The Victim

‘Wow, you look well. Been having a makeover in here, have ya?’

Frankie grinned and sat down. ‘My cellmate Babs made me up. She’s well cool, Dad. Babs is Jamaican and we get on so well. You know when you meet someone and just click? We’re gonna be friends for life, I know we are.’

Eddie frowned. Joey had told him all about this Babs bird and he wasn’t happy at all that his beautiful daughter was sharing a cell with a murderer. ‘You shouldn’t get too friendly with this girl, Frankie. Joey mentioned her to me. She’s up for murder, ain’t she?’

Frankie was instantly annoyed. She knew her dad was only concerned about her welfare, but he could be an irritating bastard at times. ‘Look, I know you’re worried about me, but give me a bit of credit, will ya? I know a wrong ’un when I meet one, living with Jed taught me that. I am currently in Holloway, Dad, so I’m hardly going to be sharing my cell with a nun or a good Samaritan, am I? Babs is truly lovely and I was gonna tell you a bit about what happened to her, but now you’re being a stroppy arsehole, I ain’t gonna bother.’

Eddie held his hands up in an ‘I surrender’ gesture. Frankie was a fiery little cow, she took after him and he hadn’t come here to argue with her. ‘I’m sorry, babe. I just worry about you, that’s all.’

‘Well, you’ve no need to worry. I am quite capable of choosing my own friends and I also know how to look after myself. You really do wind me up sometimes, Dad. When you were inside, you shared with Stuart, who was also a murderer, yet he was the greatest thing since sliced bread. And what about our family? I mean, we’re hardly the fucking Waltons, are we?’

Eddie grinned. His daughter most definitely had the Mitchell sense of humour. ‘So, how’s your pregnancy going? Is everything OK?’ he asked, cleverly changing the subject.

The mention of her unborn baby was enough to make Frankie calm down. ‘Everything’s fine. Me and Babs went to this antenatal lesson the other day. This posh woman took it and we had such a laugh. I feel a bit fat, but other than that I feel fit and healthy. I’ve had hardly no sickness with this one at all.’

Eddie nodded. He was dreading telling her that the kids had run away, but she was their mother and needed to know because of the civil court case that was being arranged. ‘I’ve got some news for ya, but I don’t want you to panic, ’cause it’s created some good as well.’

Frankie’s face turned deathly white when her father told the story of Georgie and Harry’s little escapade. ‘So they ran away to find me?’ Frankie asked, bursting into tears.

Eddie took his daughter’s hand in his. He was desperate to comfort her, but he didn’t really know how to. ‘Look, don’t cry. The kids are fine, honest, and I think they’re gonna be allowed to visit you up here now. That social worker Larry got involved is taking the case to court. She reckons it’s in their best interests to see you regularly.’

Frankie’s eyes shone with a mixture of tears and happiness. ‘Oh Dad, I’ve missed them so much. When do you think I can see them?’

‘We’ve gotta wait for a date for the court hearing first, but it should be soon. The social worker reckons they might be able to have some sort of contact with your nan, as well.’

‘Did Nan make a fuss of the kids? How are she and Grandad?’ Frankie asked.

‘The same as ever. Stanley weren’t there when I went round. Joycie and him have been rowing again, but she was over the moon to see Georgie and Harry.’

‘So how did Georgie and Harry look? Did they look clean and well fed? You know how fussy Georgie is with her food, do you think she’s been eating OK?’

The kids had turned up at Joycie’s door in an awful state, but Eddie wasn’t about to tell Frankie that, as a lot of it was down to the trek they’d endured. ‘They both looked well and they ain’t ’arf got big. Georgie’s really tall now and they’re definitely being fed OK, as Harry’s shot up and looks as sturdy as a bull.’

Frankie thought of her two beautiful children and smiled. She then bombarded her father with lots more questions about them. Not wanting Frankie to worry unnecessarily, Eddie answered her as honestly as he could. He didn’t tell her that the O’Haras hadn’t even reported the kids missing, as he knew that would play on her mind.

