by Jacqui Rose
Holding onto the basin, Bree squeezed her eyes shut, took another deep breath before counting down from ten. Okay, she was ready. It was about to begin.
‘Molly! Kieran! Quickly! Come on babies, we got to go.’
A few seconds later, Molly, who’d just turned six and proudly told anybody who’d listen, appeared at the bathroom door, clutching one of her stuffed giraffes.
Her long corkscrew blonde hair tumbled down in waves over her tiny, little shoulders. She spoke, sounding like someone much older than her age.
‘What’s the rush? Where are we going? Are the others coming?’
Bending down to hurriedly button up Molly’s butterfly print blouse properly, Bree shook her head, speaking in a whisper as if there was somebody listening. ‘No, darlin’, they’re not.’
Molly scowled. Her button nose wrinkling up. ‘Why not? I want them to come.’
Nervously, Bree looked around. It seemed like her heart was pounding so hard in her chest, it was just about the only thing she could hear. ‘I know sweetheart, but if they do, then they’ll find out about the surprise.’
Molly’s face suddenly lit up. She called in excitement, ‘Kieran! Kieran! Come on, there’s a surprise.’
Panicked at the volume of her daughter’s voice, Bree gently shushed Molly, putting her finger over her lips. ‘Shhh! We got to try to keep quiet, darlin’. We don’t want anyone hearing us, do we?’
Smiling and kissing Molly on her forehead, Bree tried to push down the rising panic, attempting to ignore the thought she’d started something she couldn’t finish.
‘Well, what is it? What’s the surprise? Is it for me?’ Kieran Dwyer, although only nine, was the spitting image of his father. Both in temperament and looks. He stood at the bathroom door, grinning widely. He loved surprises.
‘No, sweetheart.’
Kieran folded his arms petulantly, reminding Bree so much of Johnny. ‘Then I ain’t going bleedin’ nowhere. Go on your own.’
Tenderly smoothing down his thick black hair, Bree looked sadly at Kieran. She loved him so much at times it ached, but with each passing day, Kieran was becoming more and more like Johnny. Idolising him and wanting to be just like his father when he ‘grew up’; another reason why she had to get them away before it was too late.
Patiently, Bree spoke, crouching down to Kieran’s height. ‘Okay, I tell you what, how about this. If you come with me now, I’ll buy you any game you want.’
Kieran’s blue eyes darkened as he stared suspiciously at Bree. ‘Any game?’
‘Any. I promise. But we have to go, now.’
‘Why?’
That was enough talk. Grabbing hold of both Kieran’s and Molly’s hands, Bree gently pulled the pair along the hallway. But as they neared the front door, it burst open and a tall figure, silhouetted against the bright sun, stood just inside the hallway.
‘Hello, darlin’. What’s all this then?’
Backing away, Bree clutched the children’s hands tightly as she began to shake.
‘Johnny … I … I …’
High-pitched laughter burst out as he clapped his hands, skipping on the spot. ‘Bree falls for it every time! Funny Bree. Funny Bree.’
Bree’s legs collapsed underneath her. ‘Ryan! You bleedin’ idiot. What you have to go and do that for?’
Ryan shrugged, looking hurt. His face crumpled as he held his head and rocked back and forth on the spot. ‘I found kittens. Nice, nice kittens. Have I done bad? Has Ryan done bad? In trouble with Ma? In trouble with Ma?’
Bree stared at Ryan Dwyer, Johnny’s identical twin brother. She tried to keep her voice even as she smiled at him kindly, trying to alleviate his panic. ‘Shhh, Ryan. It’s okay. You’re not in trouble. I promise. But we have to go. Come on, hurry.’
Molly piped up. ‘We’re going to get a surprise.’
Ryan’s eyes narrowed, looking troubled, his mind trying to comprehend. He stuttered.
‘Does … does … does Johnny know? Got to tell Johnny. We tell Johnny.’
Getting up, with her legs still trembling, Bree spoke soothingly. ‘Well it wouldn’t be a surprise then, would it, Ryan. Look, darlin’, we need to go. Come on Molly, hold my hand.’
Bree only managed to get part way down the stone white path before Ryan, who was dressed as usual in a blue Ralph Lauren tracksuit, stopped.
