Billie Jo

• About the Author
  
• Half Title
  
• Title Page
  
• Copyright Page
  
• Dedication
  
• Acknowledgements
  
• Chapter ONE
  
• Chapter TWO
  
• Chapter THREE
  
• Chapter FOUR
  
• Chapter FIVE
  
• Chapter SIX
  
• Chapter SEVEN
  
• Chapter EIGHT
  
• Chapter NINE
  
• Chapter TEN
  
• Chapter ELEVEN
  
• Chapter TWELVE
  
• Chapter THIRTEEN
  
• Chapter FOURTEEN
  
• Chapter FIFTEEN
  
• Chapter SIXTEEN
  
• Chapter SEVENTEEN
  
• Chapter EIGHTEEN
  
• Chapter NINETEEN
  
• Chapter TWENTY
  
• Chapter TWENTY-ONE
  
• Chapter TWENTY-TWO
  
• Chapter TWENTY-THREE
  
• Chapter TWENTY-FOUR
  
• Chapter TWENTY-FIVE
  
• Chapter TWENTY-SIX
  
• Chapter TWENTY-SEVEN
  
• Chapter TWENTY-EIGHT
  
• Chapter TWENTY-NINE
  
• Chapter THIRTY
  
• Chapter THIRTY-ONE
  
• Chapter THIRTY-TWO
  
• Chapter THIRTY-THREE
  
• Chapter THIRTY-FOUR
  
• Chapter THIRTY-FIVE
  
• Chapter THIRTY-SIX
  
• Chapter THIRTY-SEVEN
  
• Chapter THIRTY-EIGHT
  
• Chapter THIRTY-NINE
  
• Chapter FORTY
  
• Chapter FORTY-ONE
  
• Chapter FORTY-TWO
  

KIMBERLEY
CHAMBERS

'I was born in 1967, a much-wanted and long-awaited
child. Unfortunately for my mother, I have never been
normal since the day the midwife slapped me on the back
and I let out my first cry.

After leaving school at sixteen, with virtually no exams,
I spent many years plying my trade on East End markets,
such as Roman Road and Petticoat Lane, where I ran
clothing stalls and burger vans. I then turned to DJ-ing
and spent a fair few years on the pub and club circuit.

Hitting thirty, with the hangovers starting to worsen, I
somehow fell into driving a minicab. By the time I was
thirty-eight, I was totally disillusioned with my life and
felt that a major change was needed.

It was then that I decided to pen my first novel,
Billie
Jo
, and I was absolutely delighted to crack it first time
round. I have just completed my second novel,
Born Evil
,
and for the first time in my life can truly say that I've
found my vocation and the work that I enjoy doing.

When not putting pen to paper, you can either find me
shopping (usually Lakeside), participating in gym classes
(at the YMCA), out on the lash (vodka's the tipple) or
watching Spurs (season ticket holder).

My other big passion in life is animals and I am proud
to say that I have recently turned vegetarian. Oh and if
you're wondering if I am married, put it this way. If I could
have married a Dalmatian, or given birth to a Border collie,
I would probably be happily settled by now. Unfortunately,
I am still single . . .'

BILLIE JO

KIMBERLEY
CHAMBERS

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ISBN 9781409025092

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Published by Preface 2008

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Copyright © Kimberley Chambers 2008

Kimberley Chambers has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs
and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work

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In loving memory of my wonderful parents,
Val and Tom.

So sad that you never lived to see me make something
of myself, but I hope I've done you both proud.

Firstly I would like to thank my wonderful typist, Sue
Cox, as without her help, I would be absolutely lost. I'd
also like to say a big thank you to Yvonne Chambers, who
was kind enough to type the first draft of my manuscript.

A special thanks to my fantastic agent, Tim Bates, and
everyone at Pollinger, not forgetting Lisa, who had a big
hand in the success of this book.

I have been extremely lucky to have found such a wonderful
publisher and I would like to thank everyone at Preface
and at Random House for their help and kindness. A
special thanks to Trevor Dolby and Rosie de Courcy, who
are an absolute joy to work with. Rosie's editing skills are
second to none and because of her, I have already become
a better writer.

A big kiss to all my friends, Viv, Hazel, Maggs, Lisa,
Tina and Cindy – to name but a few.

