Читать книгу Kimberley Chambers 3-Book Collection: The Schemer, The Trap, Payback - Kimberley Chambers - Страница 29

The following morning, Steph was a bundle of nerves as she drove towards her mother’s house. She had barely slept a wink last night and when she had finally managed to nod off, she had dreamt that Barry Franklin had turned up at her wedding with a gun in his hand and tried to shoot Wayne. Beside herself with worry, Stephanie let out a deep sigh. Wayne hadn’t got in until half three this morning and had been in no fit state to have a serious conversation with. Stephanie knew she had to tell him that Barry was back home. If her ex was staying bang opposite her mother, she could hardly not bloody tell Wayne.

As Stephanie neared her mother’s house her anxiety started to heighten. Whether she would ever have dumped Barry in favour of Wayne, she really didn’t know, but in the end the decision had been made for her.

Swerving onto a kerb, Stephanie slammed on the brakes and repeatedly banged her head gently against the steering wheel. She had two beautiful children, would soon be marrying the man of her dreams, she was financially secure and healthy; so why did this have to happen to spoil her perfect life? Picturing Barry Franklin’s face, Stephanie took the mobile phone Wayne had recently bought her out of her bag and rang her mother. ‘Are you ready?’ she asked, when Pam answered the phone.

‘Yeah. Why? You ain’t running late, are you?’

‘No, I’m parked up in Ford Road. Walk the way you normally go to work and you’ll see me by the crossroads,’ Steph replied.

‘Why can’t you pick me up from home? I’ll be late if I have to carry Tyler.’

‘Because of Barry, Mum. If I bump into him, I’ll die a death, and I really can’t face the embarrassment of it all.’

Barry Franklin woke up in his old bedroom and stared at the surroundings in utter disgust. He had been rather inebriated when he’d gone to bed last night, so hadn’t taken much notice of the room, but in the cold light of day it looked awful. There was dust everywhere, cobwebs hanging from the ceiling, and pieces of stale food scattered about on the carpet. Looking at the colour of the filthy, stained quilt he had slept under, Barry sat up and immediately began scratching at his skin. Compared to his current surroundings, he lived in what could only be described as a palace back in Spain, and Barry knew without a doubt that he could not spend another night at his sister’s house. He would rather shell out for a hotel somewhere.

As a little mixed-race head poked out from under the quilt in the bed opposite him, Barry smiled. Chantelle had three children now, all by different men. AJ was the oldest. He was nearly ten and was the son of the Indian guy Chantelle had been with when Barry had moved to Spain. Ajay senior was now in Belmarsh. He had been caught with a big stash of heroin and was doing a fifteen stretch. The child currently staring at him with a look of bewilderment on his face was Chantelle’s middle one, Jermain. His father was of Jamaican origin, but had wanted little to do with his son and had only seen him twice since his birth.

‘You all right, boy? I’m your Uncle Barry.’

‘Get out my room,’ the child replied, glaring at him.

Barry got out of bed. The bedroom had the same odour as a public toilet, and he guessed that one if not more of the kids must wet the bed on a regular basis. Barry hadn’t even met his youngest nephew yet. Daryl was only two, had an English father, and Chantelle was happy to let his dad bring him up. Apparently, she only saw Daryl every other weekend and had even cancelled the child’s last visit.

‘I said get out my room,’ Jermain repeated, angrily.

‘Chill out, boy. I’m going in a tick,’ Barry replied. He walked over to the window and stared through the grimy glass at the house across the road. He knew Pam still lived there and Stephanie visited her regularly with her two children. He also knew that Stephanie and Wayne were getting married in three weeks’ time. He might live thousands of miles away, but the grapevine was a funny old thing, and there wasn’t much that went on that he didn’t get to hear about. Barry let go of the shabby curtain. Steph had killed his faith in the female gender for a very long time, and after spending years screwing everything in sight, Barry had finally met the girl he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Jolene, her name was. She was eighteen years old, a real stunner, and after being together for just over a year, they had recently got engaged.

