Читать книгу The Betrayer - Kimberley Chambers - Страница 11

FOUR

‘THOMAS ARTHUR HUTTON, I am arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Terence John Smith. You do not have to say anything, but anything you do say may be put into writing and given in evidence …’

The party fell into a shocked silence as a screaming Tommy was dragged from the room.

Ethel was the first to find her voice. She hated the filth with a passion. As she leaped off the armchair, she laid into the coppers with her fists.

Maureen, who had initially felt her legs buckle underneath her, pulled herself together and followed suit. ‘Leave my boy alone, you no-good bastards,’ she screamed as she chased them into the hallway.

‘He’s only a kid, get your dirty hands off him,’ Sandra yelled, desperate to stick up for her pal.

One of the coppers pushed Sandra out of the way and sent her flying. A free-for-all followed as Sandra’s husband, Pete, went apeshit. Like true cockneys, most of the other guests quickly joined in. The fracas went on for a good ten minutes or so and there were four other arrests made, which included Ethel. The spirited old gran had smacked one officer in the teeth and kicked another in the bollocks.

Finally, some kind of order resumed and an extremely pissed-off DC Perryman re-entered the living room. ‘Tommy needs an adult to accompany him down to the station. The four in the van are no use to him – any other offers?’ he asked sarcastically.

Cuddling a hysterical James, Maureen immediately stood up. ‘I’m his mother. I’ll go with him.’

‘Let me come too, Mum, I wanna see Tommy. Please, Mummy, please,’ James sobbed.

With the police waiting impatiently, Maureen had very little time to soothe her youngest. Assuring him that everything was gonna be OK, she handed him to Sandra. ‘Look after him and keep an eye on Susan for me, mate.’

Sandra nodded. None of the women would leave the house until Maureen returned. They were her friends and would tidy the place up and be there for her when she got home. ‘Good luck, Maur. There’s bound to be some cock-up. Your Tommy might be a little sod, but he’s no fucking killer.’

Maureen wasn’t allowed to travel with her son on the journey. The police had called in reinforcements and she was shoved into a car on her own. She didn’t know where Ethel or the others were, so maybe they were with Tommy. Everything had happened so quickly, she’d had little time to think about the actual accusation. It couldn’t be true. The Old Bill must have been desperate to pull someone in and, knowing her Tommy was a local tear-away, had picked on him. Maybe they thought her son was in the know. Being so streetwise, they probably thought that he’d heard a whisper and would grass up the real killer.

Sandra ordered Susan to put James to bed and then go to bed herself. She needed to discuss the situation with the others and didn’t want to say too much in front of the kids. James was too young to really take in what they were talking about, but Susan had ears like a bat.

Most of the neighbours had gone now. The men had been sent home with the older kids and the other little ’uns were up in the bedroom with Susan and James. There were now just four of them left and they all considered themselves to be Maureen’s best friends. Sandra had been insistent that they didn’t discuss stuff with anyone they didn’t know that well, or trust. Chatting amongst themselves, all the girls were positive that there had been some kind of mix-up. They all knew Mary Smith. Like themselves, she’d had it tough and was one of the old school. None of their kids, including Terry or Tommy, were angels, but none of them were cold-blooded killers. There had to be some mistake.

Tommy sat in the interview room next to his mum, feeling confident. ‘I’ve already told yer, I was round at Lenny Simpson’s all night. I was with Michael Tibbs, Ben Thompson and Dave Taylor. We had a few beers and were listening to David Bowie records. If yer don’t believe me, go and ask ’em,’ he said cockily.

Sitting next to her son, Maureen squeezed his clammy hand. Her Tommy might be a fucker, but he certainly wasn’t capable of what he was being accused of. The pigs had a bloody liberty, trying to put the blame on her son.

Maureen stood up; she’d had enough of this shit for one night. If it wasn’t bad enough that the bastards had ruined her birthday party, they now seemed content on keeping them there till the cows came home. ‘Look, you ain’t got nothing on him, so why the fuck won’t you let us go home?’

DC Perryman smiled at his colleague. He’d given Hutton twenty minutes to stew, wonder and make up stories. Now it was time to show him the real evidence and watch the little bastard crumble.

