Melissa laughed. She’d always enjoyed Simon’s company and had barely seen him since Jason and she had separated. ‘Your secret’s safe with me, I promise. Right, will I call Jase again, or will you? Actually, you do it. He’ll think I’m gagging for him to move back in if I keep bloody ringing.’
Simon scrolled to find his pal’s number. ‘Nope. Still not answering. Going straight to voicemail. Elusive bastard, eh? I wonder where he’s got to?’
‘Where have you been? I’ve had Melissa ring here three times and Simon twice. Why isn’t your phone on?’ Shay enquired. She knew her father well enough to immediately know something was wrong. His face said it all. ‘What’s up?’
‘I’m not in the mood for being interrogated, Shay. I seriously have had the day from hell in more ways than one. Go round your mate’s, eh? I could do with some space right now.’
‘But I thought I was grounded?’ Shay retaliated cheekily.
‘You are. Were! Look, just sod off before I change my mind – and be home by nine at the latest. Make sure you get a cab an’ all. I don’t want you walking about in skimpy clothes in the dark,’ Jason ordered, handing his daughter a twenty-pound note.
When Shay left, Jason punched the wall in despair. He’d ballsed up good and proper this time, that was for sure. Now he had to think sharpish. He hadn’t meant to threaten Tracey, had just panicked. He wasn’t a bully, especially where women were concerned. He’d handled things all wrong, but how could he correct the situation? He’d been as heartbroken as Melissa when Bobby had died, it still hurt now. No way could Tracey keep that baby.
Jason listened to his voicemail messages. Melissa sounded worried and that made him feel guiltier than ever.
Taking the plunge, Jason dialled the house phone and took a deep breath. She answered within seconds, exclaiming, ‘There you are! Where have you been? Simon’s here. You were meant to meet him earlier.’
Blagging it as he usually did, Jason forced himself to sound cheerful. ‘Sorry, babe. I’ve had the day from hell. Forgot to take me phone charger into work, so my battery went dead early doors. Then I had to shoot straight over the Mardyke. My brothers have been leading Babs a dog’s life and I wanted to speak to ’em in person. I’ve told them I don’t want them to have any more contact with Donte or Shay.’
‘Good.’
‘Apologize to Si for me. I couldn’t find Elton and Kyle, hence why I never got to the restaurant. Tell him I’ll bell him in the morning to rearrange, babe.’
‘But he’s here now. You’re still coming round, aren’t you? Simon is starving, so I’ve made us all supper. I made a chilli con carne. I’ve not boiled the rice yet though, we’ll wait until you get here.’
Jason sighed. He fancied socializing as much as he fancied a bullet hole in the head, but what was a man to do? ‘OK. I’m gonna have a quick shower, then I’ll be round.’
Unable to look Mel in the eyes, Jason ate half of his supper, then pushed the plate away. His stomach was churning and, unusually for him, he was a bundle of nerves. Tracey was a ticking time bomb, she could blurt out the truth to Melissa any minute. He needed to pay her another visit to smooth things over. That was the only way to ensure she kept her trap shut, for now at least.
‘Is it not as nice as normal, the chilli?’ Melissa asked. Jason looked tired and wasn’t his usual chirpy self.
‘It was lovely, Mel, but I really don’t feel too well. Got a headache, that’s why I was going to skip coming round. I think it’s taken its toll on me, me mum dying and her funeral.’
Simon studied his pal, finished his beer and stood up. ‘I’m gonna make a move now, guys. Thanks for your hospitality, Mel. I got that form in the motor you need to sign, Jase. Do it now, eh? Then I’ll post it tomorrow.’
Relieved to get away from the kitchen table, Jason followed his pal outside. ‘What’s really up?’ Simon asked.
‘Everything,’ Jason sighed. ‘I’ll call you in the morning. We’ll chat over a bit of lunch.’
Simon put a comforting hand on Jason’s shoulder. ‘If you need to borrow some dosh to tide you over, you’ve only got to ask, mate.’
Jason nodded, thanked his pal, then sank to his haunches as Simon drove off. The guilt was absolutely suffocating.
Tracey’s heart beat wildly as she opened the front door. She’d known he’d return, but hadn’t expected it be quite so soon. Neither had she expected chocolates and flowers.
