Billie Jo (8 page)

'Life ain't fair, Bill. I loved your dad. He was my best
pal and I'm gonna miss him big style. You've got to be
strong, girl. He loved you more than anything and you
have to be strong for his sake.'

Sobbing, Billie pulled away from him.

'I can't. If he's dead, I want to die too. I can't live
without him, I just know I can't.'

Lost for words, Dave squeezed her hand.

Taking off his jacket, he put it round her shoulders and
made her sip some of his brandy to warm her up. Leading
her back into the warmth of the house, he sat her down
and suggested that she go and stay at Tiffany's. He knew
without a doubt that she'd get far more love and kindness
there than she would in her own home.

Dave rang Tiffany's parents and explained the situation.
He was relieved when they welcomed Billie with
open arms, insisting that she could stay as long as she
wanted. Dave dropped Billie off early in the evening, and
then he took Pearl and Bridie to a nearby hotel. They'd
insisted on going straight away, as they'd both said they
couldn't spend another night under the same roof as
Michelle. Popping back round to Chelle's, Dave was
relieved to see that Hazel, her best mate, had come round
to stay with her. Clocking they were on the piss, Dave
felt he'd done his duty and said his goodbyes. 'I'll pop
round tomorrow, Chelle. If you need anything before then
ring me.'

'Thanks, Dave.' Chelle didn't know how she felt as
he left the house. She was glad Hazel was there, as while
she had company she wouldn't have to examine her true
feelings.

Michelle knew that she'd truly loved Terry and even
though their relationship had been on the rocks for a long
time, her heart was with him, it always had been. An
awful part of her felt relief. She wasn't silly and knew
that in time he'd have left her and she'd rather him be
dead than suffer the humiliation of being publicly dumped.

The gruesome task of identifying his best pal's body left
Dave heartbroken and shellshocked.

Sitting in his Shogun, he rested his forehead on the
steering wheel and cried. He'd had to be strong all day
for everyone else's sake; now it was his turn to grieve.
Terry's injuries had looked dreadful and Dave had heaved
as he'd left the mortuary. Dreading what he had to do
next, Dave scrolled through his phone. Jade had to be
told and he was the only person in a position to tell her.

He'd rather have told her face to face, but he was
fucked if he was driving all the way to Somerset.

Pacing up and down the room, Jade looked at the clock.
The past couple of days had been just dreadful and she
knew something had to be wrong. Being in Somerset
wasn't helping. At least if she was at home, she could
have searched for him herself.

Her gut instinct told her something awful had occurred.
Terry would never blank her calls or not contact her. As
she turned to her parents, she prayed that there was a
simple explanation.

'Will you take me home first thing tomorrow? I need
to be local in case something's happened to him.'

Mary and Lenny glanced at one another and nodded.
They feared the worst but didn't want to comment.

Jade picked up her mobile and dialled Terry's number
for what seemed like the thousandth time. His answerphone,
yet again. Wondering if the police had finally
caught up with him, she sat down, put her head in her
hands and cried.

Hearing her ringtone, she leapt up full of hope.
Recognising the number, she spoke silently to God as she
answered.

'Dave, is that you? Have you heard anything yet?'

'I think you'd better sit down, Jade.'

Jade felt the colour drain out of her face as she sat on
her parents' armchair. 'What's happened to him, Dave?
Please tell me he's OK, he is isn't he?'

'I'm really sorry to have to be the one to tell you, Jade,
but he was involved in a fatal accident Boxing Night. The
police reckon he probably died instantly. He was found
early . . .'

Jade collapsed before Dave had finished the sentence.

Michelle spent the next couple of days going through the
motions. Hazel hadn't left her side and was staying with
her till further notice. Suzie, Julie and numerous other
well-wishers had called in to offer help and pay their
respects. All in all, Chelle seemed to be coping pretty
well considering the circumstances.

