The Traitor (35 page)

Thrilled by the prospect of her best friend accompanying her to her old house, Frankie had asked Kerry immediately and had been delighted when she had said yes. What neither girl realised was that it had all been Sammy’s idea. He had cooked it up so he could spend the day with Julie.

Frankie put her outfit on and glanced in the mirror. ‘What you up to today?’ she asked Jed.

‘Sammy and I have got a lorry to chop up. I dunno what time we’ll finish, but you and Kerry’ll probably be back well before we will.’

Frankie nodded and picked up her phone and handbag. ‘Kids, come on, we’re going now.’

‘Enjoy yourself, babe,’ Jed said, opening the door for her.

‘Don’t work too hard,’ Frankie replied sarcastically.

Over in Rainham, Joyce was in full peacock mode. Extremely proud of her beautiful house, there was nothing Joyce liked more than showing off her wealth to all her friends.

Rita and Hilda glanced at one another as Joyce began to boast about how much Eddie had paid for the swimming pool. Joyce had begged them to come over early to give her a hand with the food, but even though they had only been here an hour, she had already driven them up the bloody wall.

Desperate to give her ears a rest, Hilda decided to make a start on taking the cutlery outside. ‘Give us a hand, Rita. You take the plates.’

Out of earshot, Rita turned to Hilda. ‘She’s brain damage, ain’t she? I wouldn’t mind, she only got this house ’cause Eddie felt guilty and gave her the bastard thing.’

Hilda agreed. ‘It’s as though she’s forgotten that she used to live in a council house opposite us, ain’t it? I dunno about you, mate, but I’m gonna pour meself a large gin and tonic in a minute.’

Rita laughed. ‘Pour me one, too. I might be able to suffer her more if I get a bit tiddly.’

Unaware that her friends were taking the piss out of her, Joyce went upstairs to get changed into her new frock. Joyce had spent ages searching for the appropriate number and she had finally found the dress of her dreams in a little boutique near the Cherry Tree in Rainham. Long, sleeveless and satin, with a leopard-skin design, it had cost her a small fortune. Susan, who owned the boutique, had said she looked absolutely stunning in it and, as Joyce admired herself in the mirror, she couldn’t help but smile. I really do look a million dollars – that Susan was right, she thought smugly.

Hearing the doorbell, Joyce secured her diamanté earrings and floated down the stairs. She had arranged her husband’s sixty-fifth birthday party with precision. Jock had taken Stanley out for her and she had ordered him not to bring her husband back until at least three o’clock. She had told the other guests to arrive at two, so that everybody was there by the time her husband returned home.

‘Joey! Dominic!’ Joyce exclaimed, kissing both boys lightly on each cheek.

Hearing a little yap, Joyce nigh on jumped out of her skin. She looked down and pointed at the little dog sporting a red bow around its neck. ‘What’s that? Who does it belong to?’

Laughing, Joey picked the Chihuahua up. ‘Nan, meet Madonna. She’s mine and Dom’s, we bought her last week. Gorgeous, isn’t she?’

Joyce politely patted Madonna on the head. She had a cute little face and was certainly more practical than those big, cumbersome Rottweilers she’d given away to Pat Murphy.

‘Madonna’s panting. I think she’s thirsty, Joey,’ Dominic said.

Telling the boys to get the dog some water, Joyce went to answer the door again. ‘And don’t use one of my good dishes. There’s an old saucer on the windowsill with a plant standing on it. Rinse it out and use that,’ she shouted.

By half-past two all of the guests had arrived. Joyce had been choosy who to invite and had kept the numbers to a lucky select fifty. Family-wise, Joyce had invited Raymond and Polly, Joey, Dominic and Frankie, who was bringing her friend Kerry and, reluctantly, she had invited two of Stanley’s cousins and their miserable wives. The rest of the numbers were made up by neighbours and friends. Joyce had asked Jock to invite a few of Stanley’s pals from the pigeon club and also the bus depot where Stanley used to work.

At five to three, Joyce insisted that everybody gather in the lounge to await Stanley’s arrival. As it was mid-August, the weather was hot and clammy and by the time everybody squeezed into the room, it was like a sauna.

Frankie stood next to Kerry with Harry in her arms. Georgie had taken an unhealthy interest in Madonna and wouldn’t leave the poor dog alone.

‘What do you think of my family, then?’ Frankie whispered.

Kerry giggled. ‘I think your uncle’s well hot.’

