The Goldsworth Series Box Set

by Davie J Toothill

Before he could answer, she hung up. She decided then that she couldn’t tell him about Naz. Amal would destroy his cousin, and he had only recently got out of prison and she didn’t want him to go back inside, not on her account.

  She double-checked she had locked the front door, and retreated to her bedroom, sliding under the covers, shivering at the thought of what could have happened. She wondered if Naz would tell Amal, fearing that she might tell him first.

  Her phone started to ring, and she sighed with relief that it was Amal. She swallowed hard and answered. She let out a strangled sob, despite her best effort to keep her emotions in check.

  “What’s wrong baby?” Amal asked at once. Shontelle could not bring herself to tell him what had happened. Amal’s voice was concerned. “I’m on way over.”

  Shontelle felt relieved, keeping her phone clasped in her hand, her body tense, knowing she would not feel safe until he was here with her. She wondered what he would say, or what he might do, when she told him what his cousin had just tried to do to her.

  * * *

  Troy had plenty of time to think in the van as he was escorted back to prison, though he wished he did not, his mind filled with dark thoughts, each more depressing than the last.

  The only hope he had was that the van might crash, though he did not think he had enough fight in him to escape. Perhaps if he was killed in the crash, that would be a relief. It would surely be better than spending thirty years locked up.

  When the van finally jerked to a stop and the engine was shut off, Troy swallowed hard. The handcuffs dug into his wrists as his arms shook with nerves.

  “Right, we’re here,” the guard accompanying him said cheerily. “Welcome to your new home.”

  Troy felt as if he might throw up.

  “Well, in your case, welcome back home,” the guard laughed to himself.

  The doors opened and Troy saw the prison looming over him. His feet were heavy as he was helped down from the back of the van and led inside to be processed.

  He blinked hard, the smell of prison, the one he had grown to hate, washed over him once more. The guard was right. This would be his home for the foreseeable future.

  Blinking hard so as not to cry, he stepped forward to be processed.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Troy woke up after a sleepless first night in his cell. His cellmate, a beefy guy with thick body hair, yellow teeth and a blotchy pink complexion, was still snoring loudly from the bottom bunk. Troy rolled over onto his side and stared at the white wall, feeling more tired than rested. He had spent the night wrestling with dark thoughts. Though he knew that he would spend the foreseeable in here, his brain could not quite process or accept the fact yet.

  His mind had conjured up images of him and Brandy escaping the Goldsworth, starting up a life somewhere, lounging on a beach somewhere sipping a cold beer, their lives one long holiday-advertisement. Then inevitably someone would shout from another cell, or his cellmate would grunt loudly from below, and Troy would crash back to his reality.

  The cell still smelt vaguely from when his cellmate had gone to the toilet in the early hours, and Troy wondered if he could survive thirty years of this. He did not expect Tyrese to visit him and give him anything to do. As far as he was concerned, Tyrese had given up on him and Troy did not want anything from him.

  Troy was alone, completely and utterly, and in some ways, he thought, it made it a little easier to be locked up here. At least he did not have someone on the outside waiting for him, somebody to worry about or stress about being apart from.

  Even as he thought this, his mind turned to Brandy. He forced the thoughts away, too painful to think about her, and sat up on his bunk as the door sounded.

  He wanted to get out of here and away from his cellmate. Even though he had no appetite, he headed for the canteen. He kept an eye out for Dante, wondering what had become of his former cellmate. He had a lot to answer for, Troy thought. He had recorded his confession and was perhaps the very reason that Troy was back here.

  Still, Troy was due to give evidence against Dante in his own trial, so payback would be sweet. He wondered if Dante knew he was due to testify yet. He was not sure what to do if he saw him, if he should play it cool or knock him out. There was little fight left in him, Troy knew, but Dante deserved a beating for what he had done.

  He did not have to wait long to see his former cellmate.

  Dante sat a table in the canteen surrounded by a couple of guys. He looked at ease as he ate, no care in the world for what he had done, that he had brought Troy’s life crashing down around him just as he had been about to start over.

