The Victim

by Kimberley Chambers

  Jed not being found had allowed Frankie to walk free at her trial. She had gone down the self-defence route, saying that her ex regularly battered her. Kerry, her friend, had backed up her story and the jury had, thankfully, believed every word of it. Obviously, they had no idea that Jed was dead. No body had ever been found and Frankie often had nightmares about him as well. She often dreamed that the bastard was still alive, and even though she knew her dad and Larry would never lie to her about such a thing, she would never truly rest until Jed’s corpse was found.

  Desperate to take her mind off her daughter, Frankie tried to concentrate on the day ahead. Her dad knew how badly her children’s birthdays affected her every year and he was coming round to spend the day with her. He’d wanted to take her out for a meal, but knowing how upset she would be, Frankie insisted on staying indoors. How could she sit in a restaurant enjoying herself on a day like today? It was totally impossible.

  ‘You OK, sweet child? I woke up wanting a wee-wee and saw your light on,’ Babs said as she opened Frankie’s bedroom door.

  Frankie lifted her quilt up and gesticulated to her friend to get in bed next to her. Babs had got out of prison two months before Frankie’s trial. Babs’ trial had been heartbreaking. The jury had been in tears when Matilda had given her evidence via video link. Matty had spoken bravely and candidly about Peter, Babs’ paedophile ex who had raped her, and Babs had been stunned to learn that he had been grooming and sexually abusing Matilda for months before she had caught him in the act. This knowledge had sent Babs spiralling into the depths of depression. She had questioned her qualities as a mother and it was only Frankie’s kind and constant support that had got Babs through it.

  When they first moved in together, Frankie and Babs had lived in Upney. The house belonged to Eddie. It was the same one that Gary and Ricky’s mum, Beverley, had lived in until she died. The girls had been happy living there with their children, but as Brett and Kelvin neared school age, Eddie had insisted they move to a nicer area with better schools and had bought a house in Brentwood, which they now shared. Matilda no longer lived with them. She was twenty now, and a couple of years ago had succumbed to the drugs scene. Once again, Babs had blamed herself for her daughter’s troubles, but Matilda was, thankfully, clean now, working as a trainee hairdresser and was living with her grandma in West London.

  ‘So, what are our plans for today?’ Babs asked brightly. She knew how difficult today was bound to be for her friend and she was determined to try and keep Frankie’s spirits up in any way she could.

  ‘Dad, Joey and Dom are coming round about one. Dad’s bringing the kids with him as well, so we’ll have a bloody houseful. I’m not cooking; we’ll order a takeaway later.’

  ‘Ain’t Gina coming?’ Babs asked. She really liked Eddie’s wife, but knew Frankie had never truly accepted her as part of the family.

  ‘No, her mum’s broken her leg, so she’s gone to Ireland to visit her for a few days.’

  ‘I bet you are glad about that, ain’t you?’

  Frankie shrugged. Gina was so nice and had always been so warm towards her that it was impossible to actually dislike her. Frankie was always polite towards her whenever their paths crossed, but Gina wasn’t her mum and, no matter how hard she tried, she never bloody would be.

  ‘And what about Stuie-wooie, is he coming over?’ Babs said, tickling her friend’s neck.

  ‘Stop it,’ Frankie said giggling. The Stuart situation was a standing joke between her and Babs. He was always popping round to the house and, over the years, he and Frankie had become really good friends. Stuart was handsome, funny, kind, and offered a great shoulder to cry on when she needed one, but Frankie had never looked at him in a romantic way. Jed had put her off romance for life.

  ‘Well, is he coming?’ Babs asked again.

  ‘I dunno. I suppose he might.’

  Babs chuckled. Stuart owned a flat that was only five minutes from their house. He’d lived there with his girlfriend, Emma, for years, but had split up with her last year, just before they’d been due to get married. The relationship had run its course. ‘I’ll always love Em, but we were more like brother and sister in the end,’ was all Stu had said when Emma had moved back to her parents’ house.

  ‘Stuie-wooie wanna get in them panties of yours,’ Babs teased her friend.

  ‘Well, he’s got more chance of getting in yours than mine. Now drop it, will ya?’ Frankie said getting annoyed.

  ‘Sorry. I was only trying to cheer you up,’ Babs replied apologetically.

