She stopped speaking for a moment and gripped her fists together before adding, ‘I have to get out of here, you understand? And I want you to get Alfie to come and see me. I need to see Alfie.’
4
Alfie sat with his back to Mia, his hands covering his ears as she screamed. He wasn’t sure how long he had sat there or she had cried, but it seemed like an eternity. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her. And yes, fucking yes, he hated himself for it, but he certainly hated Franny more for it.
She was to blame for it. She was to blame for all of this but the thing he hated more about it – the thing that ate away at him – was that, as much as he hated her, he loved her. And God almighty, above anything else that was the most fucked-up thing about it all.
‘Shit!’ He lashed out, kicking a small glass table, sending it flying across the room, causing Mia to scream more.
The whole situation was so fucked up; his girlfriend was behind bars for killing the mother of his child, and on top of that he now had a banging headache. How it had all come to this, he couldn’t even begin to get his head around.
A voice interrupted his thoughts. ‘Hello, Mr Jennings. You should really get that door fixed – you never know who might come by when you’re least expecting them.’
At the sound of the voice, Alfie jumped and turned around. Standing there with a machete in his hand was Mr Huang, the head of a notorious South East Asian triad gang, and a man who spelt trouble. Big, big trouble.
As Alfie watched, his heart beginning to race, Mr Huang – slender and immaculately dressed in a three-piece grey-striped suit – nodded to his men, who made a human wall behind him. Staring at the baby and sounding younger than his sixty-plus years, Huang asked, ‘Yours, Mr Jennings?’
Alfie cautiously nodded but said nothing as he kept his eyes on the large blade Mr Huang spun in his hands. ‘How old is she? Seven, eight months?’
Again, Alfie nodded and again he said nothing.
Huang’s tone danced between icy and amusement. ‘Parenting isn’t easy at the best of times, but especially at this age. You have to watch them all the time; they’re always having accidents when you least expect it. You can’t be too careful.’
Smiling, but without it reaching his eyes, Huang looked around the small but expensive flat, decorated in matching silver and purple furniture. Then casually, he walked over to Mia, picking her up. Immediately she stopped crying and began gurgling happily, her nose running as her tiny fingers played with Huang’s red bow tie.
‘They like to be rocked, Mr Jennings; it’s something about the motion that soothes them. But then I’m not here to swap baby notes with you, I’m here to talk about the money you owe me and show you the kind of penalties I charge for late payments.’
‘Look …’ Alfie tried to say something, but as he did, Mr Huang, who was still holding Mia, drew back his leg and kicked Alfie hard in the side of his head, sending him crashing into the wall.
Alfie felt the pain shoot through his head to his jaw to his chin and tasted the blood in his mouth as he watched Huang put Mia back down on the floor next to him.
Through the pain Alfie stared up at Huang. He could feel his right eye closing and a burning agony at the back of it. He listened as Huang spoke in a whisper.
‘Mr Jennings, if I were you I’d watch your tone. One thing I can’t abide is rudeness, it’s certainly no example to give your daughter … So, come on, Mr Jennings, let’s try again shall we? Where’s my money?’
‘You’re going to get it,’ Alfie snarled roughly.
Huang chuckled. He glanced at his men then ruffled Mia’s soft, blonde curly hair. ‘Oh, I know I am, that isn’t in question. What I want to know is when?’
Watching Mia become fascinated by Mr Huang’s grey, leather shoe, her tiny fingers playing with the tassel on it, Alfie shrugged, more aware than ever of his tone. He needed to stay calm and at least try to sound respectful. ‘I’m working on it, okay? I ain’t taking the piss. You just need to give me a bit more time.’
Mr Huang crouched; his knees cracking as he did so. Staring at Alfie directly, he tilted his head to one side and grinned as he put the tip of the machete blade on Alfie’s cheek. His small, beady eyes were dancing with amusement behind his thick, round glasses. ‘I think I’ve given you enough time, don’t you? If it weren’t for the fact that I quite like you, Mr Jennings, you would be dead by now. But that isn’t to say you won’t be dead by next week if you don’t give me my money, and what’s your little girl supposed to do then? Little girls need their daddies you know.’
