The Victim

‘You eat your breakfast, Jimmy. I’ll answer it and tell whoever it is to take a running jump,’ Alice insisted.

With the spatula still in her hand, Alice stomped into the hallway and, as she opened the front door, very nearly had a fit. ‘Gertcha, you murdering mother’s cunt. Get off my property before I kill you,’ she screamed, as she lunged at Eddie with the greasy spatula.

Eddie held his hands in front of his face to stop the stupid bitch from blinding him. ‘I ain’t come here to cause no trouble. I need to speak to Jimmy. I wanna make amends for what happened.’

‘Amends! Fucking amends! Gonna bring my Marky and Lukey back from the dead are you, you animal?’

Hearing a commotion, Jimmy and Jed ran to the front door.

‘You no-good shitcunt,’ Jed yelled as he lunged at Eddie.

As his son grabbed Mitchell around the neck, Jimmy waded in to pull Jed away from him.

‘Look, I’ve come here to apologise, not fight. I know nothing can make up for the stupidity of my brothers, but what happened was fuck-all to do with me. I wanna try and sort this mess out for good,’ Eddie said.

Georgie O’Hara was brighter than most four-year-old girls and as soon as everybody had left the kitchen, she’d scraped her and Harry’s greasy breakfasts into the bin and covered the evidence with her nan’s tea-towel. Now she’d led Harry into the hallway to see what all the fuss was about.

Because Eddie had been in prison for virtually all of his grandchildren’s lives, neither Georgie nor Harry knew him that well. Both had visited him in Wandsworth with their mum, but it was Harry who had seen him more recently than his sister, and recognised him first. Thinking that his grandad had turned up to take him and Georgie home to their mum, Harry let go of his sister’s hand and ran towards Eddie.

‘Grandad, can we see Mummy?’ he yelled excitedly.

Eddie had been too busy arguing with Jed to notice the kids were there and he felt really emotional as he laid eyes on the pair of them. Georgie looked skinnier than the last time he’d seen her and Harry seemed a few inches taller.

‘Get away from them chavvies. They’re nothing to do with you or that whore of a daughter of yours any more!’ Alice screamed.

‘I want my Mummy!’ Georgie sobbed, as Alice roughly dragged her and Harry back towards the kitchen.

‘Grandad, can we come home with you?’ Eddie heard Harry shout just before the door was slammed. Eddie felt completely useless. He could tell the kids were unhappy – it was written all over their little faces – and he needed all his self-restraint to stop himself from putting them in his motor and taking them home with him.

‘You ever come near my kids again, I’ll fucking cut you to pieces,’ Jed yelled, lunging at Eddie once more.

Jimmy grabbed his son by the hair. ‘Get in that kitchen with your mother and make sure them kids are OK.’

‘No! Why should I? That bastard killed my son and …’

Grabbing Jed by the neck, Jimmy marched him into the kitchen. ‘You leave this to me and if you come back out this kitchen, I shall clump you so hard you’ll see fucking stars,’ Jimmy warned as he slammed the door and marched back to where Eddie was standing. He walked out into the cold December air, shut the front door and marched Eddie over to where the stables were.

‘You’ve got some fucking nerve turning up here, I’ll give you that much,’ he spat.

Unlike Eddie, Jimmy O’Hara was no oil painting. He was six feet two, had dark, greying, wavy hair, thick lips, a beer belly and a big bulbous nose that splattered over to one side of his face. Jimmy opened the stable door, let Eddie inside and turned to him with a look of hatred.

‘So, what do you want?’

Eddie was finding it increasingly difficult to keep his cool. Jed had attacked him and had ripped his Armani shirt, he hadn’t been able to speak to his own grandchildren and now he had this big, ugly prick looking at him as if he were some kind of faeces he’d trod on. Taking the advice of his probation officer, who had told him to take ten deep breaths whenever he felt as if he was about to lose his rag, Eddie spoke in the most sympathetic voice he could muster.

‘I came here to apologise for the deaths of your son and your grandson.’

Jimmy gave a sarcastic chuckle. ‘Well, that’s fucking big of ya. We’ll forget all about it and be best buddies then, shall we?’

‘Just drop the sarcasm and hear me out will you, Jimmy? It weren’t fucking easy for me to come round ’ere today, so the least you can do is listen to what I’ve got to say. If you don’t, then I’ll walk away now and we all know what will happen next, don’t we? You’ll shoot a couple of my family and then I’ll shoot a couple of yours. And so it goes on Jimmy, like it always bastard well has done, until we’re all laying six feet under.’

