The Downfall Series Box Set

by Edie Baylis

  Continuing down the road he pulled his jacket closer around his white shirt and grimaced, knowing he’d played right into Shelley’s hands. She had it bad for him alright. He hadn’t thought she was capable of feelings. She was just a tarty bitch. A bit like he’d been until Marie had got under his skin.

  Ben hadn’t given up though. He’d find Marie and convince her she needed him. He loved her and she had to see they needed to be together.

  Sparking a cigarette up as he rounded the corner of the road, Ben gritted his teeth. It wasn’t going to help his cause if Marie found out he’d been with Shelley again, but he could explain...

  The whack on the head and the letter he’d seen had, well, he hadn’t been thinking clearly, so when Shelley had thrown herself at him he hadn’t known what he was doing. And the other times since? Well, he hadn’t been sober enough for a while now to judge anything clearly.

  Besides, it wasn’t like his recent sessions with Shelley had meant fuck all anyway. In fact, it had done him good to hurt her - to slap her up a bit whilst he was fucking her made him feel a bit more in control.

  Angrily throwing his fag butt in the gutter, Ben reached the door to the Mitre. Why the hell he’d arranged to meet Shelley again he couldn’t quite fathom, although the stupid bitch would only have turned up at his place otherwise. Plus he needed more to drink. A lot more.

  DIGGER HAD LEFT HIS motorbike at the motel he’d checked in to for the night. He’d managed to squash his massive frame rather uncomfortably into a taxi to take him into the city and he stared aimlessly out at the endless rows of terraced houses and poky strips of shops flashing past.

  Feeling the driver’s eyes on him courtesy of the rear-view mirror, Digger moved his stare from the surroundings to the dark eyes he knew were watching him.

  He’d made it obvious he didn’t want a pointless conversation from the off by ignoring both attempts the driver had at making small talk with him. What the fuck was the point of speaking when there was nothing to say?

  Besides, Digger wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries. His mind was focused only on the planned meeting, although saying he’d be relieved if it fell though would be an understatement.

  “Here you go chief,” the driver mumbled, pulling up outside a pub on the left-hand side of the road.

  Digger ran a thick hand over the stubble on his chin and his bushy eyebrows knitted together. Giving himself a mental straightener, he puffed out his barrel chest further, straining the seams of his leather jacket.

  Hefting himself forward as much as he could on the cramped seat, he shoved his hand in his pocket. Without a word, he passed a twenty pound note over to the driver, smirking when the man flinched as his meaty hand passed close by his face.

  SHELLEY INCHED NEARER to Ben on the bench seat and playfully draped her shapely legs over his thighs. Taking a sip from her wine, she trailed her finger along his jawline. She placed her lips close to his ear and flicked her tongue along the lobe suggestively.

  She wished he’d at least acknowledge her presence. She was letting him do whatever he wanted in bed, but his behaviour was almost like he wasn’t at home and half-off somewhere else.

  It was a little disconcerting. She’d liked his lust for life, his personality and the way he was before, but now he was different. Totally different. However, at least she’d got him back and he’d soon be his old self, she was sure of it.

  Noticing a sudden hush wash over the room, Shelley glanced up and looked around as the bar slowly resumed its normal chatter, trying to ascertain what had caused the short shift in normality.

  Her eyes fell on a stranger at the bar who was the most likely culprit. Although there was always an interest when someone new entered the pub, it was easy to see why this particular figure had caused such an abrupt silence.

  Her eyes took in the veritable mountain of a man standing with his back to her. His massive shoulders and arms strained against the stitches of his black leather jacket and his solid-looking legs were encased in faded black denim. Although she hadn’t yet seen his face, she could see his dark-blond shortly cropped Mohican.

  Shelley shrugged and turned back to Ben whose eyes were also locked onto the stranger’s back.

  SALLY SAT AT THE TABLE in her kitchen, her hands visibly shaking despite the bottle and a half of wine she’d drunk. She pored over the letter again in the vague hope she’d missed some vital clue in-between the words during the thousand times she’d already read it.

