by Martina Cole
She saw Dana pick her grandson up and swing him around. The girl was so good with him. She genuinely did care for the child.
Josephine could feel the erratic beating of her heart and the shortness of breath that heralded a panic attack. She was sweating profusely, unable to prevent it happening. Closing her eyes tightly, she concentrated on her breathing, taking deep breaths slowly and evenly, like the doctor had taught her. She felt the panic subsiding, and the terror left her body as quickly as it had arrived. Then she heard her name being called and, standing up, she saw that Jake was now down below her, on the patio, looking up at her balcony, his handsome face cross. He had his hands on his hips; she had been away with the fairies, and had not heard him calling her name.
‘Really, Nana, it’s not good enough, you know! I’ve been calling up to you for ages!’
As he stormed off, Dana looked up at her and shrugged, before following him into the house.
Josephine closed her eyes in distress. This was happening to her more and more lately; she seemed to be losing all sense of time and place. She saw her pack of cigarettes on the table, and she lit one quickly, drawing on it deeply. Then she smoked it slowly until the trembling in her body subsided once again.
Chapter Ninety-Seven
‘So you’re sure she wasn’t there?’
Daniel Carter nodded. ‘I let meself in, Michael, as you told me to. I’m telling you, there wasn’t a soul in that flat. I searched everywhere. Jessie had definitely left the building.’
Michael expected as much; his big fear had been that she would be in there, but dead as a doornail. With her lifestyle, that wasn’t exactly unheard of. ‘OK. Thanks, Daniel. I appreciate it.’
Daniel Carter was heart-sorry that he couldn’t put the man’s mind at rest. ‘I can ask about if you want, Michael? See where she is?’
Michael laughed bitterly. ‘I’ve already done that. Thanks anyway, mate.’ He watched Daniel leave the room and, sitting down behind his desk, he sighed heavily.
No one seemed to have clapped eyes on Jessie since last night. She had scored in Upney, then cabbed it back to her flat. After that, no one had seen or, more to the point, heard from her. Her mobile was permanently attached to her lughole, yet she hadn’t used it in the hours since. The piece of shit she had been hanging about with was shitting bricks now. He had been dragged from his bed, and questioned by three very large men. But he had been telling the truth – he had gone on to a club, which had been verified. Michael knew she hadn’t been nicked or he would have heard about it by now. He owned the local Filth, and they always contacted him immediately whenever she was arrested. Nevertheless he insisted that they check. But nothing. Jessie had disappeared off the face of the earth.
He tried her mobile again, but it just rang and rang. Where else could he look for his daughter? Jessie didn’t know that her whereabouts were always reported to him; if she turned up somewhere, he knew about it. It was his way of looking out for her and checking out the men she socialised with. It was so fucking hard having to pretend to everyone around him that he didn’t care about her life choices, knowing that if he interfered she would turn away from her mother completely and could cause problems for them and her little boy. She had him by the nuts.
Chapter Ninety-Eight
Josephine was listening to Jake as he chattered away to her. He was dressed for school, and she looked at him with pride; he was such a handsome boy.
‘Dana’s promised to take me to the park after school. I wish you would come with us, Nana. It’s such fun. I like the swings best. But Dana says that’s because I am such a fidget bucket!’ He laughed with delight. ‘I promise you, Nana, I will be a very good boy. I won’t make too much noise.’
Josephine hugged him tightly and kissed his forehead. ‘I think you and Dana will have a good time, Jake. You know your nana has lots of work to do. But I will see you when you get home, and you can tell me all about it.’
Jake looked at his nana intently for long moments, and Josephine could tell that he didn’t believe her about having to work.
‘OK, then. But I wish you would try to come with us sometimes.’
‘I will, Jake. Now get along or you’ll be late.’