‘Go on then, talk, I’m all ears,’ Jimmy spat.

‘I’ve come here today not only to apologise, but also to offer you a deal. You know as well as I do that I had sod-all to do with what happened. I’ve had sweet fuck-all to do with my brothers for years – they might be my flesh and blood, but they’re mugs, the pair of ’em. I ain’t stupid; I know you’re gonna want revenge and so would I if I’d gone through the same as you had. So I’m gonna give you permission to go ahead, do what you’ve gotta do with Paulie and Ronny and when you do, I promise they’ll be no repercussions from me or my family.’

‘I think you’ve forgotten something, Mitchell. Your cunting brothers happen to be in Belmarsh with a lot of your old pals and I know for a fact that you’ll say one thing to me, then have their backs watched for ever more. Don’t insult me, by treating me like some dinlo, please.’

‘I promise you, Jimmy, I won’t get involved. My brothers fucked up big time and now they have to pay the price. I’ll keep out of it, I swear I will.’

Jimmy was thinking of the bigger picture. He would never truly rest until all of the Mitchells were dead, especially Eddie, but if he agreed to this deal now, it would give him plenty of time to plan the rest of their executions properly. Neither Eddie nor his sons were any man’s fools, and Jimmy wanted that fucking Raymond dead as well. Doing life in prison didn’t appeal to Jimmy one little bit and if Alice ever lost her beloved Georgie girl over his rash actions, she would never forgive him, and would probably leave him for good.

‘Well?’ Eddie asked impatiently.

Determined to make his biggest enemy sweat, Jimmy glared at him. ‘Hold your fucking horses, Mitchell. This is heavy shit and I need five minutes to think.’

Jimmy knew quite a few traveller lads in Belmarsh and even if Eddie’s heavies were looking out for Ronny and Paulie, Jimmy was sure he could bribe someone to get to them for him. He turned to Eddie; he was determined to have the last laugh, even today. ‘I’ll agree to the deal on one condition.’

‘What?’

‘I know two lads who will sort out your brothers, but they ain’t gonna do it for nothing. I want thirty grand off you so I can give ’em fifteen each.’

Eddie was gobsmacked. This was getting silly now. ‘No way. It’s bad enough I know my brothers are gonna die without paying for some bastard to do it. I can’t do that, Jimmy, it’s fucking despicable.’

For the first time in weeks, Jimmy felt like really laughing out loud, but he managed to hold it back. ‘Well, that’s my terms, so take it or leave it.’

Feeling as though his head was about to burst, Eddie sat down on a bale of hay. He hadn’t told Gary, Ricky and Raymond that he was coming to see Jimmy today and now he could never tell them. With images of his kids, his grandchildren and Gina flashing through his mind, he stood up. Their safety was his priority right now.

‘OK, you’ve got a deal. But it’s between me and you, and if you blab to anyone, including any of your family, the deal’s off.’

‘Cushti. When will I have the wonga by?’ Jimmy asked.

‘Friday. I’ll meet you in the car park of the Optimist at twelve noon.’

Jimmy smirked. ‘We gonna shake on this then?’

Eddie reluctantly shook Jimmy’s hand, and then took a slow walk back to his motor. Paying for his own brothers to be killed literally made him feel like the Devil in disguise. Picking up pace, Ed broke into a jog. He knew O’Hara had made a complete mug out of him today, but he could hardly refuse his terms; his hands were tied for now.

Feeling as sick as a dog, Eddie started his motor and drove at speed towards home. When he reached his own driveway, he got out of the Range Rover, leaned against it and pictured Ronny and Paulie’s faces. He then vomited like he’d never vomited before.

CHAPTER FOUR

Stanley Smith smiled as his lady friend, Pat, handed him a mug of steaming coffee with a big dollop of cream on top. They had only known one another for six weeks, but it felt more like six years.

Pat, or Pat the Pigeon, as she preferred to be called, had recently moved to Orsett in Essex from the East End of London. Stanley had met her in the Orsett Cock pub and there was an instant spark between them. They had since become great friends and Stanley often popped round Pat’s for a cuppa and a natter. Joyce, Stanley’s wife, had no idea of his special friendship. There was nothing untoward going on, but Joycie would probably chop his testicles off if she found out he’d been sitting in another woman’s house on a regular basis.

Unlike Joycie, Pat was a good listener. She had a caring nature, a heart of gold, and Stanley felt able to pour his problems out to her. Jessica, his daughter, had been murdered by her villainous husband Eddie Mitchell, and Pat was the only one who truly understood Stanley’s despair and heartache.

