by Edie Baylis
He cautiously eyed the blood seeping from Seth’s thigh, Jane’s bloodied knees and Digger’s face and swallowed. “I’m taking it you used the shooters?”
“Well, we didn’t shoot Wazza if that’s what you mean!” Seth snapped. “Let’s just say the fuckers didn’t escape.”
Phil looked between them all in turn incredulously as he learnt all the details. “Where are these guys now?”
“All over the layby,” Digger muttered.
“WHAT?” Phil screamed. Fucking hell, could this get any worse? The cops would be all over them like a rash. Without any time to lose, he sent Jane and Seth off in the Senator to stash the guns, whilst he and Digger drove the vans around the back.
Throwing a match to set the white Escort and Wazza’s body alight, Phil retreated to a safe distance and wiped his forehead with the back of his jacket sleeve. He wasn’t sure whether it was sweat from the heat of the flames or the way he was feeling, but either way it wasn’t good. Wasn’t good at all.
MAGGIE LAY FACE DOWN on the caravan bed and attempted to muffle her sobs with her pillow. Opening one red swollen eye, she peered cautiously into the gloom and watched Ian pace up and down the tiny walkway. How could she have been so totally and utterly bloody dense?
Ian stared at the wall. “The purple will do the job,” he muttered under his breath. “How many will I need?”
Maggie couldn’t make any sense of what he was saying. She was far too busy trying to turn her body around into a more comfortable position, but doubted whether anything would be slightly comfortable for a very long time to come. If ever.
“I’m going to take you down, you piece of shit. You evil bastard!” he screamed.
As she hadn’t uttered a word, Maggie sorely hoped Ian wasn’t talking to her. Her eyes darted around the dimly lit interior of the caravan, but she couldn’t see anyone apart from him.
Burying herself further in the pillow, a fresh wave of sobs threatened to engulf her. Why had she fallen for it? Why?
CLAMBERING INTO THE SENATOR, Jane closed her eyes whilst Seth piled the collection of guns haphazardly into the boot.
“You stupid bitch! You put yourself at risk!” he screamed at the top of his voice. “I was right all along!”
Inspecting her fingernails, Jane sighed. If she heard that one more time, she’d go crazy. Besides, he’d conveniently forgotten it was him who’d ballsed it up. “No Seth, if you hadn’t jumped, then Wazza wouldn’t be dead!”
Seth nearly crashed the car as he wrenched Jane out of the seat by the top of her arm. “You wanted me to stand there like your fucking mates whilst you got raped did you?” he yelled. “Or was that your fucking plan? Not enough for you in the sack anymore am I?”
Prising his hand off her arm, Jane felt like slamming his face into the steering column. “It should have been you Seth, not Wazza.”
A horrible loaded silence dragged on as Seth veered all over the road and Jane couldn’t wait to get home. She winced as another sharp pain shot through her belly and she bit her lip, willing them to subside.
DI CHARLES RESTED HIS feet on his desk, a lukewarm cup of coffee in his hand and eyed the over-flowing ashtray. He was pissed off. Really pissed off.
His brows knitted together as he pushed a thick pile of untidy paperwork to one side. Five dead all over the fucking road and no trace of anyone.
Taking another sip of coffee, he placed the cup down loudly on his desk and glanced slowly around at his officers. “And so gentlemen, not one 999 call about people getting shot to fuck on the main road?”
A young policeman scanned his notepad. “Apparently not. It was a routine patrol who spotted the abandoned van and the bodies.”
Turning his gold-tipped ballpoint pen over in his long fingers, DI Charles sighed. Twenty years’ service and all he’d got was a fucking pen. He couldn’t wait for the next present, perhaps for thirty years’ service, or better still, retirement.
What would he get then? A ruler perhaps? A jar of paper clips?
Continuing to twiddle his pen around, he wished he’d chosen to work on a farm or something, rather than this bullshit. “Well I bet I know at least half the people involved in this, even if not directly.” DI Charles looked from one face to the other. “Mark my words.”
“Do you think it was to do with drugs?”
