Читать книгу Kimberley Chambers 3-Book Collection: The Schemer, The Trap, Payback - Kimberley Chambers - Страница 35

On the morning of his stag do, Wayne was awake at the crack of dawn. He turned onto his side and stared at Stephanie, who was still asleep. She had calmed down over the past few days over the hen-night fiasco, but had vowed never to speak to Angela ever again. ‘For as long as I can remember, all I have ever done is given love and support to Angela, but received nothing in return. In my heart, I will always love her and I shall miss her not being part of my life, but by cutting her out completely, at least she can’t hurt me any more,’ Steph had tearfully decided.

‘You’re up early,’ Steph whispered, as she heard Wayne get out of bed. She always slept lightly in case the children were ill or needed her.

‘I’ve got shitloads to do today, babe, so I thought I’d make an early start.’

‘Come back to bed and give me a cuddle first. I’ve barely seen you this week. You’ve been running around like a blue-arsed fly, and seeing as you’ve got your stag do tonight, I probably won’t see you again until tomorrow evening.’

Wayne got back into bed and put his arms around Stephanie. Feeling himself becoming aroused, he immediately pulled away from her and lay on his back.

‘Somebody’s very excited this morning,’ Stephanie said, tenderly stroking Wayne’s penis.

Wayne sighed as Stephanie kissed his chest, then moved her mouth further down his body. As her lips locked around the tip of his manhood, he let out a huge groan of pleasure. ‘Kneel on all fours,’ he ordered, huskily.

Stephanie did as Wayne asked, then gasped as he entered her doggy style. Their sex life had been crap just recently, but as Wayne shafted her harder and faster than he had for many years, Stephanie allowed herself a wry smile. Finally, Wayne’s libido had returned. And it was back with a vengeance.

Jake’s solicitor was a Jewish chap called Hymee Michaels, and it was he whom Jake had appointed to be executor of his will. Marlene knew very little about the formalities of such a procedure, but she was quietly confident that she was travelling to Bermondsey as a poor woman, to be told that she would soon be very rich.

‘So, did you ring this Mr Michaels yesterday to ask him if we were going to be the only ones here today, like I told you to?’ Marlene asked her son.

‘I did ring him, Mum, but Michaels was out of the office all day yesterday. His secretary sounded like a proper dimwit, but the one thing that I did find out off her is that this is actually a formal will reading, which apparently Jake insisted on. It’s written in his own words, so she reckons.’

‘I thought everybody who had money had a formal will reading. I’ve seen ’em on telly loads of times,’ Marlene said.

Barry shook his head. ‘I dunno about America and places like that, but they’re pretty unusual over here. I’ve seen ’em on TV and in films, but that is usually just to dramatize the effect. Will readings spoken in the words of the deceased are fictional. They ain’t reality, Mum.’

‘So, why is Jake having one then?’ Marlene enquired, becoming more confused by the second.

‘Your guess is as good as mine, but you can bet your bottom dollar that me and you ain’t the only ones there. There is no way he would have demanded a proper reading where his actual words are spoken by his brief if it was just us two involved.’

‘Well, who else is gonna be there then? We were the only real family the old fucker had. You don’t reckon he’s left any dosh to any of his mates, do you?’

‘I don’t know, muvver, but do me a favour. If any of his other family are there, please don’t kick off and make a complete show of us, will you?’

Suddenly feeling anxious, Marlene fished around in her handbag for the small bottle of brandy she kept in there for emergencies. The thought of anybody else coining in on her hard-earned inheritance had left a bitter taste in her mouth, and the quicker Marlene gargled it away, the better she would feel.

The pawnbroker looked at Wayne in amazement as he emptied the contents of his bag onto the counter.

‘Christ, you certainly have some nice pieces of jewellery here, but I won’t be able to take that amount off you unless you’ve got some receipts or identification,’ he said, fingering an extremely heavy gold chain with glee.

Over the years, Wayne had sort of collected gold. He had taken it as payment if anybody had owed him money and, back in the Eighties, when gold was the height of fashion, he had often treated himself to a chunky ring or necklace whenever the mood had taken his fancy. ‘There’s my ID,’ Wayne said, showing the pawnbroker his driving licence, ‘and there’s two utility bills with me name and address on ’em as well. I’ll be honest with you, mate, I own a gym in Leytonstone which is struggling at the moment and I’m also getting married next week. Being the decent chap that I am, I have promised to buy my wife her own beauty salon as a wedding present, and seeing as I haven’t worn gold since the late Eighties, I thought I might as well shove it in here to get some readies to pay for my Steph’s little dream. I can come and collect it as soon as things have picked up for me again.’

