‘Georgie! Harry!’ Frankie yelled, as her brother opened the car door.
‘Say hello to your mum,’ Joey urged the kids.
Georgie stared at her mother. Harry didn’t want to look at the woman who had taken him away from his beloved family, so looked at the gravel instead. Neither child said a word.
‘Why are their little hands tied up?’ Frankie cried.
‘They tried to do a runner earlier. Now, let’s get them inside, they must be hungry and thirsty by now,’ Joey said sensibly.
Frankie couldn’t help her tearful reaction to her children’s homecoming but, not wanting to startle them further, did her best to pull herself together. The last time she had seen them was in 1993, on the day that she’d stabbed Jed. She’d gone to prison straight after that and had never set eyes on them since. Joey untied Georgie and Harry’s hands and told them to sit down on the sofa. Frankie knelt down next to her children and tried to hug them both.
‘Leave us alone. Go away!’ Harry shouted angrily.
Georgie sat frozen to the spot. She was staring at her mother as if she’d just seen a ghost.
Babs turned to Joey and Dominic. ‘Let’s go rustle up some food and drinks. Frankie needs time alone with her babies.’
Frankie grabbed the leather pouffe and sat down opposite her children. She could barely believe they were home and she couldn’t take her eyes off them. They looked so grown up, both of them.
‘I can’t believe how old you both look,’ she whispered.
The kids glanced at one another. Being in a big house was strange enough on its own, as neither child could remember setting foot in one before.
‘Do you remember me at all?’ Frankie asked. She was shocked by how mature for thirteen Georgie looked and Harry she would never have recognised in a million years. His hair had darkened so much from when he was little.
Georgie nodded, then grasped her brother’s hand.
When Harry was around his dad, grandad, and especially Sonny Adams, he was brazen and never scared of anything. Today, however, had really put the fear factor into him and being separated from all his family, bar Georgie, he couldn’t hold it together any longer. ‘I don’t wanna be here. I want my dad and my nan,’ he cried.
When Frankie tried to physically comfort him, he angrily pushed her away. ‘Get off me, you fucking shitcunt. This is all your fault – I hate you,’ he screamed.
‘Harry, I’m your mum, don’t you understand that?’ Frankie asked tearfully.
‘Leave my brother alone. You tried to kill our dad. We both hate you,’ Georgie yelled protectively.
Frankie stared at the two children she no longer knew or recognised. Memories of their childhood came flooding back. Their births, their first steps, Georgie’s favourite doll, her first day at school. She could even picture Harry toddling around with his beloved teddy bear under his arm. How he’d cried when he thought she’d lost it that time, when she’d planned to put it in Jed’s motor with the tape recorder hidden inside. For years, Frankie had dreamed and planned this reconciliation, but it was never meant to turn out like this. She wasn’t stupid. She’d hardly expected the children to gallop into her arms and then they all live happily ever after, but she’d thought they might have missed her, or would at least be pleased to see her again. Instead, they’d been reared to hate her. They’d been brainwashed by their father, Alice and Jimmy and how she was meant to change their perception of her, she really did not know.
Unaware that his kids were no longer in the back of the Sprinter van, Jed was full of beans as he and Billy drove through Elm Park. He was no longer angry with his brother for forgetting the bullets, he was too excited about what was about to happen to be bothered about that now.
‘Ring Dad and pass me the phone,’ he ordered Billy.
‘All right, boy. I was just saying to Mickey, I think Mitchell could be heading to his salvage yard. I bet the prick keeps his guns there, unless they’ve already got shooters on ’em, or Frankie’s living over that way.’
‘Do you reckon they know we’re following ’em? Me and Bill don’t.’
‘I should imagine so. Mitchell might be a lot of things, but he’s no dinlo, boy. What I suggest we do is catch right up with him now. He’s bound to stop somewhere soon and when he does, we’ll be ready. We don’t want the chavvies involved, so we get them out the back and get Billy to drive ’em straight back to Glasgow. I’ve rang your mum and she’s OK now, she just wants us all home safe and sound. We’re gonna have to move off the site though; I’ve already made a few phone calls and sorted us somewhere.’
‘Why we gotta move? Surely if we finish off the cunts tonight, we’re safe where we are?’
