TRAPPED (27 page)

‘You ain’t, Johnny! You ain’t.’

Gypsy flew at Johnny, catching the back of his neck with her nails. He flinched from the scratch and turned round, his eyes matching the flames of anger in his mother’s, his voice as loud and raging as hers. ‘That’s where you’re wrong, Mum. Me and Maggie are going to make a real start of it, become a family.’

‘You can’t. You just can’t.’

‘Why the fuck are you so against me and Maggie being together?’

Gypsy ran over to grab her bag and pulled out the letter, shoving it into Johnny’s chest. ‘Because he raped me. Max Donaldson raped me, and I’ve just found out he’s your father.’

Gina Daniels was too hot and she was in pain. Her leg was hurting, her back was hurting, and as far as she was concerned her body might as well have had a forklift truck roll back and forth over her.

In truth, all Gina Daniels’ symptoms were, was a flight of stairs. A flight of stairs she had to climb to get to Johnny’s flat.

‘No poxy lift, Sonya, can you believe it? What’s that about, hey? Flats without a lift. Think I was living in some third world country rather than in bleedin’ Soho. Johnny Taylor has some front.’

Sonya lifted her eyes away from the magazine she was reading to look at her friend who was shooting off her mouth, clad head to toe in knock off designer gear.

The sauna was always hot but the air conditioning had packed in making it hotter than usual and Gina’s face was bathed in sweat. Her hair had lost any volume it ever once had as it lay sticking to her forehead.

‘I don’t know what I’m going to do, Sonya, but when I do, believe me it’ll be so big, it’ll make the Big Bang look like a bleedin’ fart. I woke up this morning and I was aching all over, I could hardly move. I had to double-check to make sure I wasn’t dead, my legs were that stiff I thought bleedin’ rigor mortis had set in.’

Sonya yawned but didn’t bother looking up again from her magazine. ‘You’ll live.’

‘Yes but for how long, son, that’s the bleedin’ question ain’t it? I might well take meself down Whitechapel
later, have a
look in the funeral parlour on the Mile End Road; pick myself out a decent coffin, because if this goes
on any l
onger the only stairs I’ll be climbing will be heaven’s.’

After having a moan with her friend Sonya, Gina felt slightly better. She’d had a call from Gary, letting her know he hadn’t been able to find Nicky. He also wanted her to go round to the flat to start cooking up some more crack, but she wasn’t in the mood to be anyone else’s errand boy, so she’d given him excuses.

The sun was high up in the sky as she walked slowly down Wardour Street towards
Shaftsbury Avenue
and Chinatown. She was going to buy herself some special fr
ied rice and r
oast mixed meat. The summer always m
ade her feel hungry.
In fact, most times she felt hungry. S
he was almost able to taste it
and she quickly crossed th
e road, taking her
chances with a red double-decker bus.

At the corner of Leicester Square, she leant on the black railings to take off her coat, surveying the area; it’d changed so much over the years and was hardly recognisable from when she’d first come up West.

As she continued to watch the people pass her, she caught a quick glimpse of a familiar face in the crowd which made her forget any aching parts.

Hunched over and pestering some tourists, looking skinnier than ever with greying skin and filthy clothes, was Nicky Donaldson.

‘Nicky!’

Gina shouted loudly and she saw Nicky look to see where the voice was coming from before he quickly scuttled off. Gina wasn’t sure if Nicky had seen her but he’d certainly heard his name being called and from the look on his face it’d made him very uncomfortable.

Bracing herself, Gina set off after him, banging into people and barging her way through the crowds whilst still keeping a good eye on the top of Nicky’s head.

‘Lord don’t take me now.’

Gina spoke out loud as her heart raced and she struggled to catch her breath. She didn’t want to lose sight of Nicky because whilst she was going to have to wear the soles of her shoes out going up and down the stairs to look after Harley, Nicky had got away with everything scot-free. And there was no way he was going to get away with ripping her off
and
making her into Johnny’s scullery maid.

They were already in Irving Street and Gina could still see Nicky ahead of her. She wasn’t sure how long she’d be able to keep up. Just as she thought it was hopeless, she saw Nicky glance around, prior to knocking on a br
own door near the
end of the street. Gina hung back not wanting to be seen, grateful to be able to stop and catch her breath.