‘Wait! Need to tell Ma!’
Bree spun round, her face strained with fear. ‘No, Ryan, you don’t need to do that. Please. It’s just our secret. Remember? It will spoil the surprise.’
Ryan turned his head to the side, keeping his eyes on Bree. He rocked on his feet, looking anxious as he played with his hands. ‘No, need to tell Ma. Need to tell Ma. Ma! Ma!’
‘Please, Ryan, no! Don’t!’
‘Ma!’
The pink front door to the next mobile home was opened. ‘What the bleedin’ hell’s all that racket for?’
Ma Dwyer stood in a blue, silk cornflower print dressing gown, tied too tightly around her bulging waistline. She rested her arms on her hips as her grossly obese body wobbled towards Bree and Ryan; the top of her legs sounding noisily as they rubbed and squelched together with sweat.
With egg yolk dried on her chin, Ma Dwyer sniffed, then burped loudly. ‘This better bloody be good Ryan, otherwise I’ll be giving you another brain injury.’
Holding Ryan’s hand, Bree shook her head frantically. Her eyes wide with terror. ‘Ryan, no. Look at me, no!’
‘What she bleedin’ on about? Go on, tell yer ma.’
A moment of hesitation rushed through Ryan’s eyes before Ma Dwyer reached up and whacked her son hard around the head. ‘I’m talking to you, you little shit.’
Ryan rubbed his head, looking so much younger than his thirty years. ‘We shouldn’t tell you. Can’t tell Ma.’
Ma stared at Ryan. Her voice was mean and hard. ‘I’m warning you son, you better tell me, unless of course you want to be in trouble. Is that what you want, Ryan? You want to be in trouble?’
Agitated, Ryan looked down, playing with his hands as he shook his head. ‘No. No.’
‘Then tell me!’
Blurting the words out as quickly as he could, Ryan said, ‘She’s off to get Johnny a surprise. A secret.’
Ma Dwyer grinned nastily. ‘Is she now … Take the kids into the house, Ryan, I want a little word with Bree.’
‘But I want to see the kittens.’
‘I said take the friggin’ kids inside, you dopey muppet!’
Ma Dwyer watched as Ryan skipped into the house with Molly and Kieran, who were giggling happily. She turned coldly to Bree.
‘So now you can tell me all about this surprise, or maybe I should just call Johnny and ask him … Oh, no need … Look … Somebody’s going to be taught a lesson.’
As Ma cackled, Bree swivelled round to see Johnny’s black Range Rover coming up the drive. The next minute Bree started to run, listening to the sound of Ma Dwyer’s screeching voice behind her.
‘Johnny! Johnny! Quick, she went that way!’
Bree Dwyer had never run so fast in her life. She could hardly get her breath as she leapt and bounded through the thick undergrowth of Shadwell Wood, feeling the bushes and branches tearing at her flesh.
She could hear Johnny behind her as she raced through the woods. Faster and faster she went, stumbling down ditches, scrambling and falling as her shoe caught in the twisted shrubs. She slipped on the wet leaves and her nails scraped at the mud as she tried to get her footing, as she slid back down the hill.
She could taste her tears and her own fear and her chest began to tighten. She was too afraid to look behind her, but she knew Johnny was there. Closing in. Coming to get her.
‘Don’t run from me, Bree! There’s nowhere to go!’
Johnny’s voice seemed to engulf the whole of the area; echoing through the trees, echoing through the branches. Her legs were aching now, but she continued to run, her thin trousers covered in blood. She headed tow
ards a small, gravelled track aiming for the copse on the other side.
‘Bree! Bree!’
She glanced back, then she heard a roar. A screech. The sudden slamming of brakes.
‘Look where you’re going, you dozy mare! I could’ve killed you.’
She spun round, feeling the car on her leg as she leant her hands on the hot bonnet. Panting.
Blinking.
Staring at the driver. A moment of slight recognition passed between them before Bree began to run.
‘Hey, come back! You alright, love?’
Limping, she leant against a tree, trying to get her breath. She had no idea where she was, and even though the woods were close to where she lived, she’d never ventured into them on her own.