‘Your mother wants to move, says we don’t know who else the Mitchells have involved. I think she’s right. The quicker we get out of Glasgow, the better.’
‘Fuck all this talk about moving. What I wanna know is how we’re gonna play this. We know Eddie and Raymond are definitely in the van and you can bet his cunting sons are with him, and probably some other mug that works for him. I don’t just wanna blast ’em all away. Let’s kill any deadwood, and then torture Eddie,’ Jed suggested.
Jimmy chuckled. He and Eddie Mitchell had been at loggerheads since 1970 and he certainly wanted to give him the most agonising death possible, but there wasn’t the time to torture him properly. ‘I dunno if we’ll have time to arse about, Jed. We’ll make sure we send him out in a bit of style though, I promise. Now catch up with us ’cause we’re just approaching the A13.’
When Jed started to laugh manically, Billy looked at him as though he had lost his marbles. Unlike his brother, he was shit-scared over what was about to happen and he couldn’t work Jed’s mind out at times. ‘What’s a matter? What you laughing at?’
‘When Mitchell’s gasping for his last breath, I’ve got a big surprise for him and Dad.’
‘What?’
‘I’m gonna tell both of ’em who killed Harry Mitchell.’
‘What, you gonna make something up?’ Billy asked confused.
‘No, I’m gonna tell the truth. It was me that killed the old cunt and I can barely wait to break the good news.’
* * *
Eddie Mitchell’s heart was beating nineteen to the dozen as they approached his salvage yard. He’d wanted Jimmy O’Hara dead for as long as he could remember and now he finally had the chance to do something about it. ‘Let me take Jimmy out. Gal, Raymondo, yous two make sure Jed cops it, then go for whoever else is with ’em. Ricky, you get the guns. Right, lads, get your hands on that door handle ’cause we’re pulling up in less than a minute or so.’
Ed had rung Big Pete, who managed the yard for him, hours earlier. The gates were made of wire mesh, and Ed had told him to just pull them to and put the chain or padlocks on one gate. ‘I’ve lost me key and need to drop a hooky motor off later,’ Ed had lied.
‘Right, hold tight, in case Pete’s fucked up and we smash ourselves to pieces,’ Eddie said, as Raymond put his foot full on the accelerator.
When the gates flew open and the van screeched to a halt, Eddie yelled his adrenalin-filled orders. ‘Go, go, go!’
CHAPTER FORTY
When Jimmy and Jed both screeched to a halt, all hell immediately broke loose. Baseball bats, knives, even a hammer was used in the tussle that followed.
‘Grab the fucking gun, Ray,’ Eddie screamed, as he managed to knock the sawn-off out of Jimmy’s hand.
About to comply with his boss’s orders, Raymond was whacked over the head with a hammer by Mickey Maloney and fell to the ground in a heap.
Jed picked the gun up and immediately fired two shots. He’d spotted Ricky running towards the left-hand side of the yard and guessed he was up to no good. ‘Gotcha, you shitcunt,’ he said, as Ricky’s body hit the ground with a dramatic thud.
‘Jed, help me. I’ve been stabbed,’ Billy pleaded.
Jed glanced at his brother, saw no blood, so turned his attention to Ricky instead.
‘Let me sort these cunts out; I need to check they ain’t got phones on ’em. I’ll be back in a minute, Bill,’ he promised.
Gary was running towards where Ricky had taken a tumble. ‘You ain’t going nowhere, cunt,’ Jed shouted, as he took a couple of pot shots at Gary as well.
‘Fuck,’ Gary screamed in agony, clutching the back of his right leg as he fell to the floor.
Jed took Gary’s mobile out of his pocket, smirked, then ran over to Eddie’s van. He flung open the back doors, fully expecting an emotional reconciliation with his children and was shell-shocked to find that, apart from four sports bags and some rope, the van was empty.
‘You fucking cunt. Where are my chavvies?’ Jed shrieked as he ran over to where Eddie Mitchell lay.
Eddie was in agony. Between them, Jimmy and Mickey had managed to overpower him somehow and not only had they twisted his right arm until it had broken, they’d also smashed him across both kneecaps with a hammer.