Then without warning Huang slashed the blade across Alfie’s face. Alfie yelled out in agony as the blood spurted out of the three-inch wound, flowing through his fingers as he pressed his hand against his cheek, hoping to stem the rush.
Every part of him wanted to fight, wanted to beat Huang senseless, but he knew better than to try to attack; for a start he was outnumbered and Mr Huang and his men wouldn’t think twice about chopping him up into tiny bits if he retaliated.
Trying to hold together the thick flaps of skin on his cheek, Alfie grimaced and groaned in pain.
‘Mr Jennings, don’t be such a baby, it’s only a little cut. I don’t think even your daughter would make such a fuss.’
Huang spun round and placed the blade on Mia’s cheek. She gurgled and laughed as Huang said, ‘Shall we see?’
With no hesitation, Alfie leapt at Huang, knocking the blade out of his hand. ‘Don’t you fucking touch her, you bastard. You fucking animal. You hear me! Get the fuck away from her.’
Immediately Huang’s men charged forward. They leapt on Alfie, pinning him down on the floor as Mia started to scream again.
Getting up, Huang straightened and dusted down his expensive hand-made suit. He turned and glared at Alfie, pressing his foot into Alfie’s throat whilst watching the blood pooling onto the thick, cream carpet.
A mixture of pain and fury raced through Alfie. He tried to say something but he struggled to breathe under the pressure as Huang’s foot continued to press down on his throat.
‘That was very foolish of you, Mr Jennings, and I’m also somewhat surprised. What do you take me for? Do you really think that I’m capable of hurting your daughter? Or rather it would be more truthful to say that’s really not my style at all. Whatever happened to the British having a sense of humour? And look what’s happened now; you’ve ruined my shoes. These were my favourite pair you know.’
Huang took his foot off Alfie’s throat then proceeded to wipe the blood from his shoe using Alfie’s face as a cloth, causing Alfie to scream in agony as the steel-toe-capped loafer ground into the wound on his cheek.
Huang cleared his throat. ‘I’ll be back soon, but in the meantime, I want you to think on. Next time I might not be so kind … oh and, Mr Jennings? Don’t forget what I said: babies like to be rocked. You should really try it.’
And with that, Huang nodded to his men who set about Alfie, knocking him unconscious. The last thing Alfie Jennings heard was the sound of Mia screaming.
5
Franny lay back on her bed staring up at the empty top bunk’s rusting springs. Unlike a lot of the other women, she hadn’t bothered to make the magnolia-walled cell anything like homely. It was bare and uninviting, cold and bleak. No photos, no posters, certainly not a calendar – Jesus, she already knew exactly how long she’d been on remand and the last thing she needed was a reminder.
No, she didn’t want anything up on the walls – to her it was like saying she was staying, that this would now be her home for the next twenty years. It was almost like admitting defeat, and as her father had told her on a number of occasions, death was her only defeat.
Sighing, she glanced around. The whole place stunk. The prison had a constant smell of shit, sweat and Spice – a nasty, synthetic drug that either turned the women into zombies or psychotic animals. Only last week some Spice had been smuggled into the prison inside the bodies of three dead rats, thrown over the prison walls. And now the smoking ban had come into play, it seemed the intake of Spice had gone up tenfold.
Although there was supposed to be a flushing toilet in the corner of her cell it hadn’t actually worked since the second day she’d been here, so she was forced to use the bucket in the corner.
The whole place seemed to be ingrained with dirt that just couldn’t be washed out. The bed sheets – which were supposed to be fresh each week – looked like they’d just been swapped from one dirty set to another and the cold air whirled in through the prison window bars as if looking for some sanctuary.
Absentmindedly playing with her hair, she sighed again, forcing herself not to think of Mia and how much she missed her. From the time Mia had been born she’d loved and treated her like she was her own, which had come as a surprise; she’d never seen herself as maternal, and certainly no one in her life had ever accused her of it.
That was the main reason she needed to get out … That and having her day of reckoning with Vaughn. She could taste that. She was hungry for it and it was what was keeping her going. Vaughn and Mia were her motivation and, of course, Mia needed her … Her Mia. None of them deserved such a beautiful little girl, not even Bree, her mother, had deserved her.
