Brandy swallowed hard. Her mother had barely made sense over the years, but now Brandy finally started to feel that she could relate to her. Aunt Bo watched the exchange, shaking her head, though when Brandy looked at her, she saw the resignation dawning on her face.
“I’ll call social services tomorrow,” Brandy said, deciding out loud. It was better to do it quickly, for all their sakes.
“You’re stronger than I was,” Deanna said, flicking ash into Frazer’s half-eaten bowl of baby food. “Imagine what kind of life you could’ve had if I’d given you up.”
Brandy tried not to think about it. She turned to Aunt Bo.
“It’s for the best, you see that, don’t you?”
Aunt Bo rose to her feet, swelling with indignation.
“I’ll pack my things, ready for when Frazer is taken,” she said. She looked from Brandy to Deanna and back. “I can see that you’re both beyond redemption. Even God cannot help you know, girl.”
“Oh, shut the fuck up Bo,” Deanna snorted, taking another drag from her cigarette and laughing. “Go have a kid of your own, might cheer you up.”
* * *
Amal had one arm around Shontelle’s shoulders as they turned the corner onto his street. She smiled at him, both in a good mood after the reception. Amal was happy for his mate, and he could even picture himself tying the knot with Shontelle, but not yet, it was far too early for such thoughts.
“Did you have a word with Kojo?” she asked.
“Yeah, I sure did,” Amal nodded.
Shontelle smiled happily, and Amal wondered if Kojo would consider his offer. He would take the lad under his wing, teach him a thing or two. Clint would not be around, and Kojo needed someone to keep an eye on him.
Amal’s stride slowed as they approached the house. Shontelle’s smile slipped, eyes widening with concern as they clocked two police cars parked outside the house.
The uniforms were going in and out of the house, and Amal panicked. He ran forward, caught sight of his mum and Naz stood outside the front door, to one side, looking anxious. Sanjay was mouthing off, two officers watching him wearily.
“What’s going on?” Amal asked.
“They’ve got a warrant,” Sanjay told him quietly. He dropped his voice to a whisper. “There was a tip-off. Somebody grassed.”
Amal swallowed hard as a uniform called outside.
“We’ve got it,” the officer shouted. “We found the gun.”
* * *
Naz felt his heart pounding in his chest as the officer held up the gym bag. Amal had arrived just in time, and to make it even sweeter, Shontelle was with him. Now she would see what he was really like and she would never want to see him again. Even if she did, the only way she would was across a table in the visiting room of prison.
“It’s in here,” the officer told his sergeant.
“Right,” the sergeant nodded. He looked over at them, gesturing to the bag. “Whose bag is this?”
Naz glanced at Amal, Shontelle wide-eyed beside him.
“It’s mine,” Sanjay sighed.
Naz’s heart almost stopped. Had he put the gun in the wrong bag? He looked at his cousins, could not be sure if Sanjay was telling the truth or if he was taking the fall for Amal.
Sanjay stepped forward, holding up his hands in surrender.
“You’re under arrest for the murder of Jayden Healy,” the sergeant told him as he snapped cuffs around his wrists and motioned for someone to put him in a car.
Naz caught his eye as he went. The look on Sanjay’s face was dangerous.
He knew at once that Sanjay knew that he was responsible.
Naz began to shake, realising now he had just made the biggest mistake of his life.
* * *
Clint lay beneath the sheets, Aurora in his arms, and finally felt relaxed.
The day had been beautiful and they were now husband and wife, and he did not want anything more from life than everything he already had right now.
“You know,” Aurora murmured into his chest, “I was thinking the other day, about the house up in Manchester.”
“Oh yeah?” Clint asked. He too had thought about Manchester, had wondered if they would return or not.
“I love seeing my mum, and I love London,” Aurora said quietly, “And I know you love being close to your mum and Kojo. But it’s not just about us and what we want now.”
Clint nodded.
