Dishonour

by Jacqui Rose

  ‘Are you taking the piss Ed?’

  ‘No. I’m just uncomfortable talking about Freddie’s wife like this. Call me old-fashioned.’

  Eddie sat, holding Johno’s gaze, feeling the sweat dripping down his back. Johno had always been suspicious, especially when it came to him.

  When he and Tasha had been brainstorming what they were going to tell Freddie and Johno, it’d been Tash who’d come up with the idea. He hadn’t questioned her about it. It’d sounded convincing at the time. But as he sat there opposite Johno and some of Freddie’s other heavies, he wished he’d asked Tasha slightly more about it.

  ‘Here Johno, I managed to get her report from the hospital. Odd or not, Tash is telling the truth.’

  Eddie passed the report over and watched whilst Johno studied it. What the hell he was studying it for, Eddie didn’t have a clue.

  ‘Seems in order.’ Eddie had to bite down on his lip to stop laughing. At times Johno was the biggest bullshitter he knew.

  Eddie had got his doctor mate to write a report, which had cost him a monkey, but he guessed it was worth it. He stood up and walked towards the door, picking up his jacket. He turned to Johno as he spoke.

  ‘Eddie, Freddie appreciates your loyalty. He understands you put your freedom on the line to sort it out for him.’

  ‘So is that it?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘So can I tell Tasha that she’ll be okay?’

  ‘I’ll have to run it by Freddie, but as far as I’m concerned she will be.’

  ‘Well?’ Tasha grabbed hold of Eddie’s sleeve the moment he got back in the car. He gazed at her and smiled.

  ‘Well it looks like you’re in the clear.’ Eddie laughed as Tasha hugged him in excitement. It was such a relief. It meant she could live her life without always looking over her shoulder. It meant Linda would be safe and it meant for the time being at least she was going to see another day.

  Eddie gently pulled her off him.

  ‘Listen Tash. I need you to promise me you ain’t ever going to talk about what really happened. Not even to Linda. Christ, especially not to Linda. I put my neck on the block for you babe. Don’t let me down and I don’t want us to ever discuss it again. Is that clear?’

  ‘Crystal babe. I promise, on me life.’

  Eddie turned to look at Tash, cocking his head to one side.

  ‘Now I need you to do one other thing for me. You need to tell me something.’

  ‘Anything darling.’

  ‘Please explain to me what the fuck women’s problems are.’

  ‘Women’s problems?’ Freddie stared at Roger as he sat on the deck of the yacht anchored a couple of miles from the coast of Marbella. ‘What the fuck are women’s problems?’

  ‘Beats me boss. It’s just the message Johno asked me to pass on to you. He’s seen the hospital reports; seems it’s all pukka.’

  Freddie shook his head. ‘I can’t get me head around it. I don’t understand.’

  ‘Said it’s got something to do with her fanny.’

  Freddie pushed his glass across the table and glared at Roger. ‘That’s not what I meant. Talk about my missus like that again, and I’ll cut your tongue out.’

  Freddie got up and stomped below deck to the master bedroom. Sitting down hard on his bed, he thought about Tasha. This hadn’t been the news he’d been expecting. He’d been tense all week, expecting to hear Eddie had dealt with her the way he’d wanted him to. But this? This had well and truly thrown him.

  All this time he’d thought she’d been sneaking around behind his back shagging some toerag, but all this time she’d been ill with women’s problems, whatever they were. He felt ashamed. He didn’t even want to think about what would’ve happened if Eddie had actually pulled the trigger. Fuck. It was too awful to think about.

  That had always been his problem. He’d get a bone between his teeth and wouldn’t let it go. Act first, think afterwards. And only thanks to Eddie did he still have his wife. He owed him big time. He’d make sure he was well sorted. But he also owed Tasha big time. What must she think of him? Christ, he hoped she hadn’t said anything to Ray-Ray. He knew his son loved him but he also knew if Ray-Ray thought for a minute he’d put a target on his mother, he would never speak to him again.

  Freddie rubbed his head. It really was hard to get his bonce round it. It was stupid for him to start to become arsey, pointing out the fact Tash should’ve told him about her illness. He knew he wasn’t the easiest person to talk to and for all he knew she tried to tell him. Freddie would be the first one to admit he didn’t do women’s talk.

