Billie Jo (27 page)

Michelle propped herself up on the uncomfortable bed
and buzzed for the nurse. Requesting some painkillers, she
picked up a magazine from the cabinet next to her and
started flicking through the pages. It had been four days now
since she'd been admitted to hospital and she'd had a hell
of a lot of time to sum up just how shit her life really was.

It was entirely her own fault that she was hospitalised.
She was the one that had driven her car as pissed as a
fart and smashed it to smithereens. Chelle had written off
cars in the past and laughed about it. This time it was
different. She'd very nearly killed someone.

Chelle couldn't remember anything about the accident,
she must have blanked out completely. All she knew was
what she'd been told by the police and her solicitor.
Apparently, she'd been doing about 60 in a 30 mph zone,
when she'd had a head-on collision with an oncoming
Ford Focus. Michelle had cracked ribs, a sprained ankle
and mild concussion. The woman driving the other car
wasn't so lucky.

Hannah Lennon was a 37-year-old nurse who had been
driving home from work after a long hard shift. Hannah
had spent two days and nights in intensive care after the
accident and had now been told that she wouldn't be back
at work for quite a long time. Word had soon got around
the ward and although Hannah didn't work at that particular
hospital, Michelle had received the cold shoulder.
Nurses were loyal. Hurting anyone was bad enough, but
hurting a fellow nurse was totally unforgivable. Appalled,
the staff treated Chelle as if she was something nasty
they'd trodden in.

'Fred, where are you? I love you, don't leave me, Fred.'

Michelle put her head under the covers to try and block
out the noise of the old dear in the next bed.

Ethel Naylor was in the latter stages of Alzheimer's.
Her beloved husband, Fred, had been dead for twenty-six
years, but Ethel truly believed that he was in the ward
and was standing three feet away from her.

'Oooh, oooh, oooh.'

Michelle peeked up from under her sheets to see who
the fuck was oohing. The smell hit her nostrils almost
immediately and she quickly sprayed Ralph Lauren
perfume onto her wrist and held it close to her nose. Oh
dear, Ivy had had another little accident. Michelle felt
like bursting into tears. She'd had private health insurance
for years when Terry was alive and had never used
it. Why the hell hadn't she kept up the policy? What a
bloody idiot she was. Looking at her perfume bottle she
allowed herself a wry smile. 'Glamorous', the label said.
'Fucking glamorous,' Chelle said under her breath. 'Not
in this bastard place it ain't.'

Drifting off to sleep, Chelle was woken shortly afterwards
by the one and only friend she seemed to have left.
Apart from Hazel, none of her other so-called friends had
been near her. The only other visitor she had had was her
solicitor, who was being paid to drop in. Chelle looked
inside the carrier bag which Hazel had brought and was
pleased to see it was full of magazines.

'Thanks, mate,' she said gratefully. 'Hazel, I've been
thinking. I want you to do me a favour. Will you contact
Billie Jo for me and ask her to come and see me? I
look around at visiting time and everyone else has their
family with them. I know she's going to be horrified
by the accident, but I dunno, she's the only family I've
got and being stuck in here has made me think about
the past. I know I was never cut out for kids, but I'd
like to try and make things up to her. What do you
think?'

Hazel had been amazed by the change in her friend's
behaviour over the last few days. At first she'd put it
down to shock, but now she wasn't so sure. Maybe,
deep down, Chelle did have a kind, caring nature, but
over the years had kept it well hidden.

'I think it's a great idea, Chelle. I'll ring her tonight
if you give me her number. I've always liked Billie. She's
a good kid. Maybe it's because she was so close to Terry
that you and her have always struggled to get on.'

Michelle scrolled through her phone, wrote the number
down and handed it to Hazel. She was just about to get
into a deep conversation with her about Billie, when she
was interrupted by an unexpected visitor, her solicitor.

'I need to have a word with you, Michelle, in private.'

Colin Brown had his serious tone on and Chelle only
had to look at his face to know that whatever news he'd
come to give her wasn't going to be good. As soon as
Hazel had left, Colin Brown closed the curtains around
the cubicle and sat down next to Michelle.

