Pearl thought for a bit before she nodded. ‘Don’t tell my brother, your great Uncle though. He’s living a life purer than Snow White now and told me to sling my hook.’
Her grandsons looked baffled at each other. ‘He said what? But grams…’
‘Who’s that with you lads?’ a voice boomed behind them.
Pearl swung round and kissed her teeth long and hard as she eyeballed her brother in disbelief. ‘Well, well, well, if it isn’t mister I don’t get my hands dirty no more.’ She twisted back to her grandsons. ‘That’s what you were gonna tell me, wasn’t it? That he runs all your rackets. You are such a bastard.’ She leapt to her feet.
Biggin snapped his eyes at her. ‘Know why I told you that? Coz every time you come into my life something terrible kicks off. Like that time I nearly ended up banged up in a flea-ridden Turkish jail because you decided to make one of the embassy staff’s daughters your mark with your Madam Pearl mumbo-jumbo. We were on fucking on holiday for Pete’s sake.’
He stepped fully into the room and Pearl stumbled back when she saw he wasn’t alone.
‘What the hell’s going on here?’ There weren’t many times that Pearl was stumped in her life but this was one of them.
‘Pearl is that you?’ Dee Black asked as her eyebrows lifted.
‘What you doing here darlin’?’
‘You two obviously know each other.’ Biggin’s gaze sharpened on both of them.
Dee supplied the answer. ‘Pearl’s a mate of my mum’s. A close mate.’
Pearl looked pointedly at her grandsons. ‘Her mum’s Babs Miller.’
But it wasn’t them who reacted but her brother. His usually smooth, brown skin looked pasty and a touch grey. ‘Who did you say her mum is?’
Dee answered. ‘Babs Miller.’
One of his hands clenched tight like he wanted to do someone some serious damage. ‘Why didn’t you say?’ he growled at Dee.
‘What? That my mum’s called Babs Miller? I’m not sure that’s any of your beeswax.’
‘I’m afraid that it is.’ He sat down heavily like his plug had been pulled out. ‘Dee, you need to take a seat. There’s something you need to know.’
33
’I ain’t sharing a room with that,’ Tiff ground out, shooting daggers at Flo. Her outraged voice was so close to Babs’ ear it left a nasty ringing sound in her head.
Ignore her whinging! Babs clenched her teeth as she gave her grandkids her full attention. Aww, they looked like a pair of lost lambs in her sitting room. Little Bea hadn’t uttered a word since seeing the dreadful state of her mum. That wasn’t normal…was it? She wanted to wrap them in the deepest hug ever and never let go.
Tiff and Flo had gathered the girls from their mum’s hospital bed and then went over to Jen’s to pick up some of their belongings.
A social worker had appeared at the ozzie giving it all that about being able to put the girls in foster care if the family weren’t able to look after them. Courtney had clung onto Babs for dear life, while Little Bea had stood there in wide-eyed silence. Her grandbabies in foster care? Absobloodylutelynot! Where she came from they looked after their own. They’d be stopping with her until Jen got better. And Jen would get better. Babs wouldn’t allow herself to think otherwise.
‘Mum, I’m talking to you.’ Tiff’s groaning and moaning sliced through her thoughts.
Flo took charge. ‘Babs, I’ll get the girls settled in your room.’
And that’s why Tiff was kicking up a stink. The girls would be bunking in Babs’ room, which meant she would take the settee and now Tiff would have to share her old room with Flo. In a crisis situation all had to play their part. If Tiff didn’t get that - tough bloody titties.
Babs went into the kitchen. Tiff stomped right behind her gob going into fifth gear.
‘I ain’t kipping with that slag. That’s my old room, that is, so by rights you should tell her it’s time to sling her toerag toff hook and head back to Poshville.’
Babs kept her peace and took out a duster and bottle of cleaner.
She sprayed the counter and rigorously wiped it down as motor mouth kept on. ‘Dad’s wrong side of the blanket was only meant to be dossing here for a couple of days, tops.’ Babs sprayed and wiped down the draining board. ‘I mean, come on, she’s got enough bling to put herself up in some swanky hotel, don’t she? So why does…?’