  She glanced at the oval clock secured to the wall with a picture hook. Shit. It was almost 8. She stood up from the table and dithered pointlessly. She was either going to go, or she wasn’t.

  Not entirely sure what she was hoping to come out of this meeting, she just hoped it wasn’t a woman who needed to see Jim because then she’d have to throw all hope of getting any information down the toilet.

  Sally grabbed her lipstick from her bag only for it to skitter from her fumbling fingers over the table top. Retrieving it, she reapplied it in spite of her shaking hands. Picking up her bag, she headed towards the door, then retraced her steps to take one last long glug of wine straight from the bottle. She knew she’d already gone over her limit, but needed to try and stop the shaking.

  Sally pulled the front door of the flat shut behind her and hurried down the road, mentally calculating it would take at least ten minutes to reach the Mitre. She just hoped whoever was waiting for Jim would hang around long enough for her to get there.

  BEN SLOUCHED FURTHER down in his seat as his drunkenness hit another level. He really needed to slow up, but seemed unable to control himself. He glanced disinterestedly at Shelley as she ran her fingers up and down his inner thigh. He knew that much to her satisfaction he’d got hard. It made no difference. It was his body responding, not him.

  Irritably pushing her hand away long enough to enable him to grab his pint off the table, he wished she’d shut up. She hadn’t yet stopped talking and it sounded like radio interference. He couldn’t recount a single word she’d said since she’d arrived and neither did he want to because he couldn’t give a rat’s arse what she was talking about.

  Ben swallowed down a belch and propped himself up on the seat. He should have stuck to the spirits.

  His attention was still on the large guy at the bar who’d been stood unmoving for at least fifteen minutes. The man was clearly waiting for someone, but looked like he’d been stood up because he kept glancing at his watch. Ben stifled a grin. The silly bastard. He hadn’t missed the evils the overgrown gorilla had given him on the several occasions he’d looked over either.

  Ben’s drunkenness was seriously outdoing his rationality and he began to get even more irritated when the large guy turned to stare at him once more.

  “Are you hot for me?” Shelley purred in Ben’s ear, her hand brushing his crotch.

  “Give it a rest, will you!” Ben snapped, irritated profusely by both the gorilla and Shelley’s consistent pawing. He wished everyone would just piss off and leave him the hell alone.

  Seeing the angry look in Ben’s glazed eyes, Shelley smiled. He was obviously riled about the man-mountain propping up the bar staring in their direction. He was jealous this guy was looking at her. Her nipples, already hard, hardened further with Ben’s display of protectiveness.

  She ran her hand over his abdominals, still finding him gut-wrenchingly hot and hoped he’d pull himself from this strange mood soon before all this extra alcohol caused him to let himself go.

  Her eyes travelled down to Ben’s groin and she squirmed in her seat with the thought of taking him into her mouth. It took all of her control not to start running her hand over him, making him beg for her.

  Shelley smiled, happily forgetting the knowledge it was her begging for him rather than the other way around.

  SCANNING THE MITRE’S BAR, Sally focused her concentration and berated herself once more for drinking so much. Slightly unsteady on her feet, she felt even more unstable after the brisk walk in her r
ush.

  Her eyes readily scanned the room. So what should she do? Get a drink? She’d have to. She could hardly lurk around at the door.

  Gingerly making her way to the bar, well aware plenty of eyes were already scrutinising her, she ploughed her mind into ensuring she walked in a straight line. Then and only then could she weigh up who could be a possible contender for ‘D’.

  Panic stirred as she realised she’d been rather stupid in all of this. How on earth could she guess who this person was? And then even if she could, how would she approach them?

  Thankfully she reached the bar before panic could truly take hold and send her scurrying back out of the door. “White wine please,” she muttered to the barman. “A large one.”

  Sally took a deep breath and studied the back of the barman’s head as he poured her wine from a bottle out of the fridge. Clumsily retrieving money from her purse, she gratefully picked up her glass and successfully ignored the lipstick marks already on the rim.

