Disobey

But how could Casey tell him that their life and her sobriety were in danger of collapsing because of a craving? An urge so strong that in the past, when she’d been married to her first husband, she’d found herself sleeping with strangers just to get a drink.

Even at the time Vaughn had never really understood, although he’d tried. Although he’d seen Casey battle to stay sober, he couldn’t really get his head round the fact that booze came before most things, including him at times.

So here she was, sitting in a darkened basement, desperate to keep clean. But it was hard, so hard; if it wasn’t for the relationship with Vaughn she wasn’t sure if she’d have the strength to go another day without having a drink.

8

Casey and Franny sat in Lola’s newly refurbished café in Bateman Street.

‘Well, what do you think, ladies?’ Lola sat down by the two women, admiring her new set up. She’d been proud of it before, but this, she thought, this was the dog’s bollocks.

Casey, who’d worked in Lola’s café before she’d met Vaughn, smiled at the flamboyance of the tiny workman’s café. Gold and black chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Bright red tables and chairs had replaced the old wooden ones, the work counters were now a loud zebra print and the walls were painted lime green, with large silver-framed photos of Soho in the Sixties.

‘Well, it’s different.’

Lola grinned proudly. ‘It ain’t quite finished yet, but then I blame Vaughn. Can’t get hold of him. He promised he’d get one of those moose heads for me. I think it’d look lovely over there near the door. What do you think?’

Casey raised her eyebrows, her full red lips twitching with a smile. ‘Tell me you’re kidding.’

Lola looked shocked. ‘Kidding? Why would I do that?’

‘It’s just that … well, don’t you think it might be a bit OTT?’

Lola stood up, clearing the empty tea cups. She shook her head in dismay. ‘You’ve never had any taste, Casey. It’s all the rage; latest thing.’

‘A moose head?’

‘Oh yeah, I saw it in a magazine; they had photos of Hampton Court.’

Casey’s eyes widened. ‘They had a moose head in Hampton Court?’

‘Well it weren’t a moose head exactly; it was a deer’s head. But I’ve never liked them things; their eyes are too close together. Gives me the heebie-jeebies. Anyway, moose, deer; they’re all a bit classy ain’t they? And if Henry the eighth can have one on his palace wall then so can Lola’s café.’ And with that, Lola shuffled off, delighted at the admiration on Franny’s and Casey’s face.

Casey watched Lola for a moment before turning to Franny, her smile not reaching her eyes. ‘How’s your new lodger?’

‘Chloe-Jane?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Messy! I’m sure I was never that bad when I was her age, but then I’m not really surprised; by all accounts she’s hardly had an easy life, she’s had to fend for herself most of it. But she’s sweet. I like her.’

‘How long’s she staying?’

Franny grinned. ‘I dunno, she’s talking about giving me money for her upkeep, I think she’s worried I’m going to kick her out any day soon, poor kid.’

The women fell silent, then, making sure Lola was out of earshot, Franny whispered, ‘What’s going on, Cass?’

Casey looked down at the table. ‘Oh, nothing much. Usual stuff. Vaughn’s got a bee in his bonnet.’

‘About Alfie?’

‘About him and other stuff. Things aren’t so good.’

‘With Vaughn?’

Casey hesitated.

‘Cass, you can trust me. We’re friends. Whatever it is, I won’t say anything. I promise. I know what it’s like when you’ve got no one to talk to.’

‘Thanks Fran, it’s just … I know I can trust you, but it’s difficult. Apart from you I haven’t got anyone else. I can’t talk to Lola because it wouldn’t be fair, you know with her being close to both of us, and I obviously can’t talk to Vaughn …’ Casey trailed off.

‘Then tell me.’

Casey’s eyes filled with tears as Franny reached across the table. ‘Cass, please. I’m worried about you. You haven’t been yourself lately. Tell me what’s going on.’

Everything in Casey wanted to tell Franny about how the urge to drink was making her feel. But her shame stopped her. Franny wasn’t like her. She seemed so sorted; she’d gone through so much, yet she’d done it all without a crutch and had only needed the support of her friends. Yet here Casey was, still fighting the booze and her demons. Still waking up with the overwhelming urge to go out and get drunk.

‘Is it Vaughn, Cass, and all this stuff in Soho? I know you want to be loyal to him, but what are friends for if you can’t lean on them? I won’t say anything.’