The man who opened the door looked as bad as Nicky did. It was clear he was a junkie and clear it was a crack house. Gina had known there were a couple off Leicester Square but had never known for certain where they were. She wasn’t going to bother knocking on the door; they weren’t going to let her in; plus, she’d no wish to go in either.
She
wasn’t that desperate to speak to Nicky, but she did know who was.

Getting out her phone from her oversized Chloé bag, Gina dialled someone who was not only desperate but who’d pay her to know where they could have a word in Nicky’s ear.

‘Hello Max, it’s Gina.’

‘No, Lorna, I ain’t spending me pennies to make it Fort bleeding Knox. You’re doing me head in. Gypsy’s hardly going to be shunting up the drain pipes now is she?’

‘I ain’t saying she is, but don’t you think we should add a few extra bits of security, just in case?’

‘Just in case of what? There ain’t no just-in-cases. So give it a hibernation will you?’

Lorna sat next to her brother in the car as he drove her home from the hospital. She’d liked it in there, not only because of the nurses running around after her, but because she felt safe. Going back to Frankie’s, knowing he hadn’t and wouldn’t put anymore security in frightened her. But she couldn’t say anything. As far as her brother was concerned Gypsy had attacked her, but Lorna knew different. She knew the real attacker was still out there, and all she could do was keep her mouth shut and pray he didn’t come back.

Tommy Donaldson stood against the lamp post. Just standing. Just watching. The wooden blinds and curtains were shut and there was no lights on. Nobody had come in or out of the house since the Range Rover had pulled up and two people had gone in. He hadn’t seen who they were though; the rain had been beating down too hard and blurred his vision.

He’d been standing there most of the day but he hadn’t seen the woman and he needed to. He needed to see her face again. The face that’d haunted him since he was a child, the face he’d always thought had only been in his imagination.

It’d tortured him every time he’d closed his eyes and every time he’d opened them. Visions of childhood merged into nightmarish dreams. The voice, the face, all from his dreams – but now he knew it was real.

The rain began again, and Tommy pulled the collar up on his Boss navy trench coat. It’d gone cold and he was certain it must be quite late. He looked at his Rolex but couldn’t manage to make out the time in the dark. As tired and cold as he was, he was prepared to stay. If it meant seeing her one more time, nothing else mattered.

Frankie and Lorna Taylor sat in the dark. Lorna muttered under her breath angrily; loud enough for Frankie to hear her annoyance but not loud enough for him to decipher the words.

Since they’d got home from the hospital her brother had hardly spoken a word and gloom had descendeed over the household. The curtains were shut and the light switch not used. This was certainly
not
how she imagined it would be.

She’d unceremoniously been brought home, bundled into the car with no care. She’d wanted to stay in the hospital but Frankie had just ignored her. She’d presumed she was going to have a home nurse to look after her, but Frankie had been on one since Gypsy had walked out and the only person he was caring about was himself. And he wasn’t doing a very good job at that; by the looks of him, it didn’t seem as if he was going to snap out of his misery anytime soon.

‘Bleedin’ hell Frank, look at the state of you. All you need now is a wedding gown and you’ll have Miss Haversham down to a tee.’

Frankie only grunted and went to get changed, coming back to sit morosely in his silk Ralph Lauren pyjamas and dressing gown, ignoring most of the phone calls apart from one from Johnny.

‘Frankie, it ain’t going to do you or me any good having those blinds closed. We’ll end up chalk white with bleeding rickets at this rate if we don’t get any sun. The whole day’s gone.’

‘If you don’t like it, Lorn, you know where your plane ticket is.’

Lorna bristled. She couldn’t have Frankie seeing her as disposable. She needed to keep him on firm ground until he’d worked Gypsy out of his system and then by that time, it’d be too late; he’d be so used to having Lorna around he wouldn’t want to see her go. Until that happened though, she’d have to try to keep her trap shut and humour him as best she could. Which she knew wouldn’t be easy.

‘Shall I get you a drink, Frank?’

‘No.’

‘What about something to eat? You can’t sit about here and starve yourself to death.’

‘So what do you propose I do then, Lorna, because it’s like a steam train has hit me.’

