by D. S. Butler
Tony would be the perfect person to take over from Martin, but he wasn’t the type to take anything away from his brother.
For a long time, Freddie had assumed Tony behaved the way he did because he was weak, but now he saw the brothers for what they really were. Martin was the weak one. Tony propped him up, made sure Martin’s ego wasn’t hurt and always deferred to him.
Tony knew as well as anyone that if he mounted a takeover, Martin would be devastated, and Tony wouldn’t do that to his own brother.
So it didn’t look like Freddie had many prospects for the future. He wasn’t getting any younger. He’d enjoyed the life he’d led, but there wasn’t much chance of getting a job in another outfit at his age.
But as long as he still had money coming in he supposed he shouldn’t grumble. Maybe when Babs got out of prison, she should be able to talk some sense into Martin. Freddie was looking forward to Babs coming out. He admired Martin’s wife and knew she could hold her own.
Of course, prison changed people, and Babs had been inside for a while now. He expected there would be some fireworks on her release and a few temper tantrums from Martin.
But he would just have to wait and see how things came about.
He got to his feet and picked up his empty cup ready to make his fifth cup of tea of the day.
He needed to get a hobby. Something to keep him occupied. Old Jack down the road kept pigeons, but that really wasn’t Freddie’s thing.
He’d given his life to the Mortons. He lived and breathed every plot and scheme, and now he didn’t have that in his life, he missed it like crazy.
Freddie sighed and made his way across the room. As he passed the window, something caught his eye.
“What the bloody hell…”
There was a shadowy figure standing behind his shiny, burgundy Jaguar, far too close to Freddie’s pride and joy for his liking. The person wore a thick, grey scarf and matching hat, obscuring their face.
The sky was already darkening, and it was hard to see outside through the rain-spattered window.
Freddie put his tea on the floor and raced outside, tearing open the front door and hopping down the steps without any shoes.
By the time he reached the motor, the person had already gone.
He cursed and muttered under his breath as he walked around the car, inspecting it for damage, but it looked fine.
He checked the bodywork and made sure there were no scratches in the paint, but it was pristine, just as he’d left it.
Maybe it was just someone passing, who’d stop to admire the car.
It was a cold day, which explained the hat, scarf and the turned up collar, but Freddie couldn’t suppress the feeling of unease it gave him.
He was getting soft. It was just somebody walking beside his car. Nothing to worry about. He’d always been a little protective of his motors, especially the Jag.
He buffed away a tiny smudge on the bonnet with his shirtsleeve and then went back inside, muttering to himself about jumping to conclusions. He went to put the kettle on, forgetting all about the shadowy figure that had been lurking around his car.
* * *
Ruby had expected her meeting with Derek might not run smoothly, but she certainly hadn’t expected to find him in the altogether.
But his nakedness wasn’t what shocked her the most. What had really rattled her was the fact that his naked limbs hadn’t been wrapped around a woman. They’d been wrapped around a man.
After a brief pause as she stood there gaping at them, she pulled the door closed and then raced back along the corridor and down the stairs before finally bursting outside.
She swallowed hard and rifled in her handbag for her cigarettes.
Thankfully, it had stopped raining, although the stone steps leading up to the front door were still wet.
She put her handbag on the floor, using it to prevent water seeping into the material of her skirt and sat down and lit her cigarette.
Well, that had been a bit of a shock, Ruby thought.
Despite her father’s overbearing attitude, Ruby wasn’t naive. She knew some men preferred the company of other men over women, but she had never suspected Derek of being one of them.
She couldn’t help wondering whether his fear of telling the family, particularly their mother and father, had been keeping Derek away from the East End for so long. She took a long drag on her cigarette, letting the smoke fill her lungs and then she rested her head against decorative stonework on the wall.
She wished she hadn’t reacted in the way she did.
Perhaps she should have stood her ground and told them both to get dressed so she could talk to her brother. She should have acted worldly and pretended she hadn’t been shocked.
She flicked the cigarette ash onto the ground and felt bad that Derek hadn’t been able to confide in her. It couldn’t have been easy trying to hide something like that. She didn’t blame him for not wanting to tell their father. She couldn’t even imagine his reaction if Derek told him.
Just when she thought things couldn’t get much worse, the blond-haired man she’d seen in the car earlier appeared out of nowhere and began climbing the steps towards her with a smirk on his face.
“Did you find your boyfriend, sweetheart?”
Ruby scowled at him.
She waved a hand in dismissal. She couldn’t even be bothered to talk to him. She had more important things on her mind.
“Well, if you need a real man, you can find me in there. I’m room thirty-six,” he said with a wink.
Ruby was still in shock and too tired to think of an appropriate comeback, but she didn’t need to. She heard a voice behind her and then saw a hand fly towards the blond-haired man’s chest, pushing him back and making him stagger down the steps.
“Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?”
Ruby turned to see Derek standing at the top of the steps glaring with fury at the blond-haired man.
“Relax, Morton, I was just trying to be friendly.”
“Well, my sister doesn’t need any more friends. So piss off, Roberts.”