Casey looked up at Franny. It was easier to agree with her friend than tell her the truth, though it wasn’t a complete lie. Things were strained with Vaughn, but it was difficult to know how much was actually him, and how much was Casey. Vaughn had been pushing her away, but then she’d been doing the same with him. He couldn’t find out what was going on. He just couldn’t.

Feigning a smile, Casey spoke to her friend. ‘Yeah, that’s right. It’s Vaughn. All this stuff with Soho has got right under his skin. He’s like a different man.’

‘Try not to worry, Cass, Alfie’s no better. He’s roaming around like he’s got a rod stuck up his arse … It’ll be okay; if it’s any comfort, I know Vaughn loves you. But if I can give you any advice, Cass, it’d be this; talk to him. That’s what gets me and Alfie through the tough times. We talk to each other, and above all we don’t have any secrets.’

9

Mr Lee stood by the window, wondering quite why the English were so foolish. There seemed to be a common thread which ran through them, a thread of misplaced pride – or as he liked to call it, stupidity.

He’d warned them. Warned them that the trouble wasn’t necessary, and could have so easily been avoided. All they’d had to do was abide by the rules. How easy. How simple; yet as Mr Lee stared in contempt at the bloodied and battered Alfie Jennings lying on the floor, it was clear to him, simple was something the English didn’t like.

Sitting down on the large purple velvet chair, Mr Lee crossed his legs, making him look smaller and more diminutive than he usually did.

‘It’s a shame we couldn’t meet under better circumstances. I was very much looking forward to our discussion later on in the week, but as Robert Burns said, the best laid schemes of mice and men.’ Mr Lee paused, flicking off a stray piece of ash from the large cigar he was smoking. ‘When my men told me you’d decided to continue with your little venture, I thought it best to cut my trip short and have that chat sooner rather than later. I’m sure you understand. And I can only imagine you’ve got a good reason for disobeying my rules.’

Through his swollen, bruised eyes, Alfie glared at Mr Lee. ‘Ain’t no one going to tell me what I can and can’t do, especially from a fucking kitchen sink.’

Mr Lee looked puzzled. ‘Kitchen sink?’

Alfie sneered defiantly. ‘Chink.’

Chang Lee’s face expression hardened. He leaned forward and addressed Alfie, speaking quietly. ‘You see, Mr Jennings, it’s comments like those that I can’t ignore. It never ceases to amaze me how foolish people are.’ Mr Lee nodded his head to Lin and another of his men who walked across to Alfie. They yanked hold of his arms, pulling at his hands as Mr Lee stood up. ‘You leave me no choice, Alfie, and to think all of this could have been avoided.’

Mr Lee nodded again, watching as Lin brought down the machete on Alfie’s forcibly spread fingers. Blood splattered out everywhere along with Alfie’s scream as his little finger was cleanly cut off. His body jerked in shock as what looked like a river of blood streamed out from the mutilated hand.

Mr Lee bent over and picking up the severed finger, walked over to Alfie.

‘Hopefully now you’ll get the message, Mr Jennings and if you haven’t, there’s always the other nine.’ He went to walk away but stopped short of the door. Turning round, he threw the finger at Alfie with a grin. ‘I think you might have more need of that than me.’

10

‘Here you are. I got this for you.’ Chloe-Jane handed Franny eighty pounds.

Franny looked curious. ‘What’s this for?’

‘It’s for you. For me board and lodgings.’

‘I told you, there’s no need. Really Chloe, I’m happy for you to stay.’

Chloe-Jane shrugged her shoulders. ‘I just want you to take it.’ She pushed the money into Franny’s hand. ‘Please.’

‘Where did you get it from?’

‘I ain’t robbed it, if that’s what you think.’

‘I don’t think that.’

‘It’s me money I saved to come here. I told you I was going to give you some.’

Franny shook her head, going across to the other side of the kitchen to make a cup of tea. She opened a packet of dark chocolate biscuits, offering one to Chloe-Jane who proceeded to take several, much to Franny’s amusement.

‘Listen, Chloe, why don’t you keep the money? You’ll need it when you move on.’

Chloe-Jane bristled. She wanted to yell at Franny that that was the point. She didn’t want to move on. She wanted to stay, because aside from the fact she liked it with Franny, she had nowhere else to go. With a sad smile, Chloe replied, ‘Well until then; take it, it’ll make me feel better.’

Franny looked doubtful. ‘If you’re sure.’

‘I am!’

‘Okay, what I’ll do is, I’ll put it up here in this tin, and for any reason you want it back just take it. No questions asked. Deal?’