I hope you as a reader enjoy this book and God bless
you all.

Her father's adoration
was clear for all to see

His job was to protect her
wherever he may be

October 1999

Michelle Keane took a large gulp of wine and for what
seemed like the hundredth time, glanced at the clock on
the living-room wall. Two a.m. and the no-good fucker
still wasn't home. She wouldn't have minded if he'd have
rung her with one of his cock and bull excuses, but tonight
he hadn't even had the audacity to do that. She knew he
was at it, she'd known for a while. He was a clever bastard,
though, and proving it wasn't going to be easy.

As she lay in bed unable to sleep, Billie Jo wondered
where her dad was. He wasn't home yet and she worried
about him when he was late. Starving hungry, she toyed with
the idea of going downstairs to make a sandwich.
Remembering her mum was pissed and on the warpath,
she decided she'd rather starve.

Whenever her dad was late home, Billie avoided her
mother like the plague. It was the same old story every
time. Firstly, her mum would sit clock watching and
drinking wine by the gallon. The Patsy Cline CD was the
next part of the ritual. 'Crazy' was her mum's favourite
song. Problem was, she had an awful voice and to say
she murdered it was being polite. At the end of the song,
her mum would burst into tears and blame Billie Jo for
everything bad that had ever happened in her life.

'If it hadn't been for you, I'd still have my nice figure.
Size ten I was when I met your dad. He's only out whoring
now 'cause I've put on weight and he doesn't fancy me any
more. It's all your fault, Billie. I wish you'd never been
born. Me and your dad used to get on just fine until you
came along. If I could have my life all over again, I'd never
have a kid. I must have been bloody mad, I should have
had an abortion.'

Billie took no notice of her mother's nasty comments.
She'd had years of it, fifteen in fact. Mature for her
age, she'd learned to deal with her psycho mum by the age
of ten. Before that she used to cry a lot. She could never
work out what she'd done wrong or why her mother was
so angry with her all the time. When her dad was around
she pretended to be nice, but as soon as he left the house,
Billie would get the brunt of her mother's resentment.

Billie's relationship with her dad was completely the
opposite. He was her life, her rock, and would do anything
for her. She knew he was a dodgy bastard, she wasn't silly.
That's why she worried when he was unexpectedly late.
If he got nicked and put away, her life wouldn't be worth
living. Pulling the covers over her head, Billie tried to get
some sleep. It didn't come. Sighing, she prepared herself
for the row that was bound to erupt on her father's return.

Terry Keane opened one eye, heard the sound of the birds
singing and quickly opened the other. Cursing himself
for dozing back off to sleep, he leapt out of bed and
hurriedly got dressed.

'Bollocks,' he muttered, as he searched high and low
for his keys.

Hearing the racket he was making, Jade stirred,
switched on the bedside lamp and propped herself up on
her pillow. 'You all right, Tel, what's the matter?'

'I can't find me . . . oh there they are.'

Jade smiled as she realised he'd been hunting for his
keys. Screws carried smaller bunches. They were impossible
to mislay, yet he was always losing them.

'What's the time?'

Bending over the bed, Terry gave her a short but
passionate kiss. 'Put it this way, if the wildebeest is awake
my life won't be worth living. It's nearly six.'

'Christ, is it?' Jade was genuinely shocked. 'I don't
suppose you'll be able to escape again later, will you?'

Terry flashed his sexy smile and winked at her. 'You
never know your luck, babe. No seriously, I've promised
to take Billie Jo out for the day, just me and her, and I've
got a bit of business to sort out tonight. I'll bell you later
and let you know one way or another.'

'OK, have a nice day with Billie. Love you.'

'Love you too, babe.'

Smiling at his words, Jade put the quilt over her head
and lay dreamily thinking about him. At twenty-five years
old, Jade Jenkins had crammed a lot into her young life.
Having been brought up by her parents Mary and Lenny,
along with her younger brother Simon, she'd spent her
childhood living in a cottage in a remote village on the
outskirts of Somerset. By the age of ten, Jade was bored
with her life, by the age of thirteen she was totally disillusioned.
At fifteen, the tomboy in Jade disappeared
overnight and she turned into a ravishing beauty. Long
blonde hair, big green eyes, pert breasts and a size-eight
figure, she was the talk of the local lads and the subject
of many a wank. At seventeen she started to date the
village heart-throb.

