The Goldsworth Series Box Set

by Davie J Toothill

  Adrianna looked at her friend, saw her eyes flash. Brandy never shared things like this, and Adrianna saw the pain on her face, as she briefly relived the memory of whatever she had been through.

  “It was two guys,” Brandy said. “On the estate. The guy they arrested for killing Trent, he was one of them. He never got charged, never even got arrested. I didn’t want anyone to know.”

  “I’m sorry, Brandy,” Adrianna said quietly.

  “That piece of shit is finally locked up in prison,” Brandy said, her vulnerability gone, replaced with her usual hard demeanour. She met Adrianna’s eye. “He might not have killed Trent, but he deserves to stay inside.”

  Adrianna took in her words, nodding slightly.

  “And you don’t deserve to be sent to prison,” Brandy said slowly. She pulled the gun out from under her jacket. Adrianna tensed. “You did the world a service, taking Trent out. The way I see it, he’s dead and gone, and ain’t nothing bringing him back. That rapist scum is serving time for killing him, and prison is exactly where he belongs. There’s no reason any of that has to change.”

  Adrianna felt a flutter of hope at her words.

  Brandy came closer, standing just inches from the railing. She pulled her arm back and flung the gun as far as she could into the darkness. They both listened to the faint sound of the gun hitting the water with a splash.

  Adrianna imagined the gun sinking deep beneath the black water.

  “We tell nobody about this,” Brandy said, turning to her. “After tonight, we don’t even mention it between us, you got that?”

  Adrianna nodded quickly, relief coursing through her. Brandy stood there, glancing out over the Thames. Adrianna reached for her, pulled her into a hug. Brandy was stiff in her arms for a moment, then relaxed and hugged her back.

  “Thank you,” Adrianna whispered.

  “Don’t mention it,” Brandy said, as they broke apart. She gave a smile, as she gestured that they should leave. “Like, seriously, never mention it,” Brandy said. “I’ve done the whole prison thing, and the whole girl-on-girl thing does nothing for me.”

  Adrianna laughed, for what felt like the first time in forever.

  “Let’s go get a drink,” Brandy said, sliding her arm into Adrianna’s, as they left the alleyway, returning to the bright streets of London. “I’m fucking parched.”

  * * *

  “He’s dead,” Troy stammered, clamouring to his feet now that his body had regained its strength, his breathing returning to normal. He looked down at Dante, the mess of blood and gore surrounding him.

  “You think? Half his fucking brain is splattered up my legs,” Tyrese snapped, taking a step back. “Well done, doctor.”

  Troy did not respond, staring transfixed at the body.

  “What the fuck were you doing?” Tyrese demanded. “He was going to kill you, Troy.”

  “We had a fight,” Troy managed.

  “Yeah, I figured that,” Tyrese said, shaking his head. “About what?”

  “It was a long time coming,” Troy said, not wanting to relive the details of the argument, the fight that had ensued. He looked up at Tyrese, finally tearing his eyes away from the body. “Surprised you bothered to stop him.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Tyrese asked, eyes narrowing.

  “He told me about you and Brandy,” Troy said, not daring to look at his brother.

  “How the fuck did he know about that?” Tyrese groaned.

  “It’s true then?” Troy asked, rounding on him, anger flaring.

  “It was a mistake,” Tyrese sighed.

  “How long has it been going on for? Is that why she hasn’t been answering my calls?” Troy asked. His voice was quiet. “You and her, you’re a couple now?”

  “Don’t be stupid, you think I’d do that?” Tyrese asked, taken aback. He shook his head, and Troy saw the regret on his face. “It was a quick fuck in the pub toilets, we were both drunk, it was a mistake. Satisfied?”

  “I don’t know if you’re telling me straight or not,” Troy admitted.

  “I swear, Troy, that’s all it was,” Tyrese said. “Just a mistake. I’ve always tried to look out for you, to try and protect you, from this lifestyle, from turning out like me and Trent, from ending up here.”

  Troy listened, knew that his brother was telling the truth. He sighed.

  “That didn’t work out then,” he murmured.