‘Nothing special, but only the garage was open. I had to apologize for the way I spoke to you earlier. I was bang out of order. Can I come in? I’ll be rational, I swear.’ Jason promised.
Secretly thrilled, but not wanting to show it, Tracey remained stony-faced as she nodded and opened the door wide.
Jason sat on the sofa and forced a half smile. ‘What a messy situation we’ve got ourselves into, eh, girl?’
‘I know. Mel rang me earlier and I couldn’t even answer the call. How am I meant to face her now? I feel awful.’
‘You’re going to have to blag it. You can’t avoid her, she’ll know something’s wrong. Tell her you’ve met a new fella on the internet that you like. That’ll explain you being busy, and I’m moving back in at the weekend anyway.’
‘You’re still moving back? Even though I’m pregnant.’
‘Case of having to. I’ve got cash-flow problems and I can’t afford to keep the flat on any more.’
‘How do you plan to support our baby then? I never realized you were skint.’
‘I’m not. It’s a temporary problem and if you decide to keep the child, of course I’ll pay towards its keep. But, if that were to happen, then it’s gonna have to be done in secret, not through the courts or my bank account. You’re Mel’s best friend, Trace, and I’m her husband. She can never know about this – nobody can, bar us. Remember how cut up Mel was over Bobby? She was mentally ill for a long time after his death, and I know in my heart she has never truly recovered from losing him and probably never will. If she were to ever find out about this, it would send her over the edge. I reckon she would take her own life. I can’t have that on my conscience, and neither can you.’
‘Whose baby am I meant to say it is then? Only, people are bound to be curious. Mel and I tell each other everything and she knows for a fact I haven’t had a bloke on the scene these past couple of months. Not unless you include a couple of random dates I set up on the bloody internet.’
‘The easiest way out of all this is to not have the baby. Do you honestly want to be a mum, Trace? Your life changes forever when you have a kid. It’s a twenty-four-hour job, especially for the mother, and you really don’t strike me as the maternal type.’
Tracey could not take her eyes off Jason this evening. He’d got changed from earlier, was now wearing faded Levi’s and a black Lacoste T-shirt. He smelled fresh, of expensive cologne, and looked so bloody handsome. There was also a vulnerability about him, which was unusual, and that pleased Tracey no end. She held all the cards now, so she decided to lay them on the table.
‘What you doing?’ Jason asked nervously, as she moved seats, sat next to him and squeezed his left hand.
Tracey looked him in the eye. ‘I don’t want things to be awkward between us, Jason. Neither do I want to break Melissa’s heart any more than you do. So, what I suggest we do is you see the baby on the quiet. Perhaps you can find me a house further afield and then you can stay over once a week, or even twice?’
Jason looked at the woman as though she were mental. He edged backwards, away from her. ‘Let me get one thing straight, Trace. I have no interest in you or the baby. If I have to bung you a bit of dosh on the quiet, then so be it. But no way will I be playing happy families. You’ll be bringing that kid up on your own, that’s what I’m trying to drum into you.’
‘Did that night we spent together mean nothing to you? We were at it all night. I know you like me, you must do. Men don’t act the way you did otherwise.’
Holding his hands up, Jason shook his head in dis
belief. ‘Rein it in a bit, Trace. We were both shit-faced. It meant nothing other than the obvious – not to me, anyway.’
‘How can you say that?’ Tracey hissed. ‘You were all over me like a rash,’ she reminded him. Most days she would close her eyes and relive that special night again. His touch, smell, the things he’d said to her, and the look on his face each time he’d orgasmed. It had been more than just sex, she’d convinced herself of that.
Jason had always known Tracey secretly fancied him, but until recently he’d never had her down as a potential bunny-boiler. ‘I dunno what you want me to say. When you invited me around for dinner after that night, surely it was obvious when I knocked you back that I wasn’t interested? I am Melissa’s husband and I have no intention of divorcing her. We’ve been through a lot together, as you well know. She needs me and I need her.’
‘Are you and Mel going to try for another baby? Only it’ll be awkward if you do, won’t it? Say our kids look alike?’
