The Take

by Cole, Martina

  He had gone to get a plate from the kitchen the day before and he had picked up his Jimmy’s Thomas the Tank Engine bowl and he had stood there, in the huge room with its Aga and its American-style fridge and cried his eyes out.

  When did the pain stop?

  Maybe today, once the funeral was over, he would finally be able to make some sense of it.

  Jimmy could hear the tables being erected in his front room, knew they would be covered in white damask and that the food would be exemplary. It was the least he could do for his boy’s sendoff.

  The place would be packed out, and he just wanted the whole thing over with so he could grieve in peace.

  Freddie was already dressed in his funeral garb and having a drink with Paul in the pub. Even Paul had noticed that Jimmy was blanking him, and any sympathy Freddie had felt was all but gone now. He knew that Jimmy was treating him as if he was a nothing, a no one, a fucking ice cream.

  Jimmy had not returned any of his calls, he had not tried to contact him about work, he was getting what amounted to orders from Paul here, who was now a fucking go-between, and he knew Paul felt this himself. Was obviously wondering what the score was.

  Freddie was fuming now, absolutely fuming. He was back to his old self. He had tried being the nice guy, and what had it got him? A fucking humungous mugging off, that’s what, and he was not standing for it. Jimmy Junior’s death was terrible, but his boy wasn’t going to take the fucking fall for it. He had slung Little Freddie back on his pills, and he was making sure the fucker took them this time, but at the end of the day, whatever had happened in that room, Freddie felt that Jimmy should respect him and all he had stood for over the years no matter what.

  The old animosity was back, and Freddie was annoyed with himself over his weakness and the fact that Jimmy had used it to take advantage of him. Well, he had learned a lesson here. He had nearly turned his back on his son, and for what? For whom? A man he had raised from the fucking gutter and who had slipped in like a snake and taken all that, by rights, should have been his.

  He had seen the change in his boy. He was adamant he had not taken part in what had happened, and Joe had admitted to Freddie that he had not actually seen Little Freddie go into the kid’s room that night. So he had nothing really to go on, they had just assumed it was his Freddie. He had, in effect, allowed Jimmy to cloud his judgement.

  Jimmy Junior could have tied the bag himself, he was a bright little spark and Jimmy was trying to blame his boy for his own failings. They should never have left him with Lena and Joe. They were old, they weren’t able enough for a lively kid like him.

  He had taken his Little Freddie under his wing, and he was now of the opinion that the boy had been grievously maligned. He was only a kid, and he was now back on the happy pills and like a different person.

  Jimmy, even allowing for his grief, was not making all this any easier with his fucking attitude. He was acting like he was something special, someone better than him. He was giving Freddie fucking orders as if he was a novice to the game.

  It was an insult of momentous proportions. And Freddie Jackson, with his knack of rewriting history to his advantage and convincing himself that his was the true and accurate account of what happened, was once more after revenge.

  Jackie was wearing a black skirt and jumper provided by Roxanna, who had also been over that morning to blow-dry her mother’s hair. As Jackie applied her make-up, she wondered at the day that was overcast and chilly, and on which they would be burying a small child. It was unbelievable that such a tragic occurrence could hit their families. It must be doubly hard for Maggie, who had not expressed an interest in her child for three years. The guilt must be eating at her like a cancer.

  Freddie was adamant that Little Fred must not go to the funeral, in fact, the child had been almost tied to the house. She was aware that his little cousin’s death had hit him hard, and since it had happened he was a changed boy. Polite, friendly and almost annoying in his quest to be helpful and useful. It was as if he had been given a personality transplant.

  Freddie had felt the change in his boy and they were now like that. She mentally crossed her fingers in her mind.

  After the terrible events, Freddie had seemed pleased to see his son not only alive and well, but also trying to make up for his past behaviour. He was a model son now, and even the social workers had been amazed at his changed persona. Freddie made sure he took his pills every day as specified. She had never been able to get that child to take them, yet for Freddie he was as good as gold about it.

  Freddie, though, had hardly been near poor Jimmy and Maggie, and that had confused her. Even though Maggie didn’t want anyone round the house, and Jimmy said she was best left alone, Jackie had at least expected Freddie to be there for Jimmy. Yet from what she could make out he had basically left him to it.

  When she had tried to discuss it with him, he had bitten her head off and the only thing she could deduce from his behaviour was that he was also grieving for the little boy. Freddie had always made such a song and dance about that child, and it had annoyed her because he had rarely done that with his own kids. She knew it had upset Maggie too, and she had seen her almost wince when Freddie had picked the child up and thrown him into the air. Jimmy Junior had screamed with laughter, and been thrilled at all the attention. Her own son had sat there watching the little display with his usual stoic demeanour, and she had felt Little Freddie was probably wishing his father had bothered to shower him with so much love and attention.

  She had to admit, Jimmy Junior had been a lovely little kid. She conveniently forgot the times she had accused her sister of ruining the boy, had felt that her mother and father had preferred him to her son, had accused them in her drunkenness of favouritism and used any excuse to make out the child wasn’t right.