Tommy Jones had many a female admirer, was good looking
and knew it. Six foot tall, muscular, with sun-kissed
skin and long blond hair, he resembled an Australian
surfer. His downfall was, he had the personality of a wet
fish.

The son of a farmer, Tommy seemed more at ease
dealing with animals than humans. Jade had never seen
him as happy as when he was performing his midwife
duties, delivering one creature or another. In fact he
seemed happier with his hands around their private parts
than he ever did with hers. Unbelievably, he proposed to
her on her eighteenth birthday. Her parents were delighted,
Jade was anything but.

'Let me sleep on it. I'll give you my answer tomorrow.'

Jade was unable to sleep at all that night, as she
pondered her future. The following day she took all her
savings out of her building society, went to the nearest
travel agents and booked a one-way ticket to Spain.

After a lonely first week, Jade met Kirsty Clark, a
bubbly 21-year-old from Romford in Essex. Stuck in
a foreign country on their lonesome, they soon became
kindred spirits and within a week had got jobs working
together in a bar. Inseparable, they went on to enjoy the
summer of their lives.

When October arrived, Jade couldn't think of anything
worse than heading back to Somerset and facing the wrath
of Tommy and her parents, so she ended up going with
Kirsty back to Romford, where they shared a house
with two of Kirsty's cousins.

Four weeks after arriving back, with their small amount
of savings rapidly disappearing, Kirsty decided to take
up a job offer working in a small recruitment office in
the centre of Ilford. Within a week she had found Jade
a job. There was a secretarial position available at a car
lot in Seven Kings. Jade had done a year after leaving
school at a secretarial college back in Somerset, so had
a rough idea of what the job would entail. After sailing
through the interview, she started there on the following
Monday and found it an absolute doddle.

Terry Keane was the proprietor of the car lot and had
soon taken Jade under his wing. Married with a child,
Terry felt sorry for her being miles away from home.
Within a month they had struck up a great friendship.
Terry treated her like the little sister he'd never had. She
was unflappable, extremely efficient and trustworthy and
Terry liked that.

Their relationship changed as the years ticked by and
Terry's marriage to Michelle disintegrated. First, Jade had
been a shoulder to cry on, a good listener, but as time
passed they had become soul mates. Now, seven years
on, they were deeply in love and planning their future
together.

Jade had fought hard to stop herself falling in love
with Terry. She would never have dreamt that one day
she would be involved with a married man. She was a
decent girl with good morals and it was against all her
beliefs. Working with him every day she couldn't help
her feelings. She'd even contemplated giving up her job
at one point, but he'd talked her out of it. She knew he
wasn't lying when he said his marriage was a sham.

She had met his wife Michelle quite a few times over
the years, usually when she'd come storming into the car
lot for one thing or another. A couple of times she'd come
in demanding money. Once she was drunk and fell over
and the other few times she'd turned up shouting and
screaming. Terry had nicknamed her the wildebeest
and Jade used to tell him off for being so nasty. But after
a few altercations with Michelle, she understood why and
thought it was a perfect name for her.

Their actual affair had started three years ago. A drunken
kiss on a bitterly cold Christmas Eve had led them to
where they were now. In all truthfulness, the pair of them
had been in love with one another well over a year before
it started. Frightened of their feelings, neither of them
had the guts to admit or do anything about it. Terry had
been honest with Jade from the word go.

'As soon as Billie Jo turns sixteen, me and you can be
together properly,' he told her. 'Until then we'll have to
keep it quiet. I know what Chelle's like. She'll use the kid
as blackmail and I don't want my little girl being dragged
through the courts. Also if I fuck off now, she'd collar a
load of dough off me. If I plan things properly, she'll get
nigh on sod all.'

Jade had agreed with Terry and had waited patiently
for him. Billie Jo would be sixteen next year, so hopefully
the wait would soon be over. She loved him so much
that if he'd asked her nicely, she'd have waited for him
for ever.