'I'm afraid I've got some bad news for you, Michelle.'

Michelle felt panic rising inside her. It was at times
like this that she used to reach for the wine bottle to calm
her down. Fat chance of that today, she thought.

'Mrs Lennon, the driver of the other car, took a turn
for the worse last night. The doctors thought that she was
out of the woods, but they were obviously wrong. She
was pronounced dead at seven this morning.'

Michelle could feel the bile rising to her throat. She
grabbed her sick bowl and started to retch.

'Obviously, this will change the charges that are to be
brought against you and the police will want to take a
statement. They'll probably now charge you with death
by dangerous driving amongst other things.'

Michelle felt as if she was having a bad dream. Why
did the woman have to bloody well die? 'What will happen
to me? Will I go to prison?'

Colin Brown felt nothing but contempt for the woman
sitting opposite him, but tried not to show it. He couldn't
believe he'd just told her that she'd killed someone, yet all
she was worried about was her bloody self. 'I honestly
don't know,' he said truthfully. 'But you're going to have
to speak to the police asap. I can't put them off any longer,
not now the woman is dead. By all accounts, they've now
gone over my head anyway and contacted the doctors. You
can bet they've said that you're now well enough to be
interviewed.'

'Right, Colin, that's made my mind up. I'm not staying
here one minute longer. The doctor I spoke to today said
I'd probably be able to go home soon anyway, so I'm
gonna discharge myself. I'd much rather come to the
police station with you of my own accord than have anyone
interview me sitting in this dump. I hate this poxy old
nightdress and I've got no make-up on.'

Colin was so disgusted by her selfishness that, for
once, he couldn't keep his mouth shut. 'For goodness'
sake, Michelle, you will have to change your attitude
when you go to court for this mess. You've just killed
somebody and all you're worried about is what you look
like! If you behave like this in front of the judge, you'll
end up with a nice long vacation in Holloway.'

Michelle burst into tears. She didn't just feel bad about
what had happened, she felt awful. The fact that her drink
problem had now killed someone hadn't really sunk in
yet, so to cover up her guilt, Michelle did what she knew
best and that was to talk constantly about herself.

'I'm so sorry,' Chelle sobbed. 'I know I haven't asked
for any details about the woman, but it's not because I
don't care. It's because I can't face knowing at the moment.'

Colin stood up and, for one split second, actually felt
sorry for the mess of a woman he was representing.

'Look, I have to go now, Michelle. There's another
client I have to see. Do yourself a favour and think about
what I've said. Unless you start showing some remorse,
the police and the court will give you a real hard time.'

Chelle nodded tearfully. Giving her a formal nod in
return, Colin left the ward.

Chelle immediately got dressed and discharged herself.
With the help of Hazel and a set of crutches, she hobbled
out of the ward.

An hour later they were sitting in Chelle's house, not
really knowing what to do next. Hazel had made her friend
comfortable on the sofa with a quilt and a pillow, cooked
her some food and poured her some wine, but Chelle was
inconsolable and could barely eat or drink. Running out
of ideas and in a rush to get home because her son and
first grandchild were coming round for dinner, Hazel did
the only thing she could think of. Pretending she was
going out into the kitchen for a refill, she took the screwed-up
piece of paper from her purse and rang the number.
Taking a deep breath, she crossed her fingers and hoped
for the best. It was answered on the fourth ring, and Hazel
decided to be blunt.

'Billie, your mum's not well. She's been involved in
an accident. She's in trouble, she's been asking about you
and she needs you.'

Momentarily stunned, Billie Jo dropped the phone.

Billie sat on a chair, ended the call and stared aimlessly
around her new flat. The phone call from Hazel had been
a shock, to say the least, and she didn't know what to do
for the best. Part of her hated her mother and wouldn't care
if she never saw her again, but the other part realised that
whatever had happened in the past, you only get one mum.

Tucking Hazel's phone number safely into her handbag,
Billie picked up DJ, sat him on her knee and gave him a
cuddle. Jamie would be home soon. He was sensible in
these situations and would help her decide what to do for
the best.