The pawnbroker smiled. ‘Do you want to go and grab a coffee while I work out a price?’

Wayne shook his head. ‘I ain’t got time to arse about, mate. I’ve got a business meeting up town at one o’clock, then tonight I’ve got my stag do. You and I both know that what you’ve got there is worth at least five grand. Just give me half of that for the lot to save time, eh?’

‘I’ll have to check the hallmarks out first, and if I’m paying that sort of money, I’ll have to charge you a higher rate of interest. Is that OK?’

Wayne grinned and held out his right hand. ‘You’ve got yourself a deal, pal.’

Marlene glared at Jake’s ex-wife and his two daughters as she sat herself down. As usual, Marlene had chosen her outfit carefully for the occasion. Today, she had on her black leather miniskirt, black basque, fishnet stockings, suede ankle boots, and to finish the look had worn her beige fur jacket and put a red bow in her hair to match her lipstick. Marlene might have celebrated her fortieth birthday just a month before Jake’s death, but in her eyes, she was still a stunner. ‘I feel like Cinderalla sitting here with them two,’ Marlene whispered to Barry, pointing at Miranda and Isabelle. ‘They’re definitely the two ugly fucking sisters.’

‘Just shut it, will you?’ Barry hissed.

‘Are we all comfortable? If so, I shall begin,’ Mr Michaels said.

‘Excuse me, Mr Michaels. Can I ask you a question first?’ Marlene piped up.

‘Yes, of course, and please call me Hymee.’

‘Why are we having one of these formal will readings, Hymee? My son said that they only have ’em on the telly and in America,’ Marlene enquired, feeling rather pleased with herself for asking such an intelligent question.

‘I didn’t say they had ’em in America; I said I didn’t know if they did,’ Barry said, embarrassed. His mother could never just sit there and listen. She always had to put her two penn’orth in and make a complete show of herself and him at the same time.

Hymee Michaels smiled at Marlene. He knew all about her. Jake had given him lots of information about the woman he lived with, and Marlene was exactly how Hymee had imagined her to be. ‘Readings like this are fairly unusual, but I have performed two in the past. Jake was a man of few words when he was alive, and I think there were certain things he wanted to say to people which he felt unable to. I’m sure that’s why he was insistent on a reading of this kind. He would never want to pass over to the other side with so much left unsaid.’

Marlene nudged Barry. ‘Pass over to the other side. What fucking other side?’ she said, laughing.

‘Put a sock in it, will you, muvver?’ Barry snapped, embarrassed.

Anne, Miranda and Isabelle glanced at one another, but said nothing. They had far too much class and respect to get involved in another argument with a foul-mouthed old tart such as Marlene.

Hymee picked up the papers in front of him and smiled wryly. When he had helped Jake write this over an extremely boozy lunch, they had had a right old laugh over it. Hymee had liked Jake. He was a funny character, one of his nicer clients, and Hymee was determined to do his old friend proud today. Clearing his throat, Hymee adjusted his reading glasses.

‘To Barry Franklin, who I always classed as the son I never had, I leave my beloved classic Jaguar car and my bar in Spain. I know and trust Barry will take good care of both for me.’

‘How comes he got the fucking bar? It’s called Marlene’s, so surely that should have been mine?’ Marlene yelled, callously.

Barry was shocked. The bar didn’t make fortunes, but it was certainly worth a few bob if he ever decided to cash in and sell it.

‘What have I got?’ Marlene asked Hymee.

‘I was told by Jake to read this in a specific order, Mrs Franklin, so I’m afraid you will have to wait your turn,’ Hymee replied. ‘To my daughters, Miranda and Isabelle, I leave my property in England and fifty thousand pounds each. Both of my—’

‘What? You’re having a fucking laugh, ain’t ya?’ Marlene shrieked, stopping Hymee mid-sentence.

As his mother went to stand up, Barry grabbed her by the arm. ‘Sit down, shut up, and stop being so bloody rude. Let the man finish what he’s saying, else I’m walking out and leaving you ’ere.’

