.

  * * *

  The front door closed before Aurora reached the landing. Her mother hurried out of the kitchen to bolt the door. Aurora wondered whether she should go after Clint, but she made no effort to move. She did not know what to say, or if she had any right to stop him. Had she not ended their relationship because she was unable to forgive him for doing nothing to stop Troy, for not saving Shaniqua? Did that make it her fault if Clint did something stupid? Would she have to share some portion of blame if anything happened to Clint or Troy, just as she had apportioned blame to Clint for his role in Shaniqua’s death?

  She turned from the door, retreating into the lounge, and put Angel down in her cot, before she started to pace the room, as she always did when there was a lot on her mind.

  She thought about how good it had felt to stand up to Troy, to vent her anger and her thoughts at him, but now she wondered if she should have done more. If something happened to Clint, would she feel guilty for not ending Troy when she could have done?

  Sliding her phone out of her jeans, she scrolled through her contacts to Clint, but paused with her finger hovering over the call button. Torn between wanting to stop him and grateful that he might have the strength to do what she could not, she stood there for a long moment, before she closed the screen and put her phone back into her pocket.

  She resumed her pacing, feeling her daughter’s eyes watching her with curiosity, as she continued to worry not only that Clint was going to do something stupid, but that she could have saved him the trouble when she had held the knife and had Troy all alone.

  If she had been stronger, she could have ended it all right then.

  * * *

  Zoe whimpered, her back pressed against the wall, and Troy could not stop himself from smiling at her distress, the fear that came off her in waves. He could almost taste it in the air between them, and he took a step closer, licking his lips. She tensed, letting out a cry.

  “Please, Troy, I’m sorry,” she cried, her voice strangled. “I shouldn’t have gone to court, I shouldn’t have said anything. I just -” She stopped, squeezing her eyes shut as he took another step closer until he was just inches from her. “I just -” she stammered, unable to finish the sentence.

  “For the first time in your pathetic life, you’re right Zoe,” Troy said, letting his anger swell, his body itching to hurt her. “You should have kept your mouth shut.”

  “I just panicked,” Zoe sobbed.

  “Panicked?” Troy snorted.

  He took a step back, eyeing her with disgust. She was a mess, tears already in her eyes.

  “You were dying to tell that Patterson cow, weren’t you?” Troy said, shaking his head. “I bet you were clapping your hands together when she came knocking, asking about me. I knew you were a snitch from day one. I don’t know why we ever let you hang around with us. Who in their right mind would trust you? Who would want to -”

  There was a startled cry from behind one of the doors in the landing. Troy’s smile widened with understanding. Zoe’s eyes widened, but her shoulders squared. Another cry, and Troy knew which do
or her daughter was behind.

  He took a step across the landing, but Zoe moved too, blocking his path, shielding the door with her body. Troy was surprised. Perhaps she was not as scared as he had imagined, motherly instincts kicking in, giving her an adrenaline rush.

  “Remember the last time I saw your little girl?” Troy sneered.

  Zoe shivered under his gaze. He knew that she remembered, that she would never forget that he had stood in her kitchen, cradling Sienna in his arms as he threatened to drown her.

  “Get out Troy,” Zoe spat, defiantly. She shook with fear, but her voice was hard.

  Troy gritted his teeth. This bitch had the nerve to tell him what to do, after everything she had done, all the trouble she had caused him. He drew back his fist and slammed it into her face before she had time to react.

  She let out a stunned cry and staggered back against the door, blood streaming from her nose. She put a hand to her face to stem the flow, and Troy grabbed a handful of her straggly hair and half-dragged, half-threw her to the floor. She fell into the end table, sending it toppling over and stacks of unpaid bills scattered across the floor.

  On the floor, Zoe did not curl up and cry as he had expected. Her eyes darted to the bedroom door, no doubt worried for her daughter.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll check on her in a minute,” Troy snarled.

  He kicked her hard in the shin and she let out a cry of pain. She tried to crawl down the landing to the front door, but Troy put a foot on the small of her back and put his weight into it. She let out a groan as he squeezed the wind out of her. When he took his foot off her, she spluttered for air.

  Troy smiled down at her as she clawed at the floor, dragging herself so painfully slowly to the door. Troy kicked her hard in the side and she screamed as she curled up, moaning in agony.

  The front door flew open and Troy tensed at once, ready to fight or run.

  He was shocked to see Tamar standing there, a plastic shopping bag dangling from his fingers.

  “What the fuck is going on?” Tamar demanded. He dropped the bag and crouched beside Zoe, putting a gentle hand to her face. He glared up at Troy. “What the hell are you doing Troy?”

  Troy could hardly believe what he was seeing.

  “I could ask you the same thing Tamar,” Troy hissed. The realisation of such a betrayal washed over him as if he had been doused with cold water. “You and her?” he managed, shaking his head with disgust. “Of all the girls, you chose this piece of shit?”

  “Get out Troy,” Tamar said, getting to his feet, his fists clenching.

  “You’re choosing her over me?”

  “Damn right I am,” Tamar growled.

  He grabbed the front door and held it open. Troy looked down at Zoe, sobbing breathlessly, her face caked in blood. He wanted to beat them both, to teach them both the value of loyalty, and of silence, but he shot Tamar a dark look and left the flat, stepping over Zoe as he went.

  The front door slammed shut behind him, rattling its frame, and Troy took a few deep breaths, hardly able to believe what had just happened. He shook his head, wondering at how he could ever have trusted those two. How long had they been together? It did not matter, because all that mattered now was they were his enemies.

  He walked across the estate slowly, mulling it over in his mind the fact that he could have been so wrong about Tamar. He had sensed something was amiss at his party, and now he wondered whether the whole time he had just been itching to crawl back into bed with Zoe. The thought sickened him.

