The Sting

by Kimberley Chambers

  It had been Paul’s idea that they bring their wedding forward and it was her idea that they marry the day after what would have been her brother’s twenty-second birthday. It seemed a fitting tribute somehow and Linda knew it was what Tommy would have wanted.

  To say Linda had been hysterical when the police knocked on her door that awful evening to break the tragic news was putting it mildly. Her screams of anguish must have been heard half a mile away. Then she’d had the horrendous task of identifying her brother’s body, a task she would never get over. She was confused, upset, shell-shocked, heartbroken. Why?

  But when her vile uncle’s body was discovered shortly afterwards, it soon became apparent why. The story made the national newspapers. Now her brother was seen as a hero. There’d been no photos of Scratch, but she’d given her name as Scratch and stuck up for Tommy. She’d told the press that she and Tommy were friends at Maylands and he’d confided in her about the abuse he’d received at the hands of his uncle. The fact Tommy had once stabbed him only backed up those claims. PC Kendall had even given an interview to the Sun and News of the World. He’d been their local bobby when they’d lived in Barking. He’d spoken so highly of Tommy and had told reporters what had happened. The case had never got to court apparently because, after his house was set on fire, Ian had disappeared into thin air. He’d even since changed his name to Tom. How sick was that?

  The thought of what her brother must have gone through sickened Linda to the stomach. She could understand why Tommy had never told her though. He’d have known how upset she would be. But that was Tommy all over. So thoughtful and kind. She was glad her wonderful brother had killed that monster in the way he had. Good riddance to bad rubbish.

  ‘Bye, Caroline. See you on Sunday,’ Mikey waved.

  Kim gave Caroline a hug then held her son’s hand. ‘Did you write Daddy’s card?’

  ‘Yes. It’s in my bag.’

  ‘Good boy.’

  It had been tough for Mikey since that fateful night. He’d witnessed everything, had seen Tommy lying on that cliff with half his head blown off. Understandably, he’d been traumatized, and so had she. They’d both had counselling and Mikey seemed to be coping better now. He still had nightmares, wet the bed on occasions, but his school work had improved and he seemed happier in himself.

  Keith had been furious when he’d found out what had happened, had been arsey with her for ages afterwards, but they were on good terms again now. Caroline had been far more understanding. She was so relieved to have Mikey home in one piece.

  Kim had told Keith the same story she’d told Hunter, Jay and the press. Tommy had killed himself after murdering the uncle who’d abused him as a child. Only Sam knew the truth. She’d had to tell someone. Tommy had most certainly killed himself over her deceit. How she loathed herself for what she’d done, would never truly forgive herself. It would haunt her until her dying day.

  Hunter had been thrilled with what they’d found at the address Tommy had thrown at her before he’d shot himself. The scene inside Ian Taylor’s flat was as gory as they come. It was like something out of the TV series Hammer House of Horror. A real coup for Hunter, as the press were all over it like a rash. He even appeared on Thames News, which boosted his already massive ego no end.

  The next development Hunter was anything but thrilled about. Kim had told him her cover had been blown, but had lied and said she’d only found out on the evening Tommy had died. Sam had agreed to back her up and both would take their lies to their grave with them.

  Kim now reckoned that Tommy had somehow warned the Darlings the police were after them, as Ronnie had done a moonlight flit and had not been seen since. Hunter had been ready to haul him in for the murder of Dean Griffiths as a new witness had come forward. So he was well pissed off. He had no idea where Ronnie was now. Abroad, most probably. But he hadn’t used a passport to leave the country. Not his own anyway.

  Hunter had given her a massive telling off over meeting Tommy alone, but she’d told him Tommy had threatened to harm Mikey if she involved the police and had now admitted to all and sundry that Mikey was her and Tommy’s son. Hunter had reprimanded her for not disclosing that information too and Banksy was still dining out on the story. She didn’t care though. Mikey called her ‘Mummy’ now and she was extremely proud of that. Her son still lived with Caroline and Keith, but spent weekends and school holidays with her. They were very close and Jay doted on Mikey too.

  Her wedding had still gone ahead as planned last August. Sam had given her away. Sam looked like a bloke anyway. Jay’s sister and two of his cousins were bridesmaids, along with Fiona, and the friends they’d made at Hendon all attended. Billy, Jay’s best mate from school, was best man.