‘Deal, and I’ll give you eighty pound a week from now on. I don’t want to leech off anyone.’

‘Well I appreciate that, Chloe. Thank you.’

‘It’s no problem. No problem at all.’

It was getting dark as Chloe-Jane walked along Brewer Street, watching as the passing men ogled at her and the women gave her a look of scorn. She wore a low-cut pink top with nothing underneath, erect nipples obvious under the clinging material. Her tiny white miniskirt skimmed the bottom of her buttocks, and her high patent yellow shoes gave a swagger to her walk.

‘Fancy a drink, darlin’?’ A large, sweaty passing workman hollered out to her from his van.

‘Not with you, mate, I’d rather stick me head down the khazi and drink from there!’

The van sped off beeping its horn, leaving Chloe to cross the road at the junction of Brewer and Glasshouse Street.

Hanging out on the corner, a car pulled up. A man in his late fifties rolled down the window. His voice was low and Chloe could hear a Northern accent.

‘You doing business, love?’

Chloe nodded, quickly looking around before getting in.

11

‘Just fucking sew it back on. I don’t care how you fucking do it, but there ain’t no way I’m ending up like frigging Anne Boleyn.’ Alfie grimaced at the hospital doctor as he clutched his wrapped bloody hand to his body.

‘She had eleven fingers, not nine, and it was her head that was cut off, not her hand.’ Chloe-Jane smirked at her uncle as she chewed on the constantly present piece of gum.

‘I’ll chop your bleedin’ head off if you don’t shut it,’ Alfie growled at his niece. Why the hell Franny had brought her along, fuck only knew and it pissed him off no end.

‘Alfie, there’s no need for that.’ Franny spoke, not unkindly.

‘Me hand’s fucking been chopped off and she wants to give me a fucking history lesson, do me a favour!’

‘One finger isn’t exactly your whole hand, Alf.’

‘No? Well it fucking feels like it, you should try it someday. And look at the state of me boat, do I look like a person who’s just sat watching telly all day?’

Franny stared at Alfie, taking in his cut and bruised face. When she’d got his phone call asking her to come and see him, she’d been surprised and secretly pleased, thinking his male pride would have made it difficult for him to phone so soon. She’d been about to tease him about it but there’d been something in his voice which had stopped her. So instead she’d just listened, hearing the edge of urgency and panic in his voice. When he’d told her he was in the hospital, her stomach had tightened and she’d rushed to see him, bringing a complaining Chloe-Jane, who’d been very mysterious as to where she’d been, with her.

When Franny had opened the blue faded hospital curtain, she’d been shocked at the sight of his battered appearance.

She’d arrived in casualty full of sympathy but when she’d asked him questions about what had happened, Alfie had been rude and evasive, and Franny’s warmth had turned to what Alfie always called her bitch stance.

‘Perhaps a bit of sympathy would be nice. Ain’t too much to ask for.’

‘Well when you start behaving decently and answer my questions, maybe I’ll give you some.’

‘Has anybody told you you’ve missed your vocation? You should’ve been the Old Bill, do you go around giving everyone the third degree?’

‘No, only you when you’re being childish.’

Even through the pain, Alfie managed to stare at Franny incredulously, not quite believing what he was hearing. He’d called her assuming she’d be distraught with worry and concern, he’d even half suspected that she’d come to her senses, apologise and stop the stupid point she was trying to prove with Chloe-Jane. Sympathy. A little bit of TLC. Surely that wasn’t too much to ask for? A man wanting a bit of care from his woman. It should be a given; man provides for woman. In return, woman cares for the man and tends to his every need. That’s the way it was. Should be. And that’d been the case since the beginning of time and it would always be – unless the woman on your arm went by the name of Franny flipping Doyle. It was just his luck. Just Alfie’s fucking luck to fall in love with an independent, man-hating, beautiful, fiery woman. On top of which, he now had only fucking nine fingers to his name.

‘Do you think you’ll be able to sew it back on?’ It was Franny who spoke to the doctor, voice full of concern, which only added to Alfie’s annoyance. She was able to air her concern and flicker her eyelashes at the handsome casualty doctor, but not for him.

‘I’m not sure, it really depends on the replantation team.’

‘Fucking hell, what am I? A frigging hydrangea? This ain’t Gardener’s World you know, mate.’