  Now she was the perfect sister, or at least she had tried to be, but even at this terrible time Maggie had not wanted to see her, and that had hurt.

  The official story was that no one had been able to get across the doorstep, but she knew in her heart that the girls had been allowed access, especially her Rox, who was closer to Maggie than she had ever been to her own mother. Jackie swallowed down her anger at her thoughts, and then she gulped at her glass of vodka to calm her thoughts, and quickly washed down a few Valium before spraying herself with Giorgio perfume and slipping on her old black suede slingbacks. Her feet were spilling over the edges, but once she had worn them for a few minutes they moulded into her shape and were comfortable.

  As her old nan used to say, get yourself a good bed and a good pair of shoes, because if you ain’t in one, you are in the other. Wise words.

  She had also said many times, never drink to forget, because no one ever forgets the ramblings of a piss head. For Jackie, that had been proved to be true.

  Maggie stared at the small white coffin and wondered at a God who could have given her a child in such terrible circumstances and had then seen fit to take him away from her. It was cold in the church, and she was aware that everyone was watching her as if waiting for her to do something.

  All she wanted to do was die. How would her little Jimmy get on all alone? But then, he had been given plenty of practice at being alone, hadn’t he? She had left him to his own devices enough times.

  The pain hit her once more. It came in waves, washing over her like an icy wind, making her bones ache and her jaw numb. Maggie was freezing with pain, she was almost stiff with the cold knowledge of her son’s death and the awful suspicion that this feeling inside her would never be eased, it would never get any better, that it could only get worse.

  She felt suddenly as if she was floating up into the air, like she was suspended over the crowd of people all singing their hearts out.

  She felt Jimmy grab her hand and squeeze it tightly, and she fought back the urge to snatch it away from him, make him stop this charade. She wanted to scream out the black, putrid hate that was building up inside her.

  Fred
die, she noticed, was not crying. Jackie was, a loud, heavy, liquid sound that made her want to retch. They were in the pew opposite them. It was Glenford who was sitting with them, and she knew that some people must have been questioning that fact.

  Roxanna, who was sitting beside her father in a smart black two-piece that must have set her back a small fortune, was also crying, but her tears Maggie appreciated. Rox’s tears were clean and salty looking, she even cried in a tidy, designer way. Dabbing at her eyes daintily with a snow-white handkerchief, unconsciously making sure her make-up wasn’t ruined.

  Dicky, the love of Rox’s life, was sitting on her right side. He had a handsome profile. He was a good-looking man, and they would produce a lovely child. She envied them, not in a nasty, jealous way, but in a wistful way. She envied them their love and the newness of everything. She had been like that once with Jimmy, and she had believed, as they probably believed, that their life would be charmed somehow. That nothing bad could happen to them, that they were different to everyone else, their love could only bring them joy.

  Of course life had a habit of kicking you squarely in the teeth, and she prayed that those two young lovers would not find that out for a long time.

  Jimmy was shaking with his grief. He was sitting beside her with his head down and his shoulders hunched over, and she could almost feel his pain, it was so acute.

  Yet she now felt nothing, she just wanted this over.

  Behind her she could hear her mother sobbing and her father’s inadequate words of comfort whispered in the quiet of the church. It was too little, too late.

  She felt like screaming once more but she forced herself to keep quiet, forced herself to people-watch, to take her mind off her troubles.

  Jackie was slumped in the pew. Her fat legs were crossed and her black skirt had ridden up over her knees to display varicose veins and milk bottle white calves that wouldn’t have looked out of place on Geoff Capes.

  Maggie wanted to laugh, but she didn’t. She wanted to stand up and ask the people in this packed church why they had even come. Most of them had only glimpsed her little Jimmy. Many were here to show their friendship, a good few to show their respect for her husband and his employer, but she also knew there were people attending her son’s burial who would brag about it. Who saw it as an event not to be missed.

  But Jimmy was well able for the hangers-on, always had been. It was Freddie who had trouble keeping them at bay like normal people. He embraced them, needed them and their approbation, and their sneaky little ways of carrying on.

  The priest was saying the Gospel now. Soon she could go, soon she could make her escape from the kind people who thought that shaking her hand and kissing her cheek would make everything all right.

  They were all back at the house and the main crowd had finally gone. It was early evening, and the only people left were close family and a few friends.

  Jimmy had been pleased with the turnout. It was reassuring to know that so many people cared about Jimmy Junior, knew him, wanted to pay their respects. Even his little friends from his playschool had been represented by the owners and the young girls who had worked there.

  Maggie had sat through the whole thing without a word or a tear.

  She had not accepted any condolences and even her old friends had found themselves being blanked. Seriously blanked, in fact. She had not even returned their phone calls or acknowledged their black-edged cards, cards that she said spewed out their own fear of death while pretending to sympathise with her loss.

  The service had been beautiful, and the tears from the women present had been heartfelt. Burying a child was difficult, no one wanted it to be happening but they would rather it was someone else’s child than their own.

  Freddie was drinking heavily, but then so were most of the people in the place. Even Jimmy was the worse for wear, but on a day like this what else was there to do? He just wanted to try to anaesthetise the pain inside him, that was all.