To her, Bree had been weak, and when it had mattered, Bree just hadn’t been able to cut it. Even before Bree had died, the whole situation had been a mess. Franny thought about the fact that when Alfie had thought that she’d run off with his money and left him – which hadn’t actually been the case – he had drowned his sorrows in the bottom of a bottle and in the arms of Bree, who he’d known since childhood.
When eventually she’d reappeared and discovered that Alfie had taken up with Bree, as usual she’d hidden her hurt and just got on with it. Though that hadn’t been the end of the story – far from it, that had just been the beginning.
Alfie had still been in love with her but he’d also fallen in love with Bree and that’s when things had become really complicated.
Bree had been like a fish out of water in the life she and Alfie lived. She’d found it frightening and hated every part of the life of crime. So, when Bree had discovered she was pregnant that had been it; Bree had wanted out. She’d wanted to run, but she knew that if and when Alfie found out about her pregnancy, she would never escape Alfie or the life he lived. Because, to Alfie, family was everything.
Although it was the last thing Bree had wanted to do, she had decided to have an abortion; however, strange as it was, by then Franny had actually become friends with Bree, so instead of standing by and just watching Bree go through with it, she’d decided to help her by putting a plan into place.
She had felt sorry for Bree – at first – and even though she knew it was dangerous for her, she had helped Bree get away from Alfie, though of course he’d known nothing about the pregnancy. So behind Alfie’s back Bree had settled into a new life and a few months later had given birth to Mia.
But the overall pressure of living a secret life had gotten to Bree and as a consequence Bree had put them both in danger by thinking she could come out of hiding or, even worse, tell Alfie what she had done, believing he would just forgive and forget. Which was a joke in itself; Franny knew Alfie well enough to realise that the betrayal alone would’ve meant a bullet in her head and, though she doubted Alfie would’ve actually hurt Bree, he would’ve taken Mia and not let Bree see her ever again.
But Bree hadn’t wanted to listen and in the following months not only had Bree become a loose cannon with her continual threat to confess all to Alfie, but in Franny’s opinion, Bree had also become a useless mother. So, not having anyone else around, it had fallen on her to look after Mia. Surprisingly Franny had relished the challenge, and even more surprisingly, she had come to love the little girl like she was her own.
Looking back, she supposed Bree was probably jealous of her bond with Mia or perhaps Bree was just one of life’s parasites; unable to live without having someone to latch on to. In any case, Bree had certainly pushed her to the limits: needy and neurotic, crying all the time and generally being emotionally unstable. Something Franny had no patience for; traits she despised in people, especially in women. She and Mia had certainly had enough of Bree on the day in question. The day Bree had died …
Before Franny’s thoughts had time to move on, she felt someone sit on the corner of her bed, and quickly she slipped the prohibited phone her solicitor had smuggled in for her into the hole she’d made on the bottom side of the top bunk mattress.
Bringing her eyes up, she saw Christine Lucas sitting there with two of her cronies standing at the cell door.
Christine spoke in a reassuring tone, her Geordie accent apparent. ‘Hello, Franny, sorry I’ve taken so long to make your acquaintance, but I was down in “seg”. But now I’m back, I like to come and welcome the new women to my wing. I’m Christine.’
Franny stared coolly at Christine Lucas, noticing the huge roll of fat that hung down like an apron onto Christine’s lap. She knew exactly who this woman was. She was the ‘Daddy’ of the wing, the top dog, serving a triple life sentence for the violent murder of her three children.
Franny also knew why Christine had been in ‘seg’ – segregation; Christine had got a group of women to pounce on one of the new girls who had shot her mouth off about not being afraid of Christine. They had jumped on her in the showers – one of the few places in the prison where there was no CCTV – and had not only given her a good beating, but had also sexually assaulted her, damaging her insides.
Wanting to be on an equal level with Christine, Franny sat up, her eyes narrowing. She spoke icily. ‘I appreciate the visit, Christine, but if you don’t mind I’m a little bit busy.’
Christine looked around at the empty cell and then at the two other women who looked like a pair of club bouncers standing by the door. She laughed, showing off her ill-fitted false teeth. The sagging skin on her fat face fell into folds as she spoke to the women guarding the door. ‘We’ve got a right one here. It’s always the same; all the girls on remand think they can come in here and do what they like … but you all soon learn who’s in charge.’ She paused a minute before adding: ‘I reckon she owes me an apology.’
