Disobey (19 page)

‘No, wait! Wait! I need this job.’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Please, I’m a good worker.’

Mr Lee’s tone was full of scorn. ‘So you say, Chloe, but as we’ve all just witnessed, what you say and what you actually do are two different things.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘What I mean is you’ve just told us that you’re willing to do anything, yet when I tell you to do the simple task of taking off your clothes, you can’t manage to do that. How am I supposed to employ you now?’

There was a desperation in Chloe’s voice. ‘It was just a shock, that’s all. I wasn’t expecting it.’

Mr Lee laughed. ‘What were you expecting, Chloe? A job in a hotel?’

‘No … No.’

‘Do you really think you can earn the sort of money that Jodie’s earning by waiting tables?’

‘No, of course not, it’s just …’

‘Just what, Chloe? Wouldn’t you like to earn enough money to be able to rent your own flat, even buy one?’

Chloe-Jane listened, both intrigued and apprehensive. Having her own place was something she dreamed of, something that she’d thought of since she was a kid. A place of her own; somewhere where no one could throw her out, somewhere where no one could sneak into her bedroom at night and hurt her, somewhere where no one could take away the keys.

So as Chloe-Jane stood in the darkness, unable to see more than three feet in front of her, she decided whatever it took, whatever this man told her to do, it was worth it. Worth it to be safe. Worth it to have a place called home.

Slowly, but determinedly, Chloe spoke.

‘Let me start again … Give me another chance. I won’t let you down …’ And without another word, she began to undress.

29

Alfie Jennings looked across the park, watching the royal keeper’s car being driven carefully across the bumpy ground towards him. With his head banging from the scotch and the dry hot air which had pumped out all night from his car heater, the last thing he wanted or needed was to have an encounter with some official telling him he needed to move on. He just wanted to be left alone and continue feeling sorry for himself.

He’d slept in his car and had turned off his phone, not that anyone was going to contact him. Not now anyway. How things had got this far, he didn’t know.

Alfie rubbed his chin, feeling the stubble. It was probably best if he went to the store to pick up a razor and have a shave in the gents before he faced the world; it was one thing feeling rough but looking rough was an entirely different matter; he still had an image to keep up.

Standing outside his Range Rover for a moment to stretch his legs, he looked out across Richmond Park, thinking about Franny and how not so long ago he’d have been waking up next to her; and making love to her, instead of waking up in his car miles from home.

Shit. He wanted to talk to her. He really did, but he couldn’t quite take the rejection if she didn’t want to know him anymore. His thumb for a moment hovered over the speed dial button, but the idea of listening to her hostile voice was too much, especially with a painful hangover. Perhaps he’d call her later.

Getting back in his car, Alfie felt the heat hit him, making him feel weary again. He looked in the driver’s mirror and saw his bloodshot eyes staring back at him. His skin looked pallid and dehydrated.

Lately he’d noticed how his face had started to show lines and the surprised comments had stopped when he told people his age, but no one could mistake his age today; looking at himself now, he looked like he was ready for his bus pass.

Women; they’d a lot to answer for. That was the cause of his problems, or any man’s for that matter. Scientists blamed men’s early heart attacks, strokes, premature ageing and even death on poor diet, smoking and excess drinking, when the root of the problem, Alfie was convinced, always went back to a woman.

He’d had a lot of friends and lost a lot of friends over the years, all from different backgrounds and different cultures, but the one thing in common, the one thing that pissed them all off, the one thing that had them tearing their hair out and ailed them, was women. Somewhere at the heart of every transgression was a woman; whether it was to do with money, sex or someone’s downfall, it always seemed to be the female of the species who was at the root of the cause.

Still deep in thought, Alfie Jennings put his Range Rover into gear and sped off out of the park, not noticing the small blue car begin to follow him.

30

‘Would you listen to this crap?’ Franny sat on the edge of the table in Lola’s café, looking at the newspaper, addressing no one in particular. ‘Gemini; today a mysterious stranger brings you good news and with the moon in Jupiter your worries will be eased … Could you spout any more rubbish to me?’

‘I take it you don’t believe in star signs.’ Lola raised an eyebrow.