Billie was still staying at her friend's house, which
suited Chelle down to the ground as she didn't have a
clue how to comfort her. She'd never been very good at
the emotional side of motherhood, and it was too late to
start now. Anyway, why should Billie soak up all the
sympathy? It was her husband that had died, therefore it
was her people should be feeling sorry for, becoming a
widow at such a young age. Chelle spent the next two
days constantly drinking, sleeping, laughing, crying and
reminiscing. It was on the third day that things began to
go haywire.

Two coppers arrived early in the morning to inform
her that the case was now closed. Apparently, Terry had
been over the limit and had tested positive to traces of a
class A drug found in his system. Michelle couldn't believe
it. She might be a pisshead, but she'd never had any time
for drugs and she certainly had never had an inkling that
her husband took them. Chelle was told that Terry's body
was now ready to be released and was asked if she'd like
some counselling.

'Do I look like someone who needs to sit and discuss
my business with a complete fucking stranger?' Chelle
replied angrily. Snatching the bag of belongings that had
been inside Terry's car, she ushered the Old Bill out of
her house.

Chelle got straight on the phone to Davey Mullins and
asked him if he could sort out all of the funeral arrangements.
She was no good at anything formal and wouldn't
know what she had to do or where to start. Dave agreed
to see to the whole thing including registering the death,
choosing the coffin, hymns, a speech, the wake and the
caterers.

Truth be known, he wasn't doing it for Chelle, he was
doing it for Terry and Billie. If he left Chelle to organise
it, she was bound to make a cock-up and he wanted his
best pal's funeral to go without a hitch. It was the least
he could do, as they went back years and had been more
like brothers than friends.

Chelle opened the bag that the police had left in her
possession and she and Hazel began rifling through it. It
contained all the usual shit that was shoved in a glove box.
Sunglasses, CDs, chewing gum, a lighter, loose change
and Terry's mobile phone, which looked surprisingly intact.

Hazel poured herself and Chelle a large vodka and sat
down opposite her friend.

'Why don't you charge the phone up, Chelle, and see
if it's working? If it is you might find out who his bit on
the side was. She's bound to have contacted him if she
hadn't heard from him. Or would you rather not know
now and just remember the good times?'

Chelle looked at her friend and shrugged. 'I don't know,
what do you reckon? Oh fuck it, I'd rather know, I think.
It's not as though he can run off with her now and leave
me with nothing, is it? I might as well know the truth.'

Plugging the phone into the charger, Chelle noticed
the signal on the front, and felt a mixture of fear and
excitement. Terry had always left his mobile in his car,
either that or it was in his pocket, and it was the first
time she'd ever been able to get her hands on it. Stuffing
a handful of peanuts into her mouth, she turned to Hazel.
'It's charging, how long shall I give it?'

Hazel jumped up excitedly to check it was actually
working. 'Let's give it half an hour or so. We'll have a
good drink first to prepare ourselves for the outcome.'

Billie Jo stared at the Chinese takeaway and politely
excused herself from the table. Tiffany and her family
had been wonderful, but she desperately needed some
time alone. There wasn't a word in the dictionary to
describe just how she felt right now. Devastated, distraught,
heartbroken, they barely scratched the surface.

Her father's death was all her fault. If only she'd spent
Boxing Night with him, like he'd wanted her to, he'd still
be alive now.

Shoulders slouched, she made her way into the living
room. The silence was welcoming. The decorated tree
reminded her of how Christmas used to be her favourite
time of year. The trip to Lapland, visiting Santa's Grotto
at Harrods. Her dad and Davey Mullins had even organised
a surprise Christmas party one year, where they'd
dressed up and entertained all her friends. Billie wiped
her eyes. It upset her too much to think about her wonderful
dad. She needed to forget, lock the past inside her broken
heart. That was the only way she could even begin to cope.

A few miles away, Jade was going through the self-same
motions as Billie. Returning to Romford and her memory-filled
flat had made her feel giddy with pain. If it hadn't
been for her unborn child, she was sure that she would
have ended it all. By taking her own life, she would have
been with him, been able to tell him all the little things
that she was so desperate to say.

