by Sam Michaels
He hadn’t realised a woman about his age in a scruffy raincoat and rollers under her scarf had come to stand beside him. She stretched her neck to read the card in his hand. Jack baulked at the words – I hope his wife is next.
‘Huh, someone was brave, writing that. Mind you, it’s only voicing what a lot of us are thinking. If you ask me, he deserved it and it won’t be long before someone gets rid of her too.’
Jack scrunched the card in his hand and clenched his jaw. He turned and looked at the woman’s smug, cruel face. He’d never hit a woman in his life but grabbed each collar of her mac and yanked her face towards his. ‘That’s my girl you’re talking about,’ he hissed.
The colour drained from her face and she screamed.
Jack released his grip and the woman quietened. ‘Keep your fucking opinions to yourself or I’ll make sure you end up pushing up daisies too.’
The woman frantically nodded her head, clearly terrified. Jack gave her one final threatening look, then spat in her face before storming off.
By the time he’d reached Clapham, he’d calmed down but had no regrets about his actions. Georgina had helped the people of Battersea more than any government or council or church ever had. And mostly, people were grateful. But there was always someone like that woman and he remembered the godly neighbour who had lived next door when Georgina had been born. Miss Capstone, the self-righteous interfering old biddy. He smiled at the recollection of her and wondered if she was still alive. Probably, he thought. After all, it was only the good who died young. Sissy and Lash were proof of that.
12
Three days later, Georgina’s car followed the horse-drawn carriage that carried Lash’s body to the church. She gently squeezed Alfie’s hand, proud of her son for being so brave. The child hadn’t shed any tears and she wondered if he realised that this would be the last journey he ever travelled with both his parents.
‘Looks like all of Battersea has come out to pay their respects,’ her father said, gazing out at the streets lined with people, the men holding their hats in their hands and even a few women dabbing their eyes.
Georgina didn’t answer and remained steely-faced. This wasn’t a day for showing emotion though inside, her hardened heart felt as if it was splitting in two and she wished she could rip it from her chest.
‘Bloody hell, looks like every villain from London has turned up,’ Jack said as they arrived outside the church.
Georgina looked at the sea of faces, hoping that David Maynard would have had the decency to stay away. But he hadn’t. He was stood by the entrance to the church, as bold as brass and impeccably dressed as always.
Fury rose within her. She wanted to jump out of the car and race up to the man and kill him with her bare hands. She could feel her blood coursing through her veins and her breathing became more rapid.
‘Are you all right, sweetheart?’ her dad asked.
Georgina snapped her eyes away from David. ‘Yes. It’s just a shock to see so many people here.’
‘Well, love, honour among thieves and all that. It’s the right thing for them to have done.’
Georgina glanced out of the window again and spotted another face she’d rather have not seen. ‘Shit,’ she mumbled.
‘What is it?’ Jack asked.
‘Kevin Kelly’s here.’
‘What, from the Portland Pounders?’
‘Yes. What the hell is he doing here?’
‘The same as the rest of them, showing his respect. I’d say that’s pretty decent of the man to come all the way down from Liverpool, especially after what happened with Lash all them years ago. Cor, I’ll never forget the sight of them gypsies riding through the docks on horseback and scaring the living daylights out of Kelly. I didn’t think I’d ever see him in Battersea again but I suppose this is his way of saying that there’s no bad blood between you.’
‘Maybe, but I don’t trust him as far as I could spit him.’
‘Forget about him and the rest of them. Today is for you to say goodbye to Lash.’
Georgina nodded and as she climbed out of the car, she avoided making eye contact with either David Maynard or Kevin Kelly.
‘Keep hold of my hand,’ she told Alfie, feeling uneasy with so many unprincipled men around.
Then she turned to Victor and whispered, ‘Stick close to Alfie. Do not let him out of your sight.’
The crowd in the churchyard parted as Georgina began to slowly walk through. Kevin Kelly doffed his hat.