He kissed her on the cheek, and she could hear him talking and fussing as he made his way down the stairs. She heard the front door slam, and sighed sadly; the house was so empty when he wasn’t in it. It had always been far too big really. Michael loved it and, in her own way, so did she. It was a home fit for a large family; as Michael used to joke, many years ago, the Von Trapps would get lost in it. That was back when they had thought they would be banging out babies as and when they desired them, before the pain of disappointment had settled over them. That was a long time ago.
She stood up slowly, and made herself cross the large landing to the bedroom she had once shared with her husband. As she walked into the room, she was pleased to see that he was already wide awake. He was sitting up in bed, watching the news on TV. He had a large mug of black coffee in his hands, so she knew he had already been up and about for a while.
‘I didn’t hear you come in last night, Michael.’
She sat on the bed beside him, and he leant over to kiss her lightly on the lips. ‘I was late in, Josephine. I didn’t want to wake you up, darling.’
‘Did you talk to Jessie? She hasn’t called since Tuesday morning. How did she seem yesterday? Did you ask her about Sunday?’
Michael Flynn looked at his lovely wife, who he loved more than anything else in the world. She was already in full make-up as always, and dressed in a very fetching cream-coloured silk dressing gown. It was expensive, he could see that, and it looked wonderful on her. Lana must have picked it out for her. She had always taken such good care of herself; the last few years, it was all she ever did. It was surreal, seeing her fully made-up night or day, her hair and her make-up perfect, as if she was going somewhere. His life was fraught with so many problems; sometimes, like now, he resented her for that. But he wouldn’t say anything. It was too late.
‘I didn’t see her, love. I had a lot on yesterday, and I didn’t hang about too long. To be honest, I wasn’t in the mood for her anyway.’
Josephine smiled at her husband gently. ‘I was hoping you’d seen her. But you know Jessie – she’ll turn up at some point.’
Michael nodded his agreement. ‘Like a fucking bad penny, she is. Anyway, we shouldn’t let her bother us. She knows where we are.’
Josephine didn’t like her husband’s attitude but she didn’t comment. ‘I wish she’d call me though, Michael. We talk regularly, you know that.’
He grabbed his wife’s hand, and squeezed it tightly. She had such small hands and feet, she was so fragile.
‘Don’t worry, Josephine. Knowing our Jessie, she’s probably shacked up with some lowlife she met last night. It wouldn’t be the first time, would it?’
Josephine didn’t reply; this was upsetting her now. She didn’t need her husband to remind her of her daughter’s failings. She pulled her hand roughly away from Michael’s, and he knew he had hurt her feelings. But he couldn’t tell her the truth, that Jessie had dropped off the radar and no one seemed to know where she was.
‘I better get myself back, Michael, I have a few things I need to sort out today.’
Michael felt his anger rising at Josephine’s words, but he swallowed it down as always. All his wife actually did, day in and day out, was repair her make-up, paint her nails and rearrange her boxes of crap. For the first time in years, he felt he needed her, wanted her to be like she was in the old days, when he could tell her anything, and she would advise him, listen to him. He didn’t like having to admit to himself that his lovely wife Josephine was like a stranger to him these days. She would choose her old crap over him, over Jake, over Jessie, if she had to. He had done his best to see his wife happy; now he wasn’t so sure he had done the right thing by her. All he had accomplished was to allow Josephine to live a life without any meani
ng. He had stood back and let it happen. The doctors had given her pills, but no one challenged her or told her that her life was odd, that she was odd. The psychiatrist talked to her for hours in her rooms; he paid the fucker a small fortune, but Josephine just got worse. Looking at her now, he wondered how he could have let it happen. When she had first started bulk-buying food, he should have put his foot down then. They rarely made love any more, and they talked only in generalities of things that were of no real importance. All they had in common was Jake.
He could see Josephine watching him warily, and he wanted to grab hold of her, drag her into bed with him, and give her a serious seeing to, like in the old days. But he didn’t feel he could do that to her any more. She wasn’t the old Josephine, the woman he had married – this was a woman who lived inside herself, whose every waking moment was lived in a vacuum.
