‘Tell me what he used that money for. I need to know,’ Melissa hissed.
‘I can’t tell you, but Jason will.’
‘Another woman?’
‘Oh, don’t talk daft. There has only ever been one woman Jason chucks money at, Mel, and that’s you. He’s been a silly boy, I’m not denying it. But his only crime was to supply these geezers with mobile phones. Unfortunately, the Old Bill were following the gang and saw Jason meet up with one or two of them. That’s the reason they’ve hauled him in.’
‘Who are the other gang members? Do I know any of them?’
‘I don’t think so, but that’s another question to ask Jason. I have got some more bad news unfortunately. Jason’s had all his bank accounts frozen, they all have.’
‘What do you mean? They can’t do that, surely?’
‘I’m afraid they can, Mel. They take out an application to freeze the assets. They see money in the bank as proceeds of crime until it can be proved otherwise.’
‘But Jason’s got his own business, and we haven’t got a fortune in the bank anyway.’
Simon shrugged. ‘I’m sorry, but that’s the way it is, Mel. All Jason’s accounts are in his name only, same as your mortgage.’
‘But I’m his wife. Am I meant to live on fresh air? I need that money to survive.’
‘I can help you out temporarily, but not in the long run. I’ve promised to buy Tracey a place for her and the baby to live in and she wants a new car. Everything will be in my name, of course. Not saying I don’t trust Tracey, but I won’t allow anybody to take me for a ride. What about your dad? Does he still own properties in England? Only, your best option might be to touch base with him again. I know you two currently don’t see eye to eye, but I doubt he’d see you on your uppers.’
Melissa’s face contorted with fury. ‘I would not ask that old pervert for a penny. He’s dead to me.’
Over in Brixton prison, Jason Rampling lay on his uncomfortable bunk and stared at the dirty ceiling. He couldn’t believe his luck.
Craig Thurston had glared at him throughout the hearing. A warning look to keep his trap shut, Jason surmised. Craig had been carted off to Wandsworth, thankfully. Two other members of the gang had been sent to Brixton with Jason and the rest scattered around other prisons. Jason didn’t know the other two guys, but got the gist they’d been at the slaughter and been caught red-handed when the gaff had been raided.
‘You OK, mate? Your first time inside, is it? My name’s Nick, by the way,’ said Jason’s cellmate.
‘Yeah, my first time. I’m OK. Just need time to get my head around things,’ Jason replied. He wasn’t in the mood for small talk, was worried about Melissa and the kids. Mel would be going ballistic, he knew that much, but surely she wouldn’t take her anger out on Shay? His daughter had nowhere else to live, was totally reliant on Melissa right now and he would do everything in his power to ensure their family wasn’t split in two. He needed to come clean to Mel about a lot of things before it was too late.
It was almost midnight when the doorbell chimed. Simon had left ages ago, Shay and Donte were in bed and Melissa was busy making a list of things to do, a trip to the Citizens Advice Bureau being at the very top.
Fully expecting to see Tracey on her doorstep, Melissa flung the door open and was stunned to see her father standing there. ‘What you doing here? Who gave you my address?’ she spat. He was much older and balder than she remembered, but had a deep tan and looked healthy.
‘Can I come in, Melissa, please? Donte called me a couple of days ago. He’s very worried about you, and so am I.’
Melissa poked her head outside and glanced around. ‘You better not have brought that slapper to my home.’
‘Shirley’s in Spain. I got the first available flight. Let’s talk inside, Mel, please. I know Jason’s been banged up. Donte called me again earlier. I’m here to help you,’ Johnny Brooks explained. He knew how much he’d hurt Melissa when he’d got back together with Shirley Stone after Carol died, but he’d had a second chance of happiness and had never regretted his decision. They had a nice life in Spain, were friends with lots of other ex-pats and lived a chilled existence these days.
Images of her beautiful mother popping up in her head, Melissa’s eyes filled with tears. ‘I want nothing from you. You can stick your help where the sun don’t shine. I would rather beg on the streets than take a penny off you and that whore.’
Having heard voices, Donte came flying down the stairs. ‘Granddad!’
