The Betrayer

Harold Cohen immediately located the appropriate shirt and handed it to his customer. Full of schmooze, he then talked him into being measured up for one of his most expensive suits. Smiling as he counted the money, he thanked Mr Branson and shook his hand.

Seeing James hover awkwardly in the doorway of the storeroom, Harold waved him over. James walked towards him. He hoped he wasn’t about to receive a telling-off. ‘I’m so sorry. I was about to …’ James was stopped mid-sentence by Harold’s loud laughter.

‘You worry too much, James, my boy. Mr Branson is a schmuck, an absolute putz.’

James smiled. He might not have been Jewish, but he’d worked for Harold long enough to have picked up a bit of Yiddish. He was no expert, but he knew both schmuck and putz equalled cock in his own language.

Still laughing, Harold put an arm around his shoulder. ‘Now James, I want you to do me a favour. You’ve been in a bloody trance all day and I’m not telling you off, because I fully understand why. You’re excited about seeing your brother and you can’t wait to get home to that pretty little girlfriend of yours.’

‘She’s not my girlfriend,’ James insisted.

Harold smiled. James might only be his employee, but he knew him better than he knew himself. Maria, the pretty shikseh, had stolen the boy’s heart and Harold could sense it a mile off.

‘You get yourself home, James. It’s quiet now, I’ll finish up here. You have a great night, enjoy yourself and you can tell me all about it next weekend. Oh, and by the way, there’s an extra tenner in your wages. Get yourself a cab home and treat the beautiful Maria to something nice.’

Waving away James’s gratitude, Harold smiled as he dashed out of the shop. It was thirty-two years since his father had retired and he’d inherited the tailor’s shop situated on the Bethnal Green end of Roman Road. In all those years, hand on heart, he could honestly say that James was the best employee he’d ever had. He’d worked for him for well over a year now, and although still at school, he did every Saturday and most of the holidays for him.

Harold had lost count of the number of boys he’d employed over the years. At a guess, he’d say it was anything between forty and fifty. The one thing he was sure of was that none of them could hold a torch to young James. Intelligent, polite, eager to learn and a wonderful salesman, James had everything Harold had been looking for.

At sixty-two years old, he was almost ready for retirement. A father to three gorgeous daughters, James was like the son he’d never had, and would make a wonderful successor. He hadn’t said anything to the boy yet. He believed in doing things properly and he would talk to the lad’s mum before he spoke to him. Deciding to pay her a visit in the next few weeks, Harold happily greeted his next customer.

Head bobbing up and down like a yo-yo, Susan Hutton had a discreet glance at her watch. Seeing it was 5 p.m., she leaped off the bed.

‘Kev, I’ve gotta go. I’m hours late already and me mum’ll go apeshit if I ain’t home when our Tommy arrives. Not only that, I promised to help her with the food and stuff.’

Kevin shot her a look of pure hatred. ‘Don’t fuck me about, Suze. I’m ready to come, just finish me off, will yer?’

Knowing that Kevin had not yet forgiven her for the Joanne episode, Susan lay back on the bed. She owed him big time for smoothing everything over. Eight stitches, his cousin had ended up with but, thanks to Kev, hadn’t prosecuted. ‘I was attacked from behind, and didn’t see a thing,’ she told the police.

Willing Kev to hurry up, Susan was relieved when he finally shot his load. Swallowing just as he liked her to, she jumped off the bed for the second time.

‘Look Kev, I’ve really gotta go now. I’m sorry you can’t come to the party, but yer know how it is. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?’

Smiling, Kevin handed her her jacket. Susan’s mother hated him; he was banned from the house, and if he wasn’t allowed to attend the party, he was fucked if Susan was going to enjoy it. Obviously, Maureen had no idea that her wonderful daughter had smashed a pint glass over his cousin’s bonce. As usual, he was the bad bastard, the villain of the piece.

‘Forget about tomorrow – you’re dumped,’ he said nastily.

Susan was well annoyed. Twenty minutes she’d just spent sucking his sweaty cock and now he had the cheek to dump her! She’d spent weeks grovelling and pandering to his every whim and she was sick to the back teeth of it.

‘What have I done this time?’

Kevin shrugged. ‘Nothing really, I just fancy a break.’

Sick of his stupid mind games, Susan walked towards the door. Usually, she cried and begged forgiveness, but not any more. She’d had enough and was physically and mentally exhausted by their fucked-up relationship.

‘Go fuck yourself!’ she screamed as she slammed the front door.

Kevin was astonished by her little outburst. Years he’d been with her, fucking years, and the odd clump here and there had always stopped her from answering back in the past. It certainly wasn’t a case of love at first sight. He hadn’t even liked her, and had only copped off with her because he couldn’t pull anyone else.

Kevin would never forget that first night with Susan for as long as he lived. His unusually high sex drive was a standing joke to his mates, but Kevin didn’t find it funny, as he’d lost so many birds over it. For some reason, once a night seemed to suit the female sex, whereas he needed it at least half a dozen.

Fucking Susan was the biggest surprise of Kev’s life. Not only was she a nymph, but she was a dirty whore as well. Eight hours that first session had lasted and it would have carried on longer had his knob not been so sore. From that night onwards, he hadn’t been able to keep away from her. Tracey and Darren had fallen head over heels and him and Susan were kind of thrown together due to their love of filthy, non-stop sex.