“What makes you say that?”
“Well, I think I know who you’re referring to and it, well, since we got information in from that bloke yesterday.... About the drugs, I thought th...”
“I’m not saying it’s connected,” the Inspector interrupted. “I want to check out the prat that came in spilling his guts first.”
“He lives next door apparently. Hears stuff through the walls. He seemed ok to me.”
DI Charles sneered. “That shows how fucking green you are then doesn’t it!”
He’d made his mind up. There was nothing else for it. He’d organise a raid and catch Wright and Ellerton red handed. Having waited so long to have those two fuckers on something, anything they got would be better than what he’d got on them now. Which was fuck all.
There would have to be something of interest in that dump they lived in to pin some decent charges on them surely? If there wasn’t, then he’d just make sure there was. He’d had enough. They were taking the bloody piss.
SETH HAD FINISHED THE whisky by the time he’d parked at the flat. Coupled with the adrenalin still raging through his body, he felt wasted. By the time they’d got to the top of the steps, he’d launched back into Jane full throttle.
Losing it, Jane smacked Seth in the eye, but the loose heel on her stiletto gave way and she crashed down the steps to the bottom. She watched Seth storm off into the flat holding his hand over his bleeding eye and an expression of contempt across his face.
She tried to ride the fresh bout of searing pain that shot through her and pulled herself slowly to her feet, but as she steadied herself against the wall a burst of water rushed from between her legs. Christ, had she wet herself?
Jane tried to work out what was going on, but another massive bolt of pain wrenched through her belly and by the time she reached the top of the steps, with an almost strange sense of detachment, she realised she was losing the baby.
Doubling over, she dropped her handbag on the floor and inched along the hallway while blood made a thin trail down her inner thigh and soaked into the top of her fishnet stocking.
As the next stomach-crunching contraction hit, she dropped to her knees. Where the fuck was Seth?
Realising she’d little chance of being heard over the ‘Black Sabbath’ album banging at full volume from the lounge, Jane ignored the cuts on her knees and crawled slowly up the hall as another wave of pain ricocheted through her.
Retching up a string of bile onto the strip of underlay, beads of sweat formed on her forehead and her breathing became ragged when the contractions upped their pace.
Silent tears coursed down her cheeks. There was no going back now. “SETH!” Jane screamed.
Receiving no answer, she pulled herself up using the bathroom door as a prop as the waves of pain came back to back. With one arm against the wall and the other against the sink, she managed to get on the toilet, where sweating and gagging, she waited for the inevitable.
MAGGIE NEARLY CHOKED on her own vomit as Ian pounded into her relentlessly. Ramming her head further into the pillow, he pulled her hips high and waves of red hot pain swirled through her brain.
After the fisting, she hadn’t thought she could bear the agony when he’d entered her again. As Ian screamed obscenities in what seemed to be a foreign language, she was still amazed she hadn’t passed out and tried to concentrate on something other than the muttering madman behind her.
STOMPING ACROSS TO the stereo, Seth slammed his fist down on the turntable. With a teeth-curling grating sound, the sticking record ground to a halt. He couldn’t stand that bloody click, click, click, fucking click sound that had been repeating itself
for the last five minutes. For fuck’s sake. Something else he would have to fix.
Ripping the LP off the turntable and snapping it angrily in two, Seth threw the two halves into the corner of the room. Bloody crap, useless waste of fucking space.
Feeling his rage building yet again, Seth swiped the stereo off its tea crate onto the floor with a loud bang. He brought his boot down heavily on the side, causing a splintering sound as the plastic windows of the double tape deck popped out.
Bending down, he ripped the turntable arm off for good measure and flung it into the corner.
WITH THE PAIN NOW FINALLY subsiding, Jane remained on the toilet. She couldn’t get up, because if she did, she’d have to look at what was in there. She’d see her baby lying dead in the bowl and she just couldn’t.
Hearing something else smash in the lounge she tore a long piece of toilet roll off the holder and wiped the blood from her thighs as best as she could. Swallowing, she ignored the raging waves of panic threatening to engulf her and took some deep breaths.