As the bag of evidence was shown, Maureen’s heart sank, and she let go of Tommy’s hand. Her son’s clothes she recognised immediately. He didn’t have that many and the ones he did have, she’d had to scrimp and save for. For months he’d driven her mad for a pair of flares and here they were, ripped and covered in blood. She stared at the knife – she didn’t recognise that, but he could have got it from anywhere.

‘The clothes aren’t mine. Tell ’em Mum. Tell ’em they ain’t mine,’ Tommy said frantically.

Maureen couldn’t speak. Her voice had disappeared and her mouth wouldn’t open.

As DC Perryman put the school letter on the table, Tommy broke down in tears. ‘I didn’t do it. It wasn’t me, I swear I didn’t do it,’ he sobbed.

DS Arnold tried a different tactic from his colleague. He was always a big believer in the nice and soft approach. ‘Look, son, we know the blood is Terry’s and we know the clothes are yours. All we need to know now is what really happened. Was it a fight that went wrong? An argument that got out of hand? You aren’t doing yourself any favours, Tommy, by not telling us. We’ve got you bang to rights and if you help yourself, the judge will be much more lenient with you.’

Maureen thumped him on the arm. She’d always brought her kids up to tell the truth. ‘Cat got your tongue, has it? Answer the fucking man,’ she screamed.

Ignoring the duty solicitor’s advice, a petrified Tommy spilled his guts. He told them about both of the gangs and his long-term feud with Terry. He said that he’d stolen the fishing knife from his dad, but had acted in self-defence. The police were keen to know if any of the other lads were present. Tommy was no grass and had no intention of dobbing in his mates. ‘I was on me own when I chased Smiffy. The other lads had all gone off in different directions to chase the others,’ he stated.

DS Arnold smiled. At least they were getting somewhere now. Perryman was a prick and a bully, that’s why he’d never been promoted.

‘Just one more question, Tommy. Did the other lads know that you’d committed murder? Did you tell them what had happened?’

Tommy wiped his tears on the cuff of his shirt. ‘I didn’t know he was dead meself. I thought he was just injured and would get up and go home. I told the other lads what had happened and they just thought he was hurt, the same as me. I never meant to kill him, it was an accident. I swear on me life, I didn’t mean it.’

DS Arnold stood up. He could tell the kid was telling the truth. The likes of the Huttons were not his kind of people, but that didn’t stop him feeling sorry for them. He’d only been working in the East End for the past year and the poverty-stricken area had been a real eye-opener for him. He’d spent most of his working years in much nicer places and the way the people acted in this neck of the woods had been a pleasant shock to him. They were rough and ready, all right, and would lie through their teeth to avoid prosecution. But once they had them bang to rights, they never grassed their mates but took the rap themselves.

‘We’ll leave you to it for a few minutes. I’ll get you both a cup of tea.’

Leaving the room, Arnold dragged Perryman with him. He could sense the mother was deeply stunned and guessed she’d appreciate a few quiet minutes alone with her child.

As the door closed on them, Maureen burst into tears. ‘Why, son, why? How could you do such a thing? Mary’s my friend. How can I ever face her again?’

‘I’m sorry, Mum,’ Tommy sobbed. ‘I swear it was an accident. Smiffy tried to shoot me with an air gun a couple of weeks ago. I didn’t mean to hurt him, I just wanted to frighten him.’

Maureen stood up. Wiping away her tears, her mood quickly changed to anger. ‘You stupid little fucker. Years you’ll get for this, fucking years. And as for stealing the knife off your father, I bet yer didn’t. I bet the silly bastard gave it to you. Don’t lie to me, Tommy, I want the fucking truth.’

‘I swear, Mum, he never gave it to me. I nicked it when I went round to see him a couple of weeks ago.’