‘Miss Garrett,’ he said but she barely acknowledged him in return. The man turned her stomach and she’d never forgive him for the beating he’d dished out to Lash. He may be one of the most feared men in the country but he didn’t scare her. Even though Lash was dead, she was still the mother of his child and Lash’s family would see to it that Kevin Kelly kept his distance.
The Vauxhall mob were there but they hung back. But then, the moment she’d dreaded: she came face to face with David Maynard and her whole body stiffened.
‘Dad, take Alfie inside with you,’ she said quietly and gave Victor the nod to follow them.
‘Georgina, it goes without saying that you have my deepest sympathy. If there’s anything I can do…’
Georgina glared at the man, wanting to scratch his eyes out.
‘Now’s not the time to talk, I know, but do you know who did this?’ he asked.
Was he fishing? Did he want to know if she suspected him? ‘I’ve got a pretty good idea,’ she answered coldly.
‘Guesswork or proof?’
‘No proof… yet,’ she said, her blazing eyes studying his for any sign of guilt.
‘Me neither. I’ve had all eyes and ears out but haven’t come up with anything. It’ll come out though; it always does.’
‘Yes, it will, and I won’t rest until I discover the truth,’ she said and stared at him with hatred.
‘I think the vicar is trying to grab your attention.’
Georgina was pleased for the distraction. Had she spent another moment with David, her raw anger would have taken control and as much as she wanted the man dead, Lash’s funeral was neither the right time nor place. And never in front of her son.
Georgina sat on the front pew and though she didn’t look behind, she knew the church had standing room only and there were more people outside. She felt honoured that so many had come but she would have preferred only family and friends.
Alfie was well behaved throughout and as the curtains closed on Lash’s coffin, she turned to her son and took him by the shoulders. ‘Your father would have been very proud of you today. You’ve been a good boy and I want you to be good for your puri dai and puri mai. You’re going to stay with your grandparents for a while. Go now, I will see you soon, Alfie.’ Then she looked over his head and said to her father, ‘Please, take him to them. Victor will go with you. I’ll be in the vestry. I can’t watch them take Lash away too.’
Georgina stood up, her back ramrod straight, and slipped through a door near the end of the pew. The small room was empty, windowless and dark and led through to another, larger room that had one small leaded window. Here, she sat at large wooden table and held her face in her hands. Lash would be leaving now, being taken to his final resting place. There would be no grave for her to visit. No place for her to sit and mourn for her love. Though her selfless act of giving up his body hurt her to the core, she knew it was what Lash would have wanted. And Alfie would be there to witness the rituals of his gypsy roots, safe with his family.
The door opened and Georgina looked up expecting to see the vicar. He’d been paid handsomely to hold the funeral in the church and arrange for Lash to be taken instead of buried. She couldn’t stand the man of God, a hypocrite, preaching about sin and redemption when she knew he regularly visited her brothels and his tastes were unusually wicked.
The vicar walked in, looking nervous and to her dismay she saw Kevin Kelly was behind him.
‘Thank you, Vicar, give us a few minutes,’
he said and she saw Kelly push a twenty-pound note into the vicar’s hand.
Georgina rose to her feet and pushed back her shoulders. She doubted Kelly had come for a friendly chat.
‘Miss Garrett, it’s been a long time.’
‘Not long enough,’ she answered with no intention of hiding her dislike for the man.
‘It’s a sorry business, this, your husband being killed, but he should have died years ago. I should have finished him off before that filth-encrusted family of his rode into Liverpool. It would have saved me years of stewing. I’m sure that knowing your husband was breathing has played havoc with my kidney stones. Well, I can go back to Liverpool a happy man now, assured that the dirty gypsy is going to be a burnt to a crisp. Fuck me, I bet it’s gonna stink. I hope I don’t get a whiff of him. Do you know what burning shit smells like?’
Georgina sprang forward, blinded by rage, her fists swinging for Kelly. She was quick, her boxing skills still strong, but Kelly was quicker and dodged each one of her punches.