Just do it.
Concentrating on breathing, rather than the unwelcome images rolling through her brain, Jane bunched up the toilet paper and pushed it between her legs into the bowl.
Turning the cold tap on full blast, the noise of the water almost matched the rushing in her head, but not quite.
Humming a tune to drown out the noise in her mind, she reached around. Taking one final deep breath she pulled down on the flush.
She needed a drink. A large one.
SETH DRUNKENLY FELT for the sofa and allowed himself to fall back on to the cushions. His hand gingerly traced over the swollen mess of his eye. The fucking stupid bitch. He was going to look like a bleeding warthog for the next few days because of her.
What a shit night. It was all Jane’s bloody fault. If she hadn’t insisted on going against him about the job, he wouldn’t have reacted the way he had.
Taking another swig of whisky, Seth scowled harder. He’d almost finished the second bottle and contemplated whether to put another record on, or get more to drink. Remembering he’d just smashed the stereo up, he realised he’d have to get himself up and find some more whisky. Then he’d find Jane and give her a piece of his mind.
Tipping the dregs down his throat, Seth chucked the empty bottle into the corner and laughed as it smashed into lots of little pieces.
Now he’d go and deal with that miserable cow.
MOVING FROM THE BATHROOM into the bedroom, Jane perched on the edge of the bed in the dark and desperately tried to dull the pain with vodka. Just a white line remained in her shut-down mind, fuzzy around the outside like a dreadful BBC2 test card. Her insides felt like they’d been stamped on, put through a mangle, turned inside out and then shoved back in again.
Hearing Seth stomp up the hallway towards the bedroom, she closed her eyes and waited.
Kicking open the bedroom door, Seth swayed in the doorframe, his narrowed eyes glaring at Jane. “What the hell are you doing?” he slurred.
Jane hadn’t the energy to argue. It was too difficult. Everything was all too difficult.
“I said what are you doing?” Seth snapped, the purple swollen flesh of his eye visible in the gloom “Sulking? Sitting in the fucking dark?”
Taking another swig out of the bottle of vodka, Jane shook her head.
“What’s the matter then?” Seth’s voice softened slightly as he stepped towards her.
“I’m not sulking.” she replied flatly, grateful the half bottle of vodka she’d tipped down her throat in the last ten minutes had kicked in. Thankfully the edges of everything were starting to lose clarity. She’d been beginning to fear everything would remain in sharp focus for ever.
As Seth flicked the light on he saw Jane’s hair plastered to her face with sweat, her smudged make up and blood down the insides of her thighs. A fleeting expression of shock passed over his face. “What the fuck?” he exclaimed confused, before realisation washed over him in slow motion. “Oh shit! SHIT!”
Tipping his head towards the ceiling, he roared. “WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU DONE, JANE?”
“What have I done?”
Rushing forward, he knelt down and scanned her face, his hand reaching for the bump that was no longer there.
“GET OFF ME!” Jane pushed his hand away. She didn’t want him touching her. Not there.
“NO!” Seth howled, tears of anguish rolling down his face. Glancing at the blood stains marking the sheets of the bed, he grabbed Jane by the shoulders and shook her roughly. “Tell me what’s going on.”
Jane stared at him, expressionless. Tired. Worn out.
“Have you lost the baby Jane?”
This time she managed to nod. She wasn’t going to cry. If she did, she wouldn’t be able to stop. Oblivion wasn’t anywhere near an acceptable level yet.
Seth sat on his haunches, his head in his hands. “This is your fault, Jane!” he screamed, launching himself in front of her. “YOUR FAULT!”
Blinking slowly, Jane looked at him coldly. Overriding the pain, she leapt to her feet. “No Seth, the baby’s dead and it’s your fault,” she snapped, her eyes wild. “What are you going to do now? Still go fucking straight?”
Jane prodded him hard in the chest and Seth glared at her as best as he could with his good eye. “You going to sort it out? Again? This is your fault! YOURS!” Jane screamed.
