“Just because I tried it on with Shontelle?” Naz asked, shaking his head.
“Let’s not forget your little visit to Tyrese today,” Sanjay said. Amal’s head snapped round to glare at Naz. Naz paled, his hands shaking. He opened his mouth to speak, but his lips flapped silently and then he looked down at the floor. Sanjay sensed his discomfort, his fear. He took a step closer to Naz. “This is how you prove yourself to us. If you do this, we’ll have no reason to doubt you again. You’ll have earnt your place.”
Naz looked like he might pass out.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be with you,” Sanjay said. “I’ll set it all up, make sure Jayden is somewhere quiet, where we won’t be seen or disturbed. All you have to do is pull the trigger.”
Naz nodded.
“Are you sure about this?” Amal asked.
“If Naz kills Jayden, he’ll never betray us again,” Sanjay said to his brother, as if Naz was not sat across the table from him. “This is the perfect plan.”
“If you’re sure,” Amal said, though he sounded far from certain.
Sanjay glanced down at his phone, already planning how he would frame Tyrese.
“You better not fuck this up,” Amal said, turning on Naz, his voice low and threatening. He stopped, sneering now. “Now who’s the one bricking it?” he smirked, enjoying Naz’s discomfort. Sanjay allowed his brother an indulgent smile.
Naz looked away, looking like he wanted to be sick at the thought of tomorrow.
CHAPTER TEN
Keskia Banks tried not to think about what lay ahead this morning, when she would bury a second of her children in a matter of weeks. Her grief was thick, but it was different from the loss she had suffered when Jessie had died.
It had been such a shock, and the manner of Jessie’s death so horrific, that she had barely coped, hardly been able to accept that her youngest child, her only daughter, so innocent of everything, was dead. With Trent it was different.
As her sons had drifted into a life of crime and violence, a part of her had always known that the price of their success would have to be paid one day. Though she mourned for her son, she knew that he was not an innocent party in all of this mess, and that he had caused the grieving of other parents in his time.
She heard running water and knew that Tyrese was getting ready too. She was relieved that he had kept himself out of trouble since Trent’s death and she believed him when he said that he was no longer interested in the life had had lead before. She just hoped that he could stick to it and prove himself to her.
In the kitchen, she turned on the radio and was surprised to hear her son’s name. She listened to the brief news report, though she had already learnt the details of the story earlier, when the police had called to update her on the investigation into Trent’s shooting. A man had been arrested.
Keskia was relieved that he was off the streets, but she knew that did not mean that the man who was being charged was behind the killing. Tyrese had said as much. He was just the errand boy, in Tyrese’s words, and so Keskia did not believe that this man spending his life in prison would count as justice for her son, though it was a start.
The water shut off and she heard Tyrese leave the bathroom. She checked her watch. There was still plenty of time before the service started, but she was already dressed and ready to go.
As she fumbled in her purse to re-apply her make-up, she hoped that this would be the last funeral that she would have to attend.
* * *
Dante let the hot water of the shower burn his skin but made no effort to turn the heat down. He found it cleared his mind, and he needed to do that right now with the trial and Charley preoccupying his mind.
Charley’s words from when she had visited him still filled his thoughts, but things were making more sense now. He knew exactly who had mothered his baby. The thought made him cringe and being drunk was his only defence for sleeping with such a cow, but all the details fitted.
Zoe Taylor.
They had hooked-up at a party, and even though he wasn’t interested in her, had been almost disgusted by her, she had been so smitten with him and desperate for his attention that he had pity-fucked her and forgotten all about it the second he had pulled up his boxers and left her alone in the spare bedroom to re-join the party. He had heard she’d had a baby, but he had given it no thought. A girl like that, who spread her legs for anyone at a party, was bound to get knocked up.
The more he thought about it, strained his memory for clarification, the more he found himself convinced that she was the one Charley had referred to. He had no clue how Charley had found out, or if she’d pulled the whole thing out of her arse, but Dante intended to find out.