‘Raymond’s married. His wife’s over there. Behave yourself or I shall tell Sammy you’ve been acting like a floozy,’ Frankie joked.

‘He’s here. Everybody be quiet,’ Joyce shouted, in a false posh voice.

Joyce waited until she heard the front door click shut. ‘Stanley, help me lift this,’ she yelled.

As Stanley opened the lounge door he was gobsmacked.

‘Surprise!’ everyone shouted.

He turned to Jock. ‘I take it you were in on this as well.’

Jock patted him on the back. ‘Happy birthday, Stanley. You might be sixty-five, but you don’t look a day over fifty, mate. It must be because you took that early retirement, you lazy bastard.’

‘He looks young because I look after him so bloody well,’ Joyce shouted cockily.

Raymond had offered to be in charge of the barbecue for the day as a favour to his mum. He turned the steaks over and glanced around to see where his miserable wife had got to. Raymond and Polly had tied the knot two years ago. Before they had married, their relationship had been fantastic, but since they’d wed it had gone drastically downhill.

Just lately, things had got even worse. Polly never seemed to stop moaning and her constant disapproval of their lifestyle drove Raymond up the wall. He was currently running Ed’s salvage yard for him. The jewellery business had done his head in, so he’d resigned and gone back to a job he knew inside out. The money wasn’t fantastic and if Polly wasn’t whinging about their lack of finances, she was kicking off about their inability to conceive a child.

Spotting Polly standing next to Vicki with a face as black as thunder, Raymond sighed. They had only been trying for a child for the past eighteen months and Polly was already insisting that if she hadn’t fallen pregnant by Christmas, they must look into adoption. Raymond had no intention of adopting. He wanted his own kids, not some other bastard’s. He and Polly had recently been to see a quack who had sent them for tests, which confirmed there was sod all wrong with either of them.

‘Some couples just take longer to conceive than others. You need to be a bit more patient,’ the doctor had told them.

Unfortunately, Polly didn’t know what the word patient meant. Whether it be wealth, children or a new designer handbag, she wanted everything the moment she set her mind to it. In other words, she wanted everything yesterday.

Glancing around the garden, Raymond smirked as he saw his mother trying to get his dad to dance with her. They might argue like cat and dog, but at least their marriage had lasted the duration, he thought.

Seeing Dougie walk past him, Raymond waved. Dougie was Eddie’s pal, and Vicki, his wife, had been Jessica’s best mate. Vicki had even called her little girl Jessica in honour of his sister.

Prodding a fork into the sausages to test if they were cooked, Raymond thought about Eddie. His brother-in-law had looked as fit as a fiddle the last time Raymond had seen him, and was due for release very soon. Raymond put the sausages onto a large plate. If Ed was going back into loan-sharking and wanted him to be his right-hand man once again, he would jump at the chance. He missed the excitement and riches of his past career and if Polly didn’t like his decision, she could go and fuck herself.

Jed told Sally to duck down as he neared his parents’ gaff. With Frankie’s grandparents throwing a party just down the road, the last thing he needed was to be spotted with a bird in the motor.

‘Slow down a bit, Jed,’ Sally said, as her head made contact with the glove compartment.

‘You can sit up now, and remember what I told ya: don’t put your foot in it about me and you, as I don’t want me mum sticking her oar in.’

Jed leaped out of the Shogun and unclipped Luke from the child-seat in the back. He took his son to visit his parents regularly, but they’d never been properly introduced to Sally before. They’d only met her once, and that was when her father had turned up shouting and screaming at their house.

‘It ain’t bloody right. Me and your father love little Lukey boy with all our heart and we deserve to know what his mother’s like. You’re on good terms with her now, ain’t you, Jed? So bring the bloody girl round for dinner,’ Alice kept insisting.

With his mother on his case, Jed felt he’d put the imminent introduction off as long as he possibly could. His dad knew that he was in a relationship with Sally, but because Frankie was up the duff again, he was reluctant to admit the truth to his mum.

‘Please don’t mention that Frankie’s pregnant in front of Sally. Things are awkward enough as they are and Sal will be upset if she finds out Lukey boy’s gonna have yet another brother or sister that he can’t have no contact with. And don’t you ever put your foot in it with Frankie, either. She’ll chop my fucking nuts off if she ever finds out that Sally came round yours for dinner.’

Unaware that her son had been playing both girls, Alice promised to keep schtum.