  Frankie turned to her best friend and hugged her. ‘I know you were, mate, but there ain’t gonna be nothing that cheers me up today, I’m afraid.’

  Babs had left the bedroom door open and as Brett and Kelvin ran in and both leaped onto the bed, Frankie managed a smile. Brett had just turned seven. He was such a happy child, with dark brown hair, eyes to match and a loving nature. Not only was he the light of Frankie’s life, but he was also her saviour. If it wasn’t for Brett, Frankie would never have coped at all with losing her other children. She would have given up if it hadn’t been for the strength of her feelings for her son. Brett was literally her life now, and she hated letting him out of her sight. Even when he went to school, she fretted, in case the O’Haras turned up there and kidnapped him.

  ‘Can we go to the park, Mummy?’ Kelvin asked Babs. He and Brett were like brothers. They were inseparable and loved sharing their bedroom and toys with each other.

  ‘Why don’t we go to the park, Frankie? We’ll only be moping around in here until your family arrive. It’ll do us and the boys good to get a bit of fresh air.’

  ‘Please, Mum, I wanna feed the ducks,’ Brett said, looking at her with his big, brown, soulful eyes.

  Frankie got out of bed and put her dressing gown on. ‘Bath first, then we’ll go to the park.’

  As Brett and Kelvin jumped up and down on the bed with excitement, Babs grinned. She loved living with Frankie and the kids. They really were just like one big, happy family.

  Over in Rettendon, Eddie Mitchell was on the verge of having a nervous breakdown. Since Aaron and Rosie had been born, he’d always considered himself to be a hands-on dad, but Gina’s absence from home had proved he was anything but.

  ‘What has Mummy told you about making your own breakfast, eh?’ Eddie said as he mopped up the milk and soggy Frosties that were scattered all over the kitchen floor.

  ‘Well, you weren’t up,’ Aaron replied cheekily.

  Eddie stared at his son, who was standing two feet away with his hands on his hips. At six years old, Aaron really was a chip off the old block. He was a ringer for Ed at the same age. He had dark hair, the same-shaped eyes and had also inherited Eddie’s temper and cockiness.

  ‘Get your arse upstairs now, and choose what you’re gonna wear today,’ Ed ordered him. That was another thing they had in common, style. Aaron refused to wear anything Gina bought him that he didn’t like and demanded to wear what he wanted.

  ‘Make me,’ Aaron replied, grinning.

  As Ed raised his hand and moved towards him, Aaron laughed, ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

  Sitting at the kitchen table, Rosie was happily munching on her breakfast. Most of the Frosties and milk were down her pyjamas, as she had a terrible habit of completely missing her mouth. ‘Finish,’ she said proudly, pushing her dish away.

  Smiling at his daughter’s beauty, Eddie lifted her into his arms. Unlike his and Gina’s, Rosie’s hair was as blonde as blonde could be. Joey was blonde, like Jessica had been, and his grandson Harry had been blonde, but nobody else in his family had blonde hair, other than his dear old mum, whom he barely remembered. That’s why they’d named her Rosie. His mum’s name had been Rose, but everyone had called her Rosie because of her beautifully coloured complexion, his dad had told him.

  ‘You’re all stinky. Pooh,’ Eddie said, rubbing noses with his daughter.

  Rosie giggled and Ed laughed with her. Her
hair was curly and her beauty was topped off with long blonde eyelashes, big blue eyes, and an infectious smile that made everybody she came into contact with melt.

  ‘Chocolate, Daddy,’ Rosie said, pointing towards the fridge.

  ‘Nope, bathtime, missy, and if you’re a good girl for Daddy, you can have some chocolate later.’

  ‘Humpty Dumpty, Daddy.’

  Singing his own version of ‘Humpty Dumpty’, which included Rosie’s name in it, Eddie carried his little angel up the stairs.

  Over in Rainham, Stanley was sitting in his pigeon shed talking to his beloved birds. Bertha and Sid were the only two he had left now. The others had all flown the nest and, at seventy-two years old, Stanley thought he was a bit too old to invest in any more. The thought of croaking it before his birds filled Stanley with dread, and he’d made Jock promise to take good care of Bertha and Sid if they were still alive when he was gone.

  ‘I’ll always look after your Joycie for you an’ all, make sure she’s OK, like,’ Jock had said sensitively.