After dinner, Billie decided to broach the subject. She
told Jamie, word for word, the conversation she'd had
with Hazel.

Jamie thought carefully before answering. 'Did she
mention what sort of trouble your mum was in?'

Billie shook her head. 'No, she just said that she was
in a lot of trouble and needed to see me.'

Jamie took a sip of his lager. 'If I was you, I'd go
round and see her. If it turns out to be a load of old
bollocks, you haven't got to go back. Don't take the little
'un with you, in case it's a ploy to see him. I'll look after
DJ for you.'

Billie moved over to where Jamie was sitting and gave
him a hug. 'I don't know what I'd do without you, Jamie
Jackson. I'll ring her tomorrow. I've also got to ring
Danny and tell him that he can't have DJ at the weekend.
I'll do exactly as Marsha told me. I'll tell him that I've
made other plans and if he kicks off, I'll ring the police.
He obviously doesn't know I've moved yet, but you can
guarantee that it won't be long before he finds out where
I am.'

Jamie screwed up his empty lager can. 'Don't worry
about Danny, babe. I'll look after you from now on.'

Billie smiled at him gratefully. 'I know you will.'

Jamie stood up. 'Right, are we ready to unload the rest
of the boxes?'

Billie giggled. 'You make a start while I put DJ to bed.'

Jamie playfully threw the empty can at her. 'You slippery
cow, by the time you've bathed DJ and tucked him
up, I'll be bloody finished.'

Two hours later the pair of them were sitting down
having a drink to celebrate unpacking. They'd actually
moved all the stuff out of the old place yesterday. Jamie
had managed to borrow a white Renault van and, with the
help of his mate Ryan, three trips later it was done and
dusted. Lying on the sofa with Jamie's arm around her,
Billie felt totally at home in her new surroundings and
very much at ease. She decided to take the plunge
and ask him something that had been on her mind all day.
Moving closer, she smiled at him.

'Jamie, you know you said that you'd stay here with
me whenever I wanted you to?'

'Yeah.'

'Well, I've been thinking. I know it's early days, but
we've known one another ages. Why don't you move in
with me and DJ?'

Jamie looked at the beautiful girl lying in his arms and
knew his answer straight away. 'Only if you improve at
cooking and promise to feed me on demand and wash up
every night.'

'You bastard,' Billie said playfully, punching him in
the arm. 'Is that a yes, then?'

'Oh, go on then.'

Billie was over the moon. Jamie was everything she
had ever wanted, and more. 'Do you fancy an early night?'
she asked suggestively. Picking her up off the sofa, Jamie
carried her into the bedroom and made love to her with
a feeling and passion that previously she could only have
dreamt of.

'Goodnight, Jamie. I love you.'

Jamie held her close. 'I love you too, Billie Jo. Much
more than you'll ever know.'

Danny O'Leary snorted the two lines of gear that lay in
front of him. He sniffed as hard as he could and felt it run
down the back of his throat. Feeling on top of the world,
he walked out of the toilet and back to the bar where his
pals were waiting. Danny was out celebrating today. He
and the boys had pulled off a nice deal in the early hours
of this morning. Half a dozen kilos of coke had arrived
safely in a lorry from Spain. Jimmy the Fish had organised
the delivery, but because he was still on holiday until
the weekend, it had been left to Danny to oversee the job.

The couver had been hidden in boxes of coffee and
tea and was driven from Spain to a warehouse in Barking
by an old boy called Sid the Snake. Sid was as honest
as the day was long and had only earned his nickname
over the years because of his love for the slithery reptiles.
His two pet boa constrictors, Ronnie and Reggie, were
his babies and had the run of his four-bedroom house.

Danny had picked up the gear personally and stashed
it away as arranged with Jimmy. The handover had gone
without a hitch and Danny was on such a high that, rather
than go home to Debbie, he went out on the piss with a
couple of pals to a boozer in Stratford. He knew it was
open all night, as it was a regular haunt of the train drivers
who had just finished their shift.

