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Authors: Martina Cole

The Graft (31 page)

BOOK: The Graft
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She had to get out of here, get the money and get back home where she felt safe, where she could convince herself her life was on track, was normal.

 

‘I bet everyone is having a field day round here.’

 

Verbena shook her head.

 

‘Why would you think that, my love?’

 

Jude shrugged.

 

‘Not exactly flavour of the month, am I? Now my baby is gone I suppose I won’t be welcome here any more.’

 

Her voice was full of self-pity. She knew what buttons to press, she had been pressing them for over half her life.

 

Verbena felt her usual sorrow for Jude. It was as if she had a blind spot where this woman was concerned and even she was aware of that fact.

 

But she could never deny her.

 

‘You will always be welcome in my home, Jude, you know that.’

 

She smiled and it was a real smile for once. Her faded eyes were dull, but the fact that her ex-mother-in-law still cared for her meant more to her than she had realised. With Sonny gone she had not felt any love in her life recently. Whatever she was, whatever she did, he had always been there for her, had adored her, and she had never realised how much she needed that until now.

 

Impulsively she grabbed Verbena’s hand tightly.

 

She had lost a son and it had left her unable to leave her home. At times, this had annoyed Jude because she knew if the old woman had been capable she would have dropped off anything she needed and, so, save her a journey.

 

Samuel had been Verbena’s Sonny Boy. Unlike his brothers and sisters he had not been what Verbena would have termed ‘a good boy’. He had been her lost sheep, her sinner and she had loved him all the more for it.

 

Now, though, Jude knew that the death of her son had brought them closer together. Verbena had been good to her, she admitted that. Unlike everyone else who had walked away from her over the years, only Sonny and Verbena had always been there for her.

 

‘What would I do without you?’

 

For once Jude was being honest, and it came across in her voice.

 

The older woman shrugged her bulky body, desperate to hug the poor excuse for a mother in front of her. Even though she knew she should not feel any sympathy for Jude her heart felt as if it was going to burst with sadness anyway.

 

Jude was not a bad person, it was just the drugs that made her do wrong. Verbena knew that because she had experienced it at first hand. Jude had even stolen from her: small amounts of money, the odd ornament. When Sonny had been a baby his grandmother had always searched the pushchair surreptitiously before they left in case a bracelet or ring had gone walkabout there. But having met Jude’s family she could see why the girl had turned out this way.

 

Within five minutes she was opening her purse and giving Jude enough for a ten-pound bag, though they both pretended it was so she could get something to eat. It was a game they had played for many years and Verbena wondered when their strange association would end.

 

Only, she mused, with the death of one of them. Hopefully it would be her own and then finally she would be able to leave her home.

 

Once Jude had the money she was gone and the old woman went over to where the photo of her grandson’s grave had been placed. She rubbed the picture with her thumb as she thought of his life, knowing that of all the people in her world he would have been the only person to understand why she gave Jude money.

 

Sonny had inherited Verbena’s forgiving nature, and it saddened her that no one else had ever recognised that fact.

 

 
Nick had left his wife in a wine bar with her friends and made his way home to get changed and have a few hours’ rest while he tried to sort himself out. His mother hardly spoke to him and after a few attempts at conversation he gave up. It seemed that overnight she had taken on the mantle of Tammy’s protector. Well, in a way he was glad because it saved a lot of atmospheres and aggravation as far as he was concerned.

 

He couldn’t be bothered to ask her what was wrong, he had enough on his plate as it was.

 

He loved his mother but sometimes he could understand why she drove Tammy mad. They had never been close, had not even liked each other before this, but it seemed that now Nick was in his mother’s bad books and not his wife. He was willing to let that go for a while if it kept his wife sweet. He had enough on his mind without worrying about his mother having a hissy fit. She’d come round when she was over it. There was a bond between them that Angela would never sever, they both knew that.

 

He showered quickly and lay on the bed. He could lie there in peace as Tammy was out for the duration. He was tired, and knew that a sleep would do him the world of good, but he was finding it difficult to settle. The boy’s death had been bad enough, but what he had done to Gary was outrageous, Nick saw that now.

