“What Jayden wants?” Trent asked. Then he knew, in that moment, what Tyrese had agreed to do for him. “They still want payback for Troy shooting one of their guys, and now he’s not locked up they want him out of London, is that it?”
“Pretty much,” Tyrese nodded. “I didn’t agree to it straight away, wanted to give Troy a chance, but he’s proven again tonight that he’s better off out of here, so -”
“You know what?” Trent shouted, his patience gone. “I’m done with you. You don’t have any loyalty, Tyrese, not to Troy, not to me, not to Jessie, or anyone. You tried to get Jessie to snitch on her boyfriend, maybe you are part of the reason she was so depressed and shot herself in the fucking head. Maybe you’re the reason Troy cut up that Shaniqua girl, trying to impress you. If anyone’s the liability, it’s you, because you make all these things happen but never own it, never take responsibility.”
Tyrese looked shocked, hurt even, but Trent did not care. If anything, he felt a surge of vindictive pleasure at being able to cut his brother down like he had done to him.
He turned and threw open the front door.
“You can’t go,” Tyrese called after him.
Trent turned to look at him.
“The Banks brothers are finished, Ty. You and I, we are done,” he said, relishing the look on his brother’s face as he spoke the words. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re dead to me.”
With that he left the flat, slamming the door behind him. The smell of bleach drifted through the open window, along with Tyrese calling his name, but Trent walked away, not looking back at the flat or to see whether his brother had come out after him.
* * *
Adrianna sat on her bed, sheets pulled up to her neck and her knees tucked up under her chin, arms wrapped around her legs. Her bedroom was dark, the blinds drawn at the window, though she could see the twinkling of the city lights outside.
The wail of sirens cut through the darkness, growing steadily louder, until she was in no doubt that they were on the estate. She shivered hard, despite the warmth of her room, wondering what had befallen someone else today in this hell hole.
She wondered if someone had seen her ordeal, but she knew at once that nobody would have reported it, that these sirens were for somebody else’s distress and not hers. She was not sure whether to be relieved or dismayed by such a fact, though the thought that anyone might discover what had happened filled her with horror, with shame, even though she knew that it was not her fault, and not she who should be ashamed.
The sirens continued, echoing off the tower blocks, before finally falling silent.
Adrianna closed her eyes, knowing that sleep would not come, offering up a silent prayer for whoever had brought the sirens to the Goldsworth, and another for herself, knowing that she could never let anyone, police or otherwise, know what had happened to her.
* * *
Zoe stirred at the sound of the sirens on the estate, her heart hammering in her chest at the sudden jolt from her already restless sleep. Beside her, Tamar turned over and stretched out an arm, putting his hand on her stomach.
“Don’t worry,” Tamar murmured, his voice thick with tiredness. “Just get some sleep.”
Zoe murmured a response, but Tamar was already snoring again.
Her body ached from her confrontation with Troy, but her mind was in far worse pain. She had taken a bath and washed away the blood, and Tamar had tenderly applied lotion to her cuts and bruises, and she was not worried about her injuries. She was more concerned by what could have happened if Tamar had not arrived when he had, if Troy had taken out his anger on Sienna. The thought cut her deeply, and Zoe, as exhausted as she was, could not find sleep. She had brought Sienna into her bedroom, but even having her so close did not allay the fear she felt that Troy could return at any time.
The sirens stopped but Zoe felt fear still prickling at her skin, clawing its way into her mind. She did not know who or what had brought the sirens to the estate, but she was reminded of the time she had sat up in bed, listening to sirens outside, unaware that they marked the death of one of her best friends, another life stolen by Troy.
She shivered beneath the duvet, pressing herself closer to Tamar, his body warm against her skin, and his gentle snores helped her relax a little. He would protect her, he had promised her as much, and in standing up to Troy, once one of his closest friends, he had proven to her that he meant it.
Yet still she could not find sleep, wondering whose life would be changed by the sirens that had descended upon the estate this time, for once grateful that it was not her or her daughter whose lives had been thrown into turmoil, at least not yet.
* * *
The sirens growing louder filled Aurora with hope and she willed Clint to hear them, to know that he would soon be safe, that help was arriving. She held him close to her, looking up as blue flashing lights appeared, and the sirens cut out.
Doors slammed shut and voices called out at the end of the alleyway.
“Down here!” Aurora screamed, “Please, quickly!”
Two men in green uniforms and reflective jackets appeared and their footsteps sounded on the concrete as they ran down to where she cradled Clint.
“He’s been stabbed,” Aurora cried, unable to let go of Clint even as the two men crouched down beside them and began to examine him. She stifled her cries. “Will he be okay?” she asked, knowing that they could not answer such a question yet.
“We need to get him to hospital right away,” one of them said, as the other ran back to the ambulance to get some more equipment.
“Will he live?” Aurora asked, dreading the answer.
She did not get an answer, the man looking away from her back down to lifeless Clint, his face serious as he scrambled for a pulse, as the clatter of wheels filled the alleyway.
The two men hoisted Clint onto the trolley, and Aurora hurried alongside them, not letting go of his hand, though it was limp and cold and slick with blood.
