by Martina Cole
‘I thought that was you, Terence!’ He grinned at her, happy that she never made the mistake of pretending they had a real relationship. So many girls in her position tried to manufacture a closeness that wasn’t there.
‘I was passing, so I thought I’d pop in, Jan, and see if you fancied a quick drink?’
Janice Evans smiled widely. She liked Terence Brown a lot, he was always so nice to her, and she had a feeling that he liked her much more than he let on. ‘That sounds lovely, Terence. I’ll have a JD and Diet Coke.’
He ordered her drink, and Janice was chatting away, laughing and joking, when she realised that Terence wasn’t listening to a word she was saying. She followed his gaze, and saw that he was watching a couple at the bar with an interest that wasn’t exactly healthy. She grabbed his arm tightly and, as he looked down at her, she said huffily, ‘Are you all right, Terence?’
Pulling a twenty out of his pocket he gave it to her, saying, ‘Get another couple of drinks, Jan. Large ones, eh?’
She took the money, and turned back towards the bar, but she was annoyed. The girl he was staring at was very young, and that didn’t sit well with what she knew of Terence Brown. He wasn’t interested in many women, she had worked that out herself. But she shrugged her thoughts away; Terence wasn’t the kind of man she could ever question, he wouldn’t allow a woman to feel she had any hold over him. But he had never looked at anyone else while he had been in her company and she had liked that about him. Seeing him staring so intently at such a young girl bothered her. Even worse, she was annoyed with herself for caring so much.
Terence Brown suddenly found himself in a very serious quandary, and he was not sure what he should do. This was a situation that he could never have envisaged happening to him in a million years, but it was something that he couldn’t ignore and walk away from in good conscience. It was a fucking dangerous situation. A very delicate situation, that needed to be handled with tact and diplomacy. Luckily he was more than capable of doing that; the people he worked for used him because of his ability to keep his mouth shut. He saw himself as a man of principle, with old-style morals, which were very important to him. He had no choice – he had to do what was right.
Terence had worked for Michael Flynn on many occasions. Michael had always given him his due and he liked and greatly admired Michael. He had been invited into Michael’s home and had broken bread there on more than one occasion. He’d spent many happy hours talking with the man who had always treated him with the utmost respect and never been anything other than charming to him.
Now, as he stood at the bar of this complete shithole of a pub – a place only the lowest of the low would frequent – he couldn’t ignore the fact that Michael Flynn’s young daughter was there, dressed like a pole dancer, and in the company of a man old enough to be her father.
He took the drink that Janice Evans gave him, and gulped it down. Then he pulled Janice towards him roughly, shouting to be heard above the music. ‘Here, Jan, who’s the bloke over there with the leather jacket and the Churchill shoes? Do you know him?’
Janice nodded quickly. If Terence Brown was asking questions there was a good reason for it.
‘He comes in here all the time. Billy something-or-other. He’s a builder out of Silvertown. A complete fucking waster, always on the pull – married with a couple of kids, by all accounts. The young girl he’s with started coming in a few weeks ago. She’s jailbait, if you ask me. She’s already been with half the blokes in here from what I’ve seen of her. Anyone who buys her a few drinks is in with a chance!’
Terence Brown frowned at her words. ‘Listen, I need to make a quick phone call. Do me a favour, Janice – will you keep an eye on them for me? I think he owes someone I know a good few quid, the treacherous cunt.’
Janice grinned happily, pleased that Terence Brown was asking her for a favour, happy to be a part of his life however small.
Chapter Eighty-Nine
Billy Thomas was drunk. It was late, and he knew his wife was going to give him grief for weeks, but he didn’t give a toss. It was worth it. This little beauty was a real find; she was game for anything, as long as he supplied her with a good drink and a few lines. She was very young – younger than she let on – and he didn’t reveal he knew the truth about her. She was fifteen years old at most – a real fucking draw for him; he liked them young and stupid. Treat them like grown-ups and they were so thrilled they would do anything he asked of them. She was his dream date.