Squirt. Clean. Tiffany talking.
Squirt. Clean. Tiffany talking.
Tiff kept giving it some but her voice faded from Babs’ ear. Her fingers gripped the duster tighter and tighter. Her hand moved in manic, frenzied circles. Pain radiated through her hand, but she took no notice. All Babs knew was that if she made her home all spic and span everything would be alright. All her troubles would go away. She’d be in control of her small world again. Of course that was plain bollocks and she knew it.
The therapist in prison had called it a type of obsessive behaviour, Babs’ way of dealing with the world when something went badly wrong. Apparently if she made her home nice and neat, shipshape and Bristol fashion, she deluded herself into thinking her troubles would go away. There weren’t many people she thanked during the time she was doing bird, but that therapist was near the top of the list. Babs had been super proud of herself when she’d conquered it…now look at her, back to being some demented, domestic goddess.
Babs willed her hand to stop moving, but it wouldn’t. Please stop! Please stop! Please fucking stop! Why wouldn’t that bloody spot of dirt go away? She sprayed it three times. Scrubbed with all her might. Still wouldn’t go away and it felt like her hand was going to drop off. Her heart was about ready to tear out of her chest. The hot sweat on her face was flowing like a waterfall.
‘Mum?’
‘Babs?’
Trembling she raised her head to find Tiff and Flo worriedly staring at her. In a daze she wondered what they were doing in the bathroom of all places.
Babs pointed desperately to the sink. ‘That dirt,’ she jabbed her finger, ‘I can’t make it go away.’
Tiff peered over her shoulder and then looked back at her. ‘Mum, there ain’t nuthin there.’ She looked meaningfully at Flo. ‘Why don’t we get you sat down?’
Before Babs knew what was happening, the duster and bottle of cleaner were gone and she was sitting on her comfy, worn settee.
Flo whispered to Tiff, ‘What’s wrong with her?’
‘Her way of saying things have got a bit on top of her.’
‘This will sort her out.’
Flo lit up a spliff and passed it to Babs who greedily puffed away, hating the taste – weed wasn’t her thing – but it did the trick and calmed her down. Tiff took it away and both girls sat besides her.
‘I don’t understand,’ Babs started in a small voice bursting with heartache, ‘why would anyone shoot my Jen?’
Flo answered. ‘Why does anyone shoot anyone? It’s an evil world we’re living in.’
She gazed at Stan’s daughter, her face riddled in confusion. ‘But Jen wouldn’t hurt a fly. She’s so gentle and caring.’ She shook her head. ‘When my Jennifer was little I could leave her alone for ages and she wouldn’t make a fuss. Such a good girl.’
Tiff put an arm around her shoulder and Flo did the same. Babs sank back into their much-needed comfort; her troubles felt lighter.
‘Why is it always the good ones who end up paying the price?’ she finally asked.
Before the girls could answer there was a strong, firm knock at the front door. Tiff started to get up, but Babs said, ‘No, I’ll get it.’ She was starting to feel her old self again. She looked pointedly at Tiff and Flo. ‘You need to sort out the camper bed in your room.’
If Tiff started shooting off again she was going to let her have it with both barrels.
Her daughter’s mouth drooped unpleasantly at the corners, but she kept her sense of injustice to herself. Good!
Babs opened the door to find Ryan, the estate’s resident drunk st
anding awkwardly on her doorstep. At least he wasn’t swaying.
‘You alright Babs?’ His bloodshot, jaundiced eyes blinked at her.
She sighed, feeling so weary she could drop. ‘Truth is Ryan, it’s one of the worst days of my life. But my Jen’s hanging on in there. She’s a strong woman and it will take more than some arsehole to put her down.’
His cracked lips smacked together. ‘They wanna bring back hanging, they do.’ Suddenly he looked down at his scuffed shoes and then up again. ‘It ain’t much.’
His hand went into his pocket. He took her hand and placed something in it. Babs found a creased fiver resting in her palm.
She gazed, bewildered, at him with tears pricking the back of her eyes. ‘I can’t take this.’
He leaned in. If her eyes hadn’t been watering before they were now with the booze fumes coming off him. ‘It’s half of my drink’s money, but you know what Babs, I’d rather see it go towards helping your grand children.’