Robert’s eyes widened a fraction then he looked down at Ruby and then back up to Derek.
He opened his mouth to say something else and then clearly felt better of it when he saw Derek’s fierce expression.
His demeanour changed and he put up his hands. “No offence.”
“Apologise to my sister,” Derek said with steel in his voice.
Roberts licked his lips nervously and turned to Ruby. The smug look on his face had disappeared now.
“I’m really very sorry. I didn’t realise you were his sister.”
Derek jerked his thumb to tell Roberts to leave, and he did so, scurrying away with his tail between his legs.
Despite her recent shock, Ruby couldn’t help smiling at that. It was ironic. Derek didn’t want anything to do with their father, but there was no mistaking the Morton temper. He was more like their father than he wanted to admit.
Derek sat down beside her on the steps. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”
Ruby shrugged. “I figured you’d just tell me you were busy and try and put me off.” She looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “Now I can see why you kept trying to stop me coming to visit you.”
Derek pulled a face and shook his head. “I sent you a letter.”
“I got the letter. You said you wouldn’t be there when Mum got out. That’s why I’m here. That is out of order.”
“It’s just not me, Ruby. I don’t like going back there. You know that.”
She offered him a drag on her cigarette, and he took it.
As he exhaled the smoke, she said, “I didn’t know. I wish you’d told me.”
“Told you what?”
“You know, that you like men,” Ruby said in a whisper, even though there was nobody around to overhear them.
Derek’s expression hardened. “I’m not gay. It was just one off thing. We had a bit too muc
h to drink at lunchtime and were messing about.”
“Messing about?” That was more than bleeding messing about!”
“Can we just drop the subject, Ruby?”
It was clear he didn’t want to talk about it, and she didn’t feel right pushing him anymore.
Perhaps she should have been understanding of his problems. If she’d been a better sister or a kinder person, maybe she would have backed off.
But she was Ruby Morton, and she didn’t do kind and understanding. “Right, will you be coming back to London next week when Mum gets out of prison?”
Derek opened his mouth to argue, but she interrupted him. “It’s not up for discussion, Derek. You will be home, otherwise I might have to mention today’s little incident.”
Derek’s face looked like thunder as he glared at his sister. “No, you won’t. You’d never rat me out.”
He was right. Ruby would never tell their parents or even Uncle Tony. It wasn’t her secret to share, and she wouldn’t betray her brother like that, but she wasn’t above trying to use it as leverage, or what some might refer to as blackmail.
“I suggest you don’t take the risk of finding out whether I’m serious or not.” She shot Derek a sideways glance. “So you’re coming back to London? Promise?”
Derek let out a long sigh. “Yes, I’ll be there.”
Ruby smiled. “Good. We don’t know what day it’s going to be yet, but I’ll telephone you when we get confirmation.”
Derek nodded as though he were resigned to his fate.
She took back her cigarette and then squeezed his arm. “You know I’m not one for sentimental stuff. But I do love you, you know. I don’t care who you go to bed with.”
“I said I didn’t want to talk about it.” Derek met her gaze. “I’m sorry I don’t come back more often. It’s not you. I just feel so claustrophobic when I go back there. It reminds me of everything I don’t want to be.”
Ruby nodded. Although she didn’t feel the same way as Derek, she could understand.
She knew he didn’t want to talk about it and she should leave well enough alone, but she couldn’t resist poking the bear.
“I don’t care if you’re gay. You’ll always be my brother, and if you need to talk...”
Derek shrugged off her hand. “For God sake, Ruby. Just drop it. I told you. It was nothing.”
Derek got to his feet and held out his hand to his sister. She stood up and picked up her soggy handbag as she quoted, “Me thinks he doth protest too much.”
Derek blinked down at his sister.
Ruby put a hand on her hip. “Well, don’t look so surprised. I did learn something at that poxy school. Macbeth, ain’t it?”
“Hamlet,” Derek said dryly. “And the real quote is, ‘the lady doth protest too much, me thinks,’”
Ruby pulled a face. “You said it, Derek.”
Chapter 26
The day of Sandra Carter’s funeral dawned wet and cold. The Carter house was bustling with activity. Sandra’s parents had arrived the night before, and this morning, Sandra’s mother had fussed over Georgie, trying to force him to eat porridge.
Georgie didn’t like porridge at the best of times, and he was having trouble eating anything this morning.
He sat looking miserable at the kitchen table, the porridge growing cold in front of him.
Dave watched the scene silently, wondering if things had worked out differently, whether Sandra would have turned into a mirror image of her mother.
“Just one more spoonful, Georgie. You need something warm in your stomach today.”
She hovered around Georgie, laying a hand on his shoulder.
It was only making the boy more agitated. But Dave knew he needed to be tolerant. The woman had just lost her daughter. They hadn’t had much to do with Sandra’s parents after they married. At first, they were disgusted that their daughter had become involved with a gangster, and the more they found out about Dave’s career path, the more horrified they were.
The final straw had been after Lillian’s death, and Sandra had turned to a medicinal way of coping.
