The Letters (Carnage #4) (2 page)

If it were my call, I would’ve waited until they were older, but as my kids keep telling me, this is the twenty-first century. One click and the kids would’ve found out the truth, or a version of it, so we decided to be upfront and honest with them. We told H about his mum first and then we told the other three about Tamara and about Sean.

They took it okay, well, sorta. Kiks cried because it was so sad Tamara chose to leave Harry in that way. Lu mumbled something about it being a good thing she had died, otherwise
she
would be hunting her down and shooting Tamara herself. George just asked me if it hurt.

Unfortunately, since then, Kiki has had nightmares. They don’t happen often, but they’re always about the same thing: either someone is chasing her with a gun, or she’s involved in a car accident.

We both feel guilty about this and still wonder if we’d made a bad call telling them all too soon. Then, when Lu got in a fight because some little darling said her mum told her that Georgia was in the papers for having a threesome with some rock stars when she was just thirteen, we knew we had made the right decision.

Being a parent is tough, toughest job I’ve ever had. I do what I can to protect them, but at the same time I have to prepare them for the outside world. For our kids, it is always gonna be a little bit harder out there, both their mum and their uncle have lived their lives making headlines from a very young age. They have one cousin in an up-and-coming band and another whose face is plastered on billboards, the front of magazines, and sometimes on the telly. Even I have made the front pages a few times.

They have laptops and smart phones. We didn’t allow them to have Facebook accounts until they got to secondary school, but now they have it all—Facebook, Twitter, Periscope, Snapchat, and Instagram. There are probably others I don’t even know about; the whole thing is beyond me. What ever happened to just knocking on your mate’s door and asking if they want to come out?

We have a strict no phones at the dinner table rule, and the only time it gets broken is when they all start taking photos of their food before they start to eat. What the fuck is that all about? I’m glad Georgia is the one in charge of watching their online shit and not me.

Georgia is all over the social media shit and she regularly checks the kids accounts to see what they’re looking at, but she’s warned me that it is gonna have to stop soon, especially with Harry. She trusts him and says he is entitled to his privacy. Yeah, we’ll see.

I walk Kiks back to her bed and lie down with her for a little while. She’s the sensitive one out of all my kids. She always used to rescue lady birds and any other creature she found in the garden when she was younger. She cries if a sad story comes on the news, and she donates part of her allowance every month to the local animal shelter.

“So, you missed me, did ya, Treacle?”

She nods her head and yawns at the same time.

“We all missed you. Mum’s been sad all week. We watched your wedding video the other night, and she cried all the way through.”

My heart bangs so hard against my chest, it echoes in my ears. Most people don’t see the gentler side of Georgia. They see the smart business woman that runs a successful chain of fashion stores and an even more successful charity. They see a woman that overcame the very public loss of her first baby and then her husband and a second child. Georgia’s public persona is that of a tough-as-nails, smart-mouthed Essex girl. Me, our children, and her family know different. The kids laugh when she cried when Harry scored his first goal and when Kiki was an angel in the school’s Christmas play. They have no clue why she cries when she hears the national anthem sung before a football match or when certain songs come on the radio. They don’t understand why she cries when someone gets voted off X Factor, or why she bursts into tears when I come home with flowers for her, just because.

But I know.

I know Georgia inside out. From the twenty-year-old girl with sad eyes who walked into my wine bar almost thirty years ago, to the stunningly beautiful, mostly vibrant woman she is now, I know her like no other. Every tear, gasp, and sigh. Every curve, bump, and crease. Every twitch of her lips and thought that crosses her mind, I know and can read them. We talk without words. I can look at her and know when someone is making her uncomfortable, when she’s had too much to drink and it’s time to go, or when someone’s pissing her off and it’s time to step in. I know all of this because we’re a team, united. There is so much more to her than the public could ever conceive.

“Mum looked so beautiful in her wedding to you. I like that dress better than the one she wore to her other wedding.”

“Me too, Treacle, me too.”

“Hope I’m as beautiful as her when I grow up.” She yawns her way through her sentence. I kiss the top of her head again.

“You already are. Don’t you worry about that. You, your sister, and your mum are the best looking girls in the world.”

She nods her head, her eyes now closed.

“Ollie Chalmers said that me and Lu were the fittest twins he’s ever known, but it’s not surprising coz our mum’s a MILF.”

