The Victim

by Kimberley Chambers

  Saying a silent prayer to God that all the blood Sally had lost would turn out to be no more than a false alarm, Terry heard his name being called. He stood up and looked into the doctor’s eyes.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Mr Baldwin, but I’m afraid we were unable to save the baby. On a positive note, your daughter is stable and we have given her something to sedate her so she can get some sleep. She was, understandably, very upset, so we would like to keep her in for observation.’

  Overcome by grief for the second time in weeks, Terry let out a muffled cry and slumped back onto the chair. This would be the end of his Sally and he knew it.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Joycie Smith was still seething the following morning. Never in a million years would she have guessed that Stanley would ever leave for some old slapper. Her husband was certainly no Richard Gere and Joyce could not understand how any other woman would even like him, let alone fancy him.

  Pacing up and down the living room, Joycie glanced at the clock on the wall. ‘What time did Dominic say he’d get here?’ she asked Joey. Patience had never been one of Joycie’s virtues and she was doing buttons to get to Orsett and confront her philandering husband and his bit of fluff.

  Joey sighed. He’d been working late last night when his nan had rung and told him what had happened. She’d gone bananas on the phone and, worried about her sanity, Joey had come straight over from work. He and Dom had made plans themselves today and, as much as Joey loved his nan, he was getting a bit sick of her interfering in his life. Whenever there was a drama it was Joey she called and in Joey’s opinion, her own son Raymond got away very lightly indeed.

  ‘Where you going?’ Joyce shouted as Joey picked his mobile up and stomped out of the room.

  Ignoring her question, Joey opened the back door and punched in a number. ‘Raymond, it’s me, Joey. Listen, you need to get over to your mum’s ASAP. Your dad’s run off with another woman and I don’t know what to do.’

  ‘I can’t come over. I’m with Polly and we’re on our way to visit her parents,’ Raymond said bluntly.

  Joey was fuming. Who did Raymond think he was, Lord Fucking Fauntleroy? Sick of taking shit from people, Joey gave it to him good and proper. ‘Joycie might be my nan, but she’s your bloody mother. She needs you, so best you ring Polly’s parents, tell them you have to cancel, then turn your car around and get your arse over here. I’ve already lost my mum, Ray, but you’ve still got yours, so instead of avoiding her, make the fucking most of it.’

  Raymond was astounded by his nephew’s little speech. Joey no longer sounded like a feminine little gay boy – he sounded just like his father.

  Eddie Mitchell smiled as he ended his phone call. His plan to keep his brothers safe had worked like a dream so far. Worried that Jimmy O’Hara’s henchman would get to them, Eddie had ordered someone to give both Ronny and Paulie a pasting.

  ‘Don’t go too heavy, but make it look bad. Aim for their faces and make as much mess as you can without actually hurting ’em,’ had been Ed’s exact words. He’d then got word to his brothers via another inmate to tell them the score. ‘You must insist that you’re frightened for your lives and demand to be moved either to solitary or another nick. With Ronny being a cripple, the guvnor should swallow it.’

  He’d also told his ally to warn them that under no circumstances must they contact him. ‘If they ring me or send me any silly fucking letters, they’re on their own,’ he said.

  Ed smiled as Gina walked into the room and put her arms around his waist from behind.

  ‘Dinner’s nearly ready,’ she said lovingly.

  Eddie turned around, tilted her chin and kissed her tenderly. He was picking Stuart up on Monday, so this was the last weekend that they’d have the house to themselves for a while.

  ‘After we’ve eaten, let’s have an early night, eh, babe?’

  Gina grinned. ‘Only if you promise to ravish me.’

  Eddie grabbed the cheeks of her arse and rubbed his rapidly growing erection against her groin. ‘Oh, I shall ravish you all right. In fact, I’m gonna shag your brains out all weekend.’

  Gina giggled. She adored Eddie talking dirty to her. Her fiancé’s vulgarity was her ultimate turn-on.

  * * *

  Raymond dropped Polly off at her parents’ house and drove towards his mother’s. Joey’s words had somehow struck a chord, and even though Joyce drove him mad at times, Raymond realised he should make more of an effort to be there for her.

  ‘You took your time. I thought Polly’s parents had moved over this way,’ Joey said as he answered the front door.