  He hoped there was a way Tash could find it in her heart to forgive him. He’d been a mug. Freddie decided that when he actually looked back on it all, he had never really doubted her in the first place. He knew his Tash would never screw him over; it was everyone else who thought she would.

  ‘You all right boss?’ Roger knocked, then walked in carrying a glass of bourbon on the rocks for him.

  ‘I’m fine. I want to go back.’

  ‘Back?’

  ‘Yeah, back.’

  ‘But boss, it’s too early. It’s too dangerous, you’ll get caught. The police will be …’

  Freddie stood up angrily, stopping Roger from saying any more. ‘Just sort me out a house for when I’m there. Move Tash and Ray-Ray in, but keep it low-key. I don’t want to risk going home, the Old Bill will certainly be watching, but to tell you the truth Roger, the way I’m feeling I wouldn’t give a shit if I was caught. Perhaps I deserve that. I’m going to go back to Soho because it’s the least I can do. I want to see my son and I need to tell my wife I’m sorry.’

  32

  Baz Gupta knocked on the door. He narrowed his eyes at the man who was busy peering out of his front door.

  ‘Is everything all right? I’m Arnie’s neighbour. If there’s some kind of problem maybe I could help.’ The gleam of curiosity lit up the man’s face, but Baz and the other officers ignored him, much to the man’s disappointment.

  ‘Police! Hello? Mr Wainwright?’ Baz thumped on the door with the side of his fist. ‘Mr Wainwright, open the door, it’s the police.’

  A minute or so later, Baz heard the door being unbolted. He was taken aback for a moment when a tall, blonde, good-looking man covered with bruises opened the door.

  ‘Arnold Wainwright?’

  ‘Yes, but my friends call me Arnie.’

  Baz gave a small frown, then flashed his badge. ‘Detective Sergeant Gupta. We’ve had an anonymous call and I was wondering if I could have a few words?’

  Baz glanced to the side, to see that the next-door neighbour had stepped into the corridor to listen.

  ‘Can we come in?’

  Arnie’s face paled. ‘I’d … I’d rather you didn’t.’

  Baz’s voice took on a nasty tone. ‘And why would that be, Arnie?’ Before Arnie could reply, Baz, not worried about formal procedure or a search warrant, pushed past, knocking Arnold towards the wall. He strode into the tiny front room, with the other officers following close behind.

  Arnold ran forward, dropping to his knees in the front room, desperately trying to pick up the photos which were scattered all over the floor. Baz stepped on his fingers, crunching them to a stop. ‘Not so fast Mr Wainwright. What’s with the photos?’

  Sweat began to drip from Arnie’s forehead. His eyes were full of panic as Baz bent down to pick one up. Baz looked at the photo, then at Arnie. ‘What happened to your face? Where did you get the bruises from?’

  ‘He got them from Izzy’s husband. Bit of a dark horse our Arnold.’ The voice came from behind them as Arnie’s next-door neighbour walked in through the open door. Delighted all eyes were on him, he continued full of exuberance. ‘Bit of a rough sort if you ask me. When I saw him he was all ready to kick down the door. Gave it a good kicking as well. If I hadn’t been forceful with him I’m sure he would. There she is. There’s Izzy.’ Without waiting, the man grabbed hold of the photo in Baz’s
hand.

  Baz, annoyed with the interruption, snatched it back. ‘I don’t think anyone was talking to you. Now if you don’t mind.’

  ‘Oh no I don’t mind, all I’m saying is Arnold’s the victim here. Broken-hearted, though I don’t blame him, she’s a bit of a sort.’ A lecherous grin appeared on the man’s face as he bent down to pick up all the photos of Tasha off the floor.

  ‘Is this true sir?’

  ‘Of course it’s …’

  ‘I was speaking to Mr Wainwright.’ Baz glared at the neighbour who saw the look on his face and decided it was better to say nothing.

  ‘Izzy, perfect Izzy. She said she wouldn’t leave me.’

  Baz curled his lip as he looked at Arnold distressed on the floor, staring at the photographs. He had no time for pining men. It was nothing short of pathetic.

  ‘Do you mind if we look around? Is this the bathroom?’

  Baz walked to the door. Reaching his hand to open it he was shocked to see Arnold spring up, his face contorted with alarm as he threw himself in front of him, knocking Baz’s hand off the door. ‘No! No … you can’t go in there.’