Worried about her mental state, her parents had insisted
on staying with her. She hadn't wanted them to, as being
alone was the only way she could even attempt to grieve.

Escaping into the loneliness of her bedroom, she lay
down and cried like never before. The sheets bore his
DNA. His scent was apparent and she immediately vowed
never to wash them again. They would be put away, stored
as a keepsake of the man who had been so cruelly taken
from her.

Chelle got a bottle of wine out of the fridge and poured
herself and Hazel a large glass. She'd been on the vodka
all day but it wasn't touching her. She needed to feel like
she'd had a drink to listen to Terry's messages and wine
always worked wonders for her. Part of her pondered if
she was doing the right thing. Did she really want to know
who her husband had been knocking off?

She'd been surprisingly calm since the news of Terry's
death. Partly because she'd been permanently pissed and
partly because she was relieved that he hadn't run off
with his fancy bit. She would have hated being left a
penniless laughing stock. His death was a tragedy, but at
least she had the sympathy vote and financial security.
Terry had taken out a life insurance policy years ago to
take care of his family if anything were to happen to him.

Snapping herself out of her daydream, Chelle took the
phone off the charger, switched it on and watched it flick
into life. It frantically let out a series of bleeps, indicating
the many answerphone messages that had been
left. Chelle handed the phone to Hazel and topped her
wine glass up. 'I can't listen to them, mate, you're going
to have to do it.'

Hazel shoved the phone to her ear and pressed the
appropriate button. The first few messages gave away
nothing. One was from a pissed-up Dave from Maxie's
pub, one from some other geezer called Joe and one from
Benny Bones. It was when Hazel got to messages four,
five and six that things started to liven up. Jade had left
all three. She'd left them the morning after Terry had
texted her outside Maxie's pub.

Number four said, 'I got your text message, Tel, and
I miss you too. You can pick me up from here whenever
you like. Can't wait to see you, love you lots.'

Number five was, 'Guess what, Tel, I just felt the baby
moving for the first time. I'm sure I felt a tiny kick.
Maybe we're having a little footballer. Ring me back and
I'll tell you all about it.'

Number six was the crowning glory: 'Tel, it's me again,
ring me as soon as you get my messages. I hope you won't
be angry, but I've invited my brother Simon and his girlfriend
Elaine to come and stay in the new house when we
move in. I hope you don't mind, but I've asked Simon to
be godfather. We'll have two godparents and you can pick
the other one. Hurry up and ring me back, Tel, love you.'

Hazel sat in shock with her mouth wide open.

'What is it, Hazel? Tell me,' Chelle said impatiently.

Hazel handed Chelle the phone. 'I think you should listen
for yourself, mate, listen to messages four, five and six.'

Michelle snatched the phone and did as Hazel said.
The shock was horrendous and she felt her legs buckle
beneath her. Grabbing on to the kitchen units for support,
she vomited into the sink. Splashing her face with cold
water, Chelle sat down at the kitchen table and burst into
floods of tears. Hazel sat next to her and cuddled her.
She felt terribly guilty and wished she hadn't encouraged
her to go through the bastard messages in the first place.
Hazel couldn't begin to imagine just how bad her friend
must be feeling. She'd been distraught when her husband
Stan had died. The thought of him dying alone in his
prison cell was bad enough, but to have your old man
snuff it and find out what Chelle had just found out had
to be the ultimate betrayal.

Hazel opened up a bottle of whisky and poured two
large neat ones. 'Drink that, Chelle. It'll do you good.
It'll help with the shock.'

'I can't drink it, Hazel. I don't even like bloody whisky.'

'Trust me, drink it. Just hold your nose and down it
in one.'

Michelle was like a zombie and did as she was told.
Three glasses later, she felt her body return to normal. It
was then that the hatred began to surface. 'The lying,
cheating, no-good cunt. I ain't going to his fucking funeral.
I hope he rots in hell and as for that slag of a secretary,
I'm gonna fucking kill her and the bastard child she's
carrying.'