When Marlene sat back down, Hymee nodded, then continued. ‘Both of my daughters are very dear to my heart and I truly regret all the wasted years that we spent apart. I am so glad that we managed to put our differences to one side and become friends again, as I would never have been able to rest in true peace if we hadn’t been able to achieve that.’

Marlene took her bottle of brandy out of her bag and took a large gulp to calm herself down. Anne had obviously been telling the truth at the funeral when she had said that Jake had been in contact with her and his daughters for the past few years. Marlene was absolutely livid. ‘The lying fucking old bastard. Good job someone else shot him ’cause I could quite easily have done it meself now,’ she said loudly.

When Isabelle burst into tears and was comforted by Miranda, Barry asked Hymee to continue. The quicker this was over with and he got out of here, the better.

‘Would you like a couple of minutes’ break, Isabelle?’ the solicitor asked.

‘No, I’m fine,’ Isabelle replied, blowing her nose with a tissue.

‘Of course she’s fine. Who wouldn’t be fine if they’d just been left fifty grand and half a house?’ Marlene grumbled.

‘To my ex-wife, Anne, I leave the sum of twenty-five thousand pounds. I know we rarely saw eye to eye, but I hope you will accept the money as an apology for the diabolical way that I sometimes treated you in the past. I am truly sorry for my actions.’

‘I’ve got the apartment in Spain and the rest of the estate,’ Marlene whispered in Barry’s ear.

‘And last, but not least, out of the people who are present, we come to you, Marlene,’ Hymee continued, smirking at what in his opinion was an absolutely horrific excuse for a human being. ‘To my loving girlfriend, Marlene Franklin, I leave the sum of one thousand pound and my ashes. I would be grateful if Marlene—’

Marlene had no choice but to interrupt Hymee. ‘You’ve obviously read that wrong, love. Do you mean a hundred thousand pounds and you ain’t mentioned the apartment yet?’

Hymee wanted to laugh, but knew that he musn’t. ‘No, I’ve read everything correctly, Mrs Franklin. It clearly states here one thousand pounds. Now, would you like me to continue? I haven’t quite finished yet.’

For once Marlene was lost for words, so sat open-mouthed instead.

‘Now, where were we?’ Hymee said, staring at the piece of paper. ‘I think I’d better read your part from the beginning again, as I’ve now lost track of where I was up to.’

Marlene nodded dumbly.

‘To my loving girlfriend, Marlene Franklin, I leave the sum of one thousand pounds and my ashes. I would be grateful if Marlene would spend her money wisely and also cherish my remains. Perhaps she would like to invest her inheritance in some clothes that aren’t two sizes too small for her, or a wooden shed which she can live in. Or, if she wishes, she can spend it on her two fancy men – Louie, our one-time gardener, or Fernando, the young waiter who works in our bar, or perhaps doesn’t by the time this will is read. Enjoy the rest of your life, Marlene; it was truly a pleasure knowing you, darling.’

‘You didn’t, did ya? Not with Fernando?’ Barry spat, looking at his mother in absolute disgust. The boy in question was years younger than he was and was barely out of nappies.

Marlene burst into uncontrollable tears. ‘Where am I gonna live? The old cunt can’t take my home away from me, I live there. Do something Barry, do something,’ she screamed.

Barry didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. One part of him thought the whole thing was hilarious, but the sensible side of him was concerned about where his mother was going to live, because there was no way she was moving in with him.

Miranda and Isabelle were totally stunned. Anne wanted to burst out laughing, but was too frightened of having another nasty altercation with Marlene to actually do so. She would dine out on this story for many years to come with her friends, and her deceased ex-husband had suddenly gone up immensely in her estimation.

‘There must be something in there about the apartment in Spain? Me mum and Jake lived there together,’ Barry said to Hymee.

‘That’s in the final part of the will. Would you like me to read it to you now?’

Barry nodded. ‘Stop crying, Mum, and listen to the man.’

‘The rest of my estate, including my property in Spain, I wish to split equally between my two grandchildren, Molly and Abigail, and any other future grandchildren that may be born after my death. I insist it be held in trust for the kids until they are twenty-one years old and are old enough to spend it wisely. My last wish is that twenty thousand pounds be taken out of the estate fund and be given to Battersea Dogs Home. My beloved dog, Fido, came from there, and it would give me great delight to give something back to such a worthy cause.’