‘I have no idea what the future holds, but whatever Mel and I decide to do is our business, nobody else’s. You need to concentrate on yourself, have a long, hard think about what you really want. Because, bar the financial support, I’m not going to be there for you or the kid. You’re going to be a single mum, unless you find another geezer to play Daddy.’
Positive Jason was only being cold towards her because of Melissa, Tracey put her hand on his knee and leaned towards him. ‘She will never find out, you know. I swear I won’t breathe a word.’
When her lips zoomed towards his and her hand made a grab for his cock, Jason leapt off the sofa as though someone had shoved a firework up his backside. ‘You’ve got to stop that, Trace; it really isn’t fair on Mel. She’s meant to be your best pal, or have you forgotten that?’
‘I’m sorry,’ Tracey mumbled.
Clocking she was near to tears, Jason crouched down in front of her. ‘Look, you’re a nice woman,’ he lied. ‘And I’m sure one day you’ll meet the man of your dreams. You’ve been through it too with Kieron. What happened to him was awful, and my heart goes out to you. But there is no me and you, and you need to get that into your head. What happened between us was a one-off. Not saying it wasn’t enjoyable at the time, but it was a big mistake, one I will never make again. I just don’t feel that way about you, Trace. I never have and never will. I’m sorry, love.’
Feeling ridiculously stupid that she’d read the signals wrong, Tracey angrily wiped away the lone tear dripping down her cheek. ‘Just go, will ya. Go on. Fuck off.’
Knowing sleep wouldn’t come easy after the day he’d had, Jason lay on the sofa, TV remote in hand. Dozing, he sat bolt upright as he heard Nick Ross mention a reconstruction of an armed robbery in a leafy Cotswolds village, and a Vincent van Gogh painting. ‘Tonight viewers, we want you to help us catch these violent criminals,’ Nick added.
Jason put his face in his hands. ‘For fuck’s sake. No. Please God no.’
Shay poked her head around the door. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Nothing.’
‘What you watching?’
‘Crimewatch. Go back to bed. You won’t get up for school.’
Jason wound the recording forward to the part he needed to see. He then stared at the screen in horror as the intruders posed as workmen to gain access to the grounds before donning balaclavas and brutally terrorizing the elderly lady who lived there, and her staff.
‘Oh, Jesus, no,’ Jason stammered. That woman must be in her seventies. She was already tied to a chair. What type of animal would batter her senseless with a baseball bat for no valid reason?
Aware that the woman’s pet dogs were about to be shot, Jason turned the volume down and put his hands over his eyes. The violence used was all so unnecessary. The dogs were only poodles for Christ’s sake.
A minute or so later, Jason peeped through his fingers and had his worst fear confirmed. There it was, flashing up on the screen. An image of the painting he’d bought via Mickey Two Wives.
As Photofits of four men were shown, Jason recognized the podgy one. He was the Irish gypsy he’d handed the money over to. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck,’ he spat, slapping his forehead, appalled by his own greed and stupidity.
Grassing on them wasn’t an option. Not only would he also be arrested, but every penny he had was tied up in that painting.
Bile reaching the back of his throat, Jason ran to the bathroom and vomited up the small amount of chilli he’d eaten. He knew in that instant that the life of crime wasn’t for him any more. Once that painting was sold, he was walking away from it and going straight.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Jason felt ill as he drove towards the restaurant in Epping where he’d arranged to meet Simon. He’d been unable to get the images of those poor people being tortured out of his mind, had not been able to sleep.
He could remember the day clearly when Mickey Two Wives had bowled into his recently opened shop and asked if he wanted to buy a painting.
Mickey Two Wives must be in his sixties now and originally out of Rainham. An armed robber and bigamist, he had done time for both crimes and earned his nickname for the latter.
Jason had worked for Mickey Two Wives for a while as a kid, selling hooky stuff for him. He’d never particularly liked the bloke though. He was short-tempered, rude and very arrogant, so Jason’s initial response was to say, ‘Thanks, but no thanks.’
Mickey Two Wives had leaned across the counter. ‘It’s a Van Gogh. It’s worth millions.’
That’s when Jason’s ears had pricked up. ‘Is it stolen?’ he stupidly asked.