Hazel looked at her friend, eyes brimming with
sympathy. 'Look, Chelle, I know you're upset and you've
every right to be, but don't do anything irrational. Sit and
think about it, use your loaf. You'll have to go to the
funeral, he was your old man. How's it gonna look if you
don't go? You don't want nobody finding out the truth,
do you? Let's just keep this between us, eh?'

'I can't face the funeral, Hazel. I hate the fucking
bastard and if that slut of his turns up, which she's bound
to, I'm telling you now, I'll fucking kill her. As God's my
judge, I swear I'll rip her fucking head off.'

Hazel racked her brains, wondering how to handle the
situation. Chelle was right. Jade was not only his lover
but his secretary as well and she was bound to show her
face at the funeral. 'You leave Jade to me, Chelle. Do
you know where she lives?'

'No, all I know is that she lives in Romford somewhere.
I've got a feeling it's near the station,' Chelle replied
dejectedly.

'Listen, Chelle. You'll get through this, trust me. Davey
Mullins must know where she lives, he was always with
Terry. He can tell Jade that she's not welcome at the
funeral, but you have got to attend. People will talk otherwise
and all the gossip-mongers will know your business.
Just have a good drink, try and plaster a smile on your
face and pretend to grieve for the no-good bastard. Trust
me, it'll be for the best.'

Chelle looked at her pal's concerned expression and
felt thankful she had such a good friend. Most people
would probably laugh at her misfortune but not Hazel,
she was genuine. 'All right, I'll do as you say, but I need
to make sure that slut doesn't turn up and I need you to
stay by my side all day.'

'Of course I will, mate.'

Chelle rambled on for the next two hours about the
evening's events and what she was going to do about
them. Hazel was pissed and passed out. Chelle tried to
wake her as she was desperate to talk, but Hazel was
comatose.

Chelle switched the television on and put on her
wedding video. Seeing Terry come into focus, she stood
up and spat at the screen. They had been so happy when
they'd first got married. She was slim and beautiful, he
was handsome and sought-after and he'd looked at her in
total adoration. How had it all gone so bloody wrong?
She would never know. She could hardly ask him now,
could she?

The Jade revelation had been a total shock to her. She'd
known he had someone else, but Jade of all people. She
was like something out of
Emmerdale
and was more suited
to shearing sheep than shagging her husband. The pregnancy
was the real kick in the teeth. Over her dead body
would she allow Jade to stake a claim on any of Terry's
assets. She had a top brief and would make damn sure
that Jade didn't get a penny. Chelle just hoped that the
shock of Terry dying would prompt the bitch to miscarry.
That would make things easier all round. As for the house
that they were supposedly moving into, well there was
no way Jade would get that now. The house must have
been in Terry's name, so now legally it belonged to her.

Sighing, Michelle allowed herself a wry smile. At least
she was left a very rich woman, that was one relief. The
bitch and his love-child could live in poverty for all she
cared. Pouring the last drop of whisky into her glass,
she took a deep breath. Her inner strength was in place
now and she knew she was going to get through this.
Hazel was right, put on a brave face and tell no one. She
could just imagine all the girls' faces down the gym if
they found out Terry had got his secretary pregnant. She'd
be a laughing stock and her reputation would be in tatters.
Chelle knew she had to bide her time and think about
what she was doing.

Jade and Davey Mullins would get their comeuppance
in time. Chelle was one hundred per cent sure that Dave
knew all her husband's goings on. He was her husband's
shadow, he had to know.

She'd thought it funny earlier on in the day when she'd
rung Dave and told him the police had been and brought
Terry's stuff with them. He'd asked about the phone and
wanted to come and collect it. Chelle had bluffed it
and said the phone was smashed to pieces. She was sure
she'd heard Dave breathe a deep sigh of relief and now
she knew why. The bastard was covering up Terry's sordid
secrets. Well, she would bide her time all right, let muggins
Dave organise the funeral and pay for it. She certainly
wasn't going to do it. For all she cared, Terry could be
slung in the ground in a bin liner.