  Troy decided in that second that, whatever the repercussions, he wanted to smack him. He weaved between two tables, fists clenched at his side, walking with determination. Dante had not yet spotted him, mid-laugh.

  Halfway across the canteen, a hand shot out and grabbed Troy around the wrist. Troy was surprised, tugging his arm away, but the grip was strong.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I was you,” Nathaniel said, his voice low.

  Troy glared down at him.

  “He deserves it,” Troy hissed.

  “I got no doubt he does,” Nathaniel said. “But things have changed in here since you got out, Banks. If you go over there, then you’d regret it.”

  Troy hesitated. Nathaniel released his grip, and Troy looked over at Dante, wondering whether he had perhaps underestimated his former cellmate once again.

  * * *

  Dante sent Reese off to take orders whilst he ate breakfast. He tried to maintain his cool composure, though he had not slept well, the thought of being in court playing on his mind despite his best efforts. Though he would never admit it, not even to himself, his visit with Charley had left him shaken. When he had eventually drifted to sleep, images of Bolton had penetrated his dreams, and he had woken in a sweat and not been able to relax until morning.

  He could not show any fear or nerves in front of his men, though, so he pretended that he was fine. He hoped that soon his act would work its way into his subconscious and he could convince himself that he really was not worried about the trial.

  Glancing around the canteen, surveying his empire, he froze.

  Troy.

  Dante swallowed hard. Though Troy had never been much of a threat, he was unpredictable and he could cause trouble for him if he put his mind to it. He was not surprised to see him back inside, but it was worrying all the same.

  Troy was not looking at him, and Dante wondered if he had spotted him, if he would come over or if he would play it cool. Troy dropped onto the bench at a table across the room, and Dante gritted his teeth. He was chatting to Nathaniel.

  Dante did not like that. Whatever they were talking about it, it could not bode well for him. He would have to do something, though he had no clue what yet.

  Before he could do anything, he had to take care of court and then he would worry about Troy and whatever he was up to.

  * * *

  The kitchen was full of noise and activity when Charley walked in, juggling her son in one arm and her bag in the other. She felt the heat from the stove as her mother cooked breakfast and felt itchy in her smart trousers and blouse, more used to the comfort of jeans and a t-shirt.

  Huw was throwing a tantrum and Torey was trying to quiet him, and Asher leant against the counter with a mug of coffee in his hands. He gave her a smile as she walked over, wrestling with Junior as he wriggled in her arms, uncomfortable with the sudden noise and heat.

  “You sure you can take Junior today mum?” Charley asked.

  Her mother nodded, turning from the stove.

  “You no it’s no trouble, silly girl,” she chastised her.

  “How are you feeling?” Asher asked her.

  “Fine,” Charley replied. Asher looked unconvinced, but nodded, accepting her answer.

  It was the truth, or at least for the most part. Charley had dreaded the trial, but after seeing Dante her fear of him had diminished. S
he had built him up as an unstoppable monster in her mind but seeing him had reminded her that he was just a man. No, she thought, just a boy. A boy who had taken a life, and he would pay for that, she was certain of that.

  There was a knock on the front door and a second later it swung open, and Leigh-Ann bustled into the kitchen, looking smart in a pant-suit and hoop earrings.

  “What are you doing here?” Charley asked her best mate.

  “You didn’t think I’d let you go alone,” Leigh-Ann rolled her eyes. “Call it moral support.”

  Charley smiled and hugged her.

  “Plus, I want to see the look on that bastard’s face when he gets sent down,” Leigh-Ann added, and Charley smiled indulgently at her, grateful for her being there.

  “We should get going,” Asher said, draining his coffee and putting the mug in the sink.

  If he was nervous about testifying today, he did not show it.

  Her mum took Junior out of her arms and he stopped wriggling, pinned between her huge arms and bosom. Charley kissed him on the forehead and followed Leigh-Ann and Asher out of the kitchen and down the landing.

  Though she was not afraid, Charley felt her stomach churn as she walked out of the front door, and her hands shook as she clasped her handbag tight across her chest.