  His parents were both at a loss, and he felt, as he often did, that he was completely apart from them and their life. Lena and Joe were in pieces. Joe was hammering the whisky and, if it helped him get though the day, he was glad of that. Lena had aged so much in such a short space of time, and he was heart sorry for her.

  She had said a very true thing to him that afternoon. She said that this kind of heartbreak made you realise what was really important in life, and when you experienced it, then thought back to what you had seen as important before the event, you suddenly understood that really, you were as nothing in the grand scheme of things.

  It showed you that life was just a series of events, that was all, and you had no real power over it whatsoever. You just thought you did.

  Jimmy had nodded his agreement, and it had occurred to him that he loved Lena Summers. She was a lovely woman and he was lucky to have her as his mother-in-law.

  That thought made him glance at poor old Dicky, who would soon be lumbered with having Jackie as his. What a terrifying thought that was.

  He watched Jackie. She was drinking, he noticed, in constant yet very large quantities. She should by rights be floored by now, unable to string a sentence together and unsteady on her feet. But not Jackie, Jackie the animal. She was still sober in comparison to everyone else.

  He knew Little Freddie was on the prowl, was still walking around as if nothing had happened. The verdict on his son’s death had been misadventure. ‘A tragic accident and my heart goes out to his parents and family.’ Those had been the stupid old bastard in the coroner’s court’s exact words.

  Jimmy understood on one level Freddie’s need to protect his own flesh and blood. He knew Freddie had wanted to make the boy pay but blood, it seemed, really was thicker than water.

  But not Jimmy’s blood, he had no feeling any more for the man he had adored, the man who he had kept employed for years. He had watched him make his son into the animal he had become and they had all stood back because Freddie was Freddie, and he was a nutter and he used his anger and his hate to control everyone around him.

  Freddie was feared by some of the hardest men in their world, Freddie was feared as a head case, a nut nut, a Looney Tunes. Freddie had made a point of ensuring his reputation guaranteed him respect, but Jimmy was not scared of him. He hadn’t been for a long time, he had seen through him like a pane of glass.

  Freddie was just stupid, he barrelled through life and he had been given a pass because he was useful to Ozzy. But Jimmy had Ozzy’s respect, it was him, James Jackson, who was trusted, who had been chosen to run the different businesses and who was now party to Ozzy’s deepest and darkest secrets.

  Jimmy had kept Freddie sweet because they were kin, their wives were sisters, he had once looked up to Freddie, he had once been his role model. But he had carried him long enough, Freddie was out, and he was out for good. After today, Freddie was going to get his marching orders and he was not going to give him any kind of warning.

  Freddie was about to find out just how much power his younger counterpart actually wielded. Jimmy was determined to bring him to book over his little son’s murder. He was not going to let him walk away from this one. By the time he had finished with him, Freddie wouldn’t be able to get a job as a doorman, let alone anything else.

  Jimmy wanted to wipe him and his boy off the face of the earth. The absolute need for revenge was something he had never experienced until now. It had started with his little Jimmy’s death and it had taken him over when the coroner had ruled it an accident.

  Knowing Joe had his suspicions made it all slightly more bearable. It wasn’t an accident that had taken his child from him, and he knew that when this was all over and the pain had subsided enough for him to function once more, he would make sure that Freddie Jackson Junior would never harm anybody again.

  Kimberley was watching her sisters as they chatted together, and feeling left out. She picked up her orange juice and walked out to the garden. It was a cold day but she was well wrapped up.<
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  She loved this place, and she felt the hole that Jimmy Junior had left behind. It was unbelievable that he would not run up the lawn again, or swim in the pool.

  She was on the verge of tears once more. He had been a lovely little boy, and Maggie and Jimmy had doted on him. He had everything a child could possibly want and he was dead. It was beyond belief.

  Now the crashing silence of a house without a child’s presence was overwhelming. It was this that had really driven her out into the garden and towards the summerhouse. It was constructed from old yellow stock bricks that had been reclaimed from one of the other outbuildings, and the windows had been hand-made to ensure it was in keeping with the rest of the house.

  She was about to slip through the door when she heard

  Maggie’s voice. Instead of going inside, she stood outside the window and listened.

  ‘I am not going anywhere, Maggie.’

  The bully was back in control, and Maggie knew that he was never going to let her be, never going to let her forget what had happened to her. She closed her eyes tightly, hoping against hope that when she opened them again Freddie would have disappeared.

  ‘Go away from me.’

  Her voice was low, and he could hear the underlying anger that was bubbling away below the surface of her mind.

  ‘Why don’t you just answer me, Maggie?’

  Maggie shut her eyes once more, and she listened to the man who had stolen years of her life, stolen her son’s early years from her, because of his threats and his hatred and his jealousy. He was still trying to manipulate her, even now. He was still using his hatred to make her miserable, was trying to force his will on her even after today’s event. If it wasn’t so outrageous it would be laughable.

  Maggie had no intention of answering him, she just wanted him to go away. He had followed her out here when she had wanted to be alone, had just wanted to gather her thoughts together.