‘I said, where are my fucking chavvies?’ Jed repeated, his eyes bulging with anger.
As ill as he felt, Eddie had never been a man to disclose important information. ‘Somewhere where you’ll never find ’em,’ he spat.
‘This is all your fault. I told you not to let him out of your sight, didn’t I?’ Jed shouted at his father. He was almost crying with rage, and aimed a kick at Eddie’s head.
Jimmy hung his head in shame. If only he had known that the tear-up would take place at the salvage yard, he’d have driven into that poxy garage. He’d been worried it might all go off in a public street where neighbours might be able to give a description of him, and he hadn’t wanted to be caught on any cameras, just in case. He could just imagine an image of him on the garage forecourt ending up in the papers or on the news. The police had never looked very hard to find the children, but they’d look for him if he was wanted for murder, Jimmy was sure of that.
He put a comforting arm around his son’s shoulder. When they’d left Essex, he had never kept in touch with any of his old pals from the manor because they were on the run. He’d known Pat Murphy most of his life, and how he now wished that he’d kept in contact with him. He would have known where Eddie lived and he could probably have given him Frankie’s address as well.
‘I’m gonna fucking kill him, Dad,’ Jed yelled, pointing the gun at Eddie once more.
‘Keep an eye on him, Mick, while me and Jed check on the others,’ Jimmy instructed, leading his son away.
‘On my Shelby girl’s life, if that shitcunt don’t give me an address in the next five minutes, I’m gonna blow his brains out,’ Jed spat.
‘Give me that gun,’ Jimmy ordered.
Jed shook his head, so Jimmy slapped him hard around the face to knock some sense into him.
‘Killing Eddie at this point ain’t gonna get you them chavvies back, you dinlo. Now pull yourself together. Let’s get everybody tied up and we’ll torture the answers out of ’em. Now, where’s Billy?’
Jed felt a pang of guilt as he remembered his brother had said he’d been stabbed. ‘I dunno. It’s proper fucking dark now,’ he lied.
Jimmy ran to his motor and grabbed his torch and some rope. ‘Jed, over there. Look, one of the bastards is getting away,’ he said, spotting Gary moving towards the far end of the yard.
Gary was only seconds away from where the guns were kept when Jed tussled him to the ground. His right leg was bleeding profusely, but even though he couldn’t put his foot to the floor, he’d still managed to drag himself towards the newly built toilet where the shooters were kept. He’d found Ricky lying in a puddle of oil on his travels. His brother was still alive, but had been shot in the back and looked in a really bad way.
‘Where were ya going?’ Jed asked Gary, with a menacing expression on his face. He knew he wasn’t heading towards the exit, and Jed’s guess was he was trying to retrieve a gun from somewhere.
Instead of pointing towards the toilet, Gary pointed to the big building on the left-hand side of it. It was an old warehouse that was now part of the salvage yard and it was where all the tyres were kept.
‘Got guns in there, have ya?’ Jed snarled.
‘Nah, I was gonna see if there was a phone in there,’ Gary lied.
‘Jed, get back down this end, boy. Your brother’s in trouble, I think. We might have to get him to a hospital,’ Jimmy shouted out.
Kneeing Gary as hard as he could in the proverbials to ensure he wouldn’t move again for the foreseeable future, Jed legged it down to the other end of the yard. He paused as he saw Ricky lying face down on the ground and, unable to stop himself, gave him a sharp kick in the side of his head. He then checked on Raymond, who was still out for the count, before he ran back to his father.
‘There’s hardly any blood. He’ll live,’ Jed said, as he inspected the two small gashes on his brother’s stomach.
‘He don’t look good, boy. Keeps shutting his eyes and talking rubbish like he’s delirious. He might have internal bleeding or something. Mickey’s gonna have to take him to A&E in case it’s bad,’ Jimmy said anxiously.
‘And what’s he meant to say when he gets there?’
‘Mickey’ll have to say he got stabbed in a fight and tell the nurses his name’s Billy Smith. He can tell ’em he’s a traveller and give ’em the name of the site in Tilbury. If the Old Bill are called, Mickey’ll have to give a false name an’ all.’