‘Ignore him, he often gets like this when he doesn’t get his own way.’ Franny smiled as she talked to the doctor who gave Franny a sympathetic look in return, making Alfie seethe even more.

Alfie decided he wouldn’t stand for this anymore and sprang up from the hospital trolley, ignoring the pain which was only slightly helped by the injection of painkillers he’d been given earlier. He grabbed the man by his good hand, pushing past Chloe-Jane who stood back trying to make eyes at the doctor, who was by now too busy trying to stop Alfie attacking him to notice.

‘Alfie! Alfie, get off him!’ Franny’s voice was pitched high as she shouted at Alf, pulling on the back of his bloodstained sweater.

‘Maybe I can help.’ A deep voice sounded from behind. Franny turned round, expecting to see a hospital security guard, but instead she came face to face with Vaughn Sadler followed by Del Williams.

Vaughn pushed past Franny, grabbing hold of Alfie by the scruff of his neck. ‘You’ve got some fucking explaining to do.’

It took Alfie only a second for his brain to realise what was happening and another second for his face to blanch momentarily, before he leapt into action.

He twisted his body, ignoring the pain of his injuries from the triad attack. Using his shoulder, he slammed into Vaughn who staggered backwards, surprised at the strength of the injured Alfie Jennings. As Vaughn fell into the hospital sluice trolley, propelling the steel surgical instruments to the floor, Del Williams stepped forward to help, lunging angrily towards Alfie, but a sudden pain stopped him, sending shockwaves through Del’s body. He held onto his head.

‘Fucking hell!’ Del shouted out in pain as Chloe-Jane stood with a metal tray in her hand.

Del turned to stare at Chloe, seeing the security guards rushing over to see what the commotion was. He snarled at her. ‘What the fuck did you do that for?’

Chloe-Jane shrugged, looking first at Alfie, then at Del who’d she’d struck hard across the head. ‘He’s family. And family stick together.’

An hour later, Franny sat in the waiting room drinking what she suspected was the worst cup of coffee she’d ever had. Either that, or it was the bitter taste in her mouth she’d suddenly developed as she listened to Vaughn and Del tell her their suspicions about Alfie, who lay oblivious under anaesthetic in theatre.

‘It ain’t even bang out of order, Fran, what he’s done is worse. Much worse. He’s got involved with them triads, or at least he’s been part of the reason they’ve launched their attacks on Soho. He went against the rules, Fran, opening up a casino behind our backs. Everyone knows that’s off limits.’

Franny bristled. ‘If it’s true.’

Vaughn and Del glanced at each other.

‘Don’t look like that, guys, we don’t know it’s true.’

Frustrated, Vaughn stood up, gesturing widely with his hands. ‘Oh come off it, Fran, you know what a fucking muppet he is, this has got Alfie Jennings written all over it. Anything that goes wrong and there’s even a sniff of Alfie’s name, you know he’ll be right in the centre of things. Ain’t no smoke without fire, or in this case, ain’t no smoke without Alfie. It’s always been the same. You know that.’

Franny’s face flushed with anger. She spat out her words, surprising herself at how protective of Alfie she felt. ‘This isn’t about what’s happening in Soho, Vaughn, this is about you. Everyone knows you’ve got a problem with Alfie, and this is your way of getting back at him.’

‘Don’t be such a stupid cow, Fran, didn’t you see what shit he got your father into? I don’t know how you can bear to let him near you.’

Franny’s slap to Vaughn’s face shocked everyone, apart from Chloe-Jane who had seen it coming. The only other person Chloe had known do that had been her mother, just before she’d drunkenly laid into her, often leaving her too bruised to go to school the next day.

Chloe-Jane stepped behind Franny, showing her solidarity to her newfound friend as well as her uncle. He wasn’t her favourite person by any length but it was one thing for Chloe-Jane to think Alfie was a god almighty prick, but it was an entirely other thing for someone else to.

Vaughn’s fury showed in his eyes. Who the hell did Franny think she was? This was men’s business, not women’s. He’d had a lot of respect for her at one point, the way she’d handled herself when the shit had hit the fan with her father, Patrick. She’d also been a good friend to Casey which of course he’d appreciated, but now? Now he was losing respect for her and if she wasn’t careful, Franny would lose the respect of the other London and Soho faces she’d known since she was a child.

Franny’s voice was steely.

‘Don’t you dare speak about Patrick.’

‘Why not, truth hurts.’