  At the top of the steps, Troy kicked out at a can, sending it clattering down the landing until it bounced of one of the concrete walls. He stopped as he neared his front door, surprise and suspicion vying for equal place in his mind.

  Clint leant against the balcony, his face set with determination, though for what, Troy did not know yet. Troy took a deep breath and walked forward, bracing himself for whatever was coming next.

  “Surprise,” Clint said, his voice tight, lips thinned.

  “What do you want?” Troy demanded.

  “Just to talk,” Clint said.

  Troy could not tell if he was lying or not. He stared at him, and Clint held his gaze, refusing to look away until Troy averted his gaze.

  He pulled his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the front door, willing his hands not to shake or betray his nerves at the visit. He stepped into the kitchen and held the door open. Clint hesitated, and Troy knew that he was afraid.

  “Are you coming in or are you fucking off?” Troy asked, irritated.

  He watched Clint take a deep breath, before he stepped inside.

  * * *

  Clint closed the door behind him and stood across the kitchen from Troy, the table and chairs separating them. Troy was still, looking at him wearily, and Clint wondered if this was a huge mistake, though it was too late to turn back now.

  No, it wasn’t too late, part of him cried out, urging him to open the front door and walk back out of the flat, forget this stupid plan, keep walking until he got home.

  “Talk then,” Troy said, his tone aggressive. “You said that’s what you want to do, then do it, otherwise you’re just wasting my time.”

  Clint nodded, though his mouth was dry, his throat felt constricted, and he wondered if he would even be able to find his voice to speak. Troy was staring at him, his body as tense and on edge as his own.

  “Come on, speak,” Troy demanded, raising his voice. His eyes narrowed.

  “Shaniqua,” Clint stuttered.

  Troy looked surprised.

  “What about her?” he asked, bemused.

  “You killed her,” Clint managed. He cleared his throat. “You might have gotten away with it, but I was there, I saw you do it. You stabbed her, left her to die.”

  Troy scowled. He took a step around the kitchen table, and Clint took a step in the other direction, keeping the same distance between them, his heart beating harder now. His palms were damp with sweat.

  “Come on, just admit it,” Clint demanded. “Aren’t you sorry for doing it? Don’t you have any guilt? Any remorse at all?”

  Troy’s lips thinned, his eyes glinting with animosity. He still did not speak, and Clint wondered if he could know what he had planned. Troy took another step, and Clint did too.

  “I didn’t kill her,” Troy said, eyes flashing.

  “Troy, you -”

  “Empty your pockets, Clint,” Troy hissed.

  Clint stopped, his heart almost jumping into his mouth. He felt sweat in his armpits and the back of his shirt stuck to his skin with the damp.

  “What?” he managed, strangled.

  “You heard me, empty your pockets onto the kitchen table,” Troy said. “You think I’m an idiot? You really thought you could trick me like that?”

  Clint swallowed hard. He knew it had been a stupid idea, should never have thought he could do what the police and the courts had been unable to do. On television dramas and in movies it always worked, always seemed like the logical thing to do, but now he realised he was an idiot. He looked over Troy’s shoulder and realised he was now blocking the front door. Clint could have kicked himself for letting himself be cornered like this.

  Troy seemed to realise this too, a malicious smile playing on his lips.

  “Empty your pockets,” Troy whispered. “Or I’ll make you.”

  Clint felt exposed, trapped. He had always been shorter than Troy, and now he realised that prison had hardened his friend, his physique stronger now, a more formidable opponent than he had ever been before, and barely suppressed hatred blazed in Troy’s eyes.

  Clint reached into his pocket, stalling for time. He pulled out some crunched up receipts and dumped them on the table. Troy gritted his teeth, impatient as ever.

  “Your phone,” he demanded, holding out his hand.

  Clint shook his head. He took a tentative step around the table, but Troy did not move, not wanting to give up his position blocking the door. Clint took another
step, wondering what he would do if Troy lunged.

  He took another step, his body tense, and he had to force his legs to move, though they felt like they were encased in concrete, heavy as they were.

  Troy was fast, darting forward and slamming hard into him as he tore at his pocket. Clint staggered backwards, surprised by the force and speed of the blow. He clasped the counter with one hand to stop himself falling, and with the other tried to push Troy away from him. Troy stepped backwards, breathing hard but smiling victoriously.

  He held up Clint’s phone.

  “You were trying to record me confessing, right?” he laughed. He turned off the recording and deleted it. Clint let out a long sigh, feeling foolish to think that this could ever have worked. Troy dropped the phone onto the floor and smashed it under his foot.

  Clint gritted his teeth, his own anger flaring now.

  “Now that it’s just us, we can talk freely,” Troy sniggered. “You know damn well I stabbed that bitch. And I’d do it again, you know that? Just for fun, man.”

  Clint looked at the shattered remains of his phone on the floor. Troy smirked, and kicked the broken case across the floor, where it skittered to a stop at Clint’s feet. Clint bent down and picked it up, keeping an eye on Troy, though he remained where he stood.

  “I’m going to leave now,” Clint said, trying to stop his voice from shaking.

  Troy’s smile widened, and he shook his head.

  Clint took a deep breath and ran forward towards Troy, hoping that he could throw him off balance, could reach the door. Troy was ready, and his fists came up. Clint flung himself at Troy as if this were a rugby match. They collided, and Troy staggered backwards. Clint reached for the door, his fingertips on the door handle, when a fist collided with the side of his head and Clint let out a cry of pain.

  His grip on the door handle broke and he blinked hard, before Troy shoved him hard against the kitchen counter. Clint winced as his lower back slammed into the edge of the counter, winding him. He had barely gulped down air when Troy’s hands closed around his throat and started to squeeze hard against his windpipe.