He’d tried many times during the course of their relationship to get her out of his head. He’d knocked her about, finished with her, shagged loads of other birds, but nothing seemed to erase her from his mind. Even now, four years later, he was sure he didn’t love her. It was hard to explain, but she was like a magnet that kept drawing him towards her.

Flopping back onto his bed, Kev stared at the ceiling and thought about life in general. Tracey and Darren had made a nice comfortable nest for themselves. They had a council flat in Bow and a baby on the way. Kevin envied his friend. He loved kids and couldn’t wait to have his own. Maybe it was time for him to stop playing games, accept his fate and settle down with Susan.

He smiled as he got dressed. He’d spend one last night with a prostitute and from tomorrow he was all hers.

TWELVE

ETHEL BURST OUT laughing when she clapped eyes on the banner. ‘Welcome Home Tommy’ stood out in enormous green letters and Maureen was asking for help to hang it at the front of the house.

Maureen glared at her. ‘What’s so funny?’

Crying with laughter, Ethel could barely speak. ‘How the fuck have yer got the front to put that up? The whole street knows he was done for murder. Fuck me, that new family that have just moved in opposite will think he’s a war hero coming back late from the Falklands.’

Maureen bit her tongue. She loved her mother-in-law more than words could say, but the older she got, the more outspoken she became. She looked at her mates.

‘What do you think?’

Brenda paused before answering. ‘Look, maybe Ethel’s right. Even though Terry Smith was a wrong ’un and what happened is long forgotten, he’s still got cousins round here, ain’t he?’

Sandra agreed. ‘I heard his brother Wayne’s moved back to the area. Dunno how true it is, but Rosie’s husband saw him in the Duchess last Saturday night.’

As James entered the room, he caught the back end of the conversation. Seeing his mum’s deflated expression, he put an arm around her.

‘We don’t want no trouble, Mum. Give us it here and I’ll put it up in the front room. I don’t think Tommy would like it outside, anyway. Yer know what he’s like and if Freddie’s coming with him, he might feel a bit of a prick.’

Smiling at her son, Maureen handed him the banner.

Tommy Hutton thanked the little blonde bird, rolled onto his back and took off the johnny. Embarrassed that he’d shot his seed in less than two minutes, he apologised and explained why.

‘Do you want to do it again?’ the girl asked.

He shook his head. ‘Thanks all the same, but I’ve gotta be somewhere.’

Tommy took his time as he got dressed. He didn’t want Freddie taking the piss out of him for being so quick, but on reaching the reception, he was surprised to see that Freddie had vanished. The Spanish-looking bird who had taken the money from them smiled at him.

‘Your friend, he is in room number six with Chantelle.’

Tommy sat on a chair and shut his eyes. With no sleep the previous night and a gut full of food and booze, he already felt knackered. Being set free had been the best feeling in the world. Walking through the gates after serving ten years of his fifteen was an incredibly special moment, one that only a long-termer would ever understand.

The first person he saw as the fresh air hit him was Freddie, sitting on the bonnet of a white Escort van. They’d literally run towards one another as if they were long-lost lovers, before jumping up and down like nutters.

‘Right, what do yer wanna do?’ Freddie asked, waving a big wad of dough at him.

Tommy was overawed and didn’t know what to suggest. ‘I’m gagging for a beer. After that, you choose,’ he said.

Freddie pulled up at the first boozer they saw. They knocked back a few lagers and spoke endlessly about their time in Feltham. Tommy was the first to change the subject.

‘So, how’s the building game going? With the wad you’re waving about, yer must be doing all right.’

Freddie did a wanker sign. ‘It’s shit, mate. Me cousin’s a prick, he don’t pay that well and I knock me bollocks off for next to nothing. I’ve only stuck with it while I’ve been waiting for you to get out – that, and to keep me mother off me case.’

Tommy nodded sympathetically.

‘What’s this?’ he asked, as Freddie threw a brown envelope on his lap.

Freddie grinned, ‘It’s a little present from me uncle Bobby. I think there’s two hundred quid in there. Bobby’s in Spain for a couple of weeks, but he gave it to me before he went. He said you were to ’ave a good time with it.’

Downing his beer, Tommy smiled. ‘If I’m meant to be enjoying meself, best we get out of this shit-hole then.’

The next stop was a restaurant. The dinners in prison had been fucking awful and Tommy was gagging for a good old-fashioned roast.

As he wiped the gravy off his plate with the remainder of his Yorkshire pudding, Tommy swallowed the last piece and let out a satisfied groan.

‘Freddie, that was fuckin’ handsome. Honestly, it was better than a bunk up.’

Freddie winked at him. ‘Funny you should say that, ’cause I’ve got one of them lined up for yer later. Yer can tell me after you’ve shot yer load if yer still prefer the roast beef.’

Tommy laughed. He’d had no bird in tow when he’d gone away, but having been sexually active from the age of thirteen, he wasn’t going to say no to the offer.

After leaving the restaurant, Freddie wanted to take Tommy to a boozer in East Ham to meet all his pals.

‘Not today, Fred. I need to get me head together, and me mum’s expecting me home at seven. I can’t not turn up, and if we go down your manor, I probably won’t get back in time.’

Freddie fully understood where his mate was coming from. He’d been there himself. Walking out of prison was one thing, getting your head together and the family stuff was another. Instead, they’d done a little pub crawl. Nowhere special, just random pubs they liked the look of.

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