He parked his work van neatly outside the flat conversion he was working on in Rainham. Jessie was nearly asleep, lying against his shoulder, and he kissed her gently, before slipping his tongue between her lips, licking the inside of her mouth roughly. She responded eagerly as he knew she would.
‘Come on, mate. I’ve been waiting for this.’
As they got out of the van, Billy Thomas was already hard as a rock; he had been thinking about this all day, and he had planned ahead. He opened the front door quickly and, pushing Jessie inside, he didn’t turn on any lights, just shut the door quietly behind them.
‘Come on.’
He dragged her into the front room which was empty except for an old sofa. Pushing her down on to it, he kissed her roughly before getting up and walking into the kitchen. Jessie could hear him as he poured them both drinks.
She smiled happily. He had really come up trumps. She liked that he had planned – gone out and bought the alcohol, and then brought it here in readiness for the night’s entertainment. The knowledge that he had done all that for her was a real power trip.
It was dim in the room with the only light coming from the lamp post outside, but she noticed that the walls had recently been plastered. The whole place smelt of damp and neglect. Even the sofa looked dilapidated. As her eyes adjusted to the dimness she could see it was filthy. It stunk of cigarettes and fried food. But who cared? It was comfortable, and more than adequate for what she wanted.
Billy brought the drinks in and handed her a plastic glass full of vodka and Coke. ‘Get that down your neck. Plenty more where that came from.’
Jessie took a deep draught; it was nearly all cheap vodka, as she had expected. She lay back against the arm of the sofa, and she could see his excitement as she gave him her glass, and casually started to undress herself. She was not wearing that much anyway and, as she pulled her top over her head, and dropped it on to the floor, she heard his intake of breath. She was without underwear – she knew the power of that from previous experience. Billy was already putting the drinks on to the floor, his whole world focused on her and her body. Her breasts were heavy and well-shaped, enough to make any man fold, and Jessie enjoyed the power she had as she exposed them to the air. She lifted her skirt up around her hips, opening her legs wide, and she could hear the change in the man’s breathing, feel his mounting excitement, as she pulled him into her arms, and kissed him deeply, pulling at his shirt, trying to rip it open.
‘Come on, Billy boy, you know what to do.’
Billy Thomas was in a state of pure ecstasy. He jumped up quickly, tearing his clothes off with abandon. This was the best he’d ever had. This young girl was a fucking dream come true for him, and she was his – all his. It was as if all his Christmases and birthdays had arrived at once. He had never felt so aroused by anyone in his life. She was like a porn star, willing to do anything he wanted her to do. In this light, she looked her age – so fucking young and vulnerable. She was a schoolgirl in a woman’s body, and it was a huge turn-on.
But as he finally thrust himself inside her, all hell suddenly broke loose.
Chapter Ninety
Terence Brown was more disgusted than he had ever felt in his life. Seeing a man like Michael Flynn shamed like this was unprecedented. The girl was screaming in terror, and he automatically grabbed her and placed his hand over her mouth. The noise she was making had to be stopped as quickly as possible – the last thing any of them needed was the fucking Filth arriving on the scene
, all notebooks, bright eyes, and awkward questions.
Billy Thomas was being severely reprimanded by Michael Flynn, as he should be, the filthy piece of shit. He had more than earned this fucking hammering. He was a nonce, a fucking beast. The girl was only a kid for all her tits and make-up. It was a disgrace – what man in his right mind wanted a young girl? A child? Michael Flynn was really giving him the large. It occurred to Terence Brown that Billy Thomas was not going to leave this room alive. But that was his look-out – he had asked for it, and he was getting it.
Jessie could see everything that was happening around her and, as the reality of her situation sank in, she stopped trying to fight her way out, stopped trying to scream. Instead she closed her eyes tightly, and waited for it to be over.
Terence grabbed the nearest thing to him with his free hand, trying to cover the girl’s nakedness with Billy Thomas’s new shirt.