  “I tried,” Tyrese said. “I was trying to protect you, Troy, like I’ve always done.”

  “If it’s the truth,” Troy argued.

  “The truth? If we’re being so open with each other, why don’t you tell me about Goldie?” Tyrese asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “What about him?” Troy asked, pulse quickening, his muscles tightening. “I poured some soup over him, so what?”

  “Yeah, but why?” Tyrese prompted him. “What did he do to deserve it?”

  “I don’t know,” Troy shrugged.

  “He told me what he did,” Tyrese said, almost a whisper. Troy looked up, eyes wide with alarm, panic fluttering inside him. Tyrese did not look angry, or disappointed. He looked hard at Troy. “You don’t have anything to be ashamed about. It’s not your fault, you know that, right?”

  “Whatever,” Troy shrugged, though his words calmed him.

  “He’ll never come near you again, don’t worry,” Tyrese said. “You or anyone else.”

  “How do you know?” Troy asked. He looked at Tyrese, saw something flicker in his eyes. “What did you do?”

  “He’s dead,” Tyrese shrugged. “Like this sack of shit.” He nudged Dante’s body with his foot, shaking his head. “Jeez, two in one night. I’ll sleep well tonight.”

  “I can take care of myself, you know,” Troy snapped.

  “Didn’t seem like that when Dante was about to finish you off.”

  “I should’ve slit his fucking throat when I had the chance,” Troy sighed, shooting the body an angry look.

  “No, Troy, you leave that kind of thing to me,” Tyrese said, his voice harsh. “You keep your head down and do your time, you hear me? With good behaviour, you’ll be out in a couple of years, fifteen at the most if you’re lucky.”

  “What does it matter?” Troy shrugged.

  “Troy, I didn’t want to tell you like this,” Tyrese sighed. He looked apprehensive. Troy tensed. “You have a son.”

  “What?”

  Troy’s mind raced as he stared at his brother.

  “Brandy was up the duff when you got arrested,” Tyrese explained. “I don’t know if she knew back then or not. She had a son. Your son.”

  “She never told me,” Troy said.

  He thought about the night he had spent with her, when he had realised he loved her. He thought of the fact she had been willing to go on the run with him and still had not told him that she’d had his son.

  It was a lot to take in. He had a son.

  “Listen to me, Troy, you’re a father now,” Tyrese said, his voice firm, as he walked around the body to clasp Troy by the shoulders. “You have to grow up. Stay out of trouble, serve your time and get out of this place, and you might have a chance at a relationship with him.”

  The reality of his situation hit him now.

  “What if Brandy won’t let me?” Troy asked.

  He could hardly believe they had a son together, that Brandy had not told him, that she had made promises to him and even slept with his brother, even after she had given birth to his child.

  Not that he could blame her, he decided. He had not been a good boyfriend, had not always treated her right. He could forgive her, he decided, if it meant he could see his son.

  “How old is he?” Troy asked, looking at Tyrese, desperate for some information, some answers. “What’s his name? Tell me something, Ty.”

  “I don’t know,” Tyrese admitted. “I only found out a few weeks ago.”

  “A few weeks ago?” Troy repeated, surprised. “And you didn’t think to fucking
tell me when you found out? How did you find out? Brandy let it slip whilst you were shagging her, did she?”

  “Mum told me,” Tyrese said quietly.

  “Mum knows?” Troy gasped. “How long has she known?”

  “I don’t know exactly. A while.”

  “A while?” Troy echoed his brother. “What is this? A conspiracy? Does everyone on the estate know? You all been laughing at me behind my back?”

  “It wasn’t like that,” Tyrese said calmly. “Don’t act like a kid, Troy.”

  “Fuck off, Tyrese,” Troy snapped. His anger was flaring. “You know, for a second back then, I thought maybe, finally, we were getting close. Like brothers should be. Now this. You and mum, Brandy, the whole fucking lot of you, not even bothering to tell me I have a son.”

  Tyrese lowered his eyes, looking ashamed.