Setting off again along an overgrown path, Bree heard the cracking of twigs but before she had time to turn around, heavy, rough hands grabbed her. She screamed as she was pulled down into the undergrowth. Feeling Johnny’s breath against her neck.
She froze as he sat behind her, putting his hands round her waist, drawing her in between his legs. Kissing her on her neck whilst stroking her hair.
He spoke quietly. A dangerous lull in his voice. ‘What did you think you were doing, Bree?’
Her words were breathless with fear. ‘Nothing.’
‘You was going to leave me, weren’t you?’
She shook her head quickly. ‘I wasn’t, I swear, Johnny.’
Slightly too hard, he nibbled the lobe of her ear, making Bree flinch. ‘I don’t believe you, baby.’
Bree shivered, feeling like she had a thousand ants crawling underneath her skin. ‘All I wanted to do was just take the kids out. I was going to get you a surprise.’
He shrieked into her ear, causing the nesting starlings to fly out of the trees and into the sky. ‘Liar!’
‘Please, Johnny.’
‘You know what I have to do now Bree, don’t you? I have to teach you a lesson.’
Bree couldn’t control her shaking, her body went into spasms, and she didn’t know if it was just the wet earth or if she’d wet herself in fear.
‘And why do I, Bree? Why do I have to teach you a lesson?’
Bree stayed silent as her whole body trembled.
‘I said, why do I? Say it! Say it, Bree!’
Crying and gasping for air, Bree Dwyer closed her eyes, only just managing to speak.
‘Because nobody ever leaves Johnny.’
2
‘Wakey, wakey! Come on my handsome darlin’s, what’s all this? The day has started and you two pieces of lump are still in bed.’
Lola Harding cackled loudly as she energetically opened the curtains in the garishly decorated silver and velvet master bedroom of Janine Jennings’ large mansion just outside the straggling village of Wimbish in Essex.
‘Do me a favour! Bloody hell, Lola! Turn it in. Are you trying to kill me?’
‘No one died of a bit of sunshine, hey Janine?’
Leaning against the bedroom door, Janine Jennings sniffed as she bit into her fifth chocolate biscuit of the morning. ‘Don’t know why yer bothering, my husband has always been a lazy bastard.’
Alfie Jennings sat straight up. ‘Ex-husband.’
Janine guffawed with laughter. Her gold necklaces jangling with her. ‘You see, that’s the way to get him out of bed; remind him of our nuptials. Come on Vaughnie, take them covers off yer head. What’s wrong with you two? You asked me to wake you up.’
Alfie groaned. ‘Not this bloody early. And if I’d known me and Vaughnie had to share a bed when you said we could stay, I wouldn’t have bothered.’
Janine scowled. ‘Beggars can’t be choosers and anyway it’s only temporary, ain’t it?’ She paused before adding, ‘I thought you were supposed to be picking up Franny today.’
Alfie’s smile was tight as he tried not to let his anger overwhelm him as he thought of Franny. Franny Doyle, the woman he’d given his heart to. So strong, so beautiful, so clever, so fearless yet with a vulnerability which had made him fall in love with her, no matter how much he had tried to stop himself. But he had, and he’d fallen hard.
The daughter of one of the most notorious gangsters, he’d met Franny in Soho but after a while they’d decided to leave and go and live in Spain; there was nothing in the West End for them anymore. The place had changed beyond recognition. There was no more making money. Gangsters and faces had moved out. Tourists and foreigners, druggies and coffee shops had moved in. The council had clamped down, going into overdrive on any illegal activity, something they would’ve once turned a blind eye to or at least he could’ve paid them off. So, Spain had been their ideal.
He’d even given up the business for her after she’d become tired of seeing how many people it hurt. And he’d been happy to go semi-legitimate, or as happy as he could’ve been. But now, now was entirely different and happy certainly wasn’t a word which came to mind.
He stared at Janine and then at Vaughn. He shrugged, trying his best to sound unruffled.
‘There’s been a slight change of plan.’
Vaughn’s words shot out. ‘What the hell are you talking about?’
‘Look, calm down, nothing’s wrong. Franny’s on her way, she’s just been a bit delayed, that’s all.’
Incensed, Vaughn got out of bed, throwing the duvet in Alfie’s face. He walked across to the crushed velvet window seat and lit up a cigarette, inhaling it hard.