Having stayed there all morning, Danny had left and
gone on an all-day bender, visiting pubs in Barking, Ilford,
Dagenham and Hornchurch. By his sixth pub, he should
really have been dead on his feet, but due to the adrenalin
of the job going so well, plus the enormous amount
of gear he'd shoved up his hooter, he was still raring to
go. His good mood was soon cut short when Lenny Barrett
entered the boozer.

Lenny owned a fruit and veg stall down Romford
Market and hadn't seen Danny since he had left there.
After catching up on old times, Lenny dropped a bombshell
by asking Danny, 'So, are you all right with Jamie
going out with your ex-bird?'

'What you on about?' Danny asked casually.

'You know, the bird that's got your kid.'

Danny nigh on choked on his bottle of Bud. 'You what?
Jamie going out with Billie? What the fuck you going on
about?'

Lenny stood there, looking sheepish. He had a habit
of opening his big mouth and not for the first time wished
he had kept it shut. 'Oh shit. Look, forget I said anything.
I've probably got it wrong anyway.'

Danny's eyes blazed angrily. Dragging Lenny away
from his mates, he pushed him aggressively outside the
pub. 'Now don't fuck with me, Lenny. We've known one
another too long. Tell me what you know, or I'll fucking
knock it out of ya.'

Lenny took one look at Danny and knew he meant
business. At fifty-one years old Lenny didn't need this
shit. He was far too old for fighting. 'I only know what
I've been told, Danny, that they're an item. Jamie told
one of the lads on the market and word got about.
Apparently, a few of the boys have seen them out and
about together as well, looking all loved up and that.'

'Well, are they really?' Danny patted Lenny on the
back. 'Thanks for telling me, mate, and do us a favour,
don't tell no one you told me, yeah?'

Lenny nodded. Danny had a look on his face like a
maniac and he was damned if he was getting involved
any more. 'I won't say a dickie bird, Dan, I promise.'

Danny went back into the pub and tried to carry on as
before, but couldn't. How could he stand in a pub laughing
and joking, when all he could think of was his so-called
one-time best mate shagging the mother of his child and
playing daddy to his son? Feeling nothing but anger
and hatred, he forced himself to finish his beer. Billie Jo
had been a virgin when he had met her and now she was
nothing but a fucking slag. Banging his bottle on the bar,
Danny told his pals he had some business to sort out and
had to go. Ignoring their pleas to stay, he stormed out of
the door and jumped into his car.

Pulling up at the house that he'd once shared with
Billie, he kicked the front door as hard as he could.
Hearing no response, he took the key out of his pocket
and tried the lock. Realising the bolts weren't on, Danny
feared the worst as he walked inside. He put the lights
on and knew within a split second that Billie had done a
runner.

'Fucking bitch,' he screamed out loud. 'As God is my
judge, I'll kill her for this. I'll fucking kill her.'

Danny jumped in his car and raced towards Jamie's
mum's. The flats had a security door and no one seemed
to want to let him in, but after getting his baseball bat
out and threatening the disabled geezer on the ground
floor with it, the door was soon opened. Knocking on
Jamie's door, he looked through the letter box. He could
tell no one was there, but tried to kick the door in anyway.
It dented, but wouldn't budge. 'Cunt,' he screamed.
Hearing sirens in the distance, Danny flew down the stairs,
started up his car and drove off at top speed.

Pulling up outside Debbie's flat, he opened up the bottle
of Jack Daniels he'd just bought and took a swig. Searching
for his wrap, he snorted a line off the dashboard, took
his mobile out of his pocket and rang Billie's number.
Her answerphone greeted him. Het up with jealousy and
anger, Danny was nigh on foaming at the mouth as he
left her a message.

'If I don't have my son at the weekend as planned,
Billie, I'm telling you now, girl, I'll kill you. Don't fuck
with me, Billie Jo, because I swear wherever you are I
will hunt you down. That's my boy you've got there, the
boy's an O'Leary and don't you ever forget it, you fucking
slag.'

Ending the call, he immediately tried ringing Jamie. It
came as no surprise that his phone was switched off as
well. Deciding he couldn't face going indoors to the
whining bitch, Danny headed to his local. He rang Jamie
again and this time he decided to leave him a message as
well. He kept it short and sweet.

'You're dead, you cunt.'