Shutting off the water, he began to dry himself, already deciding what he would do. He would send Zoe a visiting order and once he was face-to-face with her, he would find out what the hell was going on.
Until then, he had to focus on his trial.
* * *
Tyrese leant against the bar and ordered a pint of beer. It was only his second, and they had been at the wake just over half an hour, and already the bar was emptying. People had made excuses to leave early, or not come at all, so now it was just him and his mum left to mourn for Trent.
The funeral had been short. Trent had never been one for religion. When he had been laid to rest, Keskia had said a few short words to the dwindling crowd of mourners, and they had all traipsed across the road to the pub.
Tyrese looked around and shook his head. His mum sat in a corner booth, shoulders sagging, cradling her drink, having hardly taken a sip. He knew she was probably disappointed with the turn-out, but what had she expected? He had few friends, and most of them were probably worried about showing their faces, not wanting to show their loyalty to someone who was dead now, someone who had been shot in the head, and whose killer might come after them too.
It made him sad, that his brother’s life had come down to this, just his brother and his mum grieving for him, but Tyrese tried not to dwell on it.
He gulped at his beer, downing almost half the pint in a few swigs. He caught the barman’s eye and gestured for another as he lifted the glass to his lips again. His mother saw and came over, putting her untouched drink down on the bar.
“I’m heading home now,” she said, eyeing the fresh beer that the barman put in front of Tyrese. “Perhaps you should consider -”
“Don’t start, mum,” Tyrese sighed, finishing the pint. “I’ll see you later.”
She nodded, lips thinning as if she were about to cry again, and then she clutched her handbag to her chest and left the pub, giving one last sad look at him as she went. He watched the door swing shut behind her and picked up the fresh pint.
* * *
“You aren’t going out again,” Aunt Bo insisted, but Brandy pushed past her and opened the front door. “Brandine Mason, don’t you dare step out of that door.”
Brandy stuck her middle finger up at her and slammed the door shut behind her, lighting a cigarette as she savoured the freedom of being outside the flat. Aunt Bo had become even more overbearing than usual since the moment of calm had come over the flat. Aunt Bo had thought something had changed, but nothing had, and it never would, Brandy knew.
She inhaled deeply on her cigarette and set off for Adrianna’s. She had not seen her friend for a while, and she wanted to check on her. Well, if she was honest, Brandy just wanted someone to drink with, and Adrianna was usually game for that.
As she walked to her friend’s flat, she wondered briefly what had been up with her mate lately. She had not been herself. Brandy shook her head, realising what the problem was. Trent had broken up with Adrianna, and then he had died. She was feeling down. Brandy sighed. She hoped her friend would be in the mood for a drink.
Knocking on the door, Brandy tapped her fingers on the frame as she waited. Impatient, she knocked again. The door was answered by Adrianna’s brother.
“Is Adrianna in?” she asked. He
looked her up and down for a split-second, then gestured over his shoulder and shuffled off into the kitchen. Brandy rolled her eyes and went down the landing, letting herself into her friend’s room.
Adrianna looked a state. Her eyes were red and puffy, and an empty vodka bottle lay discarded beside the bed.
“You been partying without me?” Brandy asked, narrowing her eyes.
“No, just had a few drinks in alone,” Adrianna replied, not even out of bed yet. She rubbed her eyes. Her hair was in a state Brandy had never seen or imagined before. “It’s Trent’s funeral today.”
Brandy gave an inward moan. She did not want to get roped into a talk about Trent Banks and how much Adrianna missed him.
“How nice,” Brandy forced a smile. “I was just wondering if you wanted to come for a drink?”
Adrianna shook her head, and her lip trembled as if she were about to cry. On the duvet, her phone began to ring. She made no attempt to answer it, so Brandy snatched it up and answered Sanjay’s call.