She climbed into the back of the ambulance with them, the doors slamming shut behind them, as one of the men began compressions on Clint, and the second switched the sirens back on and pressed on the accelerator, sending them hurtling away from the Goldsworth.
* * *
The morning light crept in through the half-opened curtains and Adrianna pulled the duvet up over her face, retreating to darkness.
She had not slept, though it was not for lack of trying.
The hot water and soap had done nothing to make her feel clean again. She could still feel the rough hands on her skin and the wetness between her legs. She had not looked in the mirror yet since she had emerged from the shower, because she knew where the cuts and bruises were, the ache of them told her that much. Her insides felt bruised too, and no shower could help clean that.
At first, as night had fallen, she had been afraid, but what could would fear do her? The worst thing she could imagine had already happened.
It was hard for her to believe that this time yesterday she had awoken so excited for Trent’s surprise. Now the thought of it made her feel sick. Whenever she thought of Trent, she felt her insides clench and recoil. When she closed her eyes she saw his face, watching with amusement, as she had been tortured by those boys.
She had trusted him, loved him, and now she hated him.
Under the duvet her skin began to feel clammy with sweat, but she resisted the urge to surface into the daylight.
She did not want to face a new day, nor did she want to stay in the past.
Forcing her eyes to stay shut, she tried to clear her mind, knowing that she could no more stop the images from yesterday appearing than she could stop the sun from rising.
* * *
The waiting room at the hospital was quiet, the only sounds the occasional creak of a plastic chair or the muffled sounds of crying and the accompanying whispers of reassurance. The room was windowless, giving no clue as to the time of day or how long Aurora had been sat here, though s
he glanced often at her phone, counting down the minutes, now the hours, that had slipped by since Clint had been taken into an operating theatre. With each passing minute, Aurora worried that time was running out, that his injuries were too serious. The only hope she had was that he was still alive, because surely they would have told her straight away if he had died, if there was nothing that could be done to save him.
She twisted a tissue in her hand, the paper damp against her fingertips from her tears, and tried to think only positive thoughts. She had to be strong for Clint when he came out of surgery, when he woke, up she told herself over and over.
Angel was safe at home with Marlena, and Aurora had dismissed her mother’s suggestion that they come and join her at the hospital, not wanting her daughter to be a part of such a scene. Aurora had called Clint’s mother and told her what had happened, holding back her own tears as Femi had broken down with strangled sobs upon hearing the news. When Aurora had asked if she would come to the hospital, Femi had told her that she would come later, once she had told the rest of the family the news. Aurora could read between the lines, that she did not want to come before she had made sure her husband would not make her suffer for it later, and the thought saddened Aurora.
She knew what life had been like for Clint growing up and knew that he was nothing like his father, that he would never treat her like that, never raise a hand to her or hurt in such a way. Aurora shook the thoughts away, knowing that now was not the time to overthink things. She had to focus on the simple fact that Clint would survive, that he would be okay.
He had to, she told herself, she could not lose him, not now.
She checked her phone and she swallowed down her growing fear that any moment the surgeon would appear and tell her Clint had not made it.
* * *
The sky was already blue and cloudless when Troy rolled out of bed and opened his bedroom curtains. He rubbed his eyes against the sunlight, letting his skin warm in its glow. He had been tired, finding sleep almost as soon as his head had hit the pillow last night, but now he felt himself tense as the questions and memories rushed back as his mind woke up and the blissful ignorance of sleep faded.
He pulled his boxers and dressing gown on and hesitated at his bedroom door. The flat sounded quiet. He took a deep breath, his hand shaking as he placed it on the door handle and opened it.
The lounge was empty, but he found Tyrese sat in the kitchen. There was no sign of his mother or Trent, and Troy felt a twinge of discomfort as Tyrese looked up at him. He could not read the look on his brother’s face.
He glanced around the kitchen as he sat down. There was no trace of what had taken place yesterday, and he could have let himself believe that the floor had not been splattered with Clint’s blood if it was not for the way Tyrese’s eyes narrowed at him.
“We took care of everything,” Tyrese said, and Troy nodded in appreciation, hardly trusting himself to speak until he could judge his brother’s mood. “The knife, your clothes, the blood, all gone.”
Troy looked around, still nodding.
“Did mum see anything?” he asked.
“No, she doesn’t have a clue,” Tyrese said. “And that’s how it’s going to stay.”
Troy nodded in agreement.
“Where’s Trent?” Troy asked.
Tyrese grimaced. Troy felt uncertain. Perhaps his brother’s expression was not reserved for him but for Trent. Had they had an argument? Had something happened that he did not yet know about? He felt his muscles tense with apprehension.
“Ty?” he urged his brother. “What’s going on?”
“He went out last night,” Tyrese replied. “He’s letting off some steam.”
Troy knew that there was far more to the story than he was being told, but whatever it was, Tyrese clearly had no intention of sharing with him.
“What do we do now?” Troy asked.
Tyrese let out a long sigh, which worried him more than his earlier expression had.