‘If you don’t go, I’m gonna get my mum to beat you up,’ Jermain growled, appearing by Barry’s side.

Ruffling the child’s short Afro hair, Barry chuckled and hurriedly left the room.

After disclosing her fears to her mum, and Pam reassuring her that Barry had not come back to ruin her wedding or carry out some sort of revenge attack, Stephanie drove back to Chigwell in a much better frame of mind. Wayne had still been in bed when she’d arrived home, so she had got Dannielle ready for school, dropped her at the gates and was now on the way back home again with Tyler.

‘All right, babe? Cor, I was bladdered last night, girl. Did you hear me come in?’ Wayne asked as Stephanie shut the front door.

‘Yeah, I spoke to you, don’t you remember?’

‘I can’t remember Jack shit,’ Wayne said, hugging his wife-to-be.

‘So, did you have a good night? How were Potter and Cooksie? Are they still a pair of wankers?’ Stephanie enquired, genuinely interested.

‘Yeah, a bit, but they’re OK. Cooksie is unemployed and is living with some old bird in Elm Park who has three kids by some other geezer, and Potter works for the Underground. I dunno what he does there, he didn’t say. He’s got kids of his own and lives in Southend, but he ain’t married. Right, I’d better get off to work now, babe. I’ll probably be late tonight. I’ve got a business meeting with some geezer.’

‘Par, Daddy, par,’ Tyler said, grabbing hold of his father’s leg.

‘Not today, boy,’ Wayne replied, ruffling his son’s head. He knew Tyler’s language well enough now to realize his son was asking to be taken to the park.

‘I need to talk to you, Wayne,’ Stephanie said, nervously.

‘Can’t it wait till later, or tomorrow, sweetheart? I really have got a lot on me plate today.’

‘No, Wayne, it can’t!’

‘Wan go par,’ Tyler screamed, kicking Wayne’s leg, then throwing himself on the floor.

‘Tough shit! You ain’t going to the fucking park. Get that child away from me, Steph. I’ve got a banging headache, babe, and I can’t be doing with his little tantrums, today of all days.’

‘Just give me five minutes to calm him down, Wayne, and then we’ll talk. There’s something important we need to discuss.’

When Stephanie half dragged and half carried a hysterical Tyler up the stairs, Wayne sat anxiously on the sofa. Surely Steph hadn’t found out about his underhandedness? Because if she had, it would ruin everything.

Unable to fancy anything to eat or drink in his sister’s house, Barry offered to treat her and the boys to breakfast in a local café. Within minutes of arriving there, Barry started to regret his spontaneous suggestion. AJ and Jermain were playing up something chronic and Chantelle had a mouth on her like a sewer. Seeing Jermain pestering an old couple who were sitting on a nearby table, Barry urged his sister to control the child. ‘People are trying to have a quiet bite to eat, Chantelle. Make him sit down or play outside if he’s gonna be a pest in here.’

‘Jermain, get over ’ere you little cunt before I rip your fucking head off,’ Chantelle yelled at the top of her voice.

Barry felt himself squirm with embarrassment as he saw a tableful of workmen glance around, then snigger. Unlike himself, Chantelle had never had any style or class. She was twenty-six now, was overweight, had tattoos on her arms and an earring through her nose. Her hair was dyed a yellowy-blond colour and her clothes were far too skimpy for her size-sixteen frame. ‘I’m going outside to make some phone calls,’ Barry said, abruptly.

‘Don’t leave me sitting ’ere like a tit in a trance. Can’t you make your phone calls later?’

Watching in disbelief as AJ and Jermain started throwing chips at one another, Barry glared at his scumbag of a sister. ‘No, I fucking well can’t.’

After three weeks of playing the grieving widow to the police and her friends in Spain, Marlene was relieved to see her best friend, Marge. When Marlene had first moved over to Spain, Marge had come out for holidays twice a year, but three years ago she had had a drunken row with Jake and he had kicked her out of his and Marlene’s apartment in the middle of the night.