‘That’s all? She’s got two million quid of our money which, let me remind you, is all the money we’ve got in the world, and you expect me to be calm?’
Alfie got up from the mattress, pulling on his red sweat top over his muscular body, much to Lola’s dismay; albeit she was nearing seventy, she still had an admiring eye for a handsome man.
Then, lying through his teeth, Alfie said, ‘It’s just a little hiccup. Apparently when Franny got on the boat there were a lot of coast guards and police about at Puerto Banús and Puerto de la Bajadilla doing a routine sweep of all the private vessels, so she thought it was best to wait until everything’s quietened down before they set off. She knows what she’s doing.’
‘That’s what I’m afraid of. Franny knows exactly what she’s doing.’
Alfie stared at Vaughn, hoping the anger he felt towards Franny didn’t show on his face. Hoping he didn’t give anything away. Not yet anyway.
When they’d left for Spain, both he and Vaughn – who he’d known since he was a teenager – had invested in property. Clubs and restaurants initially, then finally a resort just south of Torremolinos, but then – and maybe it was his own fault for not keeping an eye on the legitimate businesses as he had done the illegitimate ones – the developer had gone bankrupt before the place had been finished, heading off to Mexico with their money, leaving unpaid workers and contractors as well as him and Vaughn out of pocket. The bank had closed in and they’d been left with not much change from fuck all.
But just when they’d started to worry, Reginald Reynolds, Essex kingpin, number one face and an old trusted friend of them both, had got in contact wanting to sell his bookmaker business, which not only incorporated the best legal pitches at racetracks like Cheltenham and Newmarket, but also the monopoly on the systematic illegal betting market in the East of England. And of course, they’d jumped at the chance. It was not only the reason they’d been looking for to come back home to Essex, it was a licence to print money. And all for just two million big ones.
It was a deal that couldn’t be missed and once they’d shaken on it, Reggie had put the word around that he and Vaughn were going to be his successors when he retired, which not surprisingly hadn’t gone down well with a lot of people.
They hadn’t known at the time, but Reginald hadn’t been retiring but had been fighting cancer, and was just putting his affairs in order for his family before it was too late. Two weeks after the details had been sorted, his widow, Reenie had been in touch letting them know Reginald was dead.
Vaughn had sold h
is house and Alfie had sold his villa, getting the money they needed together. Obviously, the likes of Reggie and his family only dealt in cash and certainly no transfers through any bank, so it was decided that they would travel to England first and Franny would follow with the cash on the boat of an old associate of theirs, later. Easy. Or it was supposed to have been.
‘Fuck’s sake, what’s with all the paranoia? Just leave it, okay?’
Alfie turned around but felt Vaughn’s grip on his arm. ‘Listen, until I have me money in me hand, I ain’t going to leave anything. You hear me?’
‘Get yer hands off me.’ Alfie shoved Vaughn, who fell back into Lola, then, just managing to keep his balance, Vaughn sprang at Alfie, grabbing hold of his top. With his face red, he hissed his warning.
‘I’ve already lost nearly everything because you didn’t keep your eye on the ball with that developer, pretending everything was fine. So, I’m telling you now Alfie, if anything’s happened to me money, I’m going to hold you responsible. And I’ll come for you. You understand me?’
‘Don’t threaten me, Vaughn, unless you want to be a dead man walking.’
Scrabbling between them, Lola tried to pull the men apart. She appealed to Vaughn. ‘This is Franny we’re talking about. She ain’t going to rip you off, is she? None of this is Alfie’s fault. I know you’ve had it tough these last few months, but see sense, Vaughn.’
‘Have you forgotten that Franny is the daughter of Patrick Doyle, one of the biggest gangsters there was?’
‘No, but …’
‘But nothing Lola. The apple don’t fall far from the tree, does it?’
Lola, not enjoying hearing Vaughn saying anything negative about her friend, put her hands on her hips as she stood in front of him. ‘Vaughn Sadler, have you ever, in all the time that you’ve known Franny, had any reason not to trust her?’
‘No, but …’
‘But nothing, right back at you. If Franny says she’s been delayed, then she’s been delayed. It’s going to be fine.’