“Until we know what’s happened with Clint, and whilst the police will be sniffing around, we’ve decided it’s better for you to keep a low profile,” Tyrese said. Troy nodded, he had expected as much. Tyrese met his eyes. “We need for you to leave the estate for a while.”
“Sure thing,” Troy said.
“I’ve sorted out with a mate for you to go and stay with him,” Tyrese said. “He’s up in Liverpool.”
“Liverpool?” Troy repeated. “Why the hell can’t I stay in London?”
“You need to keep out of trouble,” Tyrese said. “Unless you want to end up back inside?”
Troy shivered at the thought, and it did not go unnoticed by Tyrese.
“It won’t be forever,” Tyrese told him, pressing his advantage. “And Liverpool isn’t the other side of the world mate.”
Troy thought about it, but he knew that he was not being offered a choice here. It was not question, and Tyrese did not expect an answer from him, just a nod of agreement.
“When do I leave?” Troy asked, already dreading the answer.
“This afternoon,” Tyrese replied. “Hopefully before the police show their faces.”
* * *
Kojo had tried to remain in bed for as long as he could, willing his body to remain too tired to wake up, anything to stop himself from having to wake up and think about what had happened yesterday. The blonde girl’s cries had echoed throughout his dreams all night and now the images flashed through his mind, forcing him to get out of bed and jump in the shower in the hope that the steam and hot water would refresh his mind, or at least give him a brief respite from remembering what had happened.
He had ignored the beeps and vibrations of the notifications on his phone since last night, knowing that Kent and the others were starting to question why he had not participated as they had last night. He knew he would have to reply to their messages eventually but for now he could not bring himself to even acknowledge what had taken place, could not allow himself to make excuses for why he had not gotten involved.
The hot water started to splutter and turn cold and he shut the shower off and dried himself. He changed, still avoiding his phone vibrating on his pillow, and went into the kitchen. His mother was clasping a tissue to her face, her eyes red and puffy from tears. She was on the phone to someone, her voice thick with emotion, and Kojo felt a moment’s panic that somehow the events of last night had made their way back to his mother and that she was devastated that he could have let himself witness such a thing.
When she ended the call, she bit her lips as she faced him, swallowing down her emotion, and Kojo braced himself for the disappointment he would no doubt face from her.
“It’s your brother,” his mother said, with a shake of her head, her voice strangled. Kojo did a double-take, caught off guard. “He’s in surgery in intensive care,” she continued, before Kojo had a chance to take it all in. “He was stabbed last night. Aurora will let us know more when he comes out of surgery.”
What she did not say, did not need to say, was if he came out of surgery. Kojo had heard the uncertainty in his mother’s voice and was shocked that such a thing had happened. He wondered if the Banks brothers were responsible. He knew Troy hated him, had heard it first hand and yet he had done nothing.
His hands shook, and his mother swept him up into a tight hug. She was sobbing as she held him close to her. Kojo did not know how to feel, whether to feel guilty or sad or ashamed. For now, all he felt was shock, both at what had happened last night and now what had befallen Clint.
* * *
Aurora watched people come and go from the hospital waiting room, some in tears and some clapping with relief, but she remained in a state of perpetual anxiety as she waited for the surgeon or doctors to tell her what had happened to Clint.
It had been hours and she was dreading the news, the only sliver of hope that kept her going was the old mantra that her mother had imparted to her. No news was good news. She repeated it to herself in the hope
that it would ease her fear.
She looked up hopefully as the door opened. Detective Serena Patterson walked in. She offered Aurora a smile and her hand.
“How is Clint doing?” she asked. “I came as soon as I heard.”
Aurora swallowed down the emotion, worried that if she started crying again then she would never stop. She looked down at herself and realised she was still drenched in Clint’s blood, though it was dark and dry on her clothes now.
“I’m not sure yet, he’s still in surgery,” Aurora replied. “Hopefully he -” She stopped herself from saying any more, unable to continue speaking.
Serena put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
“He’s a fighter,” she told Aurora. “He’s strong. If anyone can pull through something like this, then it’s Clint.”
Aurora nodded, comforted by the words. She knew that Clint would fight, would do anything to stay alive, to be able to see his daughter grow up. He would not give up, he would not leave them if there was any chance he could live.
“You were the one who found him?” Serena asked.
Aurora wondered if she was investigating the case. She could not help but be reminded of the fact that she had investigated Shaniqua’s murder case too and tried not to allow herself to wonder if this would soon become a murder case as well.
“Yes, I found him,” she nodded.
“Did Clint say anything to you?”
“He was already unconscious,” Aurora admitted. “But I spoke to him earlier in the day. He was going to see Troy, he was going to try and make things right.”
Her voice wavered. She had spent the past few hours thinking about whether she was herself partly responsible. She had made Clint feel like he had to do something. If she had stabbed Troy when she had the chance, he would not have been able to hurt Clint and she would not be here right now.
“Do you think Troy stabbed him?” Serena asked. Her voice sounded almost hopeful.
“I know he did it,” Aurora replied. “I know it.”
“Would you be willing to give a statement?” Serena asked.
“I’ll do whatever it takes to get Troy locked up for this,” Aurora said firmly.
The Goldsworth Series Box Set Page 127