Alice beamed as she opened the front door. ‘Hello, Sally, I’ve been dying to meet you properly, love. Why don’t you and Lukey boy come and sit in the kitchen with me while Jed and his father talk business.’

‘Me and Dad ain’t got no business to discuss,’ Jed snapped.

Alice linked arms with Sally and glared at her son. ‘Sit in the front room and have a beer, then. Me and Sally want to get to know one another, and we ain’t gonna be able to do that with you and your father butting in.’

Knowing when he was beaten, Jed winked at Sally and followed his father into the lounge.

Unaware that Jed was currently playing happy families less than a mile down the road, Frankie was busy keeping tabs on her daughter.

‘Where is she now? She’s already had three hot dogs. She ain’t gone up to that barbecue again, has she, Kerry?’

Kerry craned her neck. ‘I can’t see her, mate, but don’t worry, she won’t have gone far.’

Frankie sipped her drink and said nothing. Whenever she took Georgie out, she had a habit of skipping off and getting lost.

‘There she is. Oh, you’d better go and get her, Frankie. Look what she’s doing.’

Seeing her daughter pick up a sausage that Joey’s dog had been nibbling, Frankie ran over and grabbed her by the hand before she could eat it.

‘Chuck that sausage on the floor. It’s not yours, it’s the dog’s and it’s all dirty.’

Georgie started to cry. ‘I don’t feel well, Mummy.’

‘I ain’t bloody surprised with the amount you’ve eaten. You’ve only got a little tummy, Georgie, why do you have to be so greedy, eh?’

Kerry laughed at the annoyance on Frankie’s face. ‘Is she OK?’

‘No, she’s a bloody pest. She doesn’t feel well now, the greedy little cow.’

Feeling as sick as a dog, Georgie sat on the grass and seconds later was violently sick all over her new party frock. ‘I’m sorry, Mummy,’ she wailed.

Frankie found some wipes in her handbag and tried to clean her daughter up. Not having much joy, she turned to Kerry. ‘She’s smothered in it. I think I’ll take her over to Alice and Jimmy’s. They’ve got spare clothes there, and Alice can give her a bath. We can pick her up on the way home. Look after Harry for me. I’ll be ten minutes,’ she said, as she dragged her troublesome daughter from the garden by the hand.

Joyce was highly embarrassed by the commotion. ‘Kids, eh? Makes you wonder how we coped, doesn’t it? Now let me get you both another drink.’

Rita waited for Joyce to walk away, then turned to Hilda. ‘What a greedy little horror that child is. I reckon it’s the pikey in it, don’t you?’

Hilda nodded. ‘She looks like a gypsy kid as well, don’t she? And as for Joycie’s dress, what a fucking eyesore that is.’

Rita burst out laughing. ‘I thought that. She looks like Bet Lynch, don’t she? And it looks a size too small on her.’

A few feet away from Rita and Hilda, Stanley was having a fabulous time. He was standing with his mates Jock, Brian and Derek from the pigeon club, Ralph and Sid, who he’d worked with on the buses and his two cousins, who he hadn’t seen for years.

Bored with the conversation revolving solely around pigeons, Ralph decided a change of subject was imperative. ‘So, tell me, Stanley, however did you end up in a house as fantastic as this one? You didn’t win the football pools after you took an early retirement from the bus depot, did you?’

Remembering how he and Joycie had obtained the house, Stanley’s mood darkened. ‘It’s a long story. I’ll tell you another time, but not today.’

Ralph playfully goaded his old colleague. ‘Come on, tell us now. We ain’t seen you for years, Stanley, and we want to know your secret. Last time I saw you, you were a meagre bus driver living in that council house in Upney. You must have had a change of fortune somewhere down the line, so what was it? I mean you don’t buy houses like this on a bus driver’s pension, do you?’

Stanley glared at his old pal. He’d been having a thoroughly good time until they had brought up the topic of how he’d acquired the house. With the brandy affecting his diplomacy, Stanley decided to be extremely blunt. ‘I thought you knew what I had been through – it was plastered all over the news and the papers. My daughter, Jessica, was murdered by her villainous bastard of a husband, who then gave me and Joycie this house out of guilt. Now, can we change the fucking subject?’

Alice and Sally were getting along like a house on fire. Unlike Frankie, Sally was passionate about cooking, was terrific company and would make a boy like her Jed a wonderful wife.