Terry started up his black Range Rover, put on his Kenny
Rogers CD and headed towards Hornchurch where he'd
lived for the past three years. Before that he and Michelle
had lived in a three-bedroom semi in Rainham. Over the
last five years Terry's business had boomed and he was
now the proud owner of a four-bedroom mock-Tudor
house in Emerson Park. He had an ex-bank robber living
one side of him and a footballer on the other, so he knew
he must be doing well. The only downside he could think
of was the fact he hated the fat bitch who lived in it with
him.

Terry opened the glove box and took out the mobile
phone that he had purposely left there earlier. They might
have been one of man's greatest inventions but they could
get you hung, drawn and quartered in a minute. Eighteen
missed calls and ten answerphone messages. Smiling to
himself, he thought how much Orange must love him.
With the bills he ran up and the calls he received, he
reckoned he must keep the bastards in wages for a month.
After dialling 123, he soon found out that all the messages,
bar one, were from Michelle.

Number one said, 'All right, Tel, where are you, babe?'
Number three, 'I've been trying to get hold of you. Where
are you? You bastard.' Number six, 'I hate you, you lying
cheating no-good fucking shit cunt.' He couldn't understand
seven, eight, nine or ten, as Michelle must have been
so pissed by this time that the messages were totally incoherent.
The last message had been left at 2.55 a.m.,
which pleased Terry because that meant the fat bitch had
probably passed out around that time. All he needed to do
was sneak in quietly. Later, he would swear blind that he
had got in at half three.

' "You picked a fine time to leave me, Lucille, with
four hungry children and a crop in the field." ' Singing in
perfect harmony along with Kenny Rogers, Terry decided
to cover his tracks just to be on the safe side. He'd never
stayed out all night before. Normally he was home by
two or three at the latest. He didn't want to give the wildebeest
any more reason than necessary to be suspicious.

Pulling the Range Rover into a lay-by along the
Hornchurch Road, he called his best pal Davey Mullins.
Terry knew all his pals' and business associates' phone
numbers off by heart. His motto was, 'If you don't leave
Jack Shit lying around, no nosy bastard can find it.' Same
with the files and documents in his car lot. All he left in
there was the simple stuff, anything important was stored
in his brain. If the Old Bill ever shone the light on any
of his illegal activities and decided to pay him a visit, he
was confident that they would have had a wasted journey.
As his mum used to say as she bathed him as a kid,
'You've got the memory of an elephant, son, and a penis
the size of its trunk.'

Finally the phone was answered. 'Hello, who is it?
What's the time?'

'It's me, you tosser, who do you think it is?'

By the sound of his voice, Dave had probably been up
all night getting on it, so Terry spoke slowly but surely.

'Listen, I need a favour. I overslept round Jade's last
night and I'm only just on me way home now. If her
indoors is awake, I'm gonna tell her we've had trouble
with some motors. I'll say we had a bit of grief with some
geezers over in Swanley. If she don't believe me, I'll get
her to ring you.'

'All right, no problem,' came the croaky reply. 'Laters,
yeah.'

Terry knew his best pal would never let him down.
They had been in many sticky situations and tight corners
over the twenty years that they had known one another
and had stuck together through thick and thin. The only
thing which worried Terry was that just lately Davey Boy's
cocaine habit had started spiralling out of control. Instead
of having a few lines or a gram here and there like he
used to, Dave had started shoving it up his hooter, morning,
noon and night. Then of course the paranoia and rucks
would follow, including one about a month ago with a
gang of dudes on the Isle of Dogs. Terry had ended up
with four stitches in the side of his head, trying to sort
out Davey's mess.

Terry liked the odd line here and there, but only used it
sporadically. If something started to take hold on you, in
his eyes, it was time to stop. He knew it wouldn't be long
before he had to sit Davey Boy down and have a serious
chat with him. Terry sighed as he flicked the ignition back
to life. Weaving his way out of the two cars that had parked
either side of him, he headed back towards Emerson Park
and the wildebeest.

Putting the front-door key into the lock, he quietly
turned it anticlockwise. So far so good, he thought to
himself, as he sneaked in. After disposing of his shoes
on the mat, he practised his ballet dancing impression as
he tiptoed down the hallway in his black socks. It was
beginning to get light now, so luckily he could see where
he was going without falling arse over tit.