“I tell you what I’m going to do, Jane...” Pushing her backwards, Seth unbuttoned his jeans. “I’m going to give you another baby.”
“Are you mad?” Jane yelled, trying to sit up. “I’ve just had a miscarriage!”
“I’m not mad,” Seth whispered, dropping down onto her and parting her thighs with his knee.
Jane’s face screwed up in agony as Seth pushed himself into her. “You’re hurting me Seth!”
Maybe this was what she needed? Trouble was she didn’t know what she wanted anymore apart from oblivion and tears rolled down her face realising even that had gone.
“I’m not hurting you, Jane. I’d never hurt you.” Seth lowered his mouth towards hers. “I’ll put this right. I’m going to put all of it right....”
As his tears dripped on to her face and mixed with her own, Jane wondered exactly how her life had descended into this total and utter chaos.
“I’m going to make us another baby. I’m going to make us another baby, Jane....” Seth panted.
Oh no you won’t, she thought silently as he released himself into her. She wasn’t going through that again.
Not even for him.
THIRTY NINE
STANDING IN THE STAIRWELL shaking with fear, Maggie knocked the door of Jane’s flat and waited, her teeth chattering.
Seth answered the door bare-chested, so drunk he could hardly stand and sporting the remains of possibly the biggest black eye she’d seen in a long time. He said nothing, just jerked his head for her to follow him before stumbling back towards the lounge.
Maggie stood motionless, eyeing the doors ripped off their hinges yet again and lying in broken, splintered piles. Gathering her courage she slowly followed him, desperately hoping there would be no one trussed up on the floor. The less she thought about the last time she’d been here, the better.
Her eyebrows knitted together. She didn’t pretend to understand what was going on, but then it seemed she very rarely had anyway. Self-consciously rubbing her bandaged wrist, Maggie pulled the sleeve of her velvet jacket down and decided she would try to act normal. Well, as normal as possible.
Jane knocked back the glass of neat vodka and before she’d even swallowed it, refilled her glass from the virtually empty bottle. She glanced at Seth sprawled on the sofa watching rubbish on the television. “Who was at the door?”
“Maggie.”
Jane looked around. “Maggie? Where is she then?”
Seth shrugged, his eyes not moving from the screen.
Eliza studied Seth and wondered what it would be like to run her tongue down the ridges o
f his stomach. A guilty red flush crept over her face and she reluctantly pulled her eyes away. “You stay there Jane. I’ll go and find her,” she muttered and guzzled the remains of her can of Strongbow. She pushed herself out of the armchair. “I need to get another drink anyway.”
Eliza also knew she needed to update Maggie about the baby before the dozy cow waltzed in and said something that would kick everything off again.
She found Maggie hyperventilating against the hallway wall and motioned her into the kitchen. “Don’t ask anything about the baby!” she hissed.
“What? Why?” Maggie winced, confused as Eliza grabbed her bad arm.
“They lost it last week. Seth’s in a right fucking state. Gone off his rocker by all accounts.”
Maggie raised her hand to her mouth. “Oh God. What happened?”
“Not sure. They haven’t said much.”
“Maggie!” Jane said loudly as she walked into the kitchen, knowing full well they were talking about her. “How you doing?”
“I-I, er...” Maggie’s eyes roamed over Jane’s now tellingly flat stomach. “I’m sorry about the baby.”
“Yeah well,” Jane snapped, “these things happen.” Moving slightly so they couldn’t see her eyes, she opened the fridge and grabbed a beer. “Where have you been hiding? It’s got to be a month since I last saw you.” Turning, she stared at Maggie with narrowed eyes. “Thought you might be trying to avoid me?”
Maggie thought she might pass out. Jane knew. She leant against the work surface to support her wobbling legs. “I-I’m sorry. Really I am. I shouldn’t have interfered.”
“No, you shouldn’t have,” Jane hissed, then smiled – a smile which didn’t reach her eyes. “Doesn’t really matter now does it?” Placing a can in Maggie’s hand, she walked back into the lounge.