“Sorry, Adrianna can’t come to the phone right now, she’s being a depressing bitch,” Brandy answered. “If you can come over and put a smile on her face, the whole world would appreciate it.”
Adrianna whimpered, pulling the blanket over her head and burying her face in her pillow. Brandy rolled her eyes.
“Brandy?” Sanjay asked. “Look, I had a job for Adrianna, but you could do it if she’s not up for it.”
“What kind of job?” she asked.
Sanjay hesitated a moment and then he told her. She knew that he was not telling her much, but he offered fifty quid. She murmured her agreement and tossed the phone back onto Adrianna’s figure huddled out of sight.
“Call me when you cheer the hell up,” Brandy told her, as she backed out of the bedroom, grateful when she left the flat and the depressing atmosphere around Adrianna behind her.
* * *
Scarlett felt butterflies as she stood in front of the mirror in her sister’s room and checked out her reflection. She had never paid much attention to her appearance, so she did not have a big mirror in her own room. She was wearing a skirt that she had bought months ago but never worn, had never any occasion to wear it, and she had blow-dried her hair. She hoped Kojo liked it, but she was sure he would.
Last night she had known he meant it when he had apologised. She knew what boys could be like, especially when they were around their mates, and so all was forgiven as far as she was concerned.
She was excited to see him. She did a spin, watching the folds of the skirt swirl in the reflection, and stopped abruptly as her sister appeared in the doorway.
“You’re going to see him?” Shontelle asked, crossing her arms, leaning on the doorframe. “Scarlett, I know you like him, but that boy is no good for you.”
Scarlett sighed, and turned from the mirror, her happiness dashed in a split-second at her sister’s words. She went to pass her, but Shontelle blocked the doorway.
“I’m serious,” Shontelle said.
“Get out my way,” Scarlett said.
“Not until you start listening,” Shontelle insisted. “You can do so much better.”
“Like you?” Scarlett snorted. “Wasn’t your boyfriend involved in a stabbing a while ago?”
Shontelle looked shocked. Scarlett never spoke back to her sister, and Scarlett had almost surprised herself with her remark. It was the truth, though, and she was sick of her sister trying to play mum. Their mum was dead, and Shontelle was no way near a replica of her.
“I’m only trying to look out for you,” Shontelle said, hiding her hurt, though she stepped out of her way.
Scarlett left her sister’s room.
“I’m old enough to look out for myself,” Scarlett said over her shoulder, as she went into her own room and grabbed up her phone and purse.
“You think so?” Shontelle asked, disbelieving. “This boy is turning you against me, this isn’t who you are. We used to share everything. What’s happening to you?”
It was clear from her voice that she was upset, but Scarlett was tired of her sister’s dramatic behaviour, her flare for being over the top.
“No, we didn’t share everything,” Scarlett said, as she headed for the front door. Shontelle was a few steps behind her, agitation mounting. Hand on the lock, Scarlett turned to face her. “You just thought we were close because you always went on and on at me about your problems. Your love life, your bitchy friends, your pathetic nights out. You talked and talked, but you never asked me about any of that. So no, Shontelle, we were never close. That’s all in your head.”
“Scarlett, what are you saying?” Shontelle cried, reaching for her.
Scarlett threw the front door open, relieved to have finally voiced something she had never dared to before.
“You have some idea in your head that we’re super-close and tell each other everything,” Scarlett said, stepping out of the flat, “But it’s just in your head. We’re not close. We don’t tell each other anything. You just like talking about yourself, and I didn’t have the nerve to tell you to shut up until now.”
Shontelle’s mouth was open in shock, but Scarlett didn’t care. She set off down the hallway, heading for the stairwell.
“You get back here right now,” Shontelle called after her.
Scarlett ignored her and turned the corner, her mind quickly turning to Kojo.
* * *
“What’s the matter sweetheart?” Femi asked.
Clint sighed, stopping his pacing of the kitchen. His mum was draining rice in the sink and she put the pan down on the counter and turned to him, putting her hands in the pocket of her bright flowery apron.