‘You’re not your usual chirpy self today, Stanley. What’s bothering you?’ Pat asked in a sympathetic tone.

Stanley stared wistfully out of Pat’s conservatory window. Unlike the house he now lived in with Joycie, Pat’s was only a two-bed semi-detached, but it was homely and it always reminded him of his and Joycie’s old property in Upney.

‘I’m OK, love. I just hate that bloody house I live in so much. I miss me old house – I was happy there.’

Pat the Pigeon nodded her head understandingly. Stanley had told her that Joycie had forced him to live in the house that had once belonged to his daughter, Jessica. Apparently, Eddie Mitchell had given the house to Joyce as some kind of compensation for accidentally shooting her and Stanley’s daughter.

‘Well, you know my views on that house, Stanley. How your Joycie can live there with everything that’s happened, I don’t know. I don’t like to speak ill of people I haven’t met, but your Joycie must be as hard as old boots. I could never have taken a gift off a man who had murdered my daughter.’

‘Well, that’s my Joycie for ya, Pat. Full of airs and graces, and I ain’t gonna change her now, she’s too long in the tooth. She loves that big house, lords it over her friends, she does, and she’ll never move, not a cat in hell’s chance. We were at it hammer and tongs arguing again this morning – drives me bleedin’ bonkers, she does. That money we’ve got left in the bank from the sale of our old house, she wants to buy a flash motor with it. Not a second-hand one, a brand bleedin’ new one. I like me old Sierra – it might not look a picture, but it drives like an angel. I mean, what do I want a poxy Mercedes at my age for? I only want a run-around to get me from A to B and to cart me pigeons about in.’

Pat smiled and nodded in agreement. She had been terribly lonely since her husband Vic had suddenly passed away, but meeting Stanley had brought some sunshine back into her life. His wife Joycie sounded like a right domineering old dragon and Pat just hoped that one day Stanley would leave Joyce, move in with her and they could live happily ever after.

‘I made a nice date and walnut cake this morning, Stanley. Shall I make us another coffee and cut you a nice big slice?’

‘Thanks, but I’d best not stuff me face, Pat. In fact, I’m gonna have to make a move in a minute. It’s Jock’s granddaughter’s twenty-first birthday and I promised him that I’d accompany him to the restaurant this evening. They’re having a little surprise do for her.’

Pat knew Jock. She had met him at the pigeon club a few times. ‘Oh, a birthday party sounds lovely. Where’s it being held, Stanley?’ she enquired, hoping for an invite.

‘Jock still lives in Barking, but his granddaughter lives in Rainham, not that far from me. They’re holding it in a poxy Chinese by the Cherry Tree somewhere. Shame it ain’t a steak-house. I don’t really like foreign food.’

When Stanley stood up, Pat stood up as well. ‘Well enjoy yourself, love. Is Joycie going with you?’

‘No, I mentioned it to her last week, but I don’t think she fancied it.’

‘Oh well, never mind. I’m sure you’ll have fun anyway. Why don’t you pop round and tell me all about it tomorrow? I can wrap the cake in foil and you can have a piece then if you like.’

Stanley smiled. Pat really seemed to enjoy his company as much as he enjoyed hers. ‘I’d like that, Pat. I’ll pop round about midday.’

Even when she was a young girl, Pat the Pigeon had always loved sex. She couldn’t help it; it was in her nature. She had been married to her husband, Vic, for many years and their sex life had never dwindled. When Vic had died, Pat never thought that she would fancy another man or ever have sex again. Then she’d met Stanley and, for her, it had been love at first sight. The problem was, she could tell that Stanley was a shy one and she didn’t want to put him off by being too forward. Pat ushered the object of her affections towards the front door and, as she usually did, gave Stanley a gentle peck on the cheek.

‘Bye, Stanley. Look forward to seeing you tomorrow, love.’

Over in Holloway, it was visiting time, and Joey had just given his twin sister a loving hug. ‘I’m really sorry I’m late,’ he said as he sat down opposite her. Because she was on remand, Frankie was allowed plenty of visits, but Joey’s hectic job meant he could only get up to visit her a couple of times a week.

‘So how’s the Stock Exchange? Still doing your head in, is it?’ Frankie asked. She liked to wind Joey up, but she was extremely proud of his high-flying career.

‘Brain damage, per usual. Half-eight I left the bloody office last night. No wonder most of my colleagues have cocaine instead of food for lunch; at least it keeps ’em awake.’