‘Get back upstairs. Granddad’s just leaving.’ Melissa still had her arm across the front door, blocking her father from entering.
‘Please, let Granddad in, Mum. He’s come all the way from Spain and wants to help us.’
Shay stood rooted in the middle of the stairs. She didn’t want to butt in through fear of antagonizing Melissa and being sent to live on the Mardyke Estate.
‘Let me see him. He’s my granddad,’ Donte shouted, trying to duck under his mother’s arm.
‘Get back to your room, now!’ Melissa shrieked. ‘You had no right giving out my address, just like that old bastard had no right telling you who your real dad was.’
When Donte burst into tears, Melissa swung around to face her father with a look of pure hatred. ‘See what you’ve done? Get out! Go on; fuck off back to your slapper. I hate your guts and I never want to see you again.’
Johnny Brooks shook his head in dismay. He hadn’t exactly expected the red-carpet treatment, but neither had he expected to find his daughter transformed into an overweight, drunken mess. ‘Your mother would be turning in her grave at the state of you,’ he mumbled.
Not caring that some of the neighbours had now opened their front doors to see what all the fuss was about, Melissa lunged at her dad, punching him with all her might. ‘Don’t you ever mention Mum’s name again. I wish whoever shot you had actually killed you. Shame the bullet wasn’t in your head.’
Three days after her father’s unexpected visit, a sombre Melissa was driven to Brixton prison by Simon.
‘How are the kids doing?’ Simon enquired. Melissa had told both he and Tracey what had happened with her father.
‘Donte still isn’t talking to me. Well, apart from telling me he hates me.’
‘He’ll come round in time. What about Shay?’
‘She’s been quiet, but polite. I’ve got a meeting with the Citizens Advice tomorrow, with a woman called Janet.’
‘Do you need any money to tide you over?’
‘No. I’m fine thanks.’
‘Jason called me yesterday. He’s over the moon you agreed to visit him.’
‘I bet he is,’ Melissa spat. She had only agreed to visit Jason because she was desperate to learn the truth. What had he done with all that money?
‘I’ll wait here in the car for you,’ Simon said, when they finally arrived at the prison. He was glad he’d had the sense to leave early as the traffic had been a nightmare. ‘Try not to be too hard on him, eh? Listen to what he’s got to say,’ Simon urged.
Instead of replying, Melissa got out the car and slammed the passenger door.
Jason Rampling was a bundle of nerves as the visitors started piling in. He had visions of Mel changing her mind and not turning up. Rubbernecking, he spotted her and waved. She didn’t wave back, then pushed him away when he stood up to hug her.
Melissa sat on the chair opposite the man who’d once been the love of her life. He was dressed in a grey tracksuit, black trainers and had a bright prison vest on.
‘Thanks for coming, Mel. I’m so sorry about everything, I truly am.’
‘You and me both,’ Melissa hissed. ‘Explain then – and don’t you dare lie to me. I want to know everything.’
In a hushed tone, Jason told his wife of his involvement with the gang. She didn’t interrupt, just listened to what he had to say. ‘I’ve decided to use Simon’s solicitor pal now. Si’s said he’ll foot the bill, if necessary,’ Jason explained. He
was no longer worried about the photo of him arguing with Tracey. He could explain that by saying he’d paid her a visit to order her to keep her nose out of his and Mel’s marriage, and things got a bit heated. He wasn’t too concerned about the Darlene photo either. He would tell Mel the truth, if need be: that Darlene was dying. That could be proved. All he cared about was being found not guilty, and to do that he needed the best solicitor available.
‘So what did you do with all that money?’ Melissa asked, her expression stony and lacking emotion.
Glancing around to make sure none of the screws were earwigging, Jason leaned closer to Mel. ‘I bought a painting with it. A painting that is worth an absolute fortune. I’ve even got a buyer for it, but I can’t flog it while I’m stuck in here, obviously.’
‘Why didn’t you tell the police that?’ Melissa asked disbelievingly.
‘Because it’s stolen. I couldn’t tell ’em because having that painting in my possession would carry a huge sentence. You gotta trust me on this one, Mel. When I get out this dump, we will be loaded.’