‘Of course it’s fucking stolen! Van Gogh’s been dead for centuries. He didn’t paint it last fucking week, did he?’
‘Has it come out of a gallery?’ Jason enquired.
‘I don’t fucking know, do I? I’m not a nosy bastard like you. A pal of mine has it. He only wants two fifty for it.’
‘A quarter of a mil,’ Jason stammered.
‘Yes, of course. Not talking in fucking hundreds, am I, you clown. Look, I ain’t got time to balls around. Take it or leave it – your call.’
Jason had a posh pal, Henry, who was an expert on art. He was also a dodgy bastard who would sell stolen stuff abroad. Jason had involved Henry, who’d nearly pissed his pants with excitement when verifying the painting was the real deal.
A meet had then been set up in Kent to do the exchange. Henry had accompanied Jason and both men had thought they were goners when four Irish gypsies turned up in a battered old horsebox. Evil-looking bastards they were, and they’d glared at Jason throughout while counting the money.
Jason pulled up outside the restaurant. He needed to confide in someone and he trusted Simon implicitly. He’d tell him about the situation he’d got himself in with Craig too. But he wouldn’t mention Johnny Brooks or any of the robberies they’d done. Neither would he mention the predicament he’d got himself in with Tracey. A mate’s ex was a no-go, and even though Simon had never actually lived with Tracey, Jason was sure his pal would still see it as a liberty-take. Simon had really liked her in the beginning, was smitten until he’d learned what a bitch she could be.
Jason entered the restaurant and spotted Simon immediately. ‘All right, mate? Sorry I’m late. Traffic was bad.’
Finishing his rare T-bone steak, Jason pushed the plate away. Opening up to Simon had felt good. He’d needed advice and could not think of anybody better or more trustworthy to talk to. ‘What am I going to do about Thurston? I really don’t want him turning up unannounced at my shop any more.’
‘Just stand your ground, Jase. Tell him you want out after this job. He made a hash of trying to top Johnny, so I doubt he’s going to take a pop at you.’
‘That weren’t him, Si. Craig’s no killer.’ Jason quickly changed the subject: ‘What about the painting? What should I do about that?’
Simon puffed his cheeks out. ‘You’re on your own with that one, I’m afraid. I can get hold of a few bob to
put back into your bank before I do your accounts. I can make everything look legal and above board for you with the taxman. But the bloke I’ll be involving will want ten per cent of anything that goes into the account on top of his dosh back. That’s his going rate. Have you actually had this painting verified?’
‘Yeah, course. It’s sweet, and nobody knows where it’s hidden, bar me. I’ve got a pal who is in the know. He’s found me a buyer. But the geezer’s currently banged up in a Dutch prison and isn’t due for release until early next year. When I do sell it, I’m going to need assistance with the financial side of things. Some of the money I can hide myself, but I’ll need a fair chunk laundered. Can you sort that for me?’
It was getting harder and harder to launder money these days, but Simon had some wonderful contacts, especially in Jersey. ‘I’m sure I can sort something out. It’ll cost you, though. The guys I use aren’t cheap.’
‘Whatever. Money’s not exactly an issue when you’ve got your paws on a Van Gogh.’
Simon chuckled. ‘I’ve met some chancers in my time and you’re definitely up there with the Del Boys of this world.’
Immersed in bubbles, Tracey Thompson ran the hot tap again. A long soak in the bath always helped her think and she was more than happy with her plan now. Melissa would believe it, and Jason was bound to be infuriated by this latest turn of events. It served him right. A lesson not to go around using women in future.
Tracey dunked her head under the water. She knew she was shallow, but couldn’t help that. It was part of who she was. Even at school, she’d had to be on the best-looking boy’s arm. Who wanted to go out with or wake up next to some ugly bastard? She most certainly didn’t. But she craved to live in a lovely home like Melissa, and now she was pregnant, there was an opportunity to make that happen. This was going to be her ticket to Repton Park.
Grinning at how clever she was, Tracey stepped out of the bath and wrapped a towel around herself. It was time to pay Melissa a visit and announce her life-changing news. She just hoped Jason would be there; otherwise she would wait for him to return. His expression was bound to be priceless and she couldn’t wait to see it. Revenge at its finest.
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