Showing no emotion Franny blinked. ‘As I told you, I’m busy, so if you wouldn’t mind …’ Franny gestured with her head to the door at which point Christine lunged at her, gripping Franny’s chin between her pudgy hands. ‘Maybe the memo didn’t get to you, but I rule this place and I say what goes on, do you understand me?’
Franny’s eyes darkened. ‘If I were you, I’d take your hands off my fucking face.’
About to pull the hidden razor blade out of the clip in her hair, Christine stopped as she heard a familiar voice behind her.
‘What’s going on here?’ Officer Jessie Ford, who’d worked in the prison for the past five years, stared at the women.
Christine grinned and sniffed loudly. ‘Oh you know how it is, miss, I just like to give all the new girls a welcome. That’s right, isn’t it, pet?’
Christine stared at Franny.
Jessie Ford clearly knew only too well how it was, as she said, ‘I just hope you’re not causing any trouble because I’m sure the governor would be happy to see you put back in seg, Lucas.’
Christine stood up, her obese six-foot-one frame towering over the diminutive prison guard, and this time when Christine spoke, her tone was colder. ‘Howay, man! I don’t like threats especially when I haven’t done anything wrong.’
Officer Ford refused to back down but the flicker of unease as Christine continued to loom over her didn’t go unnoticed by any of the women in the cell. ‘I’ll be the judge of that. Now go on, get back to your cell, Lucas, and take your buddies with you.’
Christine smirked, her green eyes void of any emotion as she turned to Franny.
‘How about you and I pick up this conversation another time?’
Franny held Christine’s stare. Her voice was as steely as Christine’s had been. ‘Let’s do that, anytime you want, darlin’ … you know where I am.’
Christine leant down to Franny, whispering her next words, her Geordie accent strong and sharp. ‘You must have a death wish, pet – either that or you’re stupid.’
At which point, Christine and the other women barged past Officer Ford, who followed them out, leaving Franny sitting in her cell wondering once again just how the hell she was going to get out of this mess.
6
‘Are you sure we did the right thing? You heard what Alfie said. He ain’t bothered about her. He don’t give a flying fuck about Mia.’
Worried, Shannon chewed on her tasteless gum as she sucked on her vape. Her bitten-down nails were painted a pearly pink.
In the past few months not only had her life done a three-sixty, but for the first time in her life she had actually experienced happiness that hadn’t been brought on from sucking on a crack pipe.
It had been pure and natural, brought on from Vaughn’s kindness, from his care, from his trust, from him not wanting anything from her, and for that, she would do anything for him. Anything. And she certainly wasn’t going to allow anyone to get in the way of it. Now she knew how intoxicating happiness was, the buzz from it better and higher than any rock of crack, she wasn’t about to let it go.
After her mother had died in an alleyway from a heroin overdose, Shannon had been taken in by Uncle Charlie and her aunt. But rather than it having been a loving environment, most of her life she’d worked for Uncle Charlie, being forced to give blow jobs and have sex with whoever he put in front of her. On occasion, her uncle had wanted the odd blow job from her as well, though thankfully he’d never wanted full sex with her; he’d just groped and rubbed himself and his flaccid penis all over her. The thought of it made her sick. But then, when all hope had gone out of life, she’d met Alfie, and through Alfie, she’d met Vaughn – and he had saved her.
And whilst Alfie was spinning, drinking and sniffing as much coke as he could lay his hands on, Vaughn had trusted her enough to help look after Mia, which she had done with pleasure. The distraction of Mia had helped her not to focus on her crack habit. Having another human being needing and relying on her was something else she’d never experienced.
But now the problem was if Alfie decided to take on Mia, to look after her like a father should, then what use would she be to Vaughn? The thought of it terrified her. She loved Vaughn, not that he knew it, not that he probably loved her back … yet … but maybe one day he would, one day he would make her his wife. Mrs Sadler – now that would be something special. That was what dreams were made of.