‘Where is the painting?’
‘Hidden, somewhere safe. Simon knows all about it; ask him if you don’t believe me.’
‘I will.’
‘I promise I’ll get us out of this mess. My shop’s been shut since the raid, but my pal is going to open up again next week and keep things ticking over so you’ve got some income coming in. We’re gonna register the shop in his name and split the profits fifty–fifty.’
‘Will the police let you do that? I thought they’d frozen all your assets.’
‘They have, but the shop’s a rented premises anyway. Glenn’ll just take over the lease. He’s already spoken to the landlord.’
‘What about the mortgage and school fees?’
‘There’s not gonna be enough money coming in to pay those, Mel. I’m sorry. The kids will have to go to different schools and you’ll have to rent a smaller private property and let the Social pay for it.’
Melissa’s lip wobbled. ‘But I love my home. I don’t want to live elsewhere.’
Jason shrugged. ‘My hands are tied in here, babe. I can’t pay the mortgage, can I? They are just gonna have to repossess it. We owe a fortune on it – the place is mortgaged up to the eyeballs.’
‘But you put our money from our previous house into it.’
‘I know, but we’ll have to swallow that loss.’ Jason glanced around and leaned forward again. ‘I can get two million for the painting, maybe more. Stick by me and I’ll buy you your dream home when I get out.’
Melissa was in turmoil. She didn’t particularly want to stick by Jason after everything he’d put her through, but what choice did she have? If she agreed, she’d have some sort of income coming in and she could always end things with him when he got released if she couldn’t forgive him.
Sensing her softening, Jason squeezed her hands. ‘How’re the kids?’
Melissa immediately snatched her hands away. ‘How do you think? Their lives have been turned upside down. One thing you’ll be pleased to know is I’m not pregnant. I got my period the other day,’ she said bitterly. Tracey had started to show a baby bump now. It wasn’t big, but she’d noticed it yesterday and it had upset her as it reminded her of being pregnant with Bobby.
‘We can have more kids when I get out of here, Mel. We’ll still be young enough.’
‘I don’t want your children now. We’ve fucked up the two we raised between us. Well, you have, anyway.’
‘Simon told me your dad turned up. That must’ve been tough for you.’
‘It was. I wish he was dead. Shame that bullet never killed him.’
Looking sheepish, Jason leaned forwards again. ‘There’s one more thing I need to tell ya that you’re not going to like.’
‘What?’
‘The bloke who the police think is the ringleader of this firm is the same geezer you think shot your father.’
‘Craig Thurston!’ Melissa gasped. ‘But you swore to me you had nothing to do with him any more.’
Jason put his finger over his lips. ‘Shush.’
Absolutely stunned, Melissa sat open-mouthed. She had no words; there was nothing left to say.
‘Where are you going?’ Jason asked when Mel stood up, her chair screeching across the floor.
‘Home. Best you make arrangements for Shay. I want no more to do with you or your family. You’re a compulsive liar who cannot be trusted. Our marriage is over, Jason. This time for good.’
PART FOUR
‘Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned.
Nor hell a fury, like a woman scorned’
William Congreve
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
2008 – Six Years Later
Tracey Thompson tossed back her long blonde hair. She wasn’t used to not getting her own way. ‘Please can we go Club 195 instead, Mel?’
‘No. We either go to the Prince Regent, or I’m not going out at all.’
‘But why?’ Tracey argued. ‘The Regent is full of letchy old men. Gary Harvey and his mates are definitely going 195 tonight. I saw Gary yesterday and he made a point of asking me if I was going. I think he fancies me and we won’t have to buy a drink with that lot. They’re right villains, order champagne all night like it’s going out of style.’
Applying her mascara, Melissa was determined to stick to her guns. ‘I’m thirty-five, Trace. No way am I standing down Club 195 with a load of kids. At least they’re our age down the Regent.’
‘You’re old before your bloody time, you. You look fantastic. You’ve lost all that weight. Why not flaunt it? We’re not going to meet any decent blokes down the Regent.’
‘I’m not going out to meet a bloke, Trace. I thought we were just having a girlie night out.’
