Toxic

by Jacqui Rose

  Kieran shouted, disappointment and fury encasing his words in equal measures. ‘Tell him what?’

  ‘That you’re not letting me play.’

  ‘Snitch!’

  Molly’s lip quivered. ‘I’m not a snitch … If I don’t tell him, can I play? Please, Kieran.’

  ‘No, go away!’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Cos you’re stupid and you’re only six.’

  ‘I’m telling!’

  Kieran’s eyes filled up with frustrated tears, his features taut with anger. ‘I hate you! I hate you! You always spoil things!’

  Picking up his painted box, Kieran ran. ‘Go away! Go away! Don’t follow me!’

  ‘Kieran! Kieran! Come back! Kieran, I’m telling Dad!’

  Kieran Dwyer ran as fast as his legs could take him. He pushed his head down, fighting against the storm as he carried the box under his arm. He could still hear Molly calling, running after him. He didn’t know why she couldn’t leave him alone. He didn’t know why she couldn’t … His thoughts were cut off as he tumbled forward, crashing into the bushes.

  As he hit the hard, wet ground, Kieran heard a loud crack. There to the left of him, along with his secret wrapped up in the brown ragged cloth, were the broken bits of his brightly painted box.

  ‘Nooooooo!’ he cried out, his voice captured and muted by the wind. How could he hide his secret now that his box was broken? How could he make sure nobody found it? She’d ruined it. Molly had ruined everything.

  With his hair stuck to his head and fury saturating him as if it were water, Kieran grabbed hold of a piece of his broken box. Clutching the wood in his hand, he scrambled up, his eyes narrowed in rage and he began to run back the way he came. Faster and faster he went. Down the muddy path, down the hill and towards the woods by the stream.

  ‘Molly! Molly!’ he called her, the piece of wood hidden behind his back. ‘Molly, where are you? Come out and play!’

  Molly Dwyer sat by the stream. She was cold and wet; it was getting dark and she wanted to go home. But she didn’t know which way was home. If the sunshine had been out then she would know, but she didn’t really like the dark because she knew that’s where monsters lived. And she wished she hadn’t followed Kieran. He was mean and he’d left her all alone.

  ‘Molly! Molly! Where are you?’

  That was her name! She could hear Kieran calling her name!

  ‘Kieran! Kieran! I’m here!’ The rain ran into her mouth and Molly, happy now, giggled as she called again. ‘Kieran! Look, I got bubbles.’

  Kieran stood a few feet in front of his sister, tapping the piece of wood behind his back. And Molly opened her mouth, hoping to catch some more rain.

  ‘You do it, Kieran! It feels funny!’

  Kieran pulled the wood from behind his back, gripping it tightly. He walked towards his sister, his face rigid with anger.

  ‘What’s that? Kieran, what’s that?’

  ‘I hate you! You ruin everything!’

  Still holding the wood in his hand, Kieran ran towards Molly. She screamed and tried to retreat but as she did, she stumbled backwards, her arms flailing about as she tried to save herself from falling. ‘Kieran! Help me! Kieran!’

  Instinctively, Kieran ran forward to try to grab his sister but his hands slipped and his arms weren’t long enough to reach. The current took Molly and the stream rushed and whirled over her face.

  ‘Help me, Kieran!’

  Even though it wasn’t deep, Kieran hesitated a moment, looking at the dark, swirling water.

  He waded in, the water cold and icy.

  ‘I’m coming, Molly … I’m sorry! Molly, I’m coming!’

  But before Kieran could get to her, a large branch bounced and bobbed along, hitting Molly with savagery, smashing into her head and taking her underneath the rushing water.

  ‘Molly! No!’

  Kieran scrambled out of the stream, running down the bank as Molly was carried along. Running ahead of his sister, Kieran decided to clamber down the bank again, slipping into the water as he did. He clung onto a branch, edging out, reaching and stretching his arm to grab her.

  Clutching hold of her collar, Kieran hauled Molly towards the bank. He heaved and pulled, tugging with all his might whilst trying to get a foothold on the muddy bank.

  Managing to get her far enough out of the stream to lay her down safely, Kieran looked around, suddenly realising the part of the bank they were on was far too steep to drag her up on his own.