  It was a lovely day, but tinged with sadness as Kim was still struggling to deal with her part in Tommy’s death. The two-week honeymoon in Barbados was what the doctor ordered and it was while she was there Kim made some important decisions regarding her future. She’d been off work with stress anyway and after everything that had happened, she knew her heart was no longer in the police force. What was the point when the likes of Jack Darling had bent cops on his payroll? She’d worked with some great officers herself, but corruption was rife elsewhere.

  If Tommy’s death had taught her one thing, it was to put family and friends above work. She’d fallen pregnant within two months of getting hitched, much to Jay’s delight, and they were eagerly awaiting the birth of their first child together. The baby was due in July.

  Linda, Tommy’s sister, had organized and arranged his funeral. Kim hadn’t attended, could not bring herself to go. She often visited Tommy’s grave with Mikey though. He was buried in a cemetery in Upminster.

  ‘You OK, Mummy?’ asked Mikey.

  ‘Yes, darling.’ Only yesterday Kim had informed Hunter she wouldn’t be returning to her job. She’d lost out on raising one child and wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. No longer was she Kim Regan, she was now Kim Delaney. A pregnant housewife who lived in Broxbourne. She enjoyed the normality, having the dinner ready when Jay came home from work, and listening to what crimes he’d dealt with that day.

  Perhaps one day she’d take another career path. But she wouldn’t rejoin the police. Not ever.

  ‘The lads ring from Spain today?’ Jack Darling asked his dense but likeable barman.

  ‘No. Nobody’s rung.’

  ‘Probably on the piss with Ronnie,’ Jack grinned. His eldest son was holed up in the Costa Brava and wouldn’t be returning to England anytime soon. Jack had heard through the grapevine that if Ronnie were to land on British soil he would be arrested for the murder of Dean Griffiths.

  Jack opened his newspaper. He missed his eldest son, but life was calmer without Ronnie around. He didn’t fancy doing another lump inside at his age, so had scaled the business down. He still had the gaming machines, but had knocked the pub protection on the head. That wasn’t worth the grief any more. Jack had made his money over the years, so lived off the proceeds of Churchill’s now, and his doorman business. That was doing OK.

  Tommy’s death had been a shock to Jack. In his opinion, suicide was a coward’s way out. Young Robbie had been devastated, as were Suzie and Danny. A waste of a young life. Why hadn’t Tommy spoken to him? He would have sorted that uncle of his out for the lad.

  Donna seemed happier now. She and Robbie lived in Loughton with Josh Palmer and their baby girl, Charlee. Danny and Eugene refused to have anything to do with Donna or Josh, but himself and Suzie did. Josh had a few bob, was pleasant enough and owned a nice gaff. Sometimes in life you had to let bygones be bygones.

  Dumbo turned the radio on and sang along to Frankie Goes to Hollywood’s ‘Relax’. He was very relaxed himself these days. In fact, life was grand.

  Having watched his prey for the past few weeks, Danny knew that after lunch on a Friday, Josh Palmer left his used-car lot to do his banking.

  The bank was on a busy high street, so Josh parked over
the road in a car park situated behind the shops.

  Dressed in black leathers and a black crash helmet, Danny sat in wait. Eugene was parked a couple of miles away in a white van. The van had a ramp, so the plan was to drive the bike up it, then they’d be on their way.

  At 2.20 p.m., Josh’s red Ferrari pulled into the car park. Danny fired numerous bullets at the car and saw blood splatter everywhere inside.

  Hearing a woman scream, Danny put his hand on the throttle and sped off down the road. Tommy was like a brother to him. Always.

  ‘Hello.’

  Kim looked around.

  ‘Mikey!’ the woman squealed. ‘Do you remember me? I’m your auntie.’

  Mikey clenched his mum’s leg and nodded.

  ‘Hi. I take it you’re Tommy’s sister. I’m Scratch.’ Kim felt awkward as she held out her right hand.

  ‘I’m Linda. It’s lovely to finally meet you. Thank you so much for all the lovely things you said about my brother to the press. He was such a beautiful, kind person. I miss him dreadfully.’

  ‘I can imagine. So sorry for your loss,’ Kim replied. There had been no mention in the press of her being a policewoman and she doubted Tommy had told Linda. Her demeanour was too nice.