  ‘Essex is a big place, Joey. If you drove, you’d know that Polly’s parents have moved to Loughton, which isn’t exactly spitting distance from here, is it now?’ Raymond replied sarcastically.

  Ignoring his uncle’s sarcasm, Joey began to give him the lowdown on exactly what had happened between Joyce and Stanley.

  Sick of waiting for a lift, Joyce had been necking the Baileys as if it were chocolate milkshake and was now in an extremely vicious mood.

  Raymond walked into the room and sat down on the sofa next to his mum. Feeling awkward, he hugged her. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll find Dad and then he’ll come back home. I’m sure this woman is only a friend, whoever she is.’

  ‘Friend! I’ll give her fucking friend. Do you know where that Orsett Cock pub is, Raymond?’

  Ray nodded.

  Joyce stood up. ‘Come on then, let’s go and find the dirty old pervert who fathered you.’

  Joey glanced at Dominic and smirked. His earlier outburst had obviously hit home and now that Raymond had turned up and taken over, their weekend could continue as planned.

  Eddie Mitchell smiled as he rubbed Gina’s slightly swollen naked stomach. He might be fifty-three, but he didn’t look it and in his mind he was still only twenty-one. He couldn’t wait to be a dad again. When the twins were born he’d left all that baby stuff to Jessica, but this time he wanted to be part of it. ‘So what we gonna call this little beauty then?’ he asked tenderly.

  Gina turned her head towards Eddie and grinned. She would be thirty-five by the time the baby was born and she had never been so excited about anything in her life before. There was a time when Gina had given up on meeting Mr Right and becoming a mother, but meeting Eddie Mitchell had changed all that. From the first moment Gina had laid eyes on Eddie, she had known he was the one and now he had made all her dreams come true.

  ‘I like Michaela for a girl and Bradley for a boy,’ Gina suggested.

  Eddie pondered over her choices, then turned to her. ‘I like Rosie, be a nice tribute to me mum. Michaela’s OK, though. My Frankie’s real name is Francesca and Georgie’s birth name is Georgina, so like both of these, Michaela will be shortened to Micky. Micky Mitchell, yeah, sounds proper. I dunno about Bradley though, sounds a bit poofy to me and, as much as I love Joey, I don’t want two gay sons.’

  ‘Bradley don’t sound poofy! What about Gavin, do you like that?’ Gina asked.

  Eddie shook his head. ‘Gavin Mitchell sounds like a fucking accountant who drinks piña coladas and plays squash at weekends.’

  Gina playfully punched his arm. Eddie could be such a comical bastard at times; his sense of humour was second to none. ‘You pick some boys’ names then,’ she urged him.

  Eddie propped himself up on his elbow and thought carefully. If they had a son, he wanted him to have an old-fashioned, masculine-sounding name. He hated all that trendy bollocks. ‘I like Lenny. Lenny Mitchell, whaddya think?’

  Gina smiled. She wasn’t struck on the name Lenny, but she quite liked Rosie. ‘If it’s a girl, you can call her Rosie, after your mum. If it’s a boy though, I choose. I quite like Aaron as well.’

  Eddie held out his right hand. ‘You got yourself a deal, babe. Now can I fuck you again?’

  Gina giggled as Eddie rolled on top of her. ‘You’re insatiable, Eddie Mitchell, has anybody ever told you that before?’

  Thrusting
his penis inside her, Eddie smirked. ‘Of course, therefore you should think yourself one lucky girl to have got me, babe.’

  * * *

  Raymond pulled up outside the Orsett Cock pub. His mother had had verbal diarrhoea for the entire journey and he now had the stirrings of a headache.

  When Joyce went to leap out of the car, Raymond grabbed her arm. He knew she’d had a few drinks and he didn’t want her showing herself up, nor him, for that matter. ‘You stay ’ere for a minute, Mum. Let me go in first, see if Dad’s in there. If he is, I’ll bring him outside, if not, I’ll get this old bird’s address.’

  Determined to catch her husband red-handed, Joyce pushed Raymond’s arm away, got out of the car and marched towards the pub. Opening the door, Joyce immediately spotted Brian. He was a member of the same pigeon club as Stanley and was standing at the bar alone when Joycie walked over. Brian recognised her immediately. Who wouldn’t? With her bouffant auburn hair, five-foot-nine frame and big mouth, Joycie was very hard to miss indeed.