  Despairing, he glanced around, wondering what to do. Abruptly, he turned his gaze back to the large pine trees. He squinted. There in the shadows he could see someone watching, but he couldn’t make out who.

  ‘Help me! Help!’

  The person stood motionless behind the bushes, behind the trees, just watching in the darkness of the storm-filled night. Perhaps they couldn’t hear him. Perhaps they couldn’t see him. He shouted louder, waving his hand.

  ‘Please, I need your help!’

  A groan from Molly made him turn away and look down. He could see her head was bleeding and panicked. Kieran Dwyer began to run.

  His legs once again speeding underneath him. Faster and faster, using the tree trunks for balance as he bounded between them, skidding and scrambling towards home.

  Nearing the caravan site, he could see his dad down by the chicken coop.

  ‘Dad! Dad! It’s Molly. She’s hurt.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Dad, come on. She fell in the water but I can’t get her up the bank.’

  Kieran ran and Johnny, throwing down the feed, began to follow, running towards the stream.

  ‘She’s there! Look!’

  Johnny nodded, scrambling down the bank to scoop his daughter up with ease. He shouted after Kieran. ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘I’ll be back in a minute!’

  ‘Kieran! Hold up, son!’

  Ignoring and not waiting for his father, Kieran ran as fast as he could. He needed to get back to his box before his secret got soaked in the rain.

  Slowing down, Kieran saw where he had fallen, the broken pieces of brightly painted wood still scattered around. Suddenly alarmed, he looked around, throwing himself on his knees, his hands quickly searched through the mud. It wasn’t there … His secret wasn’t there … It had gone. Somebody had taken his secret.

  A sudden noise caused Kieran to spin around, and there in the darkness he could just about make out the silhouette of the person watching him again. A moment later they disappeared into the shadows of the night.

  38

  ‘What were you doing? Why weren’t you looking out for them? She could’ve drowned. And who’s fault would that be then, hey? Come on, Bree, who’s fault?’ Johnny raged as he paced the bathroom floor, pointing at Bree.

  Her voice trembled. ‘It would have been mine, Johnny.’

  He ran up to her as she knelt on the bathroom floor, crouching down to her level and, nose to nose with Bree, he hissed his words. ‘That’s right, Bree. Yours. How do you think Molly felt, hey? How do you think she felt when she fell in the water?’

  ‘I … I …’

  ‘What? You don’t know? I’ll show you, shall I?’

  With great strength, Johnny grabbed Bree by her hair, pulling and dragging her across the tiled floor. He lifted her up before dunking her into a bathtub full to the brim with water. Pushing her head down with his foot as she struggled and flailed about, Johnny bellowed.

  ‘How does that feel, Bree?’

  She scraped at his legs as she fought for oxygen, her chest feeling like it was going to explode whilst her lungs gave off a burning sensation and Johnny continued to shout. ‘You ain’t fit to be a mother, Bree. Our little girl could’ve drowned. What were you doing, Bree? Were you thinking of him? Were you thinking of Alfie?’

  He pulled her head up from the bath, and immediately Bree gasped in a large mouthful of air, coughing and spluttering as Johnny shook her hard. ‘Is that what you were doing? Thinking o
f other men?’

  Wheezing and red-faced, Bree managed to shake her head.

  ‘I don’t believe you!’ Johnny screamed as he pushed her head back under the water with one hand and roughly began to pull up her skirt with the other. ‘You’re mine, Bree! Always will be. Always.’

  ‘Daddy?’ Molly Dwyer stood at the bathroom door, eyes wide.

  Johnny turned, letting go of Bree who slumped back, shaking, in the bath. His demeanour changing as he smiled at his daughter.

  ‘Get back to bed, baby. Go on, you need to rest. You gave us a fright tonight. I’ll come through in a minute, but I just need to teach Mummy a lesson. She’s a very bad mummy, ain’t she? For letting Molly fall in the river.’

  Little Molly Dwyer looked confused as she glanced over at Bree who tried her best to smile at her daughter as Johnny stood and held onto her hair.

  ‘But it wasn’t Mummy. She wasn’t there.’

  ‘That’s the point darlin’, she wasn’t there, cos she was too busy thinking of other people when she should’ve been looking out for you. Now go on, do as I say.’

  ‘But …’

  ‘Molly, do as your daddy says.’ Ma Dwyer – who’d been watching the proceedings from the corner of the bathroom, sitting on a white wicker chair – spoke, her voice firm but warm.

