Retribution

by Heather Atkinson

  “Why, does it hurt?” frowned the neurologist.

  “She means she can’t talk properly,” said Jackson.

  “Ah, I see. Another common side-effect. Your body and brain are getting used to working together again. Just give them time.”

  “What if…they don’t?” she said.

  “I can’t make you any promises Mrs Driscoll,” he said sombrely. “All we can do is wait and see. Now I’d like you to do these simple tests, one maths, one English language. As you’re not up to holding a pen yet, I will read them out and you tell me the answer A, B or C. If you struggle speaking the answer I will read them out again and you blink on the correct one. Okay?”

  She nodded, suddenly feeling belligerent. “Maths. Easy.”

  “Excellent. Two plus four. Is the answer three, six or seven?”

  Jules just stared back at him, her stomach lurching. A degree in mathematics and she didn’t know the answer to a fucking primary school question. “Say again?” was all she said.

  He repeated the question. Jules stared at him blankly, panic starting to rise. She had no fucking idea. She tried to get her brain to work but it wouldn’t cooperate, just like her legs.

  “Come on babe,” said Jackson, becoming concerned. “You’ve got a degree in advanced mathematics.”

  Tell my brain that, she wanted to say but the words refused to come out of her mouth. Instead she shook her head and looked down at her hands, anxiously picking at her nails.

  “Let’s try another one,” said Mr Schmidt. “One plus four, is it five, three or four?”

  “Four,” she said with delight when the answer came to her immediately, the word falling easily from her lips. Her smile fell at Jackson’s horrified look. “Wrong?”

  Mr Schmidt put aside the piece of paper. “Let’s leave the tests for now. It may be too soon.”

  “No,” said Jules, jabbing at the paper with her finger.

  But Mr Schmidt got to his feet. “I’d like to arrange for you to be transported to the hospital for an MRI scan, just so we can see what’s going on.”

  “Is something wrong?” said Jackson.

  “No,” he said with a reassuring smile. “It will just give us a better idea of the treatment plan. It will be a day visit, no need for you to stay in there.”

  “Why couldn’t she do those sums?” said Jackson while Jules stared straight ahead, appalled with herself.

  “I’m afraid it’s my fault,” said Mr Schmidt. “I pushed her a little too soon.” He looked to his patient. “Just because you can’t do these sums now Jules doesn’t mean you never will. Your body is still recovering from the coma and it will be for a while yet. Just take one day at a time, okay?”

  She ignored him, continuing to stare ahead, full of shame, feeling weak and pathetic.

  “I’m going to arrange for a clinical neurophysiologist to see you,” he continued, regardless. “They’ll assess you and advise on how we can make life easier for you.”

  Still Jules didn’t respond.

  “I’m also arranging physiotherapy for your mobility and a speech and language therapist.”

  “So, will these issues be temporary?” said Jackson hopefully.

  “It’s very difficult to tell in situations like this,” said Mr Schmidt. “Everyone is different. I’m afraid there’s no possible way to predict. We must see how we go along. Hopefully we can arrange the MRI for the next couple of days. Thank you for your time,” he said formally before leaving.

  “Babe, you okay?” Jackson asked her.

  She shook her head, picking at her nails so hard she drew blood.

  “You’ve hurt yourself,” he said, plucking a tissue from the box on the bedside cabinet and pressing it to the tip of her left index finger. “You’ll get better,” he continued. “You’ve only just woken up, you need time to adjust.”

  “I couldn’t…do the thing…with the numbers.”

  “You mean add?”

  She nodded.

  “But you will. Give yourself some time. You’ve always pushed yourself hard your whole life.” Her pain was distressing him. Jules had a huge thirst for knowledge and she’d never encountered a subject she couldn’t master - mathematics, literature, history, science, she’d even taught herself to cook in a day. She held four degrees plus a variety of other qualifications, so he could only imagine how it must feel not to know the answer to a sum a young child could do.

  “I want…alone,” she said.