‘We are, but …’
Melissa chucked her mascara in her make-up bag and stood up. She doubted Tracey would bowl into Club 195 on her own and she had no other friends to ask. ‘Do I get dressed? Or do I not? We go to the Prince Regent or I stay in. Your call.’
Face like a smacked arse, Tracey Thompson looked for potential prey in the Prince Regent. Unfortunately for her, there wasn’t any. ‘We can’t stay here. It’s shit,’ she spat.
‘The music’s good,’ Melissa reminded her pal. ‘Let’s dance.’ Candi Staton’s ‘Young Hearts Run Free’ was playing and Melissa loved that song. It reminded her of her marriage to Jason.
‘No. Don’t wanna dance. So how did you get on yesterday – visiting that wanker?’
‘OK. He’s up for parole soon. Reckons he’ll be home in about six weeks.’
‘You’re not going to let him move back in with you, surely?’
Melissa shrugged. ‘He doesn’t have anywhere else to go.’
Tracey took a large mouthful of her vodka and tonic. ‘You must be a raving loony even considering taking him back. You can do so much better.’
‘I know, but he has money owed to him, lots of it.’
‘What for?’
‘I don’t know. He never said,’ Melissa lied. No way would she betray her promise to Jason and tell Tracey about the painting. Her so-called best friend couldn’t be trusted and had a mouth the size of the Blackwall Tunnel.
‘I bet he’s lying. Probably got jack-shit owed to him,’ Tracey hissed.
‘I don’t think he is lying. He’s promised me the house of my dreams.’
‘Yeah, right. And pigs might fly. You already had the house of your dreams until he lost that for you.’
‘We’ll see.’
‘You don’t still love him, surely? I mean, you haven’t visited him much.’
Melissa shrugged. ‘Not sure how I feel about him any more, to be honest. We’ve been through so much together though. Like being on a rollercoaster, being married to Jason.’
‘Yeah, one you should have got off many years ago.’
Melissa grabbed her pal’s arm. ‘There’s a bloke standing near the bar, to your right. Have a look in a m
inute, surreptitiously. He’s well dishy and I’m sure it’s you he can’t take his eyes off.’
‘There’s no hotties in here, trust me,’ Tracey mocked. She looked around and nearly fell over in shock as she locked eyes with one of the most handsome men she’d seen in years. She clutched Melissa’s hand. ‘Oh my fucking God! He smiled at me too. Get me another drink, Mel. I’m shaking.’
Not many men had ever had a nerve-racking effect on Tracey Thompson. She’d dated loads and only Jason Rampling, her deceased ex-husband and Barry Higgins – the crime lord – had ever had such an effect on her in the past.
Melissa nudged her friend. ‘He’s still looking over.’
‘Does my make-up look all right? My false eyelashes aren’t falling off, are they? What about my lipstick? It’s not smudged, has it?’ Tracey gabbled. Her heart was pumping away like a steam train.
‘He’s coming over,’ Melissa hissed.
‘Good evening, ladies – the prettiest two in here, may I add. Would you do me the honour of allowing me to buy you a drink?’
The man was even more gorgeous up close. Dressed in a dark suit, he had short dark-blond hair, bright blue eyes, thick lips, was a decent height and reminded Tracey of Brad Pitt. Tracey was unable to speak as she drank in his handsome features.
Aware that her friend was making a prat of herself, Melissa nudged her. ‘A drink would be lovely, wouldn’t it, Trace?’
Tracey nodded dumbly. He was far better-looking than Jason, Kieron or Barry bloody Higgins.
‘Champagne OK? I’m Greg, by the way,’ he said, fixing Tracey with his most penetrating gaze.
‘Champagne’s fine, thank you. I’m Tracey and this is my friend, Melissa.’
Greg winked at Tracey, his blue eyes twinkling with devilment. ‘A joy to meet you. The first of many meetings, I hope.’
Not wanting to play gooseberry, Melissa was up dancing with a crowd of women. She knew one of them from the nail salon she went to, but couldn’t remember her name.
‘I can’t believe how much weight you’ve lost, Mel,’ the nail salon woman shouted in her ear.
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