  * * *

  Troy sat down on the hard-plastic bench beside Nathaniel and glanced over his shoulder back at Dante. Dante quickly looked away, and Troy knew that he had been spotted. He wondered what his former cellmate thought about him, if he even knew yet that his recording had been found by the police, if he was the reason he was back behind bars.

  “He runs things in here now,” Nathaniel told him, and Troy looked away. “When you got out, he pretty much took over.”

  “How did he do it?” Troy asked.

  He felt foolish that he had helped Dante, given him all his contacts and his start-up. He had trusted him, thought Dante was just a guy he could use, when all along it seemed that Dante had been using him.

  “That PO that brought gear in for you,” Nathaniel said, lowering his voice. “I don’t know what Dante offered him, but now Wimbly brings it in for him instead.”

  “That’s impossible,” Troy shook his head. “Wimbly got it from my brother, so when I got out then -” He trailed off, wondering if Tyrese had secretly started working with Dante. No, he thought. Perhaps Tyrese did not even know what was going on. One of his men, wanting to make some profit on the sly, was responsible for this. Troy thought of Sanjay and Trent, both of whom he could imagine doing such a thing, though Trent had ruled himself out now he was dead.

  Part of Troy wanted to ring his brother and warn him, but he did not move.

  “Who are the guys with him?” Troy asked.

  “A mixed bunch,” Nathaniel said. “The one with dreads is his cellmate, Reese, he does all the leg-work for him. The rest are just clinging to his coattails, after a cut or a line or two.”

  Troy swallowed hard. Nathaniel was right, things had changed in here. He did not recall having so many people crowded around him when he had run things, and Troy wondered if he had ever commanded any respect. The thought made him blush. He must have been an easy target for Dante. His former cellmate must have been laughing to himself at how easy Troy had made it all for him.

  Dante stood up and left the table, and Troy realised that his trial must be starting now. He wondered if Dante even wanted to get out if he had things locked down here. In here he was a king, outside on the street he was a nobody.

  Troy watched him and Dante looked over, catching his eye. Their eyes locked for a moment and then Dante was gone.

  “Be careful, Banks,” Nathaniel warned him. “You know just as well as I do what he’s capable of.”

  Troy nodded, knowing that he was right.

  “I’m not frightened of him,” Troy growled, though it was not entirely the truth.

  Nathaniel levelled him with a stern look.

  “Perhaps you should be,” he said, before returning his attention to his breakfast.

  * * *

  Aurora awoke feeling refreshed for the first time in ages, the familiar dread that had weighed over her now gone. She checked her phone for the time and smiled to herself. Today was a good day. Troy was safely back in prison where he belonged, and it was only a short while until Clint was discharged from the hospital.

  She got out of bed and heard her mother playing with Angel in the kitchen as she slipped into the bathroom. She washed quickly, wanting to have enough time to do her hair and make-up. She was not sure why she was acting as if it was her first date with Clint, though she remembered so clearly the days at school when she had tried her hardest to impress him, wanting to look perfect when they walked to school together.

  Smiling at the memories, she got ready, humming along to a song in her head. She was excited at the prospect of having Clint back at home with her, having him back by her side, and she wondered what this meant for their future.

  “Someone’s happy this morning,” Marlena said when Aurora walked into the kitchen. Aurora could not help but smile wider. “No prize for guessing what’s got you so cheerful.”

  Aurora filled the kettle, blowing a kiss to Angel, and continued to smile.

  * * *

  Sanjay heard the commotion the second he came through the front door. He had gone for a walk to clear his head, leaving Naz sprawled out on the sofa, and now it sounded like a war in the front room.

  He barged through the door and saw Amal and Naz rolling around on the floor. Naz was holding his arms up over his face whilst Amal punched him. He dived forward and grabbed the back of Amal’s shirt, dragging him off Naz. Amal kicked out at him, and Naz skittered away and pulled himself to his feet using the couch, backing away from his cousins.

  “Psycho,” Naz spluttered, catching his breath.

  “I’ll show you psycho,” Amal shouted, struggling under Sanjay’s grip, but he held firm.