‘You ain’t taking cocaine, are you?’ Frankie asked suspiciously.

‘Don’t be daft. Dom would bloody kill me. There are a lot of blokes at work on it, though. Most of them are real big drinkers as well. I’m fine, I can handle the pressure and stress, but you’d be surprised how many men can’t, especially the macho, straight ones. Anyway, enough about me. How are you? You look much happier than when I came up last weekend.’

‘Well, now I’m out of that awful hospital wing, I’m sleeping so much better. The maternity wing is quite nice compared to the rest of the prison. The staff are polite and my new cellmate is lovely. Her name is Babs, she originally comes from Jamaica and we get on really well. I’ve only known her for a short while, but it feels like we’ve been mates for years.’

Joey was pleased by the change in his sister. Her mood had been so low on a couple of his previous visits that he hadn’t really known what to say to her. He’d cried once as he had left the prison because he’d felt so bloody helpless.

‘So, what’s your friend Babs in here for? Is she convicted, or on remand like you?’

Frankie leaned forward so nobody could hear what she was saying. ‘Babs is on remand and she’s in here for stabbing her boyfriend as well. He died and now she’s looking at life, poor cow.’

Horrified that his sister was sharing her cell with a murderer, Joey clasped her hands in his. ‘Be careful, Frankie. Watch she don’t turn on you.’

‘Babs is one of the most sweet-natured people I’ve ever met in my life, Joey. Her bloke was far worse than Jed and I don’t blame Babs for killing him. Any woman would have done the same in her situation.’

‘What did he do? I won’t say nothing, I promise,’ Joey said in a hushed tone.

Frankie leaned over and covered her mouth with her hand. ‘He raped her twelve-year-old daughter, the fucking nonce. The bastard deserved to die, don’t you think?’ she whispered.

Joey nodded dumbly. This conversation was getting a bit heavy for him and he was desperate to change it. ‘Dad popped round the other day. He didn’t stay long; I think he’s got a lot on his plate over what Paulie and Ronny did. He’s even sent Gina away to stay with her mate. I think he’s lonely in that cottage on his own.’

‘What! Is he living with her then?’

Cursing himself for putting his foot in it, Joey lowered his eyes and looked sheepish. ‘I thought you knew they were living together. Gina’s really lovely, Frankie. If you gave her a chance, I know you’d like her.’

Fuming that her father had forgotten to mention that he’d moved his old tart in, Frankie glared at Joey. ‘Unlike you, I’m loyal to our mum. You might wanna be friends with the old slapper, but I don’t. She probably only got her claws into Dad ’cause she knows he’s a face and he’s worth a few quid.’

Joey shrugged. He wasn’t about to argue, because when Frankie had one of her cobs on she could be a complete bitch. He changed the subject yet again. ‘I wonder how Georgie and Harry are coping? Do you reckon Jed and Alice are looking after them properly? Dom and I miss them dreadfully, so I hate to think how you must feel.’

Frankie’s face hardened. She’d spoken about her children to Babs and she couldn’t help constantly dreaming about them, but at all other times she tried not to think about Georgie and Harry as it upset her too much. Knowing the O’Haras had custody of her children was pure torture and Frankie could not deal with it. ‘I don’t wanna talk about the kids, Joey. I can’t, OK?’

Noticing tears in his sister’s eyes, Joey gently squeezed her arm. ‘You’ll get them back one day, I know you will, Frankie.’

Frankie ignored his comment. ‘How’s Nan and Grandad? Have you seen them lately?’

Joey shook his head. ‘What with being so busy at work and visiting you up here, I haven’t had much chance to pop round there. Nan rang me at work the other day, invited me and Dom to dinner this Sunday, so we’ll see them then. She was ranting and raving about Grandad on the phone, something about a new car. You know what they’re like, Frankie, they don’t change.’

Frankie smiled. Her grandparents had never got on, but it was her nan who threw all the insults – her poor grandad had never had the guts to retaliate.

Desperate to get an answer to what had been playing on his mind, Joey leaned forward. ‘Kerry rang me late last night; she wants to come and visit you. I spoke to her for ages and even though she wouldn’t tell me much, I know something really bad happened, Frankie. Why did you really try to kill Jed? We’ve never kept secrets from one another before, so please tell me the truth.’