What the actual fuck?

I’m paying six grand a term, per kid, to send my girls to a school where they get told shit like this? I’ll be on the phone with that stuck-up headmistress first thing Monday morning, and who the fuck is this Ollie kid anyway?

“How old is this Ollie kid, Kiks? Do the boys know him?” I choke out because I’ve forgotten to breathe. She doesn’t answer, so I give her a nudge.

“Whaaaat?” she whines.

“This Ollie, how old?”

“Same age as us, fourteen he’s in the same tutor group as George, and they play in the same football team.”

He’s only fourteen, but I still wanna punch the little fucker.

I listen to my daughter’s breathing change as she drifts back to sleep.

“I love you,” she mumbles

I kiss her forehead this time.

“Love you, too.”

I climb from her bed, and as I reach the door, she calls my name.

“Daddy?”

My heart feels like it grows too big for my chest. That shit never gets old. No matter how big of a man I think I am, when my little girl calls me daddy, game over.

“Yes?”

“You looked very handsome in your wedding video … Mum said so, too.”

“Thanks, Kiks,” I tell her with a smile.

Cameron

I make my way downstairs quietly, the sun is coming up and the birds are starting their dawn chorus. I wanna shoot them.

I was a fourteen-year-old boy once, I know exactly how their filthy little minds work. I need to get Harry on board with this, and make sure he tells that little toerag Ollie to stay the fuck away from my girls—all of them. What the fuck is he doing eyeing up my wife anyway? He’s fourteen for fuck’s sake.

I take a few deep breaths and stick my head inside Georgia’s office door. Her earphones are off and she’s curled on her side facing me now, obviously asleep. Her mouth is slightly open, and I’m instantly hard as I watch her.

I go to the kitchen and make us both a coffee. Taking them back to her office, I put them down on her desk next to the two empty bottles of wine I failed to spot earlier. No wonder she was such a mess. Georgia, wine, and memories of Sean are really not a good combination and nearly always end in tears.

There’s a stack of letters sitting next to the empty bottles, and I pick the top one up. It’s addressed to Georgia when she still lived at home with her parents. I lean over her to make sure she’s still sleeping and slide the letter from the envelope.

Oh shut up, like you wouldn’t have a look!

It’s handwritten on a plain piece of paper.

-

Let Me Know...

Should I wait for you?

Or let you go

Shall I hang on to our love

I need to know.

My heart, it's yours

For as long as we live

It beats fierce and strong

And has so much to give.

Just let me know…

-

Fuck!

I know what this is. Georgia has had a crate of stuff sitting out in the garage for years. It had all of Sean’s stuff in there, including a load of shit she never looked at. Letters, tapes, diaries. She has always put off going through it, obviously, she’s decided now would be a good time to make a start.

I slide the first note back into its envelope and pull out another.

-

I fucked someone else tonight, George. I hope you’re happy with that! Hope you’re pleased, hope it’s what you wanted, coz I just feel like shit. It didn’t have to be like this. It shouldn’t have been her who woke up in my bed this morning, it should’ve been you. It should be you every morning, but you chose this. You chose to behave like a spoiled selfish little cunt, and now I’ve gone and done exactly what you accused me of in the beginning. Well fuck you, Georgia. Fuck you!

-

Shit! It should make me happy that Archangel Sean wasn’t quite as perfect as Georgia seems to think he was, but this will break her heart. No wonder she was such a mess earlier.

I go into my study and get a throw from the wingback chair I have in there. She’s gonna have a stiff neck and a sore head when she wakes up, so the least I can do is keep her warm.

I drink my coffee, as well as the one I made her, and decide to keep reading. I don’t care if she’s gonna be pissed off with me later. If she’s been through all of these and they’ve upset her, then I wanna know about it. If they’re full of poncy words and bullshit, I wanna know that too. What can I say, I’m a nosey fucker, and if it involves my wife, I wanna know it all.

I slide down on the floor next to Georgia and start with the pile that’s next to her.

-

So what now, G? I just give up? You think by ignoring my calls and letters that's it, the end of us? Coz that will never fucking happen. Ignore me all you like, marry someone else, have ten kids with him, it won't matter. There'll still be an us. There’ll always be an us.