“You think we should go back up to Manchester?” he asked. He was surprised. He had not expected Aurora to willingly leave her mother again.
“For Angel’s sake,” Aurora said. “I mean, we both grew up on the Goldsworth and we turned out fine but look at some of the others. Brandy, Troy, the Banks brothers. I know you can’t blame the place, but you’ve got to wonder.”
“Angel deserves the best,” Clint agreed.
“And then there’s Sasha and Shaniqua,” Aurora said. “She did nothing wrong, never hurt anybody, and she still died. I can’t let Angel grow up in a place like that.”
Clint held her close to him as she shivered slightly at the thought.
“Plus, my mum seems like she’s doing a lot better now,” Aurora continued. “And I know you don’t want to leave him behind, but Kojo has friends here. We can’t force him back to Manchester, and I hardly think he’ll be wanting to join us.”
Clint thought about his brother. Something had changed inside of him, he knew that much. He was no longer the sweet, innocent boy he had whispered reassurances to as their father flew into a rage and beat their mother just outside the bedroom door. No, Kojo was growing up now. Clint could no longer protect him.
Aurora kissed his chest, sensing where his thoughts had taken him. Clint smiled at her, running a hand through her hair, drawing her close for another kiss.
“I was thinking about Manchester too,” Clint admitted. “I wasn’t sure you’d want to leave your mum, but I agree. We have a house there, a future. That is what’s best for Angel.”
“Thanks, Clint,” Aurora smiled.
“I’ll book the train tickets back,” Clint said. “There’s no use in waiting. The trial’s over. We’re married. The sooner we start our new lives, the better.”
“My perfect husband.”
“My beautiful wifey,” Clint smiled, kissing her, pulling her closer. “You know, it is still our wedding night.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Suitcases lay open on the bed, clothes spilling out of them. Aurora was not sure how they had managed to accumulate so much in the time they had been back on the estate. She smiled as Angel coughed from her cot. Of course, she thought. It seemed like an age ago that they had come back. She had been heavy with pregnancy, and now they were returning to Manchester with their beautiful daughter.
She remembered leaving for Manchester the first time, desperate with fear, as she had met Clint and his brother at the train station, the threat of the Banks brothers’ reprisals filling them with dread. Now, they left with a beautiful daughter and happily married. It was like a dream, Aurora thought, as she folded a shirt and dropped it into the suitcase.
Something else had been playing on her mind lately. She remembered Serena Patterson’s words, her suggestion that she join the police force. She had dismissed the thought at the time, but now she was beginning to consider it. She wanted to honour Shaniqua’s memory, do something that mattered.
She did not know what Clint would have to say about it, but she could not imagine him being unsupportive. He loved her, he wanted her to be happy. The thought of someone from the Goldsworth Estate becoming a police officer was almost laughable, but Aurora knew that Serena Patterson had done it. She could do it too, Serena had said as much.
“It’ll be quiet without you all here,” Marlena said, as she came into the room. Aurora turned, smiling at her mother. She smiled back, though Aurora could see the sadness in her mother’s eyes. “I’ll miss you all, you know that.”
“I know mum,” Aurora said. “But
we have to go back, it’s -”
Marlena held up a hand to stop her.
“I understand, believe me I do,” she said. “And you’re always welcome to come down and visit me. Let the little one see her grandma.”
“Of course,” Aurora said. “I thought you didn’t like being called grandma.”
“For this little beauty, I don’t mind,” Marlena smiled, bending down over Angel’s cot and stroking her face.
“Mum, I’ve been thinking,” Aurora said slowly, finally giving voice to her thoughts. “What would you think if I said I was considering joining the police?”
Marlena considered her for a long moment.
“I’d say you’re crazy,” she said, with a laugh. “All that hard work, that training. It’s a tough job, Aurora, but if anyone can do it, then it’s you.”
“You’d be proud?” Aurora asked.
“I’m always proud of you, sweetheart,” she replied. “But yes, I’d be proud. If it’s what you want, then you should go for it. Life is too short not to.”