Frankie’s heart urged her to open up to her brother, but her head told her not to. Joey was close to her father again. He was also a gossiper, especially in drink, and if he blurted out the truth, all hell would break loose. Her dad’s life was probably already in danger because of what her uncles had done to Jed’s family and if she told Joey that Jed had tortured and murdered their grandfather, Harry, carnage would be sure to follow. Frankie knew just how evil Jed was and the thought of her dad or brothers getting killed was enough to make Frankie keep schtum for ever more. Relieved that the bell was ringing to signal the end of visiting time, Frankie stood up and hugged her twin brother.

‘You take care and give my love to Dom,’ she said.

Joey pulled away from her and stared deep into her eyes. ‘You haven’t answered my question yet, Frankie.’

‘I wish I could answer it, Joey, but I’m sorry, I can’t,’ Frankie replied. She then walked away without a backward glance.

Stanley Smith was not having the best of evenings. When he was a lad he had been taken to one of the first Chinese restaurants ever to open in London. He had no memory of whereabouts exactly it was, but he did remember that he had been taken there because it was his Auntie Agnes’s fortieth birthday. The evening itself was nothing to write home about, but what did stick in Stanley’s mind was that he was forced to eat some kind of fish heads, then on the way home he got a clip round the earhole from his mother because he spewed his guts up over some poor bloke on the train. Ever since that day, Stanley had avoided eating Chinese food like the plague.

‘So what do you fancy then, Stanley?’ Jock said, handing him a menu.

Stanley glanced at the menu and immediately felt queasy. ‘Don’t they do any English food, Jock? I ain’t a lover of rice or bleedin’ noodles, mate. I had food poisoning on this shit once.’

Jock laughed and called one of the waiters over. He explained Stanley’s predicament and the waiter turned to Stanley. ‘We do very nice omelette and very nice chip.’

‘Yeah, that’ll do, mate,’ Stanley said politely.

As Jock chatted to his granddaughter, Stanley studied the rest of the company. They were all bloody youngsters and he felt about as out of place as a Nigerian at a National Front march.

‘You remember my daughter Louise, don’t you?’ Jock asked, as he excused himself to go to the toilet.

Stanley hadn’t seen Jock’s daughter for a good few years and she had put on that much weight he would never have recognised her unless Jock had told him who she was.

‘Hello, love. You look well,’ Stanley lied.

‘Ah, thanks Stanley. How are you keeping? Your Joycie still looks well, don’t she? I saw her recently in a pub.’

‘What pub? She never said, where did you see her, Louise?’

Louise sat down on the chair next to Stanley. ‘In the Bull in Romford. I work behind the bar in there at lunchtimes. To be honest, I didn’t speak to her, Stanley. I’ve put on a lot of weight recently, so she probably wouldn’t have recognised me anyway. Not only that, she was with Eddie Mitchell and I didn’t wanna make meself busy.’

About to swallow a sip of his beer, Stanley very nearly choked. He spat the beer back into the glass. ‘Eddie Mitchell! It couldn’t have been my Joycie. We’ve had nothing to do with him since my Jessica died.’

‘It was definitely Joyce. I was always round your house years ago and she still looks the bleedin’ same. I could hear her chatting and laughing with Eddie. There ain’t many people got a full-on laugh like your Joyce has, Stanley.’

Feeling the colour drain from his cheeks, Stanley grabbed Louise’s arm. ‘Are you sure it was Eddie with her? Think carefully, because this is important.’

Louise was rather merry. She also wasn’t the brightest of girls and didn’t even realise she’d said the wrong thing. ‘Of course I’m sure it was Eddie. Everyone knows who Eddie Mitchell is, don’t they? Blimey, Stanley, my mate Carol went out with him before he got with your Jess, so I know what he bloody well looks like. He even bonked Carol in the back of his car once while I was sitting in the passenger seat like a bloody gooseberry.’

‘Whatever’s the matter, Stanley?’ Jock asked, as he returned to the table and clocked his pal’s deathly white face.

Stanley ignored him and turned back to Louise. ‘How long ago did you see them in the pub together?’

‘About six or seven weeks ago,’ Louise replied, necking the rest of the wine in her glass. She had just sort of realised that something was amiss when her dad had shaken his head frantically behind Stanley’s back and she didn’t fancy any agg with Eddie Mitchell. She stood up and smiled. ‘Perhaps I got it wrong, Stanley. My eyes play me up terrible sometimes. In fact, I’m going to have an eye test next week to see if I need glasses.’

Stanley knew without a doubt that Louise was lying. He stood up just as the waiter reappeared.

‘Omelette and chip, sir.’

Filled with anger and betrayal, Stanley pushed the waiter, who then unfortunately dropped the plate on the floor.