  “Don’t shut me out, please.”

  She reached out for his hand and missed, causing her to sigh with frustration.

  Jackson took her hand and kissed it.

  “I’m not,” she said. “Just please…alone.”

  “Okay. I’ll grab a brew.”

  As he left the room he paused to look back at her. He’d never seen anyone look so devastated in his entire life and he didn’t have the first clue how to help her.

  Jackson returned to the day room to find the family still waiting and he was so grateful for them, he wouldn’t have to cope with this alone.

  “Well?” said Rachel when he walked in, all of them turning to look at him. “How did she get on?”

  “Not good,” he sighed before relating her meeting with Mr Schmidt.

  Once he’d finished, silence filled the room.

  Jez was the first to break it. “I thought it would be like the movies - she’d wake up and be fine, be Jules again.”

  “We all did,” said Cathy.

  Jez’s eyes moved past his wife to the open door. “Oh no you fucking don’t.”

  “What is it?” said Cathy.

  They all followed Jez as he ran out of the room, putting himself between the door to Jules’s room and the tall, slender man with the dark hair and neat side parting attempting to enter it.

  “DI Dwyer,” said Jez. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  DI Dwyer was a fresh thorn in their collective sides. They’d first encountered him shortly after Jules had been stabbed, he was the investigating officer on her case. He was also DI Benton’s brother, the man who’d killed Danny Maguire and tried to kill Rachel too. Ryan had arranged for Benton to be murdered in prison, his killing disguised as a suicide. Dwyer had informed them that he knew their family was responsible for his brother’s death and he was intent on bringing them all down.

  “I’ve come to interview Mrs Driscoll about the attack on her,” replied Dwyer with his usual smug confidence.

  “Interview?” he exclaimed. “She’s just woken from a coma and she can hardly fucking talk.”

  “Jez, calm down,” said Cathy.

  “Sorry babe but you don’t know this clown.”

  “You might be able to threaten the rest of the city into submission Mr Law but it won’t work with me,” said Dwyer. “Now out of my way.”

  When it looked like Jez might actually attack the man, Ryan placed himself beside his brother. “What my brother is trying to say DI Dwyer is that now is not the time.”

  “I’ll decide that. Move or I’ll arrest the pair of you.” His smile was shark-like. “Believe me, that would give me immense pleasure.” His eyes narrowed when Rachel stood beside her husband.

  “Jules is in no fit state to give an interview,” she said. “I’m sure her doctor would concur. Have you asked for his permission to speak to his patient? I think it would harm any case you built if it became known you spoke to Jules before she was physically ready.”

  Dwyer’s eyes flashed with anger. “Alright, I’ll come back later but if you dare stand in my way again I’ll do the lot of you for obstruction.”

  “You can try,” smirked Jez.

  “Jez, stop it,” Cathy hissed at him.

  “Who’d have thought the great Jez Law was under the thumb,” said Dwyer. “I can’t wait to spread that one around.”

  “You’d better leave,” said Ryan coldly.

  “And quickly,” added Jez.

  Dwyer just gave them an amused look, his eyes flickin
g to Rachel before he casually strolled away, all of them watching him go.

  When he’d disappeared around the corner, Cathy whacked Jez on the arm.

  “Ow. What was that for babe?”

  “You were deliberately winding him up. Why would you do that?”

  “I was only trying to keep him away from Jules. She’s not ready to face that arsehole.”

  “You goaded him and there was no need. Don’t I worry about you enough without you adding to it?”

  Jez was appalled when he realised he’d upset his wife, he doted on Cathy. “I’m sorry babe,” he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “In future I’ll try not to wind him up.”

  “You’d better do more than try or I swear to God I’ll make you pay,” she said, red-faced, tears shining in her eyes. It took her a lot of strength to endure her relationship with Jez. She loved him to pieces but she constantly feared for him. Every time he set foot outside the house she was always careful to kiss him and tell him how much she loved him, just in case he never returned and now and then the pressure got to her.