Jed nodded. ‘Get Mickey to drop him at Basildon Hospital then, the further away from ’ere the better. There’s a building down there on the left, looks like a warehouse. Let’s tie the others up, drag them in there and torture some answers out of ’em. As soon as we get the truth, we’ll kill ’em all.’
‘Jimmy, Jimmy!’ Mickey yelled.
Jimmy and Jed ran over to their pal. Eddie Mitchell had his left hand around Mickey Maloney’s throat and was doing his best to strangle him.
Seeing a baseball bat lying nearby, Jed picked it up and smashed Eddie over the back of the head with it. ‘Give me that rope, Dad. Let’s tie this piece of shit up first,’ he said as Eddie fell helplessly to the ground.
‘I’ll tie him up,’ Jimmy said. He was worried his son would go too far and actually kill Mitchell before they got the information they needed.
Eddie Mitchell was a man who had too much pride to have ever considered defeat in the past, but as Jimmy smashed his mobile phone, then tied the thick rope around his hands, he feared the worst for the first time ever. Images of Gina, Rosie and Aaron flashed through his mind and he felt like fucking crying. He’d wanted to ring his family earlier, tell them how much he loved them, but Gary had stopped him from doing so. Now he would probably never have the chance to speak to them ever again.
* * *
Frankie smiled at Georgie as Harry wolfed the last of the chicken sandwiches. When Georgie was young she’d had strange eating habits, gorging on food for days then starving herself. Seeing Harry eat a whole tray of sandwiches by himself, Frankie wondered if her son was of the same mould.
‘Are you still not hungry, Georgie? You should really eat something. Do you remember when you was a little girl you used to be addicted to them Heinz bangers and beans? I’ve got some in the cupboard. Shall I get Joey to open a tin for you?’
‘I ain’t a little girl no more and if I say I ain’t hungry then I ain’t. I’ve got a boyfriend who I’m gonna marry as soon as I’m sixteen, I’m a grown-up now.’
Frankie was appalled, but tried not to show it. At least Georgie was talking to her now. Her children’s accents were absolutely awful. They sounded just like their father and the way they pronounced their words and some of the things they said brought back terrible memories of her time with Jed.
‘So what’s your boyfriend’s name? Is he the same age as you?’ Frankie asked pleasantly.
‘His name’s Ryan and he’s fifteen. I really love him and he loves me. Look, he bought me this,’ Georgie said, flashing the eternity ring her boyfriend had given her for her birthday.
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Frankie felt sick as she stared at the ring. When she had last seen Georgie, she’d been an adventurous, fun-loving, four-year-old girl. Now she had massive breasts, a gypsy accent and was discussing her bloody wedding. Wishing more than ever that she had succeeded when she’d tried to kill Jed that time, Frankie forced herself to smile. ‘Is Ryan a travelling boy?’
‘Yeah! I would never marry him if he weren’t. All gorjers are scum; Nanny Alice and Dad taught me that.’
‘And what about you Harry, have you got a girlfriend yet?’ Frankie asked, trying to include her son in the awkward conversation.
‘Mind your own business,’ Harry replied, glaring at her.
Frankie had sadness etched across her face as she stared at both of her children. In all honesty, Georgie had always had a slight wild streak in her. When she was young she used to have a habit of running away and she had never been able to suffer the confinement of a classroom when she’d started school. Georgie looked like her father, had his mannerisms, and Frankie knew she only had herself to blame for that.
‘Can we go home now? You can’t make us stay ’ere,’ Harry said bluntly.
Feeling her eyes well up again, Frankie bit her lip to stop herself from crying. The change in her beautiful, loving, timid son was the one thing that was literally breaking her heart in two. Gone was the happy, fresh-faced, polite little boy whose smile could light up a room. In his place was a sullen, dirty, scruffy lad who had an attitude problem, terrible language and front teeth missing.
‘So, what hobbies have you both got?’ Frankie asked awkwardly. She felt as if she was conducting an interview with two complete strangers.
‘I like shopping for clothes and I like music. Harry likes quad bikes and thieving,’ Georgie responded, nudging her brother.
‘You like drinking cider and playing with Ryan’s cory,’ Harry chuckled, joining in with the fun.
The Victim Page 42