‘Well let’s put it this way, if it read, Gemini; today you’ll wake up to the familiar sound of the road works, get stuck on the Euston Road behind an HGV lorry, followed by a row with a traffic warden for wanting to park near my own house, then Lola, I might say there’s something in it.’

Lola laughed, gathering up the plates on the table as Franny continued to look at the paper.

‘Okay, how about a crossword, Lola? You any good at them?’

‘Try me.’

‘Okay, here you go; one down. An error of judgement; eight letters.’

Lola fell silent as she became a picture of concentration, before a wide smile crept on her face. ‘An error of judgement … That’s easy … Marriage!’

Franny laughed. Lola was the perfect tonic. ‘What is it about us, hey Lola? Why do we make men our downfall? You’d think we’d learn, but we never do. We’re strong, independent, intelligent women, yet each and every time, we let men ruin our lives. Behind every problem there’s a man.’

Lola looked at Franny. ‘Oh I wouldn’t say that, Fran … I’d say in front of it, to the side of it and bleedin’ on top of it.’ She grinned at her friend before sitting back down next to her.

‘Look love, it’ll be fine, you and …’

‘Don’t say it. Don’t say,
me and Alfie will work it out
because we won’t. We just won’t. He lied to me and I don’t do lies. He knows that.’

‘But …’

‘No, no I don’t want to talk about him … I don’t suppose you’ve see any sign of Chloe-Jane, have you?’

Lola shifted in her seat. ‘No, why would I?’

Franny shrugged. ‘I dunno … I was just hoping. Put my mind at ease I suppose. I feel bad about what happened. If I knew she was okay, then …’

‘She’s fine.’

Franny sat up straight, narrowing her eyes as she looked at Lola. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I … I just mean she’s a survivor, ain’t she.’

‘Do you know something?’

‘No … no; I’m just saying, girls like Chloe-Jo will find a way to get through.’

‘It’s Jane.’

Lola turned round, looking annoyed. ‘Where? Because I want a word with that cheeky cow. She’s been going round saying me and Doc have something going on, plus she still owes me a score.’

‘No, not Jane from the sauna. I mean, it’s Chloe-Jane.’

‘Where?’

‘No, I mean. You said … Actually, forget it.’

Lola shook her head. ‘You need to get some rest, love, you ain’t making sense.’

Franny smiled, getting up to go. ‘You would tell me if you heard anything? She caused a lot of bother but I’d hate it if anything happened to her.’

‘Nothing will. She’ll be fine. I’m sure of it.’

Franny Doyle stood watching the machine breathe for Casey. There’d been no change, which she couldn’t tell if it was a bad thing or a good thing. The doctors and the ICU nurses hadn’t been forthcoming with any information either.

‘No change?’ A voice came from behind Franny. She turned round to see Detective Spencer’s smug expression.

‘You tell me, detective, after all that’s your job. Why are you here anyway?’

‘The same reason as you.’

‘We both know that’s not true.’

Spencer shrugged. ‘You’re right.’

Franny walked away, she didn’t have anything to say to this man. He was a vulture. Yes, he had his job to do but the enjoyment the man got from seeing others’ misery was hard to stomach.

‘We’re going to throw the book at him you know.’ Spencer talked in a monotone manner as Franny stared through the glass of the intensive care ward.

‘It was an accident.’

‘Really? I thought you weren’t there. Because according to Mr Sadler, he and Casey were the only ones there. Which does seem strange, especially as the club is owned by Mr Jennings, but then you’d know that, wouldn’t you?’

‘Everyone knows that.’

Spencer joined Franny at the window. ‘The thing I don’t understand, Ms Doyle, is why Mr Sadler was there in the first place.’

‘Why wouldn’t he be? It’s a bar after all.’

‘But why that bar, Ms Doyle? Especially as Mr Sadler and Mr Jennings didn’t get on, yet he finds himself in that bar with Ms Edwards.’

‘I don’t know. You’d better ask him.’

‘I have, and now I’m asking you. Why would a man go to a bar which is owned by a man he detested? An empty bar. No clients. No owner. Yet there’s Mr Sadler upstairs in the flat of Whispers. Who let him in? And why was the place like the
Marie Celeste
? None of it makes sense, Ms Doyle, none of it.’

‘You’re the detective.’