  Greedily taking a gulp, she glanced surreptitiously at the people sitting around the tables to the right of her, wishing desperately she hadn’t been quite so hasty in dismissing the idea of asking Maggie to accompany her.

  Deciding it couldn’t be any of those people, Sally turned her attention to a couple sitting on a bench seat the other side of the bar. The man appeared not only angry, but very drunk and the woman next to him didn’t seem to mind this and was draped around his neck like a cheap tie.

  Sally scowled in desperation entertaining the possibility the person she was looking for may well have given up and left. After all, she was almost half an hour late.

  Taking another long swig from her wine glass she eyed the remains. She’d have to get another one. There weren’t many things worse than standing alone in a pub without a drink.

  Signalling to the barman for a refill, Sally decided she’d pop to the toilets first. That way she could check if there was anyone else loitering around who could possibly be the person she was looking for. Stepping carefully past a group of men congregated around one end of the bar, she ignored the looks and sly whistles and pretending she was deaf, continued past.

  On seeing the massive stranger leaning casually against the bar directly in front of her it was all she could do not to stop in her tracks. She took in the massive bull head seated on top of his thick neck as he glanced at his watch. That had to be him. Shit!

  Quickly continuing into the toilets, Sally slammed the door and tried to regulate her breathing. What the fuck should she do now?

  DIGGER GRINNED TO HIMSELF thinking about the girl who almost fell over herself in her rush to get to the toilets. Was this place full of fuckwits or what?

  He trained his eyes back to the dickhead on the bench opposite, quite enjoying that the silly twat was so pissed he obviously thought the death stares he was dishing out would upset anyone.

  The muppet presumed he was eyeing up his woman - that’s if the tart draped across him could be described as one? Digger didn’t think so and wouldn’t want to put his cock anywhere near it - unless he was getting paid of course.

  He’d love to give the silly fucker a slap just for fun, but he’d give it a miss. He was there for one thing and one thing only and much to his rising disappointment, it was beginning to seem unlikely Seth was going to show.

  Digger glanced at his watch again. He may as well wait. It wasn’t like he’d got anything else to do was it?

  Snapped from his thoughts by the slightest of touches on his arm his head snapped up, only to see the timid-looking woman who’d slipped past him earlier.

  “Are you meeting someone?” the girl said in a quiet voice, nervously glancing around.

  Digger frowned momentarily. Please tell me this silly little mouse wasn’t trying to hit on him? “Meeting someone?” he growled. “Why do you ask?”

  Sally looked crushed. It wasn’t him then? Damn. She’d no clue who else it could be. It had taken all of her courage to approach this guy. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I thought perhaps you were waiting for Jim?”

  Digger’s eyebrows knitted together. Jim? What the fuck was she going on about? Suddenly the penny dropped. Shit! “Jim? Do you know him?”

  Sally relaxed. “Oh thank God! I wasn’t sure how I’d know who he was meeting!”

  Digger was confused. Why was this stupid bitch here? What the hell was going on? He decided to say very little and let the girl speak. He could see she was a few sheets to the wind.

  Seeing Sally at the other end of the bar, the barman placed her new glass of wine in front of her and she reached for her purse, until Digger pushed a ten pound note across the bar to pay.

  “T-Thank you,” she stammered shyly and took a large gulp of the wine. “Shall we sit down?”

  Digger eyed the girl once more. This was getting weirder by the second. “Why don’t you just tell me why you’re here?”

  Sally glanced at Digger then quickly looked away. He frightened her and she didn’t like what she saw behind his eyes. “I need to know where Jim is,” she blurted. “I have to see him, so when I got your letter I thought you’d be able to tell me about him and what I can do to get him back?”

  Digger stared at the girl incredulously. This was Seth’s missus? Was he seeing things? He’d never have guessed it in a million fucking years! Jesus wept. Had he changed this much?