  ‘Where is he?’ she screamed.

  ‘Who, Stanley?’ Brian asked dumbly.

  ‘Yes, that dirty, stinking, cheating, bastard of a husband of mine.’

  Totally embarrassed that the twenty or so customers in the pub were all looking their way, Raymond ordered his mum to sit down and led Brian towards the gent’s toilets. Once inside, he turned to him.

  ‘Sorry about that. As you can imagine, my mum’s very upset over all this. You know my dad well. Tell me what’s going on with him and this Pat woman.’

  Brian didn’t want any aggravation, so tried to be as diplomatic as possible. Everybody in the pigeon club knew that Stanley was a harmless old soul, but they were also aware that his son was a bit of a rogue and worked for the notorious Eddie Mitchell.

  ‘Her name is Pat, she’s a member of our pigeon club and Stanley was in here yesterday with her. I don’t think there is anything going on between them, but I think he’s stopping round at her house. They are probably just good friends.’

  ‘What’s this Pat’s address?’ Raymond asked pleasantly.

  Brian liked both Stanley and Pat and didn’t want to get either of them into any trouble. ‘I don’t know,’ he lied.

  Raymond’s pleasant persona changed instantly. He’d learned from Eddie that the quickest way to get information out of people was by putting the frighteners on them and it seemed to work every time. ‘I said, what’s the fucking address?’ he spat, as he grabbed the collar of Brian’s jacket and shoved him up against the wall.

  Brian was petrified. ‘It’s Hemley Road, but I ain’t sure of the number,’ he stammered.

  Raymond let go of Brian’s jacket and politely smoothed the collar down. The number of the house didn’t matter. As long as he knew the road, he would find the gaff easily enough, because his father’s car would be parked outside. He smiled at Brian. ‘Cheers, mate. Nice to meet ya.’

  Pat the Pigeon was an expert when it came to cooking a decent roast dinner. Her husband Vic had been a massive fan and reckoned her crispy potatoes cooked in goose fat were the best he’d ever tasted.

  Stanley smiled as Pat put his dinner down in front of him. Roast beef, potatoes, Yorkshire pudding, Brussels, carrots and peas – it was a meal fit for a king. ‘Cor, this looks handsome,’ Stanley said appreciating the presentation. They’d had a nice day today, he and Pat. They’d spent the morning out the back with the pigeons and had then had a game of cards. No more had been mentioned about the kiss they’d sort of shared and the only thing that Stanley wanted now was for Pat to stop wearing her low-cut tops. Her breasts were enormous and Stanley felt embarrassed every time Pat caught him looking at them. He tried not to, as he didn’t want to give her the wrong impression, but they were so big, and when they were shoved in your face morning, noon and night, any man would have difficulty ignoring them.

  ‘Have some horseradish, Stanley,’ Pat said, as she sat down at the table. Seconds later, there was a knock at the door. ‘Who the bleedin’ hell’s that?’ Pat complained as she stood up again.

  ‘Can I help you?’ Pat asked politely, as she came face to face with Joyce and Raymond.

  Joyce looked Pat up and down and was disgusted by what she saw. Unlike herself, the woman had no class. She was tarty, blonde and plump, with her Bristols hanging out for the whole world to see.

  ‘I’m Joycie, Stanley’s wife, and you must be Pat, the fucking old slapper.’

  When his mother lunged at Pat, Raymond quickly stepped in. ‘Fighting ain’t gonna solve this, Mother,’ he said.

  Stanley was petrified when he heard Joycie’s booming voice. Choking on his roast beef, he jumped up and hid behind the sofa.

  ‘Where is he? Stanley! Stanley!’ Joyce yelled.

  Pat was shocked. Stanley had described Joyce as a person, but never her appearance, and she couldn’t believe this brazen, tall woman was his wife. Stanley was such a kind, inoffensive man, yet his wife looked like a much uglier version of Yootha Joyce.

  ‘He don’t wanna see you. Get out of my house,’ Pat shouted. Now she’d overcome her initial shock, she wasn’t about to take shit from this woman. Pat was a true East Ender, and women from where she came from bowed down to no one.