So she needed to make sure not only that that nasty bitch, Franny Doyle – who’d always looked at her like she was a piece of dirt – stayed in prison, but also that Alfie stayed in his stupor, stayed spiralling … Yes, yes, that was it, all she needed to do was make sure that Alfie continued to be an unfit father, and then she would become completely indispensable to Vaughn and then – perhaps, just perhaps – Vaughn would see her in a different light and fall in love with her as she loved him.
And with a renewed sense of relief, Shannon sighed and pushed her bright red hair back behind her sticky-out ears and smiled a crack-ravaged, toothless smile.
Vaughn stared at Shannon. She was a good kid and by Christ she’d had the worst start in life, used and abused and passed around by her uncle. She was only sixteen and she had seen and been through stuff that no one, least of all a kid, should go through.
He was surprised at how fond of her he was; after all, she was a scrawny teenager, and an ex-crack addict at that. But she was sweet and he was happy to put a roof over her head. She seemed a bit lost. After all she had no friends or family that she could count on.
If anyone had told him this time last year that he’d be looking after a kid and a baby, he would have thought they’d been smoking crack. But funny thing was, he was actually enjoying it. Though of course when the time was right, when she’d got herself together a bit, he’d talk to her about moving on; not that he would see her on the streets again. Far from it … Who knew, perhaps, he could set her up in a shared house with other girls her age. Maybe she could go to college. Shit, he didn’t know what he was supposed to do with a teenager.
Anyway, he could worry about all this later. For now he was grateful to her for not only backing up his story about Bree, but also for looking after Mia. And once Alfie saw that he needed his daughter as much as she needed him, Vaughn expected that Shannon would be more than happy to get on with her own life. But for now having her about worked – because he did care; Shannon felt like the wayward kid sister he never had.
With a renewed sense of relief, Vaughn sipped on the now cold cup of coffee, turning his thoughts back to Alfie.
He’d chosen to have a drink in the Italian deli across the road from Alfie’s flat. He had thought about going home to his flat, which he was renting from Johnny Taylor – above the club in Greek Street – but he’d thought better of it. He wanted to stay in striking distance of Alfie in case he really couldn’t cope with looking after Mia.
He checked his phone again just in case Alfie had rung and he’d missed it. Nothing. And he guessed nothing was a good sign. So why did he feel nervous in the pit of his stomach? It was stupid – almost as stupid as how much he’d been smitten by Mia.
‘I reckon Alfie is up there right now sticking the whole of Colombia up his nose.’
Irritated by Shannon making him feel more stressed than he wanted to feel, Vaughn snapped, ‘Do you have to chew that gum like that? You sound like a bleedin’ cement mixer and it’s getting on me nerves. And for the record, no, I don’t think he’s doing that, and yes, I think we’ve done the right thing.’
Shannon pulled a face. ‘I don’t know how you make that one out.’
‘The point is Alfie has always been stubborn, and sometimes you have to be tough with him to be kind. At the end of the day it’s his daughter and family means everything to him. Everything. It’s just been a rough couple of months. You’ll see; he’ll be fine. He’s probably up there now singing “Three Little Pigs”.’
Shannon pulled on her vape. ‘Then why do you look so worried?’
Vaughn banged down the coffee cup, spilling the milk over the table. ‘Because you keep going on about it. So do us a favour and stop. We’re here, he’s just over there, so it’s not like much can go wrong is it? He only … Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.’
‘What? Vaughn, what is it?’
Vaughn’s handsome face paled and he began to stand up, scraping back his chair as he stared out of the window.
‘What’s wrong?’
Still not answering, Vaughn watched a group of men coming out of the block of flats in Old Compton Street where Alfie’s flat was. He recognised most of them, and he certainly recognised the person who was walking down the street. It was Mr Huang. Ruthless, violent and someone he’d heard Alfie mention recently – not that he knew what business they had together. But what he did know was anything that spelt Huang spelt trouble. Big, big trouble.
And without waiting to explain to Shannon, Vaughn Sadler ran towards Alfie’s flat.
7
Detective Balantyne slammed through his front door, throwing his bag to the side. He didn’t know what it was about Franny Doyle but she always got under his skin. She was a smart-mouthed bitch, smarter than a lot of people he knew, but finally, hopefully, she would get her comeuppance. And God, wouldn’t it be a long time coming.