‘Are you happy, Josephine? I mean really happy?’
He could see the confusion on her face at his question, and he wanted to slap her, wanted to make her react to him without thinking it through first. ‘Answer me! It’s not a hard question, is it? It’s a simple yes or no.’
Josephine looked down at her hands, unable to look her husband in the face. ‘Of course I’m happy, Michael. What a thing to ask.’
Michael put his finger under her chin, and he made her look him in the eyes, before he said seriously, ‘I don’t think you are, Josephine. I don’t think you have been happy for a long time. Not really.’
Josephine looked at her husband, saw the sadness in his expression, and the way he was waiting expectantly for her answer. ‘I am happy, Michael.’
She meant it. He smiled because he knew she was telling him the truth – as she saw it. ‘Good. That’s all I wanted to know.’
Chapter Ninety-Nine
Jessie was frightened and cold. She was also starving, which amazed her because she didn’t think food would be high up on her priority list. But it was. She didn’t eat that regularly anyway but, for the first time in years, her stomach felt empty; the hunger like a gnawing pain inside her. Her arms and legs were tied, and it was so painful; every time she tried to move her body, a burning pain shot through her limbs.
She was terrified. It was so very dark. She felt tears running down her face, and she forced herself to stop them. She wasn’t going to cry, that wasn’t sensible; she couldn’t afford to let her emotions get the better of her. She was going to keep her wits about her, and try and work out what the situation actually was. If this was a kidnapping, which she doubted, whoever had organised it had better take the money and run as fast as possible. Her dad wouldn’t let something like this go unpunished – he would take it very personally, see it as an act of treason against him, and all he stood for.
The pain was shooting through her skull again, and it was so acute she closed her eyes and bit down on her bottom lip, trying to ride it out. It was a losing battle – the pain was too intense. She felt herself losing consciousness again, and she didn’t try to fight it this time. Her head was aching so badly, but at least it had stopped bleeding.
She embraced the sleep that washed over her; she was glad of it, even though she knew it wasn’t natural.
Chapter One Hundred
‘I have already got people out there searching for her, the Old Bill included, useless fuckers that they are. But I swear on my fucking eyesight, when I find out what’s gone down, I will fucking kill the bastards responsible with my bare hands. How dare they! How dare anyone think they could touch my daughter and live to tell the fucking tale!’
Michael was stalking around the office of the nightclub in Ilford. He was so angry he couldn’t even breathe properly. There was no doubt in his mind now; his Jessie was missing. It was over three days, and that wasn’t normal, even for her. She was a fucking nuisance, living her life like a fucking hippy but, as much as she thought she was some kind of enigma, she was actually very predictable. Not that he would ever explain that to her, the dozy little mare. It suited him for her to think she was a fucking maverick, a fucking independent woman. As if. Without him and his protection she would have gone under a long time ago. She had more problems than the euro and, in real life, if she had to sort things out for herself, she would be seriously fucked. But she was still his baby, and he couldn’t turn his back on her.
Declan Costello watched Michael as he stalked around the small office; it was unusual to see him so flustered. He always kept his cool, no matter what happened. But this was different, Declan understood that; this was about his kid.
Declan sat back in his chair, heart-sorry for his friend. ‘It can’t be a kidnapping, Michael – you’d have heard from them by now. It’s fucking mental! No one can just disappear like that.’
Michael sighed heavily. ‘That’s just it though, Declan – they can.’
Declan knew what Michael was trying to say, and he shook his huge head violently in denial. Who would bother to kill Jessie? People disappeared, that was a given, but there was always a reason.
‘Fuck off, Michael! Will you listen to yourself? Why on earth would anyone want to kill young Jessie? It’s ludicrous.’