  ‘Mikey looks so much like Tommy did at his age, you know. He’s got the same eyes, nose and smile. Do you come here to visit Tommy often? I’ve seen fresh flowers here before and wondered who’d left them.’

  ‘Twice a month we visit Daddy, don’t we?’ Kim said to her son.

  ‘Yes. Do you remember when we went to the beach, Auntie Linda?’

  ‘I do. How could I forget? It was the only time I got to meet you. Have you come far?’ Linda asked Scratch.

  ‘We’ve come from Kent, but I live in Broxbourne. I’m married now and expecting my second child in August.’

  ‘Congratulations. I’m getting married tomorrow,’ Linda announced. ‘Tommy was meant to be giving me away. It certainly won’t be the same without him, but I’ve set him a place at the table next to me. I’ve had a photo of him blown up.’

  Thinking that was a bit morbid, Kim said, ‘How lovely. I’m sure he’ll be looking down on you with pride.’

  ‘I do hope so. Erm, please don’t think I’ve got a cheek, but would it be possible for us to stay in touch? Mikey is all I have left of Tommy, so I’d love to see him from time to time. That’s if you’re OK about it – and if Mikey wants to see me.’

  ‘You’d like to keep in touch with Auntie Linda, wouldn’t you, Mikey?’ Kim asked.

  Mikey nodded.

  ‘Let’s swap numbers,’ Kim suggested.

  ‘Brilliant. Tommy used to talk about you all the time to me, Scratch. He really did love you, you know.’

  ‘I thought the world of him too. He was my first love.’

  ‘I know and I am so glad you were with him that night. I would have hated him to be all alone. Did you have any inkling what he was going to do? Did he seem depressed or anything?’

  ‘No. He seemed fine,’ Kim lied. ‘We’d best get going now. Give your Auntie Linda a kiss, Mikey.’

  Linda handed Kim her phone number and vice versa. ‘I’m so pleased I bumped into you today. I’m sure it’s fate. I reckon Tommy organized this. I know he’d want us to be friends,’ Linda said.

  ‘Yes. He would.’

  ‘It’s weird, you know. How Tommy’s become a bit of a national hero. My friends are always telling me to turn the radio or TV on as Tommy is being spoken about. I even saw some graffiti on a wall the other day – RIP Tommy Darling. Top lad, it said.’

  ‘I’ve seen lots of graffiti too mentioning Tommy. I think people see him as some have-a-go hero who took the law into his own hands. He’ll never be forgotten,’ Kim replied.

  ‘No. Then again, Tommy always did do things in style.’ Linda walked towards Kim and hugged her tightly. ‘Thank you so much. For being there for Tommy and everything you’ve done for him since.’

  Kim walked away in tears. Tommy’s words to her on that fateful evening were, ‘You’ll be living with the guilt of what you’ve done for the rest of your life. There won’t be a day goes by when you don’t think of me. You mark my words. I’ll make sure of it.’

  By Christ, Tommy was right.

  Six hours after shooting Josh Palmer, Danny and Eugene were back in Ronnie’s apartment in Spain washing the temporary blond dye off their hair. They’d looked a right pair of plonkers at the airport, dressed in Hawaiian shirts and bright shorts. Like Bros gone wrong.

  Ronnie liked his new life in the Costa Brava. There were a fair few familiar faces on the run out here. Old school villains from South London. Ronnie knew a couple of them and had made friends with their friends. Life was laid-back out here, not a hundred miles an hour like it was in London.

  Danny had been in bits over Tommy and was adamant that finding out Robbie wasn’t his was what had actually tipped him over the edge. Ronnie had to agree. He also agreed to help Danny get revenge.

  Ronnie had sorted the fake passports and arranged for a pal of his, Les Sharp, to pick the lads up from the airport and put them up at his for the night. Sharpy had also sorted the van and motorbike. Both of which had now been disposed of.

  ‘Hurry up. I’m starving. The restaurant’s booked for half nine and we need to ring Dad first,’ Ronnie said. They’d kept their father in the dark about today’s shenanigans. Ronnie knew he wouldn’t approve. Neither would their mother.

  The restaurant was a ten-minute walk away, the phone box situated nearby. The three men gathered inside. ‘I’ll do the talking,’ Danny said.