  Johnny smiled. ‘Go on, baby … And Molly, Daddy loves you, remember that. Tomorrow you and me will go into town and I’ll buy you something special.’

  Molly’s face lit up as she squeezed the teddy bear she held under her arm. ‘A unicorn. I’d like a unicorn.’

  Johnny winked at his daughter. ‘Then if that’s what you want, that’s what I’ll get you. Now go on, close the door.’

  Johnny turned back to Bree. He pulled a small brown bottle out of his pocket, then crouching down, he said, ‘Drink this.’

  Bree shook her head. She spoke in a tiny voice. ‘No, Johnny. I don’t want it.’

  ‘I know you don’t, but it seems to me you don’t learn … I said, drink it! Fucking drink it!’ He pulled back her head, clamping it in the crook of his arm. ‘Hold her nose, Ma.’

  Ma Dwyer bent down, roughly pinching and holding Bree’s nose hard between her fingers, causing her to open her mouth.

  As he poured the clear liquid down her throat, Johnny whispered, ‘Next time Bree, perhaps you’ll learn not to be such a bad girl.’

  39

  With Lola and Janine out shopping on Chigwell High Road, Alfie, Vaughn and Frankie sat in the games room, cigars alight, brandy on the side and discussions about the events of the week progressing in relative peace and calm.

  Standing up and chalking his cue, Vaughn bent over the table, concentrating hard.

  Aimed.

  Shot.

  ‘Shit!’

  The blue ball bounced off the side to hit and send the black ball careering into the top, left pocket.

  Pulling deeply on his cigar, Frankie chuckled. ‘You’re losing your touch, Vaughnie.’

  ‘That’s what I’ve been telling him, but he won’t have it.’

  Vaughn stared at Alfie. ‘What’s that supposed to mean? Are you having a pop?’

  ‘I see it. I call it.’

  Taking a gulp from the red Waterford brandy glass, Vaughn said, ‘Well, don’t.’

  ‘Then if you don’t want me to, let’s sort this out once and for all. We need to sell the diamonds, and quick, before every bad boy comes down on us.’

  ‘And that’s why we shouldn’t do it. We ain’t got the manpower needed. We need to leave them hidden where they are and just forget about them.’

  Alfie stared at him in bemusement. ‘You want to leave millions of pounds’ worth of diamonds shoved down the drains?’

  ‘If that’s what it takes to keep us above ground, yes. I’m not ready to be six feet under. I’m leaving well alone.’

  Alfie snarled. ‘It’s too late for that, ain’t it? Franny’s ripped us all off so we ain’t got much choice.’

  Vaughn wondered, not for the first time, how things had gone so wrong so damn quickly.

  ‘Alfie, that’s my final word. I’ve told ya.’

  ‘No, mate. We’re all in this together, so like I say, there is no backing out.’

  Leaning against the window seat, Vaughn’s green eyes pierced into Alfie. He shook his head and chuckled scornfully. ‘I ain’t picking up the pieces.’

  Coldly, Alfie answered, ‘And I ain’t letting this deal with Reenie piss by. Besides you owe me.’

  ‘I don’t think so. It wasn’t me that trusted Franny was it?’

  ‘You’re missing the point, Vaughnie. I ain’t talking about the money, I’m talking about how you jeopardised my life. And for that, you owe me.’

  Frankie Taylor, undoing the button on his trousers to get a bit of comfort, looked at Vaughn. ‘What’s he on about?’

  Vaughn shrugged. ‘Who fucking knows? But that’s Alfie, a law unto himself.’

  Trying not to let his temper and his fists get the better of him, Alfie sniffed contemptuously, rubbing his hands. ‘What I’m on about Frank, is this muppet thought it was clever to say me name when we jacked the lorry.’

  ‘What?’ Frankie asked incredulously.

  ‘Exactly. Number one rule: no names.’

  Still unable to get his head round what he’d just heard, Frankie directed his conversation to Vaughn. ‘What were you thinking, Vaughnie? What were you playing at?’

  ‘Don’t you start, Frankie, I’ve had enough from him. Okay, so I made a mistake. But no harm done.’

  Alfie threw down the cue he’d just picked up. ‘No harm? Think about it. How else are they onto us? And why else is some geezer all of a sudden looking to turn me over?’