  Not sensing Digger’s surprise, Sally continued. “I haven’t seen him since he walked out and I need him. I don’t know what to do. Say you’ll help me. Please! You obviously know him well.”

  Clearly more than you, Digger thought sarcastically as he shook the woman’s hand from his arm. “Just tell me one thing,” he growled, not amused. He hadn’t travelled all this way to be stood in a fucking pub with this dozy bitch. “Why the fuck have you got Jim’s letter?”

  Sally was so wrapped up in her own desperation to find the man she loved, she failed to pick up the irritation in Digger’s voice. She grasped his arm once more. “The letter? It came to our flat and well, Jim doesn’t live there anymore.”

  Digger lowered his head nearer to Sally. He placed his meaty hand over hers removing her grip and pulled her arm down, twisting it against the bar. He spoke quietly, yet menacingly in her ear. “Were you not taught it’s rude to open other people’s mail?”

  Sally remained half-paralysed against the bar and began to feel she may have misread the situation, but was still unable to stop her mouth from continuing. “B-but can’t you tell me about him? Where he’s from? I need to know everything. Please! I need you tell him that he should be with me.”

  Digger had had enough. The woman was completely mental. “Look, you stupid cow. I can’t see why he would have been with you in the first place. You’re not his type.” His eyes narrowed viciously. “Unless you can tell me where he is right now, I suggest you get the fuck out of my sight otherwise you’ll sorely regret it.”

  When Digger released his grip, Sally stole a nervous glance up at him and saw his bared teeth and the manic gleam in his eyes. Panic flooded her system as the reality of the situation sank in and choking back a sob, she unsteadily ran from the bar.

  TWENTY FOUR

  IN THE BACK OF THE taxi Jane pushed a tendril of hair behind her ear and applied more red lipstick. She smoothed down her fitted black dress and smiled. She looked respectable enough.

  Glancing at her watch she was glad to see she still had a few minutes before she was due for the meeting at 9. That would give her time for a quick fag. She wasn’t nervous, but was unsure about what to expect. She shook her head to clear it.

  When she’d entered the coffee shop, she’d spotted Sheila straight away. They’d immediately settled into a comfortable chat. It was weird - it was like they’d been friends for ages. She couldn’t put her finger on why, but she’d had an immediate rapport with the woman. It had been a long time since she’d clicked with someone.

  Jane smiled. She hadn’t expected what Sheila had said. In fact she’d been gobsmacked. She
certainly wouldn’t have guessed she’d be offered a job!

  When Sheila had explained what the job involved and where it was, she’d been even more astounded. Why on earth would someone she didn’t even know offer her such a lucrative and important job?

  Slight mistrust had crept into her mind. It was difficult for it not to, what with her history. Was there some form of hidden agenda? Some sort of set up?

  Jane had no doubt she could handle the job even though she had no experience of running girls in clubs, but there was nothing she couldn’t handle. She still didn’t understand why her?

  Sheila had tried to explain and Jane had to agree they did have an uncanny connection. It was when Sheila admitted she ran very much on instinct with her thoughts and decisions that Jane understood fully because she did exactly the same thing herself.

  On the face of it, half the things she’d done or worked out would have sat nowhere in the face of logic, but on instinct value alone Jane had very rarely been wrong. It seemed Sheila worked the same way.

  Jane sighed anxiously, but as the brightly-lit façade of the Glint Club appeared in view she fished a cigarette out of her clutch bag ready for when the taxi pulled up. Everything now hinged on what this Bill – the main man – thought of her. Sheila had explained that understandably the man was a little reticent to glibly take on a girl with no experience in the industry and one whom he didn’t know to run such a trusted position within his company.

  “Just be yourself, Marie,” Sheila had said, hugging her as they’d left the café. “If you do, Bill will see what I see, which is that you’ll be perfect.”

  Taking a deep breath, Jane paid the driver and stepped out of the cab.

  DAN SAT COMFORTABLY on one of the tatty seats in the Traveller’s Arms, one hand on his pint and the other draped languidly around Maggie’s shoulders.