  Baz stood almost nose to nose with Arnie. ‘I think, sir, that it’d be in your best interest to step away from the door.’

  Arnie shook his head. ‘No, really.’

  Anger appeared on Baz’s face. ‘Move.’ He used his forearm to push Arnie out of the way before throwing open the door. He walked in, then froze. Oh Christ. He turned to Arnold, his eyes wide open. ‘What the hell?’

  ‘I’m sorry …’

  ‘Sorry?’

  Arnie put his head down.

  ‘I’ve got paint all over my shoes and you’re sorry? And what the hell are you doing putting paint on your floor?’

  ‘I did try to tell you. I thought the tiles needed a bit of a facelift. The man in the shop said it would dry in twelve hours but it seems he gave me the wrong information.’ Arnold smiled sheepishly as Baz scowled and walked back out of the tiny bathroom.

  ‘I’ve seen enough.’

  ‘You said you’d had a call?’

  The tone in Baz’s voice was hostile. ‘I did. And I’ve seen everything I need to see.’ As an afterthought, Baz added, ‘The worst thing the force ever did was to agree to have the anonymous tip-off line. You wouldn’t believe the time wasted on following up calls from people who think it’s a joke to make up things like this. Some sick individuals out there. Problem is there’s no way of finding out who they are.’

  Marching towards the door, Baz nodded his head to the other officers, signalling for them to leave.

  ‘20, 18, 5.’

  ‘Excuse me?’ Baz spoke with his hand on the front door handle.

  ‘20, 18, 5.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘20, 18, 5. Your ring. Twenty diamonds, eighteen emeralds and five rubies. It represents the original Mayan calendar doesn’t it? They used base eighteen. Each month contained twenty days and each year contained eighteen months, leaving five days at the end. The belief was these five days held bad luck and were filled with fear.’ Arnie smiled holding Baz’s glare.

  ‘I’m supposed to be impressed Mr Wainwright? Is that your party trick?’

  ‘Oh no, there are no tricks in numbers detective. They’re merely a series of symbols of unique meaning in a fixed order that can be derived by counting. Actually, as unusual as your design is, I’ve seen a ring just like that one before.’

  Baz narrowed his eyes, feeling irritated. ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Oh I have.’

  ‘Like I say, I don’t think so.’

  ‘I have.’

  ‘Look, Mr Wainwright, clearly this is an issue for you, so why don’t we draw a line under it? Let me explain why I know you haven’t seen one like this before. It was specially made, so as much as you say you’ve seen one like this, you haven’t.’

  Arnold shrugged at Baz as he began to walk out of the flat. ‘Perhaps you’re right, it wasn’t quite the same. The ring this young lady was wearing had five sardonyx stones in the centre, instead of the rubies.’

  Arnie paused, seeing Baz freeze, then turn to him.

  ‘“Young lady”?’

  ‘Yes, brown eyes, black hair. Nothing like Izzy at all.’

  ‘Are you sure? How long ago are we talking about?’

  Arnold looked at the clock on the wall. ‘Twelve days, three hours and twenty-six minutes, give or take a minute or so for my unreliable car clock. She was on her way to London with her friend. Her friend seemed quite excited to see her at the station.’

  Arnie smiled again at Baz, who leaned forward, inches away from Arnie’s face. With a nasty sneer, he said, ‘Tell me, what else did this young lady say?’

  Arnie sat on the tiny bed in his flat, cradling a photograph carefully in his hand. His fingers moved across the picture of Tasha, tracing her hair, and along her face until finally he circled her lips. She was beautiful. And she was his.

  He’d let her down, letting the bad man drag her away from his flat. She still wanted him to be close to her. He could feel it. He was sorry and he needed to tell her he was. Growing up, his father had always told him to apologise; even the times when it wasn’t his fault. ‘Say you’re sorry Arnold. Say it, say it. Bad things happen to boys who don’t say sorry.’ But this time he really meant it. He had to go and tell her – and he knew exactly where she might be.

  Smiling, Arnie stood up. He opened the bottom drawer of the locker, carefully taking out the jagged-edged Gerber knife, and placing it in his suitcase before heading out the door.

  33

  ‘That’s it baby, just lie there. Just lie there for Daddy. Feels good huh?’

  With a start, Laila woke up, feeling the rough hand of a stranger beginning to explore her body. She sat up with a cry, scrambling to the safety of Yvonne who was asleep on the other side of the bare-floored room.