Lifting her hand, Maureen clumped him around the head. ‘You’re a fucking idiot, Tommy. All my life I’ve tried my best for you and this is how you repay me. It’s not only your life you’ve fucked up, but mine too. And what about Susan and James? They’ll suffer for this as well. You’re just like your father, a fucking arsehole. I’ve done my utmost to keep you on the straight and narrow and all you do is kick me in the teeth. Maybe it’s my fault, perhaps I’ve been too lenient with yer, but I’ll tell you summink, you’ve broken my heart and I’ll never forgive yer for this. This time, you’ve gone one step too far, son.’

As the two Old Bill returned, Maureen walked towards the door. ‘I take it you’re keeping him here tonight?’

The DS put the teas on the table and nodded.

‘Well, I’m off home. You can lock him up and throw away the key for all I care. I have another son indoors, a decent one that needs me. My priorities lie with him now, not this fucking waster.’

Head held high, Maureen marched out of the interview room.

‘Please don’t leave me, I’m scared, Mum. Come back, please come back.’

As Maureen heard Tommy screaming for her, part of her wanted to hug him and assure him everything was gonna be all right. Wiping away her tears, she carried on walking. Sometimes in life you had to be cruel to be kind. Tommy had made his own choices and now he had to face the consequences. She couldn’t be there for him while he was banged up, so best she cut the apron strings now.

Pete, Sandra’s old man, was charged with assaulting a police officer. The other three, including Ethel, had been let go with a caution. The police had originally planned to charge Ethel with assault as well, but due to her big mouth spouting non-stop and lack of cell space, they chose to let her go. After all, they had bigger fish to fry.

Ethel gave the Old Bill a barrage of abuse as she walked out of the station. She’d wanted to stay and wait for Tommy and Maureen, but wasn’t allowed. The police told her she’d have too long a wait. They also said that if she wasn’t off their premises in five minutes flat, they’d have no alternative other than to rearrest her. ‘Fucking arseholes,’ Ethel muttered, as she trudged down the road.

Sandra, Brenda and the other girls had made the house look as clean as a whistle. They had taken down the cards and banners, put the food away and cleared up any traces of the party. ‘It’s best she’s not reminded of it,’ Brenda insisted.

When Ethel arrived she had no update on Tommy’s arrest, and no idea where Maureen was. Sandra made her a cup of tea and told her the little they knew. Ethel, being Ethel, was still furious about her own arrest. ‘Fucking load of cunts. What a fucking liberty,’ she kept repeating.

Maureen’s heart was beating nineteen to the dozen as she neared her house. What the hell was she meant to tell everyone? It was such a close-knit community; everybody knew everybody. Mary Smith might live in Bethnal Green, but it was only down the road and she was still part of their community. The East End wasn’t perfect, it was littered with thieves, wide boys and scoundrels, but there was one unwritten rule: ‘You don’t shit on your own doorstep.’

Taking a deep breath, Maureen put her key in the lock. It was time to face the music.

Sandra was the first to greet her. ‘Well? Where’s Tommy?’ she asked expectantly, as Ethel and the others stood behind her.

Maureen could barely look at them. ‘Get me a drink, summink strong. I need to sit down.’

James had lain awake for hours. He was so worried about his big brother. Why had the police taken him away? And when was he coming back? Hearing his mum return, he crept onto the landing. He needed to earwig and find out what was going on.

Maureen gulped the whole glass of brandy and put her head in her hands. Ethel guessed what had happened and decided to help her daughter-in-law out. ‘Don’t bother trying to explain, we can guess. The little bastard’s guilty? He killed Terry Smith?’

Between sobs, Maureen somehow managed to speak. ‘Yes, Mum. Our Tommy’s a murderer, he’s admitted to it.’

Sandra, Brenda and the other girls all glanced at one another. No one said a word.

James frantically ran back to his room. His brother was the best, he couldn’t be a murderer. The policemen must have made a mistake. Remembering the new toy his uncle Kenny had brought him, he pulled it out from under the bed. He’d always had a thing about police cars. ‘I’m gonna be a policeman one day when I’m a big boy,’ he’d told everyone. Well, not any more – he hated them now. They’d taken away his beloved brother.

James opened the bedroom window, ‘I hate you, you pig bastards,’ he shouted, as the car smashed on the coal bunker below.

Shivering, James climbed into bed and sobbed himself to sleep.