Babs almost cried her heart out then. All most folk saw when they looked at him was a fella so bladdered most days he could hardly stand. But underneath all that was a man who was strong in his own way and who felt the pain of others. That’s why she didn’t offer him the money back because he still had his pride.
‘Thank you,’ she croaked, choked up with emotion.
He almost bowed to her and then his thin legs took him away. As he reached the corner another figure appeared – Rani from number fourteen on the landing downstairs. She gave Babs a plateful of chicken and lamb samosas. Five minutes later Jan and Tom from the Knackered Swan boozer gave her a boxful of fizzy drinks and two bottles of brandy.
And that’s how it went on for the rest of the day, people on the estate trying to show their support for one of its most respected and long time residents. Even her one-time arch enemy, Mel Ingram, sent over her girl, Stacy, with four packs of ciggies. The residents of The Devil didn’t have much but they were willing to share what they had with her. People could say this ‘n’ that about The Essex Lane Estate – and they did – but when the chips were down for one of their own they showed the world what a tight, caring community they could be.
34
As Flo took the road down to Mile End tube she realised that a car was keeping pace with her. Its horn blew and she turned to see a vintage Aston Martin mounting the pavement. It looked like the sort of car her grandfather liked to collect. She did a double take when she clocked that it really was her grandfather, the old sea dog himself – the Commander.
He was rigged out in a navy blue blazer, a purple cravat and shades that made him look like an aging Italian film director whose shoot was going very badly.
He leaned over and opened the passenger door and said in a quiet, sly voice, ‘Hello, my dear. Why don’t you get in and then we can go for a little drive?’
He’d obviously been parked up near The Devil waiting for her to appear.
Flo was uneasy as she climbed in. ‘I’m not sure you’re in the right gear for a road trip around the East End. I’m afraid you’ll either be laughed at or robbed.’
He drove off the pavement. ‘Don’t you worry about that my dear, I’m well used to navigating the mean streets of East London from the old days. It’s rather like sailing round Cape Horn. You just have to keep your wits about you and an eye on the wind.’
‘I’m sure.’
The Commander drove off towards Whitechapel in silence as if waiting for an answer to a question he hadn’t asked. Finally, he snapped. ‘Well?’
Flo was nervous. ‘Well what?’
‘Have you found out what’s happened to my gold? What have the Millers done with it?’
‘Oh that. You should have rung - you didn’t need to come down here to ask me that.’
The Commander’s driving was becoming careless and he nearly took out an old lady crossing the road. ‘I have been ringing my dear but you haven’t been answering.’
‘Well, I’ve been busy. Babs Miller’s been taking me round the markets. I found some nice gear down in Petticoat Lane actually.’ Flo couldn’t figure out why she was lying. It wasn’t like she cared about the Millers, now was it?
The Commander slammed the brakes on and the car ground to a halt. He turned and grabbed her by the arm. ‘I haven’t sent you down to this rat hole to go shopping. You’re here to find my gold.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘I’ve heard all about what happened at her daughter’s club and that one of her girls is in the hospital. Now then – what’s happened to my gold?’
Flo avoided his eyes. She wasn’t scared of many people but she knew her grandfather had a temper on him. Not that he’d ever vented it on her. He’d always been a pussycat with her, but there was a first time for everything.
‘Well, nothing yet, I’m working on it. But I think their story might be true. It’s disappeared.’
There she went lying again! What was the matter with her? She loved the Commander to death, so why was she not telling him the truth?
‘Disappeared?’ her granddad scoffed. ‘The Miller family are professional criminals. That crook Kieran Scott stole my gold and then that crook John Black stole it off him. And now it’s disappeared? Just like that? Don’t be so ridiculous. One of those crooks knows where it is and your job is to find out which one and where they’ve hidden it.’
‘I’m trying.’
After a silence the Commander’s voice softened. ‘Do you know my dear there are two types of people in this world. There are sailors and the landlubbers. The sailors go places. The landlubbers don’t.’ He gestured at the grim estate the car was parked beside. ‘The sailors find buried treasure on desert islands while the landlubbers end up on ghastly places like those blocks of flats. Now you have to decide whether you want to be a sailor or a landlubber. Am I making myself clear?’