Aurora smiled at her, feeling relieved. Marlena came over to the bed and began folding the clothes, shaking her head at the mess inside the suitcases.
“Now, why don’t you go say goodbye to your friends before you leave,” she said, taking the shirt from Aurora’s hands. “You’re making a mess of this packing, just leave it to me.”
Aurora squeezed her hand, and Marlena smiled as she focused on the chaos in front of her.
“Thanks mum,” Aurora said. For everything, she wanted to say, but she did not. Marlena nodded, giving her a knowing smile, and Aurora knew that her mother had understood exactly what she meant.
* * *
Kojo sat up in his bed and glanced at his phone. There were no messages from Scarlett, not that he had expected any. He cringed at the memory of what he had done, how he had behaved. He was hardly aware of it. It was as if a cloud of rage had descended over him, as if he had been a completely different person.
Not that any excuse mattered, he thought. He wondered if Scarlett would ever forgive him, or if he even wanted her to. Perhaps she was better off without him. He was no prize. She deserved much better, he knew that for certain.
“You fat, clumsy bitch,” he heard his father shout from the kitchen. He heard the clatter of saucepans on the floor and knew his father had done his usual trick of swiping all the washing-up onto the floor. “Can’t you do anything right?”
Kojo closed his eyes, though it did nothing to block out his father’s voice. He could just about make out his mother’s murmured responses. A few minutes later, the front door slammed shut and Kojo felt relieved. His father would calm down after a few pints and a bet on the horses.
He waited in his room, not wanting to embarrass his mother by acknowledging what had just happened. He would give her time to clean up, wipe her eyes dry.
Kojo wondered if this was his future, if he was somehow turning into his father. Perhaps it was genetic, he thought, being an abusive fuck. He remembered his anger, what he had done to Scarlett, and knew that it was not out of the question.
The thought made his stomach flutter with panic. If he was turning into his father, then he pitied whichever girl he ended up with. He imagined Scarlett as his mother, broken and beaten by him.
He could not allow himself to turn into his father, he decided, wondering whether it was too late already.
* * *
Clint forced a smile as he stood before his friends.
“Will you be back?” Tamar asked, sticking his hands in his pockets. “I mean, last time I thought you were gone for good, but here you are.”
“Mum and Kojo are still here,” Clint replied. “And Aurora’s mum. Plus, you guys, so yeah, we’ll be back for visits, don’t worry.”
Tamar smiled, pleased with his response.
“You’ll be missed,” Amal said. “But you’ve got to do what’s best for you and your baby girl. I’m pleased for you, mate.”
“Thanks,” Clint said. “Just make sure you take care, yeah? No trouble.”
“You know me,” Amal grinned. “I can’t make a promise like that. Not after my brother -” He trailed off, but Clint knew that his friend would not let his brother’s arrest go unpunished. He felt relieved that he would not be here to know about the repercussions, that he was no longer associated with the needless to-and-fro of violence and revenge.
“Don’t worry, I’m steering well clear of trouble,” Tamar said, holding up his hands. “Zoe will make sure of that.”
“Look after her,” Clint smiled. “You’ve done well, she’s a good girl.”
“Damn right,” Tamar winked.
Clint hesitated. He was not good with goodbyes. Amal and Tamar seemed awkward, nobody wanting to show emotion.
“I should get going,” Clint said slowly. “Packing to do and all that.”
“Yeah,” Amal said, and Tamar nodded.
Clint took a step forward to the door.
“Come on, mate, bring it in,” Tamar said, taking him by surprise, opening his arms. Clint hugged him, clapping him on the back. Tamar did the same. When he released him, Amal hugged him as well.
Clint smiled at them both.
“Take care guys,” he said, as he left Amal’s house.
“You too,” Tamar called after him.
Clint wondered what would become of his friends, hoped that the Goldsworth was kind to them, knowing that the chances were low that the three of them would ever stand together again.