“Nothing,” Clint lied. His mum knew him better than that, and she shook her head, giving him a questioning look. Clint sighed. Perhaps it would be good to voice his concerns. At least his dad was out. “It’s Aurora.”
“You were so happy after your day out,” his mum said. “You were smiling all evening. I just thought -”
“Yeah, we worked things out,” Clint said, running a hand over his head. “But I just want to prove to her that I’ll always be there for her.”
“You have a baby together,” his mum pointed out. “That’s a commitment.”
“Around here it’s not,” Clint said. “You know how many guys I went to school have kids they’ve never even seen? And how many girls have kids that don’t even know what a dad is?”
“You’re not like that,” his mum said softly. “You love that little girl.”
“I know I do mum,” Clint sighed, exasperated. “But I want to prove to Aurora that I love her, that this time things will be different. I almost lost her, and I never want to let that happen again.”
His mum looked at him for a long moment, and then she nodded.
“Come with me, I’ve got something to show you,” she said.
She pulled off her apron and hung it on the back of the kitchen door, before heading off down the hallway, beckoning for Clint to follow her. Clint did, unsure what his mother wanted to show him.
In his parents’ bedroom, Clint hovered at the doorway whilst his mum fumbled in the drawers of her bedside cabinet. He kept shooting glances back at the front door, worried that his father would return home and give him a beating for being in his room. His mum emerged from her search, and sat down on the side of her bed, clutching a tiny red felt jewellery box in her hand.
“Look here Clint,” she said, gesturing him closer.
Clint gave a last down the hall at the front door, and joined his mum, sitting down beside her. She opened the box and a thin gold ring lay in the box. The outside of the ring was engraved with flowers, and the inside had tiny, ornate writing. Clint gasped. It was beautiful. He had never seen it before. He glanced at his mother’s hands and wondered if she no longer wore it because it did not fit her fingers anymore, or if she kept it hidden for fear that her husband would take it down to the pawn shop for beer and gambling money. She smiled as she observed
his reaction. “This was my mother’s. She gave it to me when I came to this country. Made by your grandfather. He was a good man. Very talented.”
“It’s beautiful,” Clint managed. It was true, but he was uncertain. His mother never really spoke about her parents or her life before her husband or England.
As if reading his thoughts, Femi put the ring back into the box and placed it into Clint’s hand, pressing it into his palm.
“I want you to have it,” she said quietly. Clint looked up, surprised, but saw that she was smiling brightly, no trace of sadness or reluctance. She nodded encouragingly, and his fingers closed around the box. “If you want to spend the rest of your life with Aurora and want to prove to her that you are serious, then you can use this ring. You should propose with it, sweetheart, if you really love her.”
Clint held the box with the ring tight in his hand. He felt choked up. His mother smiled brightly at him and squeezed his hand.
“Thanks, mum,” Clint managed, his voice thick with emotion, touched by her kind gesture.
Femi waved off his thanks, standing up with a groan and wiping at her eyes, though she tried not to show her emotion. She smiled down at him, and left the room, busying herself once more in the kitchen.
Clint slid the box into his pocket and left his parents’ bedroom. He knew now that his mother was right. If he wanted Aurora to know he was serious about his love for her and that he wanted them to spend the rest of their lives together, he would propose.
He joined his mother in the kitchen, one hand in his pocket, tightly clutching the jewellery box, hoping that Aurora would be as touched as he had been to receive the ring.
* * *
Troy left his cell, ignoring those around him, not wanting a fight, not wanting to cause any trouble. Now all Troy wanted was to keep his head down and let the ground swallow him up.
Towel over his shoulder, he headed for the showers. At least when he was under the hot water, he seemed to think less about where he was. If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine he was back at his mum’s flat, with Jessie banging on the bathroom door wanting to do her hair in the mirror, or his brothers waiting outside, desperate for a piss but not wanting to show it.
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