‘Don’t waste your time, love, I’m an old boxer myself. Anyways, a pretty young lady like you shouldn’t be throwing punches.’
Georgina looked to the table where her clutch bag rested. As if reading her mind, Kelly brushed it aside and onto the floor.
‘That’s not very nice, Georgina. You wouldn’t want to shoot me in the house of God. What is it the Bible says? Something about thou shalt not kill. Do you want to end up in hell? Mind you, you’d have good company down there.’
‘Piss off, Kelly, I’ve nothing to say to you.’
‘I like a feisty woman. All my wives have been nags but none had any clout about them. You, you’re different. Beauty, brains and guts. A challenge. How about we put aside our differences and now that you’re a free woman, get to know each other a bit better?’
Georgina stepped backwards as Kelly came towards her with an unnerving leering look in his eyes. She heard him salivating as he licked his lips and her stomach turned.
‘Don’t back away from me, Georgina. The merry widow. Let’s have a bit of fun, eh? I’ll show you what a real man can do for you…’
Kevin Kelly suddenly lurched at her, forcing her against the table. She leaned back to avoid his mouth, which was slobbering over her neck and cheeks.
‘Get the fuck off me,’ she screeched, trying to push him away.
Though short in stature, he used the weight of his broad body, leaning into her so that she was unable to move. She fought hard and tried to knee him in the groin, but Kevin spread her legs and stood in between them. Her arms flailed and he grabbed them, one by one forcing them back and holding them above her head onto the table. Now at his mercy, she spat in his face.
‘You’re an animal,’ she seethed.
‘Yeah, I am. I’m like a fucking elephant, I never forget. It was a long time ago but did you really think I’d let it go? Your husband had it coming and I made sure he got it. One bullet, in the back, and he dropped like a sack of spuds. Now it’s your turn, Garrett.’
Georgina’s body froze and she felt herself go limp with shock as she realised it had been Kevin Kelly who had murdered her husband.
‘Come on, Georgie, fight back. It turns me on when you squirm and wriggle.’
Georgina heard his voice but the words floated over her head. She felt her dress being pulled up to her waist and her knickers being roughly yanked down, but still nothing seemed real and she lay motionless, floppy, defeated.
‘Is this how you like it? One of them who just lies there? I thought you had more spunk than this, girl.’
Georgina’s head rolled to the side and her eyes fixated on a painting of Jesus seated next to an angelic child. The boy in the painting had fair hair but his face was innocent, just like Alfie’s. She felt a surge of strength and though she was in no position to retaliate, she had to keep her mind focused, for the sake of her son.
Kelly pounded inside her, grunting with each thrust. She couldn’t see his repulsive face as it was buried in her neck. But she could feel his sweat on her skin and bile rose in her throat. Then the door opened and the vicar stood gaping at the scene, his face aghast.
‘Get out!’ Kelly shouted.
Georgina caught the vicar’s eye and pleaded, ‘Get help.’ But to her disgust, the vicar remained in the doorway and she was sure he was enjoying what he saw.
‘Fuck off,’ Kelly growled at him. ‘You’re putting me off.’
This time, the vicar turned and closed the door but not before taking another surreptitious look.
Georgina summoned all her wits and strength as she waited for Kelly to finish. He wouldn’t break her. She wouldn’t allow it. She had to live, if only to avenge Lash’s death. She gazed back at the picture, trying to block out what Kelly was doing to her. Alfie, think of Alfie, she told herself, and pictured his dark eyes, the image of his father’s.
At last, Kelly finished and pulled away then tucked his flaccid penis into his trousers. Georgina swallowed hard, trying to stop herself from throwing up.
‘You weren’t as good as I thought you’d be,’ Kelly said with a sneer and looked her up and down. ‘I never thought I’d stick my cock in the same place a gypsy’s been and now I wish I hadn’t bothered.’
Georgina pushed herself up and quickly arranged her clothes back in place. Her bag was out of reach but she edged towards it.
‘Don’t even think about it. I’ll blow your head off before you’ve opened your bag. Anyway, we’re friends now.’