* * *
Brandy glared at Aunt Bo.
“You’re not going to change my mind,” she insisted. “I decide what’s best for Frazer. What I say goes. He’s going to be with a family who loves him.”
“Really?” Aunt Bo argued. “You can guarantee that, can you?”
Brandy looked away, knowing that she could not promise her aunt that, however much she wished that she could.
“You know what happens to most black boys in care?” Aunt Bo asked, hands on hips, swelling with her righteous anger. “They get lost in the system, Brandy. What if he never gets adopted? Never finds this wonderful family you keep imagining? Could you really live with yourself if he spends the next eighteen years passed from pillar to post, unloved, unwanted? That’s the reality of it, Brandy. Why would you do that to him? To your own son? He has a mother. You. You should bloody well act like it.”
Brandy swallowed down her anger. She had expected her aunt to be like this, but her words hit her hard, made her question her choice, and that was the last thing she needed right now.
“I’m doing what’s best for him,” Brandy insisted, squaring up to her aunt. “He might not get the perfect family, you’re right. But at least he’ll have a chance at one. If he stays here, he’ll never have that.”
“You don’t know that,” Aunt Bo protested. “You think you’re doing what’s best for him, that proves that you care about him.”
“I’m doing what’s best for him, that doesn’t mean I love him, or that I want him in my life,” Brandy said.
Aunt Bo held her hands up, shaking her head.
“If you do this, you’ll regret it,” she said. “Maybe not now. Maybe not for a few years. But someday, you will wish you had listened to me and not given that precious little boy away to strangers.”
“Maybe,” Brandy shrugged. “But I’ll regret it every single day if I keep him, let him grow up to hate me like I hate my mum. Always regretting that he’s never had a fucking chance at a good life, that when he makes mistakes, it’s all my fault.”
“You don’t hate your mother,” Aunt Bo sighed. “It feels like that sometimes, but you love her really. And Frazer loves you, Brandy. Just let that love in.”
“I don’t hate her? Really?” Brandy hissed. “I used to wish, pray even, that she’d choke on her vomit whilst she slept. That she would drink so much she’d never wake up, or that she would OD and I’d find her dead after I came back from school. I used to dream I’d be taken into ca
re. Is that not hate? I used to wish she would die, because that was better than the shit life I had with her looking after me.”
Aunt Bo looked shocked by her words, as if Brandy had slapped her.
“There’s no reasoning with you,” she said, her voice quiet now. “You are evil, Brandy Mason. Pure evil.”
Brandy was not offended. She had been called far worse.
“That’s exactly why I’m doing this,” she said firmly. “This way, Frazer doesn’t turn out the same as me.”
Aunt Bo turned away from her, and Brandy watched her go. She knew that she was doing the right thing, but her aunt’s words had hit her hard. She tried not to think about Frazer’s life if nobody adopted him, if he was left in care until he was old enough to be palmed off onto benefits and council hand-outs.
She forced the thoughts away, grabbing her keys and leaving the flat and Aunt Bo’s constant disapproval, trying to convince herself she was doing what was best for her son. She was a terrible mother, Brandy knew, perhaps even worse than her own, but at least she could do one thing for Frazer. She could give him a chance.
* * *
Sanjay was no stranger to a prison cell nor interrogation, and so he was not intimidated when the officer questioning him stood up and placed his hands on the table, staring down at him.
“You want to serve a life sentence, do you?” the officer asked him.
Sanjay shook his head, rolling his eyes. His lawyer drummed his finger impatiently.
“Are we really going to go over all of this again?” the lawyer asked. “My client has already repeated that he is not responsible.”
“We found the murder weapon in your gym bag,” the officer said.
“Does it have my fingerprints on it?” Sanjay asked.
The officer gritted his teeth. His lawyer rose an eyebrow and leant forward.
“You’ve had the forensics results back then?” he asked.
“They found a partial print,” the officer replied.
“Not mine, though,” Sanjay insisted.
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