  ‘Because you’ve always had enemies, Alf, that’s why.’

  Alfie exploded. ‘No, Vaughn! Because you fucked up and now every face and would-be gangster knows we have the diamonds. Look, this is how it’s going to work. From tomorrow we’re going to start shopping them out. We’ll start with Timmy Green, see what he has to say and if he’s in the business for buying, and then we’ll take it from there. Because fuck knows, we might as well sell them because at least that way we’ll be able to afford to pay for our bleedin’ coffins!’

  Jason Robinson stared at Eddie Styler. How the man ever thought he was going to be a face to be reckoned with, he didn’t know. He couldn’t think of one person who had any kind of respect for Eddie. Not even his own missus did.

  The man had been chasing his tail for as long as he could remember, giving it large. Ducking and diving, running up bills and favours left, right and bleedin’ centre. The geezer was a liability, a low-level conman who had finally been brought down a peg or two.

  But then, if Eddie did manage to pull off getting the diamonds back, and it was one great big if. Maybe, just maybe, he’d have to rethink and give the man a smidge of respect. Though until that happened, Eddie Styler was on dangerous ground. One wrong move, and it’d be curtains.

  Jason broke off from his thoughts, knocking back the glass of cheap complimentary champagne they’d given him on the way into the bar. Why Eddie had suggested meeting in a dive in Clacton, he’d never know. ‘So?’

  Eddie looked at Jason blankly.

  ‘Oh for God’s sake Ed, this ain’t a social, you ain’t called me down here to show me the nightlife. What’s happening about the rocks, cos I ain’t going to wait around forever for me dough.’

  ‘Oh yeah, sorry.’ Slightly distracted, Eddie’s eyes darted round. He was feeling edgy, although this place they’d come to, he’d bet hands down that Johnny or any of his goons wouldn’t be here. And that was the way it needed to stay, because he couldn’t afford for Johnny or for Jason to know about each other. If for one minute either of them sniffed out he was doing a deal with the other, he wouldn’t even live to see daylight. But what he was banking on, the only thing he had, was the fact that the mutual loathing between Jason and Johnny would keep them apart for the time he needed. And after
that, well, they could do what they liked.

  It was a risk. No doubt about it. But what else could he do? It was the only way he could see around the mess that Alfie Jennings had put him in. And when he eventually pulled off this little number, what a sweet day that would be, and he’d make certain that one way or another, next time the bullet with Alfie’s name on didn’t miss.

  The other reason he’d chosen this place with the smell of piss and the faded plastic red chairs and the barmaids looking like they were all on crystal meth, was because of Sandra. He hadn’t wanted to have the meeting at home. She’d been acting oddly recently, secretive even. Maybe it was because she still hadn’t found Barrie or maybe after Jason had threatened her it’d got her thinking. But whatever it was, it seemed prudent not to let her in on anything else. After all, her number was going to be up very soon.

  ‘Am I talking to my fucking self, here, Ed?’

  Eddie was preoccupied for a moment by Jason’s veneers giving off a strange white glow under the lights. ‘What? No, sorry. Long day and me eye’s giving me a bit of gyp. Had a bit of an accident the other day.’

  ‘I must say Ed, I’ve seen you look better … Anyway, fuck the beauty talk, let’s chat about why I’m here. See the thing is, I’m getting a bit worried again. You ain’t been in touch and whenever there’s radio silence from you, it makes me anxious. Makes me think I’ve been a mug to trust you. Perhaps there ain’t no diamonds at all and you’re just looking to buy time. You see where I’m coming from.’

  Eddie Styler could certainly see where Jason Robinson was coming from and if he could have it his way he’d like to tell him where to go, but instead he smiled, feigning warmth and brewing revenge. ‘Jason, I can only apologise. I’m on the case. My men—’

  Jason interrupted. ‘Your men? Rumour has it, you ain’t got anyone working for you anymore.’

  ‘You know what they say about rumours: take them with a pinch of salt. I’m hoping to lay me fingers on the ice very soon.’

  Deciding he may as well drink Eddie’s complimentary champagne as well, Jason gulped it down, not noticing the smears of grease on the plastic gold flute glass. ‘Hold up. So, let me get this right, you’re telling me you don’t actually know where the gems are?’