Flo slowly opened the passenger door and got out.
She turned back to her grandfather. ‘Perfectly clear.’
But everything between her and the Millers was as clear as mud.
Natty, who was as naked as the day he was born, was screaming his head off as he lay dumped on the cold, kitchen floor. Oblivious to his distress Miriam sat at a high-backed stool, wearing Dee’s fluffy, pink slippers, which she’d ‘borrowed’ with relish. She slugged back a whiskey and orange. The booze was straight from that shag bag’s hard liquor collection in the snooker room cum bar. Mad bird had warned her not to touch her whiskey and then top it up with water. Fair enough. Miriam had topped it up with her pee instead. A good shake of the bottle, no one was any the wiser.
She angrily shook the glass at her crying charge. ‘See, that’s what happens to naughty boy’s who don’t learn to say mummy! I’ve given you ample time to tell me that I’m your mum, but you won’t have it. Wilful, that’s what you are.’ She scoffed nastily at the back of her throat. ‘I suppose you learned that from her? Learned! As if that whore knows anything about educashun. She couldn’t teach a junkie how to stick the needle in.’
Miriam knocked the remainder of the drink back, banged the glass onto the counter, shot to her feet and waltzed over to stand over Natty. She felt no pity as she scornfully gazed down at him through squinty eyes. His face was blotched an alarming red and wet from the continued stream of tears. Playacting, that’s what he was doing, trying to get one over her. Well, she was onto him.
‘I won’t put up with this nonsense, Andy. You need to learn who the real mummy in this house is.’ Her tone took on a mad, ranting quality as she shook a finger at him. ‘Don’t you get it? If you refuse to say mummy they won’t believe you’re mine. Then he’s gonna come back and take you away and there’s nothing I’ll be able to do about it.’ She bellowed, ‘He ain’t ever gonna take you away from me again. You hear?’
His cries turned into tiny whimpers, the fear of God in him. Suddenly she inhaled and relaxed her shoulders. Her hand dropped to her side.
Her voice grew quiet, even gentle. ‘Do you think mummy likes doing this to you? I don’t, my lo
vely. All I want to do is to keep you safe. Me and you together. Forever.’
She absently patted a hand against her wig. ‘I’m going to leave you for ten minutes, not a minute less, not a minute more, to give you time to consider your antics.’ Miriam blew him a kiss. ‘Don’t forget, mummy loves you.’
As she started to leave Miriam was startled by the sound of Mizzery Dee’s flash motor in the driveway. Bloody hell. The bitch wasn’t meant to be back yet. Good grief, if that slapper found the baby on on the floor…
She dumped the glass in the bin, along with her panic and scooped up a still howling Natty into her arms. The car door slammed as she bombed it up the stairs. As the front door opened she quickly dressed him in a pair of Roger Rabbit jim-jams.
She pointed sternly at him. ‘Now, shut your noise.’
But he wouldn’t. Instead his wailing got louder. She pressed her hand over his mouth and yelped in pain as he sank the few teeth he had into her thumb.
Astonished and bristling with anger she raised her palm. ‘You little bleeder—‘
‘Miriam?’ Dee’s call froze her hand.
In her sweetest voice she answered back, ‘Coming Mizz Dee.’ She turned to Natty, ‘Now look what you’ve done.’
Miriam left him crying as she smoothed her hands over her dress and went downstairs. She remained at the top of the final flight as a wiped out Dee Black stared up at her.
‘Was that my Natty crying?’
Miriam put on her best fake smile and best voice. ‘Ah, poor love has another tooth coming through I think.’
‘Bring him to me?’
‘What?’ Miriam tried her hardest to keep the fear from her face.
‘You lost your ears or something?’ Dee snapped back. Then she took a steading breath. ‘I’m sorry. I’m not having a go. I just want my son.’
Something had obviously upset the bitch. Good! She deserved all the misery life had to throw at her. By the time she handed Natty over he was whimpering, but, thank God, not blowing his stack anymore.
Blood Secrets_A gripping crime thriller with killer twists Page 20