That looks like anus haha and don't marry anyone else. Fuck, don't even go out with anyone else, and definitely don't have any kids. Beau and Lilly remember? Our babies, G. The babies we're gonna have. We still have to think of a name for our other boy. I was thinking about it the other night, what about Frankie? I think your dad would like that. Beau, Frankie, and Lilly, our kids. Mine and yours.

Fuck, I miss you so fucking much. I don't know what I can say to fix this. I fucked up, I know I fucked up massively, but this is us, we’re talking about, Sean and Georgia. Georgia and Sean. We’re meant to be, baby, wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, there’ll always be an us, and you know it. You fucking know it, G.

Why won’t you just talk to me?

Ok, don’t even do that, just answer the phone when I call and let me talk, just let me tell you how much I love and miss you. Your smell, your touch, your soft skin, and those beautiful blue eyes. Your mouthy Essex attitude, even your temper, G, and your tits—fuck, I miss your tits, your perfect, perfect tits. Every part of me aches. My heart, my soul, and my bones, they all ache for you, baby, so much, so, so much.

I have to go now. We’re in Birmingham, Jimmie’s here with Len. You should be here with me, and you fucking know it.

I love you, I miss you. I’ll call you tomorrow morning around 8 after your dad’s gone. Pick up the phone, G. Please, please pick up the phone.

I love you Gia, with everything I am, I love and miss you. Just pick up the phone and talk to me baby. Let me put this right.

Sean xxx

Georgia, Georgia give us a kiss

Georgia, Georgia show us ya tits.

That’s all I’ve got.

Just wanted ya to know that I’m thinking of you.

Love and miss you baby xxx

Georgia, today has been really hard. We’re in our new shared house near the studios in West London. We had a day off today, and everyone has gone out, except me. I had nowhere to go. This is where I live, but it’s not my home. It’s the place where I eat and sleep. Where I shower and wash my clothes. It’s where I exist, barely, but it’s not my home. My only home is wherever you are. Home is you, the taste of you, the feel of you, the smell of you.

Today, I spent alone. Today, like all the others lately, I spent homeless, because without you, that’s what I’ll always be.

I love you, Gia. You know that, it never changes, not even when I think I hate you. Even then, I know deep, deep down that it’s just another way of loving you. I hope you read this one day. I hope you read this and finally understand, finally get it. Xxx

I wrote a new song, but your brothers, yeah, two of them and your best friend weren’t impressed, and I got a punch in the mouth off all of them. I might just make it anyway. I might just go solo on this one and put it out there by myself, what d’ya reckon?

What should I call it? I was thinking “A Song for G”, or how about “Fuck You, Baby”. How’s that sound?

You called this on.

Now you've got your way.

Time for me to move along.

Tomorrow's another day.

Fuck you, baby, I did my best

Fuck you, baby, now I'll go fuck the rest.

I tried to reason, to make you see sense

But you walked away ... No recompense.

You gave me no chance to talk or say my sad goodbyes

You ignored my pleas, ignored my cries.

So fuck you, baby, now I'll go fuck the rest.

I fucked you baby … You weren’t the best.

When you meet another, which I'm sure you will.

Just remember me and the way I can make you feel.

When he slides inside you, and when he holds you tight,

I hope you think and dream of me, all through the night.

When he pushes deep and looks into your cold hard eyes.

When he says and does those things only I know you like,

Don't you forget that I was your first, the first to hear

your moans, the first to make you sighs.

So, fuck you, baby. My time here is done.

I'm through crying, time for me to have some fun.

Fuck you, baby, maybe see you around some time.

Then you can join all the others and wait your turn in line.

You like that? Hurts doesn’t it? Well good. At least if it hurts, it means you still have a heart. If it weren’t for this permanent pain, this continuous ache I have in my chest, I’d be numb. I’ve got nothing else right now, G. I’m done.

My heart races as I read. I switch from totally understanding the bloke’s heartbreak to wanting to smash his face in. Then I remember that he’s dead and getting pissed off with him is pointless. I don’t understand why she’s putting herself through this. It’s been fifteen years, why would she want to drag up all of these memories now?

I look down and watch Georgia sleep. As much as I like to think I know what makes her tick, I’d still love to get inside her head sometimes. Like now, just so I can understand the thought process that led to her believing this could be a good idea.

My eyes are starting to sting, and I decided to wrap myself around my wife and rest them for a little while.