  “I don’t even know his name, how old he is,” Troy stammered, not knowing whether to cry or kick something. He shook his head. “I’m fucking done with you, Ty. I used to look up to you, respect you. Now I just think you’re a piece of shit.”

  He turned away, snatching up his towel and washbag and left the bathroom. He meant what he had said. He wanted nothing more to do with his brother, with his pathetic family.

  There was only one person he wanted to speak to now. He had enough time before lights out to make the call. Brandy owed him some answers and he wanted them now.

  * * *

  Tyrese did not make to follow his brother. He knew that he was angry, and for the first time he felt guilty for how he treated his youngest brother. He had lured him into a lifestyle that he had failed to protect him from, and now Troy would pay the price for the rest of his life. He had let him down, time and again, and Tyrese sighed with the guilt.

  Footsteps approached and an officer rounded the corner, eyes widening as he looked from Tyrese to the body at his feet. He grabbed his radio and called for back-up.

  Tyrese backed away from the body, holding his hands up. The officer hesitated, clearly afraid of him, his eyes darting from Tyrese to Dante’s caved-in head.

  An alarm sounded, and Tyrese sighed.

  Someone would have to take the blame, and he would not let it be Troy. Troy still had some small sliver of a future. Tyrese had nothing.

  “I killed him,” Tyrese admitted, looking directly at the officer, as three more guards ran in, eyes widening at the sight of the body, alarm still blaring. “We had a fight and I bashed his head in on the floor.”

  The officer stared hard at him.

  “You were going to be getting out in an hour, Banks,” he said sadly, shaking his head. “Now look what you’ve done.”

  He turned and leant against the wall as the officers darted forward, slapping handcuffs around his wrists. Tyrese closed his eyes as he was wrestled to the floor.

  * * *

  Brandy had finished her drink and walked Adrianna home. She let herself back into the flat and listened for sounds of her mother, but the flat was quiet and dark. She was alone.

  She kicked off her shoes and shrugged out of her jacket. Brandy was pleased that Adrianna had seemed more at ease after a few drinks. She hoped that the vodka would ensure that both would forget about tonight, and Brandy would not remember the gun, the confession, or their trip to the Thames.

  Her phone began to ring, and Brandy let out a groan as she answered.

  “Brandy?” a familiar voice came down the line. Brandy froze. She almost dropped her glass on the floor.

  “It’s Troy. We need to talk.”

  * * *

  Charley looked around her mother’s living room, full of people smiling and drinking, celebrating the verdict of the trial. Leigh-Ann had drunk a few too many, sloshing her wine on her hand as she laughed with Torey, who was also a few drinks past tipsy.

  Her mother seemed at ease, a far cry from how she had once been, smiling at her. Charley felt so much love, so much relief, in the room that it was almost too much. She wanted to share in their happiness, but something was holding her back from it and she was not quite sure what it was.

  Asher came back into the living room, exchanging a serious look with Carl as he did. He had gone outside to take a call and whatever it had been appeared to be important. He nodded at her and Charley approached them, her pulse quickening.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked. Asher and Carl’s expressions were unreadable.

  “I just got a call from someone at the station, he heard it on the radio and thought he would let us know,” Asher said quickly. “It’s Dante. He was attacked in prison. He’s dead, Charley.”

  Charley felt the shock of his words hit her as if she had been slapped. He was dead. He would never terrorise her or anyone else again.

  She felt herself smiling, though she knew it was terrible to feel such relief, perhaps even joy, at the news that somebody was dead.

  If anyone had deserved to die in prison, it was Dante.

  “Are you okay?” Asher asked, concerned.

  “I’m fine,” Charley replied. “I’m better than fine.”

  She meant it. She felt more at peace than she had done in a long time and now she could share in the others’ happiness. She wanted to have a glass of champagne, she wanted to celebrate that Dante could never hurt her or anyone she loved ever again.

  Tears sprung from her eyes, but they were not of sadness.

  It was relief, that she could finally start to heal. Dante had taken Bolton from her, but he would never take anyone else again.

  As if on cue, Carl thrust a drink into her hand, and she smiled gratefully at him as she lifted it to her lips and took a sip of wine.