  “Someone tell me what’s going on,” Sanjay demanded.

  He shook Amal, and his brother seemed to come to his senses.

  He still clasped the back of Amal’s shirt, just in case he went for Naz again, but Amal was breathing hard, the fight leaving him. Sanjay released his grip. Amal made no lunge, and Sanjay looked between them, waiting for answers.

  Naz took another step back, eye on Amal, as if expecting him to attack again.

  Amal took a deep breath.

  “You not going to tell him?” Amal asked, shooting Naz a dirty look. “Too ashamed, are you?”

  Naz said nothing, though Sanjay saw his eyes drop to the floor.

  “He tried it on with my girlfriend,” Amal said. “Went round and tried to force himself on Shontelle. No man should do that, but you’re my family, and you tried it on with my girl? How can we trust him?”

  Sanjay looked at his brother, saw how much the betrayal angered him. He looked at Naz, who glanced down at his feet, but quickly looked back at Amal, still alert.

  “Is this true?” Sanjay asked. Naz did not need to answer, the truth was written all over him as he remained sullenly silent. Sanjay shook his head. “Why’d you do it Naz?”

  “Okay, I shouldn’t have done it, but he started this,” Naz protested. “He went after my ex, knowing there was unfinished business between us, he’s the one who -”

  “Unfinished business?” Amal sniggered. “Who are you trying to kid? She was well over you. Everyone knew it, including you.”

  “If it was the other way around you wouldn’t be saying that,” Naz snapped, looking anxious now, as if backed into a corner. He looked at Sanjay. “Come on, you know that as well as I do. It’s one rule for you two, another for me. Always has been.”

  “That’s not true,” Sanjay said, trying to be reasonable, though deep down he knew that Naz was right. He and Amal had a bond. They were brothers. Naz had always been the third-wheel, even if Sanjay had tried hard to include him. “You shouldn’t have gone behind his back, especially over a g
irl, for fuck’s sake. And trying to force her? Come on, Naz, that’s gross.”

  Naz laughed, clapping his hands together.

  “Just what I thought, you take his side like always,” he said.

  “Naz -” Sanjay started, but Naz shook his head.

  “Nah, I don’t have to listen to this,” he said. He headed for the door. Sanjay intercepted him, blocking his path. Naz looked weary now. “Let me out.”

  “You do something like that again,” Sanjay said, his voice low, threatening. “Or betray this family, and there’s going to be consequences. You might be family, Naz, but that doesn’t mean anything if you break the rules.”

  Naz held his eyes, then looked down at his feet, shoulders slumping, defeated, as Sanjay knew he would be. His cousin was predictable. He had no backbone, and he would do nothing more to risk being ejected from the family. He had nobody else, no friends, no crew. He needed them, far more than they needed him.

  “Is that clear?” Sanjay pressed him.

  “Yeah,” Naz said, sulking now.

  Sanjay stepped aside and Naz swiftly left the room, the front door closing behind him a moment later. Sanjay turned to Amal, who was staring at the doorway with disgust, the anger still on his face.

  “Calm down now,” Sanjay said, “It’s sorted.”

  “Yeah,” Amal sighed. “For now.”

  * * *

  Dante stood in the dock and looked around the courtroom, surveying his audience. The turnout was small, and he felt a little disappointed. In his imagination, he had pictured the gallery full of supporters or haters, vying for space with reporters detailing his crimes and granting him a place in the hall of fame of notorious London gangsters.

  There were only a few people in the public seats. He recognised Bolton’s mum, looking frail and sick, and when he looked at her, she avoided his eyes. He could almost taste the disgust and hatred coming from her even from across the room. A short distance away, Charley sat with Leigh-Ann. Both girls defiantly held his gaze when he glared at them, and he felt disappointed that neither of them seemed cowed by him.

  The jury had already been sworn in and Dante felt their eyes on him, but that was not the audience that he cared about. He wanted to make Charley suffer, make her pay for her attitude yesterday, for making him question what he had done, for giving him such a sleepless night.