There were a few attempts from her mother and father to intervene and try to encourage Sandra to get her act together, but after a couple of years, they had given up.
Dave would never be their favourite person.
“I can’t eat it. I feel sick.” Georgie said and then turned to his father. “Where’s Trevor?”
Dave took a deep breath before answering. “He should be here soon.”
Trevor hadn’t come back to the house since his mother’s death, and Dave was worried. Deep down he knew it was his own fault for going off on one, but he knew it wasn’t the right time to approach Trevor, not when feelings were so raw.
But now the day of Sandra’s funeral had come. There was no possibility of Trevor missing his own mother’s funeral, so if Dave had to keep a lid on his temper and smooth things over, then that was what he would have to do.
Not for the first time, he wondered what it was about his elder son that managed to get under his skin. Dave felt a failure as a father and as a husband. The early days of his marriage had been so happy. Trevor and Lillian had been perfect children, quirky, intelligent and fun. But it had all gone wrong.
He glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. Trevor was cutting it fine. He couldn’t risk the boy not turning up, so Dave decided to go and find him. It wouldn’t be hard. He would be at Gary’s, no doubt.
Gary was a pain in the neck, but even he would understand Trevor couldn’t miss his mother’s funeral.
“Could you keep an eye on Georgie,” Dave said to Sandra’s mother. “I need to go and make sure Trevor is okay.”
“Where are you going?” Georgie demanded, his face a mask of panic. Since Sandra’s death, he hadn’t liked Dave to be out of his sight.
“I’m just going to check on your brother.”
He put a reassuring hand on Georgie’s shoulder as he passed and headed for the front door.
He didn’t get very far. As he opened the door, he was surprised to see Gary with his hand raised about to knock, and there beside him stood Trevor.
“All right, bruv,” Gary said, plastering a sympathetic smile on his face. “How are you bearing up?”
Dave wanted to tell him to take his stupid questions elsewhere, but he ignored his brother and focused on his son.
“You’d better come in. Cutting it a bit fine, aren’t you?”
Dave internally cringed at his words. Why could never say anything nice to his son? Why did he always have to be so cutting?
Trevor didn’t answer. He just trudged miserably into the house through the hallway and into the front room.
His grandfather, Sandra’s father, was sitting beside the fireplace, staring blankly at the flames.
He looked up as Trevor came into the room.
“Trevor, it’s good to see you. I’m ever so sorry about everything that’s happened. It must be very hard for you.”
Trevor looked like he was fighting back the tears. Dave stood in the doorway and watched him.
He nodded at his grandfather. “It was. I can’t stop thinking about it, finding her like that.”
His grandfather stood up and embraced Trevor in an awkward hug before patting him on the back.
“I’ll leave you two to talk,” he said, his eyes darting between Dave and Trevor.
As soon as his grandfather left the room, Trevor sat down on the settee and stared at the floor. Gary slipped into the room, moving past Dave, and sat beside Trevor on the settee.
He put a hand on his back. “You’re doing well, lad. I know it’s hard,” Gary said.
Dave took a deep breath. What was wrong with him? His boy was sitting there, hurting over his mother. Why couldn’t he offer Trevor some comfort?
Dave took a deep breath and walked over to the fireplace, resting one hand against the mantelpiece as he stared down into the flames.
He wished his brother wasn’t her
e. That might make it a little easier to talk, but he could hardly tell Gary to leave. Not on the day of Sandra’s funeral.
Drawn by the sound of their voices, they heard the patter of Georgie’s feet as he ran from the kitchen into the front room, followed by the high-pitched voice of his grandmother telling him to come back and finish his porridge.
Georgie’s face lit up when he saw his elder brother, and he launched himself across the room, throwing himself at Trevor.
Trevor looked shocked for a moment and then reached over to pull Georgie in for a hug.
He rested his chin on Georgie’s head and closed his eyes.
“Why did you stay away for so long?” Georgie asked, his voice muffled as he buried his head against Trevor’s chest.
“Sorry,” Trevor said. “I was upset.”
Dave turned away, looking back into the flames. Why hadn’t he done that? When Trevor turned up on the doorstep, he should have hugged him. Wasn’t that what a loving father would do?
He forced himself to walk across the room, and he put a hand on Trevor’s shoulder. “I’m glad you came back when you did. I was starting to worry you might not come to your mother’s funeral.”
He’d expected Trevor to reply and say something like he would never miss his mother’s funeral; what did Dave take him for? But Trevor’s eyes flickered upwards, and as he met his father’s gaze, there was a spark of defiance in his eyes as he said, “I don’t want to go.”
Dave’s hand slid from Trevor’s shoulder. “What do you mean you don’t want to go?”
“I mean I don’t want to go to the funeral. You can’t make me.”
For a moment, Dave was too shocked to reply.
Gary butted in. “Now, Trevor, we talked about this. You can’t miss your own mother’s funeral. You know that.”
Trevor’s jaw clenched as he stared fiercely up at his father. “You can’t make me.”
“Like hell, I can’t,” Dave said, reaching forward to clutch Trevor’s shirt, yanking the boy to his feet and shaking him.