  He hugged her and she clung onto him, burying her face in his chest while she got herself under control.

  “Well,” said Ryan, breaking the awkward moment. He looked to Jackson. “Do you think Jules will want to see us?”

  “She said she wants to be alone, so probably not. She was devastated by the results of the test.”

  “We’ll come back in the morning,” said Rachel.

  “Thank you.”

  Jackson was amazed they’d acquiesced so easily, he’d expected more of a fight. Hastily he returned to Jules’s room before they could change their minds. She was laid in bed, staring at the wall, the picture of misery.

  “I’ve sent the rest of the family away,” said Jackson. “I thought you might like some quiet time.”

  She nodded.

  He wasn’t sure this was a good idea but he wanted to cheer her up. “Shall I bring Cara to see you tomorrow?”

  It worked and she beamed. “Yes please.”

  He perched on the bed beside her and wrapped an arm around her. “We’ll get through this, I promise you sweetheart. You are the hardest fighter I know. You’ve conquered everything else you’ve put your mind to. You’ll conquer this as well.”

  This actually made her feel a bit better. She was just at the start of her recovery and she was determined to become the woman she once was. With a smile she nestled into him, relieved when he kissed the top of her head. Jackson didn’t cope well with illness, so she knew this was torture for him but he was still here.

  CHAPTER 8

  Mikey walked inside his house and released a cry when he almost fell over a heap of bags, all with designer names emblazoned across the side.

  “Jesus,” he exclaimed, grabbing onto the hallway table to prevent himself from falling.

  Amber’s head popped around the kitchen door. “Mikey, what are you doing?”

  “Trying not to break my bloody neck.”

  “Don’t swear please in front of our guest.”

  “Guest?” Inwardly he sighed when Amber’s mother, Joyce, stepped out of the kitchen, as usual her expression grim.

  “It’s a good job the boys aren’t around to hear language like that,” she said.

  “What are you doing here?” he groaned.

  “Someone needs to be since you’re hardly ever here. You spend all your time at that care home.”

  “Excuse me for wanting to be there for my cousin who’s just woken from a coma and what the hell is all this?” he said, gesturing to the bags.

  Amber shrugged. “It’s stuff for us, for the house.”

  “Oh I see,” he said, dipping into one of the bags and pulling out a pair of black high heeled shoes. “So, are these a present for the boys? Or maybe a decoration for their bedroom?” He delved into another bag and pulled out another pair of high heeled shoes, this time blood red. “Oh bless, you bought me a present, just my colour too.” His blood boiled when he rummaged through another bag. “More shoes? How many pairs of feet do you have? You’ve already got a wardrobe full of them up there, most of which you never wear.”

  “Do you actually resent your wife buying herself nice things?” said Joyce.

  “Course not,” he said. “But this is just a waste. It’s obscene.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard all about your thoughts on the struggling poor many times,” said Joyce. “It seems you want your own wife to be one of them.”

  “Stop being a drama queen,” he said. “I recently funded a homeless shelter, after the bastard government cuts shut down a much-needed one. Those poor sods in that place are the struggling poor, believe me. It would do you both some good to do some volunteering there.”

  “Are you serious?” said Amber, wrinkling up her nose.

  “Why not give something back?”

  “You seriously want your wife around all those homeless people,” said Joyce with distaste. “They’re all dangerous drug addicts.”

  “No they’re not,” he retorted. “They’re just people down on their luck, which you lot were until Amber married me.”

  “So you want us to bow down to you then?” said Joyce, tilting back her head, eyes flashing.

  “No.” He sighed with frustration. “Oh bugger off Joyce, you’re getting on my tits.”

  “Mikey,” exclaimed Amber.

  “No, I’m sick of this. She comes here bad-mouthing me in my own home and I’ve had a gutful.” He looked back at his loathed mother-in-law. “You don’t like it, you can fuck off.”

  “Don’t talk to my mum like that,” said Amber, stamping her foot.