‘Right, start from the very beginning. I know we spoke on the phone, mate, but the line was shit, you were pissed, and I couldn’t make head nor tail of what you were saying,’ Marge said, opening a bottle of wine.

Marlene gulped greedily at the drink that was handed to her. Jake the Snake’s murder had come as a terrible shock to her. Even though she had never loved him, she would always be grateful to him for giving her the lifestyle she had always craved. Composing herself, Marlene began to explain exactly what had happened. ‘Jake got himself involved in drugs about five years ago. He bumped into some old pals of his from South London. They were fugitives and he went into business with ’em.’

‘Why didn’t you ever tell me all this before?’ Marge asked. She felt hurt that she’d been kept in the dark by her pal. They’d always told one another everything.

‘Because I only found out meself recently. Barry told me. That little bastard was probably involved in it an’ all. Jake was a real man’s man. He was a good provider, but he never talked business with me, Marge, and I’ve only found out the truth since he died. I always thought the bar paid for our opulent lifestyle, but Barry said Jake just kept that to cover his arse and keep the authorities off his back. Barry reckons it only brought in peanuts.’

‘What was he selling? Cocaine? That’s big ’ere now, you know. It’s took over from speed,’ Marge informed her friend.

Marlene shook her head. ‘Ecstasy tablets. They had a factory just outside Fuengirola where they were making hundreds of thousands of the bastard things, by all accounts. They had contacts in England and were importing ’em over ’ere by boat, so Barry reckons.’

‘So, why did Jake get shot then?’ Marge asked, slightly confused.

‘The factory got turned over and it happened to be on a day when Jake was meant to be there and he wasn’t. Two of the men got away, but three others got arrested. Barry says that the other men must have thought that Jake snitched on ’em and that’s why he got shot. A man on a motorbike killed him at point-blank range as we walked out of a restaurant near the harbour, Marge. Covered in claret, I was; it was awful for me. Died in me arms, Jake did. Well, sort of. I didn’t actually cuddle him ’cause of all the blood. He made these terrible gurgling noises, Marge, and then he just shut his eyes and croaked it.’

‘Poor Jake! And you must have been devastated. I know me and Jake fell out, mate, but I wouldn’t have wished him any harm, you know.’

Unable to stop herself, Marlene burst out laughing. She’d had weeks of wearing black and crying bloody crocodile tears. ‘I would! I hated the old cunt. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll always be indebted to him for getting me out of poxy Dagenham, but he was so ugly, Marge. Sex with him used to make me feel physically sick, and towards the end he couldn’t get a hard-on by having intercourse. He could only get one if I noshed him off. Every morning he used to wake me up with a sickly smile on his face and I had to suck his little shrivelled-up cock. Used to put me off having any fucking breakfast, it did. Eating like an horse again now, I am.’

Even though Marge and Marlene went back donkey’s years, Marge was bewildered by her pal’s words. ‘But you said his death was awful for you?’

‘Well, it was, but only ’cause it happened right in front of me. Two hundred quid that silk dress I had on cost. Fucking ruined it is. I took it to the cleaner’s, but they can’t get the blood out. I’ve had to chuck it away.’

Marge roared with laughter. ‘Oh, you are awful, Mar. When’s the old bastard’s funeral?’

‘Next Monday. Will you come to it with me, mate? I’d have buried him in Spain if I’d have had my way. Waste of bloody money flying him back home, if you ask me. I dunno if you know, but Jake had two daughters. He hadn’t seen ’em for years, he fell out with ’em when he split up with their mum, but because me and him weren’t married, they were his next of kin and they demanded the body get buried in England. I wonder how much he’s worth? He hated his ex-wife and never forgave his daughters for disowning him, so I doubt he’s left them fuck all. I know he made a new will in 1991, so I reckon I’ve copped the lot, don’t you?’

‘Bleedin’ hell, Mar, he must have been worth a fortune. I reckon you’ll be made for life, girl.’