‘You know what I think? I think there were other people there. I think it wasn’t as simple as Mr Sadler’s saying it was. I think he’s covering for someone, Ms Doyle; after all where did the gun go to? That’s the thing about guns, they don’t have legs.’

Franny shrugged. ‘Who knows, stranger things have happened.’

‘I’m going to find out who and what really happened, Ms Doyle, and when I do …’

Franny interrupted. ‘Don’t tell me, when you do, you’re going to throw the book at them as well.’

Spencer sneered. ‘Jennings, Williams, Taylor, all lying low, all at the same time? All out of British jurisdiction or un-contactable. Don’t you think that odd?’

‘Haven’t you ever heard of coincidence, detective?’

‘When you’ve been in the game as long as I have, you get to realise there isn’t such a thing as coincidence. So if you do speak to them, tell them I’ll be catching up with them for a little chat, and when I do, if they’ve got anything to hide, then …’

Franny turned to walk towards the exit. ‘… That book’s going to come flying. That’s an awful lot of books you’ll be throwing, detective, but if I were you, I’d hold off with the Waterstone’s vouchers … Oh, and I’d be careful who you go round accusing, otherwise you might wake up one day to find that gun has walked right into your room.’

31

The gates of Belmarsh prison opened and slammed behind Franny, making her shudder. Of all the prisons in and around London, she found Belmarsh to be the worst. Not because of the actual building but rather it was the sense of overwhelming hopelessness coupled with the almost visible tension amongst the prisoners. And it was here Franny found herself waiting to see Vaughn.

She wasn’t sure if he’d see her; after all she was certain he’d blame her for everything that had happened, as well as being part of the reason why he was sitting in a cell.

Franny watched the other prisoners’ wives. A group of women who made the journey come what may to sit for two hours opposite the man they’d chosen to be with, for better or for worse.

Franny always divided them into categories. There were the ones who were done up to the nines; head to toe in designer gear, and there were the frazzled ones, elbow-high in kids and debt as they took on all the worries of the outside world on their own. Those who took it in their stride; this was their life and it’d never change; visiting their banged-up partners was as familiar as going to the supermarket. And then finally, there were the ones – if you looked carefully enough – who had the look of relief on their faces; finally their old man was behind bars, unable to cause any more grief, pain or hurt, and whether it was for one month or ten years, the day their partner had been imprisoned and started their sentence was the day theirs
had finished.

‘Franny.’

Franny looked up to see Vaughn standing in front of her.

‘Hi, it’s good to see you.’

Vaughn didn’t say anything. He sat down, slumping in his chair looking like a broken man.

‘How is Casey?’

‘She’s stable. I’ve been trying to get some information out of the doctors but they don’t seem too keen to divulge anything.’

‘Has she woken up yet?’

Franny shook her head, taking in the tiredness around Vaughn’s eyes. ‘But she will. I’m sure of it.’

Vaughn’s tone was scathing. ‘Really? And how can you be so sure, Fran? Last time I heard you weren’t a doctor.’

Franny didn’t say anything. It was true. What did she know? And it was stupid to try to comfort Vaughn with empty words.

‘I’m sorry … I’m sorry for everything.’

Vaughn stared at Franny, but there wasn’t the hatred there that had been present only a week or so ago, just sadness for what had once been. ‘You should’ve trusted me, Fran.’

‘I thought Alfie was telling me the truth. I know it sounds stupid, but I thought he and I had something special, and you were so angry with him. So hostile, I thought …’

‘… I had a vendetta against him.’

‘Yes, but you can see why. There was all that history between you and him and you seemed so different. Everybody did, but you, Vaughn. You seemed to be driven by hatred. I didn’t recognise you … and neither did Casey.’

For a moment Vaughn’s jaw clenched, annoyed at what Franny was saying; but maybe there was some truth in it. Perhaps if he’d listened more to what Casey had been trying to tell him about his behaviour, maybe he wouldn’t be in this predicament now.

‘Did she say that?’

Franny was silent for a minute. She certainly hadn’t come here to rub salt into any wound and the last thing she wanted to do was hurt Vaughn any more than he already was. But she wouldn’t lie to him, because that’s what had got them all there in the first place. Secrets and lies.

‘Yes, but she loved you, Vaughn. That was a given.’