  ‘Sod that wicked old witch, she can look after her bleedin’ self. You just make sure you look after me babies for me,’ Stanley replied truthfully.

  Seeing his wife putting the washing out on the line, Stanley lifted Bertha up in his hands. ‘Who’s that ’orrible woman out there, eh? It’s Joycie, isn’t it?’ he said in a silly, childlike voice.

  Spotting his wife glance over at the shed, Stanley ducked down quickly. They’d barely said a word to one another for the past two weeks, since the unfortunate incident with the car. Stanley hadn’t felt comfortable driving for the past couple of years, his eyes weren’t what they used to be and he was a bit doddery with his pedal reactions. On the particular day in question, he and Joycie had been on their way to Tesco in Rainham when he’d accidentally hit the accelerator rather than the brake and had ploughed into the back of a 103 bus. The Jaguar was a write-off. Joycie had gone totally ballistic. She’d called him every name under the sun and used every swear word that had ever been invented. They’d both been taken to hospital in an ambulance to be checked over and Joycie had even continued her assault in the back of that.

  ‘Gertcha, you brainless, bald-headed old bastard. Thinking of that fucking Pat with the big tits instead of concentrating on the road, were ya? You dirty, disgusting old pervert,’ she’d screamed at him in front of the paramedics.

  Unbeknown to Joycie, Pat the Pigeon had passed away last summer. Brian from the pigeon club had told him the news. Pat had been living with a chap fifteen years her junior and had died of a heart attack, apparently. Stanley had never laid eyes on the woman since the day he’d moved out of her house. He’d avoided every pigeon race he knew she’d be at. He would never get over the vulgar ordeal that she’d put him through, and he often wondered if it was her appetite for nookie that had finally killed her. Thoughts of Pat were erased from Stanley’s mind as the shed door flew open.

  ‘Get your arse upstairs and get washed and changed. Joey and Dominic are picking us up. We’re going over Frankie’s for the day, to help cheer her up.’

  Stanley immediately put Bertha away. ‘Yes, dear,’ he said, almost methodically.

  ‘And put something decent on. Wear your grey slacks and that nice blue shirt I bought you last Christmas.’

  ‘Yes, dear,’ Stanley said again. He shut the shed door, locked it and smiled. After fourteen unbearable days, Joycie had finally forgiven him.

  After a pleasant stroll around the local country park with Babs and the boys, Frankie returned home to find Kerry sitting on the doorstep. Once upon a time Frankie and Kerry had been inseparable, but since she had come out of prison, Frankie made excuses whenever Kerry asked to meet up. Being with her old pal brought back too many bad memories and hearing Kerry drone on endlessly about her two sons, Freddy and Sammy Junior, depressed Frankie no end.

  ‘All right, what you doin’ here?’ Frankie asked, forcing a smile. Kerry had been brilliant at her trial, which made Frankie feel all the more guilty for blanking her invitations.

  ‘If Mohammed won’t come to the mountain, or whatever the saying is,’ Kerry said, giving Frankie a hug.

  ‘Sit in the lounge with Babs while I make us a cuppa.’ Frankie told her.

  Kerry did no such thing and instead followed Frankie into the kitchen. ‘I brought you a bottle of wine. I know what day it is today, so I thought you could probably do with some cheering up. Ain’t Brett got big? Christ, I could have walked past him in the street and not even recognised him. Why don’t we ever see each other any more, Frankie? You ain’t seen Sammy Junior or Freddy for yonks and I’d love you to be part of their lives. I was gonna bring them with me today, but I didn’t want to upset you. I know how hard it must be for you still not knowing where Georgie and Harry are, but we shouldn’t lose contact, mate, not after everything we went through together.’

  Not in the best of moods anyway, Frankie decided to be brutally honest for once. ‘I’m really sorry, Kerry, but everytime I see you it just brings all the bad stuff back to me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled that you still have your boys, but seeing them upsets me too much. It reminds me of Georgie and Harry, and whenever I see you, I think of Jed and Sammy as well. I wish I didn’t, but I do, mate.’

  Kerry put the bottle of wine on the side and stared at Frankie. The hurt expression in her eyes was clear to see and Frankie felt awful when tears started to stream down Kerry’s face. ‘I’m really sorry you feel that way, Frankie, and to say you’ve hurt me is an understatement. I shall leave you in peace now, and I won’t contact you any more. If we can’t be friends that see one another, there’s no point in us staying in touch at all.’