Michael Flynn stood in front of his old friend, and he said honestly, ‘Think about it, Declan. You know what she’s like. I want to kill her myself half the time. She’s got a fresh mouth on her, she talks to people like they’re shit. I warned her time and again that, one day, if she wasn’t careful, her big mouth would get her into real trouble. She pushes everything, pushes everyone.’
Declan laughed. ‘Can you hear yourself, Michael? Ninety-nine per cent of the population couldn’t kill a fucking earwig unless they had to. It’s why people like us can do what we do. But you have to remember that there is no one on this planet who would dare to touch a hair on your daughter’s head. She knows that herself – why do you think she acts like she does? For all her fucking arrogance, she knows that without your name she wouldn’t last five minutes.’
Declan could see the real fear in Michael’s face, could almost feel the worry the man had for his only child. It wasn’t fair. He didn’t deserve any of this. Michael Flynn, for all his faults, was basically a decent man, a good man where it counted. Even he acknowledged that, and he had been on the receiving end of the man’s temper.
‘You haven’t even had a stand-off with anyone for years, Michael, so this can’t be about payback, can it?’
Michael could see that Declan was speaking sense, but it didn’t take the fear out of his chest. He had traced her calls, and there had been nothing for days to or from her number. Her ‘friends’ – and he used the word loosely – had been as baffled as he was about her whereabouts.
The office door opened, and Michael smiled nastily as Jonny Parsons was pushed into the room roughly. He tripped over his own feet, and just about stopped himself from falling flat on his face. He was absolutely terrified; that was more than evident to both the other men in the small room. The man looked what he was: a cheap imitation, a wannabe gangster, a fucking thug.
Jonny looked at Michael Flynn’s hard face, and his heart stopped in his chest. He hadn’t realised the power that the man radiated, the menace that surrounded him. This was what he had wanted: a meeting with Michael Flynn. It was why he had romanced Jessie, but he had not understood until now exactly what that entailed.
Michael Flynn towered over him and, in the confines of the room, the man looked almost demonic. It was easy to see why people were so wary of crossing him, why he had accumulated so much power over the years, why he was so respected by everyone around him. He was the main man throughout Europe, the boss of everyone around him, and that was not an easy task.
He could see Declan Costello sitting behind the desk like a big, overweight leprechaun, all smiles and expectation. Declan was watching him closely, waiting to see what was going to happen and, by the looks of him, he was going to enjoy it.
Jonny Parsons felt trapped. He just stood there like a fool, unable to talk or move.
Michael
was looking at the man who had slept with his young daughter, his only child. He wasn’t impressed with what he was seeing; in fact, he was disgusted. Jonny Parsons was forty if he was a day, his hair was cut like a teenager’s, he was dressed in cheap knock-offs – even the man’s Rolex was a cheap imitation.
Worst of all was that Jonny Parsons was without any kind of decency. The man was a complete and utter coward. Yet his daughter had taken this man into her bed. It galled him that she could lower herself to this level.
He poked his finger hard into the man’s chest, making him lose his balance once more. He could feel the terror coming off him in waves, and he was glad. At least he had reason to let the man know what he truly thought of him.
‘I’m looking for my daughter, Jessie Flynn. I assume you remember her? Do you know where she is?’
Jonny Parsons’ mouth was so dry he wasn’t sure if he could actually form any words.
Michael was enjoying every second of Jonny’s discomfort, and he bellowed into his face suddenly, ‘Are you fucking deaf? You useless cunt! I just asked you a fucking question.’
Jonny Parsons was shaking his head in denial, wondering how he had ever thought that, by using Jessie Flynn as a stepping stone, he could have somehow gained an entry into this man’s world. He must have been off his head to have even contemplated it.
‘No, Mr Flynn, I swear to you. I haven’t seen her since last week.’
Michael sighed. The man was a fucking complete imbecile. What the fuck was Jessie thinking about? Didn’t she even look at the men she slept with?
‘You haven’t spoken to her or called her – I already fucking know that. I just want to know if you’ve seen her, or spoken to anyone who has?’