  She slipped from the room, reassuring Asher and Carl that she was fine, and went into the bedroom where Junior was asleep. He looked peaceful, at ease in the world, and she stroked his face gently.

  Now she could finally begin to move on and let herself heal, she thought, as she sat down on the bed and listened to her son’s gentle breathing as she took another sip of wine.

  * * *

  “I want to see him, Brandy,” Troy said down the phone.

  Brandy felt her heart hammering in her chest. She wanted to hang up, throw her phone against the wall, but she knew that it would make no difference. Troy knew the truth now. She could no longer hide.

  “You can’t,” she said firmly. “You can’t ever see him, Troy.”

  “I have a right,” Troy retorted. “I’m his dad.”

  “He’s gone, Troy,” Brandy said.

  “What do you mean?” Troy asked. He sounded anxious. Brandy could hear an alarm ringing in the background, hear shouts and chaos. “I want to see him, Brandy.”

  “He was taken into care today,” Brandy told him. She closed her eyes, blocking out the image of him being carried out of the flat in Nadia’s arms, her disapproving look cutting through her. “You can’t see him, neither can I. That’s what’s best for him.”

  “What the fuck did you do?” Troy shouted. “Why did you let them take him?”

  “I did the right thing for our son,” Brandy replied. She would not let him intimidate her, make her feel bad. She could not allow him back into her heart or her thoughts. Her mother was right, for once, in that she was better off without him.

  “He’s better off without me,” Brandy said. “And he’s definitely better off without you in his life. I’ve given him a chance.”

  “You bitch,” Troy snarled down the line. She heard the emotion in his voice, but she was not moved by it. Any love that Troy had for her was gone now, Brandy knew as much. She could hear it in his voice, sense the hate down the phone. “I’ll track him down. I’ll find him.”

  “No, you won’t,” Brandy said. “You won’t find him. You’ll never see him. You don’t deserve to be a father, and he deserves to have a life without you fucking it up for him. You’ve brought this all on yourself, Troy. Fucking deal with it.”

  “Brandy, please, I -”

  Brandy hung up. She took a deep breath, steadyin
g herself.

  She went into the kitchen, reaching for a vodka bottle, but she stopped herself. She did not need a drink. She had stood up to Troy. Hearing his voice, she knew that she had done the right thing in making sure he played no part in Frazer’s life.

  As she went into her bedroom, Brandy blocked the number that Troy had called from. She expected he would find another way to contact her, but she did not feel afraid. She knew that he could never find their son, that Frazer was safe, and that was all that mattered.

  She closed her bedroom door, lying down on the bed, and her phone beeped with a message from Adrianna. She smiled to herself.

  Brandy looked up at the ceiling, finally content knowing that for once she had done the right thing. She had saved her son from Troy.

  Whatever else she did in life, she decided, that would always be the best thing she had ever done.

  * * *

  Troy threw the phone against the wall and screamed.

  Chaos was breaking out around him, but he barely noticed. He thought of Brandy’s words and felt hot anger and regret washing over him.

  He had heard the determination in Brandy’s voice. He knew she had not been lying, that his son really was gone. The son he had never known about, had never met or thought of before.

  Troy felt the loss all the same. He felt tears stinging his eyes, whether from the loss of his son or the realisation that he had lost Brandy forever now too, that the love between them was gone, would never again return.

  He was pushed away from the phones, as the officers descended on the block in force, ushering everyone back to their cells. Troy followed, defeated now.

  Alone in his cell, Troy sat heavily on his bunk.

  He thought of his son, taken into care, Brandy doing nothing to save him, to try and prevent it. He wanted to swoop down and rescue him, be a father, get a chance to make something of his life. He thought of Brandy, her love gone, free now to move on and make a life for herself of which he would play no part at all.

  If he had been out on the street, perhaps he would have stood a chance. If he acted fast, Troy thought there was some hope he could find his son, rescue him. As it was, he stood no chance. Troy glanced over at the cell door as it slammed shut, lock sliding into place.