  Danny dialled Churchill’s number. Drippy Dave answered. ‘Is me dad there? It’s Danny,’ he said, holding the phone slightly away from his ear so his brothers could listen in.

  ‘No, Dan. Something terrible happened. Something really terrible. Your dad’s with your mum and sister. I’m running the bar.’

  Danny winked at Ronnie and Eugene. ‘What’s happened then? Donna all right, is she?’

  ‘There was a shooting, Dan. Someone on a motorbike shot your sister’s boyfriend.’

  ‘Fuck! No way! When? Where?’

  ‘I dunno. But he got rushed off to hospital in an ambulance.’

  Danny glanced nervously at his brothers. ‘So, is he dead or alive?’

  ‘Alive. But you ain’t heard the worst part yet. Robbie was sitting next to him in the car and a bullet went straight through his head.’

  Shocked to the core, Danny dropped the phone.

  Danny, Ronnie and Eugene were back at the apartment. There was an eerie silence, only broken by the odd slurp of brandy.

  Deciding to take charge, Ronnie paced up and down his newly laid floor tiles. ‘Right, what has happened is sickening. But, it was an accident. There’s nothing we can do now to change it. So we’re gonna have to live with it, OK?’

  ‘I’m gonna have to live with it, you mean. You two ain’t done fuck all,’ Danny wept. Robbie had never been in the car previously when Josh did his bank run. Why wasn’t the lad at school?

  ‘You can’t blame yourself, Dan,’ Eugene reiterated. ‘It’s just one of those things.’

  Tears running down his cheeks, Danny glared at his youngest brother. He had Ronnie’s genes, was hard as nails, but he didn’t have the excuse of being one sandwich short of a picnic. Only he had cried. ‘Your car breaking down or your fridge blowing up is just one of those things. Not blasting your nephew’s brains out.’

  ‘In fairness, we never saw that much of Robbie, did we? And if Donna would have stayed with Josh, we’d have probably never seen him again,’ Ronnie replied. He was trying to think of things to make Danny feel better.

  ‘Today was for Tommy and I’ve cocked everything up,’ Danny insisted.

  ‘Nah, you ain’t,’ Eugene replied. ‘Look on the bright side. Tommy will be reunited in heaven with Robbie. He’ll take good care of him. Thanks to you, they’re together again.’

  Sharon Nelson stuffed handfuls of cheese balls in
her mouth while catching up with her favourite programme The Young Ones. She loved her video recorder, the latest gift from her wonderful man after he’d had a windfall on the horses.

  Bursting out laughing at Neil’s antics, Sharon nearly choked, before coughing all the cheese balls over the coffee table. She heard a noise and turned around. She’d obviously woken the naughty twosome. ‘Caleb, Malik, get back to fucking bed. Now!’ she bellowed.

  From an early age, Sharon had realized she wasn’t destined for greatness. She was born big and, as the years passed, she got bigger. She’d hated school, was forever getting picked on because of her size. But that didn’t stop David Manning and Johnny O’Shea wanting a wank and blow-job behind the bike sheds. Thankfully for Sharon, unlike her mother, she had a pretty face.

  Sharon left school with no exams, then was forced to take a job in the Butterkist factory in Blackbourne Road. She hated it. As much as she loved food, that sickly smell of popcorn turned her stomach no end.

  Deciding to get up the spout so she would get her own flat and claim benefits, Sharon and her pal Denise headed up to the Princess Alice in Stratford. Denise was big too and the girls had read in a magazine black men liked big women.

  Their cunning plan worked a treat. Not only were they spoilt for choice, within three months both were pregnant. Four months later they both had their own council flats.

  Leroy was Caleb’s dad. Sharon had told him she was pregnant, then never seen him again. She wasn’t bothered though. He’d given her what she wanted and she would never have to take on another boring job.

  Malik had been an accident. She’d got drunk in the Royal Oak in Green Lanes one night, then gone for a kebab. She’d only asked for extra chilli sauce, but had got more than what she bargained for. The Asian bloke behind the counter had offered to take her to his flat above to drink vodka. That’s how Malik was conceived. She hadn’t even bothered telling Mohammed she was up the duff. She was just grateful for the extra child allowance.

  Sharon patted her stomach. Now she was pregnant again and this little one was not only set to secure her that council house she so badly wanted, he or she also had a daddy who couldn’t wait to meet them.