 

What was wrong with him?

 

He had not heard anything from the filth yet except a few words at the yard to ask him when he had last seen Mr Proctor, etc. The usual things they would ask anyone. He knew they would not want him in the papers once more. He was a hero of sorts, at least to the public anyway. He had played it schtum and now he had Tammy on board he was more or less home and dry. He knew they were aware of Gary’s reputation as they were aware of his but this country’s laws required proof, and no matter what they suspected they had to be able to prove he and Gary were up to skulduggery. Nick was far too shrewd for anything to lead back to him. To all outward appearances he at least was a genuine businessman.

 

He knew they were also under the impression that he and Gary had been tight. Which was exactly what he wanted them to believe. He had made a point of weighing out Proctor’s wife with a bundle so Maureen was sweet. In fact, she was over the moon with it all. But then, she would be. Gary had treated her like the hired help for years.

 

Stevie, bless him, was pleased Nick had done him a favour even though he had not wanted what had happened.

 

All in all it should be a walk.

 

At least, Nick hoped so. If they didn’t arrest anyone within twenty-four hours of a major offence, chances were the culprit was home and dry. What most people didn’t realise was that criminals knew the law and the way it worked better than most Old Bill. They had to otherwise they would not last five minutes on the street. Successful criminals paid out a hefty wedge to barristers and lawyers to find out the score and the best way to beat anything that was thrown at them.

 

Most justice was about how much you could pay, not how guilty you were, and that had been proved time and time again. Look at the sentences handed out to drunk drivers.

 

Nick was shaking again. He took a few deep breaths to steady his nerves, closed his eyes and tried to relax, but it was impossible. He saw that boy in his dreams even when he was awake. He’d dreamed about Sonny Hatcher every night, yet he didn’t dream once about his oldest friend - how strange was that?

 

He glanced out of the balcony doors and saw the night starting to draw in. He hated the dark, hated being alone in it. He closed his eyes and swallowed down the fear enveloping him. He saw Sonny Hatcher then as he always did, walking towards him. The boy was smiling and holding out his arms. He looked so young, but then he was very young, a handsome boy with dark eyes and coffee-coloured skin. He actually looked like Nick’s nephew. His sister’s son was the same age.

 

He jumped off the bed, his breathing heavy and his heart pounding. He couldn’t relax, couldn’t rest.

 

Sonny Hatcher had never done anything wrong to him except to come to his home. Nick had killed him for that. The boy should have used his loaf and kept away.

 

Gary Proctor, on the other hand, had been a real menace. Nick was only sorry he had not kept his temper and let Stevie deal with it; that would have been the sensible solution, but since Sonny Hatcher he could not think straight.

 

He sometimes wondered if he was having a breakdown.

 

It was still early and he knew he wouldn’t settle. For once he wished Tammy was there but she wasn’t. After getting dressed he left the house, for the first time ever not saying goodbye to his mother. He had to get out, the walls were closing in on him. He needed to be around people.

 

He made his way into East London and as he drove wondered when all this was going to stop and he could finally get on with his life again. He knew exactly where he was going and he also knew that he definitely shouldn’t be going there. It was wrong, so wrong, but he couldn’t hold back the urge when it came on him. It came so rarely these days that he had to follow its lead.

 

This was his first foray since the burglary and he needed the respite tonight more than he had ever needed it before. He had to get all the frustration out of him and this was as good a way as any.

 

He parked his Mercedes sports in a small turning and made his way up to the tenth floor of a block of flats in Plaistow via the filthy lift. It stank. As he walked from it he hawked deep in his throat before spitting the phlegm noisily over the concrete balcony.

 

Two young boys were standing on the landing smoking a joint and he eyed them quickly. They dropped their eyes when they saw him looking and he passed them without a word. He banged on a freshly painted red front door.

 

It was answered by a young blond of about eighteen.