Slurping her drink, Marlene grinned. ‘Well, after sucking his sweaty little cock for years, I reckon I’ve more than earned me inheritance, don’t you?’

Howling with laughter, Marge agreed.

‘That was a long five minutes,’ Wayne said sarcastically, when Stephanie finally reappeared. Tyler’s tantrums had driven him to distraction recently – so much so, he had even suggested taking the child for blood tests or a brain scan, but Stephanie had rejected the idea. She was one of these mothers who refused to believe that her son had anything wrong with him.

‘Sorry, Tyler wouldn’t settle. He didn’t sleep well last night and I think he’s been playing up today because he’s tired,’ Stephanie replied, apologetically.

Not wanting to listen to the usual list of excuses his wife always made for their son’s abnormal behaviour, a hung-over Wayne came straight to the point. ‘So, what’s so urgent we need to talk about, that I can’t go to work?’

Steph felt too stressed to put together a proper sentence, so she just blurted the crux of it out. ‘Barry Franklin’s back home.’

‘Yeah, I know he is. In fact, I’m gonna pop over to Dagenham and see him later on today,’ Wayne replied, casually.

Stephanie looked at her husband-to-be in amazement. ‘How do you know that he’s home? You never said nothing to me! And when did you arrange to meet up with him?’

‘I knew Bazza was back in England because Martin Gowing rang me up yesterday and told me. You know that Jake the Snake geezer that Bazza’s mother fucked off to Spain with?’

Stephanie nodded.

‘Well, Jake got murdered by a hit man a few weeks back and Bazza and his mum have flown home ’cause of the funeral and stuff. Martin has kept in touch with Bazza ever since he moved out to Spain, so he’s always kept me informed with how he’s doing out there.’

‘Who the hell’s Martin Gowing when he’s at home? And why the fuck didn’t you tell me all this before?’ Stephanie yelled. She had always hated secrets, especially ones like this.

‘Martin is mine and Bazza’s old pal from Bethnal Green. He kept in touch with Bazza when he moved out to Spain. I didn’t tell you that Bazza was back as I wanted to go and see him first. Once I’d seen him, providing he was OK about me and you, I was gonna tell you everything.’

‘So, when did you arrange to meet up with him?’ Steph yelled.

‘I haven’t arranged anything. I’m just gonna turn up at his sister’s gaff and offer him a handshake. He might turn round and chin me, Steph, after what happened, but I very much doubt it. Martin told me that Bazza’s recently got engaged to a stunning young bird over in Spain, so I doubt he’s that arsed about me and you being together now. Don’t forget, I saved Bazza’s life and stopped him from drowning when we were kids, so I’m sure he’ll be man enough to let bygones be bygones. Life’s too short to hold grudges, eh babe?’

‘I really don’t think you should go round there, Wayne. Why don’t you just let sleeping dogs lie, eh? Dragging up the past is never a good thing,’ Stephanie said, nervously. The thought of Wayne and Barry being pals again for some reason filled her with pure and utter dread.

‘I have to go and see him, Steph. When I nicked you off him I was just a boy, but I’m a man now and – whatever way you wanna look at it – I do owe Bazza an apology. This is why I never told you he was home. I knew you’d try and stop me from going to see him, but I have to smooth things over. Me and Bazza go back years and I’m sure once we have a man-to-man chat we can be pals once again. How did you know he was home, by the way? Did your mother tell ya?’

‘Yeah, my mum saw him pull up in a cab last night. You just do what you gotta do then, Wayne, but if it all goes Pete Tong, don’t say I didn’t warn you.’

Desperate not to upset Steph before the wedding, Wayne urged her to stand up and give him a hug. ‘Nothing’s gonna go wrong, babe, I promise you that much.’

Stephanie was no psychic, but her innermost self told her that no good would come out of Wayne and Barry meeting up again. Clinging to her fiancé, Steph laid her worried head on his shoulder. ‘I hope you’re right, Wayne, for all our sakes, I really do.’