Franny stepped forward, closing the space between them. Franny stared at Vaughn, wondering how he’d changed from the sweet perfect gentleman to a hardened embittered man. When Casey had called her in tears, worried about the way Vaughn was acting, she’d reassured her friend it was probably nothing and had convinced Casey just to put it down to Vaughn having a bad day. But as Franny stood in front of him, it was clear this was far from a bad day.

‘The only truth here, Vaughn, is whatever vendetta you’re riding on, you better get off it and real quick. You don’t run Soho – those days are well and truly over, whether you like it or not. Go up against Alfie and you’ll go up against me.’

Vaughn laughed scornfully. ‘Oh and that’s supposed to frighten me how?’

‘I don’t expect it to frighten you, Vaughn, you’re too stupid for that. What I do expect is for you to back off from Alfie until you know the truth, because if you don’t you’ll regret it.’

‘You two deserve to be together. At first I couldn’t quite see how you and him could work, but now I see it, Christ do I just.’

‘Maybe instead of worrying about Alfie and me, perhaps you should be worrying about your own relationship.’

It was the first time Franny saw Vaughn bristle. His eyes darkened. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

Franny began to walk away. ‘You tell me.’

‘I said, what’s that supposed to mean?’

Ignoring Vaughn, Franny opened the waiting room door but felt her arm being held. She stared down at Vaughn’s grip before staring up into his face. ‘Get your hands off me.’

‘Not till you tell me what you meant.’

‘You heard her, get the fuck off her.’ Chloe-Jane stood with a chair in her hand a few feet away from Vaughn.

‘Get your dog to back off, Fran.’

Franny, who’d just been about to tell Chloe-Jane to put the chair down, angrily reacted to Vaughn’s comment. ‘Who the hell do you think you are, Vaughn, speaking to her like that, she’s just a kid? What’s happened to you?’

Chloe-Jane continued to hold the chair in a threatening manner, trying to decide whether or not to feel affronted by Franny calling her just a kid, or to be touched by Franny sticking up for her, a rare occurrence in her life. Deciding on the latter, and without a moment’s more hesitation, Chloe-Jane swung the chair at Vaughn, screaming at him hysterically.

‘She said get off her! Fucking bastard! Get off!’

Seeing Vaughn’s head begin to bleed and sensing Chloe-Jane was about to hit Vaughn again, Del intervened, grappling the chair off her. He pulled it from her hands with a strong tug, managing to release it from her grip in one go. But like a wild feral cat about to lose its prey, Chloe-Jane pounced on both Del and Vaughn. Fingernails scratched at skin, teeth bit into flesh as she yelled a stream of profanities.

Franny moved forward, dragging Chloe-Jane off the men. She wrapped her arms round her as she pulled her away, battling as Chloe tried to break out of her hold and back to the men.

Franny shouted loudly. ‘Chloe! Chloe-Jane! Stop! Stop! Just calm down.’

Chloe-Jane turned to Franny, her face expressing hurt and frustration. ‘Did you hear him though? Did you hear what he said?’

Franny nodded. ‘I did and he was wrong, but you’ve got to calm down. You can’t go round hitting people as and when you feel like it.’

‘But he grabbed hold of you. He wouldn’t let go. He can’t do that, can he?’

‘No. No, he can’t.’

Del spoke up. ‘He can if you’re taking the piss. What do you want him to do, Fran? Let you talk shit about him and Casey?’

Franny’s eyes flashed with anger at Del.

‘Has it come to you having to fight Vaughn’s battles for him now, Del?’

Del scowled. He didn’t need this shit, he’d rather be back home in the Costa with his family, but he, like everyone else, had received the call to come and help. So now he was here, Del wanted to resolve it all as soon as possible, which didn’t mean having to argue the toss or get clouted across the head by some bird. He’d had enough of that being married to his ex-wife, Edith.

‘Turn it in Fran, Vaughn’s right, you’re acting like a silly cow. What you need is a reality check and what missy here needs is a hard spank on the arse.’

It was like a flame to a petrol can and Chloe-Jane exploded. ‘Is that fucking right, mate? And what? You think you’re the one to do it do you? Fucking perv, get off on the thought of young girls having their behinds tanned do you? Go on, frigging try it and see what you get.’

Del sighed. Even though he was furious with Alfie for what he’d brought onto Soho, a part of him couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. This girl was trouble. Trouble and loud-mouthed, and if Franny wasn’t careful, it wouldn’t be just Alfie who’d bring down her world, it’d be Chloe-Jane.