  Aware that his mother and Pat were about to start fighting, Raymond left them to it and went in search of his father. He really didn’t need any of this shit. He had promised Polly he would get things sorted and return to her parents’ to pick her up. ‘Dad! Dad!’ he yelled.

  Stanley was sweating as he hid behind the sofa. He hated violence of any kind, it made his nerves bad.

  Unable to find his father, Raymond ignored the hair-pulling that was going on in the hallway and ran up the stairs. Two women fighting was a sight for sore eyes and all he wanted to do was find his old man and get home to his wife.

  ‘Look at ya, with all your lils hanging out. No wonder my Stanley can’t keep away, revealing your body like that. It ain’t right, you look like an Old Tom,’ Joyce shouted as she tried to drag Pat down the hallway by her hair.

  Raymond ran down the stairs and separated the brawling women once more. ‘I’ve looked everywhere. Dad ain’t here,’ he told his mother.

  Fiddling about with her messed-up bouffant, Joyce marched into the lounge. She knew what a coward her husband was and she knew a little weasel like him would find somewhere to hide. She saw the two dinner plates on the table and smirked. ‘Stanley, I know you’re in here,’ she yelled.

  As Pat tried to run into the lounge, Raymond restrained her.

  ‘Get your hands off me else I’ll call the Old Bill,’ Pat screamed.

  ‘Shut it you old trollop, you’ve already done enough damage,’ Raymond spat.

  Stanley started shaking as Joyce leaned over the sofa and spotted him.

  ‘There you are. Now get your stuff, you’re coming home with me,’ she yelled.

  Stanley stood up and, as he did, came face to face with Pat. She had just kneed Raymond in the nuts to come to his rescue.

  ‘Stanley’s going nowhere. He’s told me all about you. You’re always putting him down and making him feel small. He’s a lovely man, is Stanley, and you don’t bloody deserve him,’ Pat informed Joyce.

  About to start shouting and screaming once more, Joyce took in Pat’s words and stopped herself. Over the years, she had always put Stanley down, but that was just their relationship. She didn’t always mean what she said, it was just her way of speaking to him. Joyce turned to her husband. ‘Please come home, Stanley. I need you there and I miss you.’

  Raymond stood in the doorway holding his groin. Pat had really hurt him and he felt like smacking her one, but he didn’t clump women. ‘Dad, come home and we’ll sort this out indoors,’ Ray pleaded.

  Stanley stared at all three of them. His villainous son, who was probably in a rush to get back to do some more dirty work for Eddie Mitchell. His gobby wife, who had encouraged his daughter to marry Eddie and spent the best part of her life mocking him and making hi
m feel two feet tall. Then he turned to Pat. Nice, kind Pat, who treated him with respect, loved pigeons, and enjoyed his company. The decision wasn’t difficult for him. ‘I’m sorry, Joycie, but I’m not coming back home. I’m happy here and this is where I want to stay.’

  As Joycie burst into tears and ran from the room, Raymond glared at his father before following his mother outside.

  When the front door slammed, Stanley was grateful for the cuddle that Pat gave him. He smiled sadly and looked into her eyes. Seconds later, they shared their first proper kiss.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Georgie put down the spade and urged Harry to follow her over to the back door. They were both dressed in their little Puffa jackets and wellies and had spent the morning digging for worms. They now had loads wriggling around in a plastic bucket and Georgie wanted to ask her dad if they could keep them as pets.

  ‘Stay outside, yous two, while I have a little chat with the lady. Go on, off you go,’ Jed ordered, as Georgie opened the back door.

  Georgie glanced at the nice social worker lady and then shut the door. Her dad had his angry voice on and even though he had been really kind to her and Harry lately, Georgie knew when not to push his patience.

  ‘Is the lady taking us to see Mummy now?’ Harry asked his sister.

  Georgie put her forefinger over her lips to urge Harry to keep schtum. She then pressed her ear against the door to see if she could find out what was going on.

  ‘The court hearing has been set for January the seventh,’ Georgie heard the woman say.

  ‘This is ridiculous, and I’m telling you now that I have found the best solicitor money can buy. That bitch who tried to kill me is not seeing them kids. Frankie’s evil and I won’t allow my chavvies to be dragged up to some poxy prison to see scum like her,’ Jed shouted.