‘Dad was such a kind man,’ Miranda said, tearfully.

Miranda’s statement was like showing a red rag to a bull to Marlene’s ears. ‘Kind! Fucking kind! Your cunt of a father has just left me penniless, you ugly, hooked-nosed prat.’

‘Don’t you dare speak to my daughter like that, you repulsive, gold-digging whore,’ Anne replied, forgetting about her earlier wariness.

Marlene leapt out of her seat like a kangaroo. ‘I’ll talk to your moose of a daughter however I fucking wanna talk to her. As for you, did all right for yourself making up with Jake, didn’t ya? Twenty-five grand you got, yet it was me who had to suck his sweaty little cock for the past ten years and I got fuck all. Even Fido’s fucking pals in the dogs’ home got more than me and I ain’t bastard well having it. I want what’s mine.’

‘Come on, Mum, we’re going,’ Barry said, grabbing his mother roughly by the arm.

‘I ain’t going nowhere until I get what’s rightfully owed to me. As for you, you conning little cunt, you did all right an’ all, didn’t ya?’ Marlene yelled, punching her son on the chin.

When Marlene lunged at Anne and knocked over a plant pot in the process, Hymee grabbed his phone. ‘Please get her out of here as I don’t want to have to call the police,’ he said, worriedly. Hymee had sort of expected fireworks just by the description he had been given of Marlene, but he hadn’t expected the deranged woman to start smashing up his office.

Miranda and Isabelle cowered in the corner as Marlene tried to lunge at their mother once again. Marlene’s eyes looked totally insane, and she reminded them both of a wild animal who had just been let out of its cage after years of being held in captivity.

‘I’m afraid I really must ask you to leave now,’ Hymee insisted, as Marlene broke free from Barry and ran towards him.

‘Give me them fucking ashes,’ Marlene screamed.

Petrified, Hymee bent down and picked up the black urn.

‘Let’s go, muvver. You can pick the ashes up another time,’ Barry said, grabbing Marlene’s arm once again.

‘I want them now,’ Marlene screamed, in a hysterical-sounding voice.

Barry turned to Hymee. ‘Give us the ashes, mate, then we’ll go.’

Hymee handed Barry the urn and then watched in horror as Marlene snatched it off her son and took the lid off. ‘There you go, you fucking vultures. You’ve had all me cash, so you might as well have that old cunt an’ all,’ Marlene screamed, as she directed the ashes in the direction of Anne, Miranda and Isabelle.

Hymee grimaced as most of the black dust landed all over poor Isabelle. Jake wasn’t a silly man, and had known Marlene would do something awful with his ashes. ‘Hymee, my daughters might have sort of forgiven me, but they ain’t gonna bloody want my remains. Anne still hates me, I can see it in her eyes. I insist you give the ashes to Marlene for a laugh. If there is anything in all that life-after-death bollocks, I shall piss myself from up above as I watch her pour my ashes down the nearest drain,’ Jake had ordered.

‘Get Daddy off of me. Please get Daddy off of me,’ Isabelle screamed, hysterically. She was waving her arms like a lunatic as she desperately tried to remove the remains of her father from her hair and clothes.

Anne and Miranda couldn’t speak, such was their shock over what Marlene had done.

Hymee wasn’t the most manly of men, but he stood up and confronted Marlene nethertheless. ‘Get out of my office now, you awful woman. You have thirty seconds to leave before I call the police and have you both arrested.’

‘Say hello to Daddy for me, you cunt,’ Marlene cackled, as Isabelle continued to scream blue murder.

‘Call the police, Hymee. I demand that you call the police and have that woman arrested for what she has done,’ Anne insisted.

Barry grabbed his mother from behind and managed to bundle her out of the room. Before shutting the door, he poked his head back around the frame and pointed his finger at Hymee. ‘If them three involve the Old Bill, you deny everything that my mother’s done. If you don’t and she or I get nicked, you’ll have me to deal with, understand?’

Shaking like a leaf, Hymee fearfully nodded his head. The look of evil on Barry’s face had told him all that he needed to know. Ending up with a bullet through his head, like his old friend Jake had, was not the kind of death that he had planned for himself. Natural causes suited Hymee just fine.