At this point in the proceedings, Lorna Taylor was more than relieved that it was dark, so she could roll her eyes and pull a face without being seen. He was acting like a soppy maid and it was grinding on her nerves.

Gypsy was a greedy cow and she’d had it easy all these years, but now the shoe was on the other bleeding foot, and what a foot it was because she was going to kick Gypsy’s arse with it. ‘It’s all well and good crying tears over your wife, Frank, but seems to me you’ve forgotten two things here. First, she was camel-humping some fella behind your back and the other thing is, though God knows I seem to have been overlooked in all this, your wife nearly done me in. If I wasn’t lucky I might not have been sitting here now.’

Frankie let out a bellow. ‘And bleeding hell, Lorn, wouldn’t that be a pity. Imagine, if you weren’t sitting here doing me nut in and I could sit here in peace. They’d be some tears I’d have shed.’

Lorna heard Frankie stand up, bang into some furniture and curse loudly before he switched on the light. When she looked at him, his face was red with anger as he growled out his words. ‘I’ll tell you some home truths darling, shall
I? The
reason
I don’t want to have the lights on is because I
can’t bear to see this place without me wife in it. I loved her,
do
love her, and maybe that sounds strange to you because as you
keep
reminding me Lorn, for some reason, she nearly had you six foot under. And as much as I tell my head I should hate her, my heart’s not having it. It’s telling me something else. So I’m
sorry
I ain’t grinning and doing an impression of Billy Smart’s travelling circus for you, but I’m fucked, darlin’; well and truly, and it’s killing me …’

Frankie stopped. His words sticking in his throat as he welled up with emotion. When he’d composed himself again, he continued, trying to convince himself what he was saying was true. ‘But don’t worry, Lorn, it doesn’t mean I’d even consider having her back. I know what she’s done. If she came back banging down the front door and begging for forgiveness, I’d turn her away.’

‘Well there’s no need to worry on that score is there, Frank? We ain’t seen hide nor hair of her and I doubt you will. She’s probably out there having fun.’

Frankie glared at his sister. ‘You can be an insensitive cow.’

Lorna curled her top lip and suddenly felt rather peckish. ‘Only stating facts, Frankie. One of us has to be strong. It’s no good us both drowning in a sea of tears is it?’

Frankie picked up his phone from the side, remembering from years gone by what it felt like to want to cry. He rubbed his eyes, cutting off the tears which were threatening to come. ‘I’m going to get changed, then I’m off out.’

‘Where?’

‘Where? I’ll tell you fucking where shall I, Lorn? As far away from here, and you, as possible. Don’t worry – all the alarms are on, so there ain’t no one breaking in but if they do, Lorn, just open your bleeding mouth and start talking. You’ll soon get rid of them.’

Lorna looked at her brother and decided perhaps now wasn’t the best time to ask him to bring home a Big Mac meal.

About to give it up for a lost cause and come back tomorrow, Tommy saw the light come on and felt his heart skip a beat. A few minutes later he saw the front door open and there, arranging his jacket, stood Frankie Taylor.

The sight of him made Tommy baulk. It didn’t make sense. What was Frankie doing there? He’d always thought the Taylors lived off Carnaby street. If this is where they
did
live, who was the woman he’d seen coming into the kitchen? His wife? None of it made sense to Tommy but as he watched Frankie jump into his white Ranger Rover, he knew there was only one way to find out. Putting his head down and crossing the square, Tommy went towards the house.

Tommy was good at breaking into houses. In fact, he was one of the best in the game. His father had taught him at an early age how to break locks and as anything in life, practice made perfect.

The hall was exactly as he remembered it, and stepping into the dark kitchen brought back the memories of the attack. He pictured the woman lying on the floor in a pool of blood and then he recalled the sound of the other woman coming in, oblivious to his presence. But he hadn’t been oblivious to her. He’d seen her.

The house was dark and Tommy carefully went up the grand curving staircase. He wasn’t sure if the house was empty or not, so he needed to be careful. He walked along the landing, and stopped halfway to look at the framed photographs. He could just make them out thanks to the moonlight from the domed glass ceiling and there was no mistaking where he was; the Taylors’.