 

‘I wondered when you’d be back round.’

 

Nick smiled.

 

‘Couldn’t keep away, sweetheart, are you alone?’

 

Big blue eyes drew him into the small hallway. It smelt of Kentucky fried chicken and fried eggs.

 

‘For the moment, yeah.’

 

Nick took a hundred pounds from his pocket and grinned. ‘Turn your mobile off, it’s just us tonight, OK?’

 

‘Whatever you want, Nick, you got it.’

 

He grinned.

 

‘I could have told you that, darling. Now get your fucking kit off and stop poncing about.’

 

 
’Are you sure you want to see him?’

 

Tyrell nodded.

 

‘I got us in to see him because of Colin and that. They’re up for doing whatever they can to help. But, Tyrell, are you sure you want to go into all this? Leo is one heavy-duty fucker, you know that.’

 

‘Heavier than you and your brothers? I don’t think so.’

 

Louis smiled.

 

‘You know what I mean. It’s only gossip, man. If he had had a run in with Leary it couldn’t have had anything to do with your boy, could it?’

 

Tyrell shrugged.

 

‘It’s all I’ve got at the moment, man. Think about it. What the fuck was he doing in that house with an alarm system like Fort Knox . . .’

 

Louis sighed. Not that again. He was like a scratched record.

 

‘If Leary was at home the alarm wouldn’t have been on, would it?’

 

Tyrell shook his head.

 

‘It was normally on part-set according to the newspapers, which meant it was on downstairs while they slept.’

 

Louis nodded but Tyrell could see his heart wasn’t in any of this.

 

‘What I mean is, Leary is a handful. He wouldn’t need it on, would he, not like Mr and Mrs Average? His attitude would be like ours: who would dare rob us?’

 

Tyrell laughed.

 

‘That is what I am saying, man, who
would
rob him? Think about it.’

 

Louis said gently, ‘I have thought about it, mate, and I think the only person who would rob him would be a young boy with no brains and no real knowledge of what he was getting himself into. A boy like your Sonny. He probably did it on the spur of the moment, you know he always needed dough.’

 

Tyrell finished off his can of Red Stripe noisily then crumpled the can and threw it in the general direction of the bin.

 

‘My Sonny was a lot of things, I don’t dispute that, he was just a young boy with no brains to talk of, but there is no way he would have thought of robbing that drum. As we have already established he wasn’t exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer. Why Nick Leary of all people? Until that night Sonny had only robbed . . .’

 

He stopped himself from finishing so Louis finished for him.

 

‘Friends, family and neighbours?’

 

It was hard hearing it said out loud but it was true.

 

‘But that is what I am trying to say, Louis, he didn’t have the fucking savvy for it. He had to have had some help. Maybe Leo knows something.’

 

Louis knew it was pointless arguing.

 

‘Fair enough, let’s get going. Colin and the others will be waiting for us, OK?’

 

Whatever Leo had to say the Clarke brothers would make sure it was the truth. Tyrell was lucky to have such good friends and he knew it. He got up and hugged his friend.

 

‘I have to do this, you understand that, don’t you? I have to have some kind of explanation for what happened.’

 

Louis nodded but was secretly wondering if his friend might be asking too much.

 

‘I only hope you get the one you want, mate.’

 

Tyrell pushed his dreads out of his face and said sadly, ‘So do I, Lou, so the fuck do I.’

 

Leo Green was not a happy bunny. He had the Clarke brothers in his home.

 

In his home
.

 

And, as Colin was just thinking to himself, a very nice home it was and all.

 

A large detached villa in South London, it had a big garden planted with so many trees the house was not visible from the road. This suited Leo because he needed privacy to carry out his work. The electric gates were a touch as well, and so were the two Dobermanns that prowled his garden twenty-four seven courtesy of a friend’s scrap yard. Scrap-yard dogs were the best in as much as they felt no real affection for anyone and respected only the person who fed them. There was no way Lily Law was coming in this house without plenty of warning.

BOOK: The Graft
10.47Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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