  “But it’s alright for her to call me a complete bastard? You know what, I can’t be arsed with this same stupid conversation again. Jules can’t walk and she’s struggling to talk. She’s devastated she’ll never get to have kids again and Jackson’s in hell. Those are real problems, not being told it’s a bit ridiculous buying your two hundredth pair of shoes.”

  “Where are you going?” demanded Amber, following him as he headed out the door.

  “Out,” he yelled over his shoulder. “Away from you pair of harpies.”

  Amber gaped at the door, which was slammed shut in her face.

  “Thank God he’s gone,” said Joyce.

  “You see what I have to put up with?” said Amber, gesturing to the door.

  “I know and it’s shocking. He gives you a dog’s life. I don’t know why you haven’t filed for divorce yet.”

  “You know if I do he’ll cut you and Dad off without a penny.”

  “We wouldn’t need his charity if you got everything in the divorce.”

  “Mum, you know that won’t happen. Mikey knows how to hide his wealth. If he didn’t he would have been nicked ages ago.”

  “Perhaps it would be better if he was?”

  Amber frowned. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m just pointing out that if he did get arrested you would be left with free run of the house, as well as the other properties he owns, here and abroad. And the bank accounts.”

  Amber blinked at her, torn between horror and excitement. The prospect of having all that to herself was a heady one. “The police have tried to arrest him before and have always failed.”

  “Yes but they’re not on the inside.”

  “You have an idea?” she said, hardly daring to say the words.

  “Plant something on him then call the police. He’ll get caught with it and go to prison.”

  “Plant what?”

  “I don’t know, whatever you can get your hands on. A weapon, drugs…”

  Amber’s heart leapt at the word drugs. That she could get hold of, thanks to Declan. “But Mikey would be able to wriggle out of any charge that was thrown at him. He and Jez own most of the Manchester police.”

  “He can’t own all of them. Not everyone can be bought.”

  Amber thought of everything she’d heard about DI Dwyer, who was determined to bring
Mikey and Jez down, as well as Ryan and Rachel. Plus that bitch Jules would fall with them. With them out of the way all Mikey’s assets would be hers, the ones he hadn’t squirreled away anyway.

  “Someone’s mind’s ticking over,” said Joyce with a satisfied smile at her daughter.

  “Leave it with me,” she said, enjoying imagining the stunned look on her husband’s face when he was led away in handcuffs.

  The knock at the door irritated Jared. He wanted to tell the person on the other side to fuck off but they were his link to the outside world, the one who ensured that all his orders were carried out, so he called for him to come in.

  A man with badly dyed black hair, bright white teeth and bright orange skin walked in, dripping with gold jewellery. Personally Jared thought Trinity was an arsehole but sadly he needed him. Once he was back on top he intended to kill him and absorb his crew into the one he was putting together. Trinity was labouring under the delusion that they were partners and Jared was looking forward to disabusing him of that notion. But for now, Trinity was safe.

  “I’ve got news from Manchester,” said Trinity with a big, glaring smile.

  “Oh yes,” sighed Jared, thinking it would be some shit about Mikey or Jez. Trinity was always bringing him useless gossip about them.

  “Jules is awake.”

  Jared went rigid. “What did you say?”

  “Jules has woken up from the coma.”

  “You’d better not be fucking with me.”

  “I’m not. You know Rory Noble who works for us?”

  Normally Trinity’s use of the word ‘us’ would have made him bristle with anger but he was far too occupied by thoughts of Jules to notice. “Yeah.”

  “He’s the one who gave me the information and it’s solid. It’s all over Manchester that she’s awake.”

  “How do you know it’s not just a rumour?”

  “Rory got his pal to bribe a cleaner who works at the home Jules is in. It’s true.”

  “She’s awake,” he beamed.

  For the first time in their acquaintance, Trinity saw Jared smile. “What do you want me to do?”

  Jared would have loved to tear down to Manchester to see her but that would only get him killed.