‘Get out,’ Georgina said quietly, her lip curling with contempt.
‘Don’t worry, I’m going. There’s nothing worth staying for and my work here is done. Good day to you, Miss Garrett.’
The door closed behind him and Georgina fell into the seat. Her body trembled and she fought to hold back tears. Then a wave of nausea washed over her and she fled to the other side of the room and just reached a paper bin before spewing out the contents of her stomach. As she wiped her mouth on the cuff of her sleeve, the door opened again and Georgina scrambled for her bag.
‘Are you all right, sweetheart? The vicar said you needed me.’
‘Oh, Dad,’ Georgina gasped and fell into his arms.
‘Hey, what is it?’ Jack asked as he stroked her hair.
‘Nothing. I’m fine. It just all hit me and I felt a bit overwhelmed.’
‘That’s all right, you have a good cry.’
Georgina pulled away from her father and composed herself. No, she wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t give Kelly the credit for having her in tears. He may have shot her husband dead and taken her dignity, but he’d never destroy her – and now her mind was clear. She knew what she had to do.
13
Charlotte read the letter again she’d received from Tobias and squirreled it away in a box under her bed. If her mother discovered that she was writing to him, she’d want to know how Charlotte was getting post in and out. And she knew that once her mother started with the interrogation, there’d be no stopping her until she found out the truth. Charlotte smiled to herself. Her mother had no idea what she was planning with Tobias.
‘Charlotte, are you up there?’ Molly’s voice carried from downstairs.
‘Yes,’ she called back.
‘Charlotte,’ Molly yelled again.
Charlotte huffed and went to the top of the farmhouse stairs. ‘What do you want?’ she asked her sister impatiently.
‘Can you keep an eye on Edward for me? Oppo is going to run me and Mum into town for a few bits. We won’t be long.’
‘Yes, but make sure you’re quick. He’s your kid – I don’t see why I should be lumbered with him,’ she answered moodily and stomped down the stairs, pretending to have the hump, but with her mother and Molly out for an hour, it gave her the opportunity to sneak another letter she’d written to Tobias.
She watched Oppo’s small truck drive out of the gates and once she was sure they’d gone, dashed back to her bedroom and retrieved the letter from under her bed. S
he looked at the envelope and kissed the back, hoping that the next time she heard from Tobias, it would be to tell her it was safe to return to Battersea.
Charlotte tucked the letter in her dress pocket, put Edward in his playpen and hurried off to the nursery. She knew she’d find Finley there, tending to the farm’s fledging vegetables.
‘Good day, Miss Charlotte,’ Finley greeted her in his broad Scottish accent.
He was a quiet man, at least in his late fifties, and a real romantic who loved to tell tales of romancing his wife in the Scottish Highlands. Their courtship had been a difficult one because her parents had disapproved. They’d run off together, to Kent, and lived many happy years until her untimely death several months ago. When Charlotte had told him about Tobias and how her mother had made her come back to the farm against her will, Finley and been sympathetic and offered to help with correspondence. Of course, she never divulged her and Tobias’s intentions as she knew Finley would disapprove.
She handed him the letter and a slice of cake from the pantry. ‘Thank you for this. I’m afraid I’ve no money for the postage again.’
‘Don’t you worry about that, miss,’ Finley said. ‘I miss my wife’s cooking. This piece of cake is payment enough to get your letter to London.’
‘And you won’t tell my mum?’
‘No, pet. I understand that the course of true love doesn’t always run smoothly. Fanny will never know,’ he said and tapped the side of his bulbous nose.
Charlotte offered him her sweetest smile and headed back to the house. She doubted Finley would be so willing to deliver the letter to the post office if he’d known what it had said. It wasn’t filled with words of love or tenderness. Instead, Charlotte had spewed her heart across the pages, but a dark heart, filled with pure hatred for Georgina Garrett. And in black ink on the white paper, she’d expressed her deepest desire – to see Georgina dead.