  Bleary-eyed, Yvonne rolled over on the stained mattress.

  ‘What’s going on?’

  The man stood up unsteadily, his unshaven chin jutting out, elongated in anger. His eyes rolled drunkenly as he began to unzip his trousers which were tight from his bulging erection.

  Seeing what was happening, Yvonne’s eyes flashed in anger. She got up quickly, facing the man straight on.

  ‘Do one, you little prick.’

  The man reached to grab hold of Yvonne, but his actions were awkward and slowed by his intoxicated state. He tumbled forward, stumbling into Laila who squealed, jumping aside.

  ‘Flipping whore. You bitches are all the same.’

  In disgust, Yvonne looked down at the man who was attempting to pull himself up. With a smile she glanced at Laila. ‘Come on, let’s get out of here.’

  Outside the squat, Yvonne leant on the wall and lit a cigarette, drawing deeply on it. Going into her bag she pulled out a bottle of vodka. Unscrewing the red top she handed it to Laila. ‘Here, get this down you. It’ll take some of that tension out of you.’

  ‘No thanks.’

  Yvonne shrugged. ‘Okay. Suit yourself.’

  After a couple of swigs, Yvonne tucked the bottle in her bag again. She looked at Laila who was swinging her legs as she sat on the other end of the wall. ‘Hey up, my top looks grand on you Laila.’ She paused, then added. ‘We’ll be all right kid. From today there’ll be no more dossing in squats. My contact’s put me in touch with someone. I’ve still got most of the two grand so I can pay the first two weeks’ rent. Things are going to start looking up.’

  Laila began to shake her head as her eyes filled up with tears. ‘I don’t think I can do this. You’re different to me.’

  Yvonne’s expression hardened. ‘How am I different to you Laila?’

  ‘You know, you can do stuff. Stuff with men. It’s easy for you. You’re used to it.’

  ‘Used to it? Is that what you think?’

  Laila shrugged.

  ‘You think I’ve got used to waking up to find me mum’s boyfriend in the
same bed as me? Having to fight him off night after night and me mum doing fuck all about it?’

  ‘No, no I didn’t …’

  On a roll, Yvonne interrupted Laila angrily. ‘And I suppose because I’m not all prim and proper like you, you think I’ve got used to giving hand jobs in car parks to men old enough to be me granddad, just so I can get enough money to get the hell out of the place I call home?’

  Laila looked down, upset at the anger directed towards her but mainly upset for her friend.

  ‘And I tell you something else Laila; I never want to get used to it. I never want to get used to me skin crawling at the touch of a stranger. ‘Cos if I do, if I get used to that, it’s over. I know there’s no chance of getting out.’

  ‘But you had a choice?’

  Yvonne threw her cigarette down in exasperation, grinding the sole of her shoe on to the butt. ‘That’s a matter of opinion. But I know I have a choice in how I see life, and I choose to count myself lucky. You should try it.’

  ‘Lucky? You call being here with you lucky?’

  A flash of hurt darted through Yvonne’s eyes.

  ‘I didn’t mean it like that Yvie, I’m sorry …’

  Yvonne picked up her bag and stormed down the path, she turned to Laila. ‘All I’ve heard from you since we’ve arrived in London is you complaining. It’s not great I know, but it could be worse. You could be back in Bradford with Baz, or worse still Laila … he could’ve killed you.’

  ‘I just keep thinking maybe it’d be easier back home. Perhaps if I tried harder with him …’

  Yvonne shook her head. ‘Listen to yourself Laila. Nobody can help you if you don’t start to help yourself. If you want to go back, go, but you’re on your own. I’m through.’

  Yvonne marched along the street wanting to get away from Laila, to stop her seeing the tears in her eyes. It took Laila only a few minutes before she began to run after her friend.

  ‘Yvonne … wait! Yvonne, I’m sorry!’ Yvonne carried on walking and it took Laila an energetic run to catch up with her. ‘Please, stop!’

  Yvonne came to an abrupt halt. Choosing her words carefully, Laila spoke. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say anything to hurt you. I don’t want to go home, I’m just scared. I don’t know where I’d be if it wasn’t for you. You’ve done so much … you saved my life. Please don’t leave me. I’ve nowhere else to go. I need you to be my friend.’