Michael Flynn was still beating the man with his fists and his feet, using all his considerable strength, but Terence knew the man was already dead. No one on earth could have survived that kind of a beating – it was impossible. The girl was quiet now, and Terence guessed that it had finally occurred to her that this was her fault – she was the instigator of everything that had happened. It was outrageous.
Michael Flynn continued kicking Billy Thomas long after the man had died. When his anger finally subsided, the man was no more than a bloody piece of meat, unrecognisable as a human being.
Michael Flynn looked at his only daughter for long moments before bowing his head in shame. ‘You did all this, remember that, Jessie. You caused this.’
Jessie Flynn stood up then and, dressing herself quickly, she said harshly, ‘Oh no, you did this. It’s what you do, Dad. Remember?’
Chapter Ninety-One
Josephine Flynn was absolutely devastated. Everything that she had been told about her daughter had hurt her like a physical blow.
‘Oh, Jessie, what possessed you? For fuck’s sake, have you no shame? Have you no fucking decency?’
Jessie laughed nastily. ‘Oh, have a day off, will you, Mum? Acting all fucking shocked. I might have fucked a few blokes but, in the grand scheme of things, that’s nothing really, is it? I never killed anyone, did I? I’ve never murdered anyone.’
Josephine stared at her lovely daughter; she saw the beauty she had inherited from herself, and she saw the coldness she had inherited from her father. Her Jessie was every bit as vicious as the man she seemed to hate so much.
Grabbing her daughter roughly by the hair, she forced her head back until she could look straight into her face. ‘Don’t you fucking dare try to bullshit me, lady. I’m warning you now, Jessie, don’t push me too far. I might seem like a fucking pushover, but I’m not. Far from it. We trusted you, lady. Whatever you might think of us, we trusted you. So the real world has finally arrived on your doorstep – get over it. But don’t you ever try and justify your own fuck-ups by blaming me and your dad. All we did was love you. We gave you the world, and don’t you ever forget that.’
She threw her daughter away from her angrily, watching as she fell to the floor, unable to find it in her heart to comfort her child and make it better. At this moment she hated her – hated her for what she had done to her father, to them all. Her daughter had chosen her own road, and it was a road that she would find very lonely, and very hard.
‘You broke your father’s heart, I hope you know that, and I’ll never forgive you for it. He loved you more than life itself. You stupid, stupid girl. You knew that we weren’t like other families – don’t pretend you didn’t. You knew all about us, I know you did, so stop trying to pretend different. Your nana Flynn made sure of that. I know she’s filled your head with her spite and her anger the last few months.’
Jessie pulled herself up slowly from the kitchen floor, grabbing at the black marble worktop to steady herself. She was in so much pain, hurting all over. She could see clumps of her hair on the flooring. That her mum could have attacked her like that was something she would never have believed possible. Even after everything that had happened, it was her mother’s anger that had really been the eye-opener for her. Her mother had always been the one person she had felt she could rely on no matter what. She knew now, though, that her mum would always put her father first – he was her only real interest. It was a learning curve all right. She could see the truth of everything her mother really stood for now, and it was just another let-down for her, just another lie they lived with.
She had been brought up to believe that her family were blessed, and lived so well because her father worked so hard. She had never questioned that – why would she? The man she had loved was a thug who used violence to earn a living. His lifestyle had nearly caused the death of her mother and herself, but no one seemed to think that was of any importance. Now her mother was actually trying to tell her that she was disappointed in her? That she was the one in the wrong? It was outrageous. How could her mother not see her point of view?
‘I saw everything that night, Mum. You with the shotgun, acting like fucking Calamity Jane. I saw everything that went on – I was watching. You hypocrites, telling me what to do all the time, watching me like a hawk, the good girl, the good daughter, pretending we were a normal family, when it was a lie. We could have died that night.’
‘But we didn’t, did we?’
Jessie sighed heavily, unable to believe her mother’s attitude.