  ‘I don’t want us to lose touch completely. You’ll always be my friend and I can never thank you enough for all the stuff you said at my trial. Please let’s not fall out over this,’ Frankie begged.

  Kerry picked up her car keys and walked towards the front door. She had come here today to find out what the hell was going on and now she had, it was time to leave.

  ‘Good luck with the rest of your life, Frankie. With an attitude like yours, you’re gonna need it.’

  ‘Are you OK, sweet child?’ Babs asked as the front door slammed. She had been in the living room and had heard every word of the conversation.

  Frankie shrugged. ‘I’m a bit sad, but I’ll be OK. I hate being reminded of Jed and Sammy, so a clean break is best all round, I suppose.’

  Babs had always liked Kerry and didn’t agree at all with the way Frankie had just treated the poor girl. Deciding to keep her thoughts to herself for now, she smiled. ‘Shall we have a glass of wine and cheer ourselves up?’

  Frankie grinned. ‘Yeah, sod it. Why not?’

  Knowing that Georgie and Harry’s birthdays usually turned into a melancholy piss-up, Eddie got Stuart to pick him and the kids up in his motor.

  ‘Why you not drive, Dad? You gonna get drunk?’ Aaron asked bluntly.

  ‘I can’t get drunk while I’m looking after yous two, but I shall have a few, boy,’ Eddie replied. Since Georgie and Harry had been abducted, he and Frankie had always spent their birthdays together and got rat-arsed. Christmas Day was the same; without the alcohol they just couldn’t cope on these sad occasions.

  ‘What’s in the bag?’ Eddie asked, pointing at the pink gift bag that was sitting in the footwell next to his legs.

  ‘A gift for Frankie,’ Stuart replied.

  ‘What is it, then?’

  ‘A pair of cowboy boots. She spotted ’em in Brentwood town centre last week when we were walking past a shop, so I went back the next day and bought them for her. I thought it might cheer her up, especially on a day like today.’

  ‘You’re a star, Stu, and I wish you and her would stop arsing about and get it together,’ Eddie replied.

  ‘She don’t look at me in that way, Ed. Jed put her off geezers for life, I think, and I don’t wanna spoil our friendship by complicating things.’

  Eddie raised h
is eyebrows. He was well aware that Stuart was in love with his elder daughter, even though he would never openly admit it. ‘If you don’t make a move, you’ll never know how Frankie feels about you, will ya? Think about it, Stu, she’s a pretty girl and if you don’t snap her up, somebody else will.’

  By the time her dad arrived, Frankie was on a proper downer. Gary and Ricky had unexpectedly turned up with their dimwit, silly-voiced wives and everytime either of the girls opened their very Essex-sounding mouths, Frankie felt like clumping them one.

  Gary and Ricky had been destined to be playboy bachelors for the rest of their lives until they’d met identical twenty-one-year-old twin sisters, Nicole and Amy, in a London nightclub in the summer of 1999. At the time the girls had both been working as successful models, but since marrying Gary and Ricky in a joint wedding in the Bahamas last year, both Nicole and Amy had jacked in their careers at the insistence of their respective husbands. They now spent their days shopping, lunching and pampering themselves at health farms and beauty parlours.

  Frankie had hated her brother’s wives on sight. They were incredibly thick, had skinny-minnie figures, long blonde hair, false boobs and the most stupid laughs and voices that Frankie had ever heard. In fact, they really put a capital D into the expression ‘dumb blonde’.

  ‘You all right, babe?’ Eddie asked when Frankie opened the door with a face like thunder.

  ‘No I ain’t. Gary and Ricky have bought them two silly tarts with them, and Nanny’s half-pissed already and keeps having a go at grandad. I only wanted a quiet day and every bastard’s turned up. There ain’t even enough chairs for people to sit on.’

  Eddie wasn’t the biggest fan of Gary and Ricky’s wives either. He liked a woman with a brain, and Nicole and Amy unfortunately didn’t own one between them. Still, they made his sons happy, so they couldn’t be all bad.

  ‘Calm yourself down, they won’t stop long,’ Eddie responded, hugging his daughter to his chest.