Josephine poured herself a large glass of wine and, taking a long drink, she sat down at the kitchen table. Lighting a cigarette, she puffed on it for a while before saying sadly, ‘So you saw everything that night. I’m sorry, I really am. But you also saw a man murdered earlier tonight, a man you were sleeping with. Fifteen years old, and already a seasoned mistress! Yet that doesn’t seem to be bothering you too much – in fact, if it wasn’t for you, he would be alive and kicking, darling. So let me ask you this – how can you justify that? It seems to me you are more like your old man than you realise, lady.’
Jessie Flynn didn’t answer her mother, she didn’t know what to say to her. She just knew she wasn’t the same girl she had been before those men had arrived on their doorstep, armed and dangerous. Her whole life had been like a dream until then, like a fairy tale, and it had been based on lies, built on quicksand. Everything she had ever believed in was without foundation, without substance. Even now, her father was out there, making sure that Billy’s body was disposed of, taking care of business, and everyone acted as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
The truth was, she didn’t care about Billy Thomas. She didn’t care that he was dead. She had wanted to be found out from the start; she had never dreamt that she could get away with her behaviour for so long. But she had, and it was only because her parents had always thought the best of her. They should have known that something was wrong with her, none of them had noticed anything amiss. That wasn’t right; she resented them for assuming she would just pick herself up and carry on as normal. It had shown her that she was really no more than an outsider, that her mum and dad didn’t really give her more than a passing thought. All they needed was each other.
‘I can’t answer that question, Mum. To be honest, he meant nothing to me. I wish I had realised that before. But what I do know is you and Dad don’t need me – you never did, Mum. I feel like you and Dad built this big lie, and it was all for my benefit. You never leave the house now unless you have to. I don’t feel like this is my home any more. Overnight I went from convent girl, with a perfect life, to no one. Everything I had ever believed in was stripped away, was destroyed. Dad even attacked Uncle Declan and put him in hospital. In a matter of days, I was thrust into your world, your vicious, violent world. I’m fifteen years old, Mum.’
Josephine Flynn was heart-sorry for her daughter, she understood what she was saying. But it was too late now, she should have said all this a long time ago.
‘I’m sorry to hear you say that, Jessie. You were alw
ays everything to me and your dad. I tried to be honest with you.’ Josephine finished her glass of wine and poured herself another. ‘When I was a kid, Jessie, my dad was put away for a long time. I spent the best part of my youth visiting him in Parkhurst. I didn’t like it, but I got on with it. My mum and me made his time bearable. We wrote, we visited. I had so many Christmases, so many birthdays without him, just me and her. We struggled without him, but we just got on with it. I didn’t rail at the world, but I missed him, God how I missed him. He was my dad. I remember the Filth coming round our house, tearing it apart, searching for evidence, being dragged out of my bed. They even slit open my mattress with a huge knife, in case he had hidden anything inside it. I can still remember the court case, my mum coming back from the Old Bailey every night, and pretending everything was all right. My heart was broken, but I knew, even then, as young as I was, that my mum needed me to be strong for her. So I was. But I know in my heart, that you knew about your dad, Jessie. You acting like it was all a fucking big surprise doesn’t wash with me. All your mates know about us and, even though that doesn’t make it right, it still makes me question why you would use it as an excuse to whore yourself out.’
Jessie pulled a chair out from under the table, and sat down beside her mother. ‘I was scared out of my life, Mum. I can’t believe you don’t understand how much that affected me.’
Josephine looked at her lovely daughter and, getting up slowly, she went to the nearest cupboard and brought another wine glass to the table. She poured her daughter a small glass of red wine, pushing the glass towards her roughly.
‘I do understand. I was there as well, remember? I protected us as best I could until your father arrived. You could have come to me at any time afterwards, but you didn’t. I trusted you, as I had always trusted you, and I was wrong. I know that now. Drink your wine. From what I understand you aren’t averse to alcohol.’