‘So, who else has been up to see you, apart from Joey?’ Ed asked, changing the subject again.

‘Kerry’s coming up next week. I haven’t seen her since that day I was last in court.’

Remembering that he’d promised himself what he would tell Frankie, Eddie began to fidget in his seat. Telling his daughter the news of his impending fatherhood was not something he relished, but it had to come from him. ‘There’s something else I need to tell you. It’s about me and I know you ain’t gonna like it.’

‘I’ll have a guess, shall I? You’re getting married,’ Frankie said sarcastically.

‘Well, yeah, but not yet. Gina’s pregnant,’ Ed said bluntly.

With images of her poor mother flashing through her mind, Frankie stood up, walked towards a screw and asked to be taken back to her cell.

‘Frankie, what you doin’? Don’t be like this, babe,’ she heard her dad shout.

Turning around, Frankie glared at him. ‘You make me fucking sick!’ she screamed.

Over in Orsett, Stanley and Pat the Pigeon had had a lovely day. Firstly, they’d had lunch in the Halfway House and then, on Pat’s insistence, they’d popped into the Orsett Cock pub, where the pigeon club congregated.

‘Don’t you worry about bumping into that bloody turncoat, Jock. He’s the one in the wrong, not you,’ Pat had maintained.

Although still fuming over Jock’s betrayal, Stanley wasn’t one for confrontation and had been relieved that Jock wasn’t in the pub when they’d arrived.

About to take a sip of his pint, Stanley nearly choked as Pat muttered the words he’d been dreading hearing. ‘Here he is, just walked in, the bloody Judas. I feel like giving him a piece of my mind, Stanley, I really do.’

Stanley looked up, locked eyes with his once best friend, scowled and looked away. ‘Don’t bother saying ought to him, Pat. He ain’t bleedin’ worth it, love.’

Under no illusion that Stanley was anything other than still mad at him, Jock walked over to the bar where Brian and Derek were standing.

‘What’s happened between you and Stanley? I asked him where you were earlier and he nearly bit my head off,’ Derek asked.

‘It’s a long story, but I’ve had Joycie on the phone, worried sick about him. Stanley’s left her and she was going to call the police and report him missing.’

Brian started to laugh. ‘He’s all right, is our Stanley. He’s moved in with Pat, she was telling me earlier. I bet they’ve been at it like rabbits.’

Jock glanced at Stanley and Pat in horror. How was he meant to tell Joyce this piece of news? She would blow a fuse.

Unlike Frankie, who was currently sailing through her latest pregnancy, Sally Baldwin was indoors, crippled up with stomach pains. The stress of splitting up with Jed was taking its toll and the constant threats he kept making weren’t helping matters either. He’d been ringing her all day and at first he’d been quite pleasant.

‘Please come back. I didn’t mean to talk to you like I did. I’m such a dinlo and I really miss you,’ he’d begged.

Sally’s father had then grabbed the phone and had given Jed a right mouthful. Terry Baldwin was sick of seeing his daughter upset and was at the end of his tether.

‘If you ever come near my Sally again, I swear I will fucking kill you,’ he’d warned Jed.

Jed, being Jed, hadn’t taken any notice of the warning and had since left tons of threatening messages on the landline answerphone, the last being, ‘If you ain’t fucking back ’ere in one hour, Sally, I’m gonna come round there and cut your shitcunt of a father to shreds.’

Sally winced as her father entered the room and put a cup of coffee down next to her. The pains were griping and she was desperate to go to the toilet.

‘How do you feel now?’ Terry asked, concerned. Sally was as white as a sheet and he wondered if he should call an ambulance.

‘I’m OK, but I must go a loo,’ Sally replied, as she half staggered from the room.

Seconds later, Terry heard an almighty scream.

‘Dad, there’s blood everywhere, I think I’m losing the baby,’ Sally cried.

Not one to drink too much when he had to drive from Orsett back to Barking, Jock had four pints and set off home. He felt sick with worry about Stanley’s unusual behaviour. Not only had his old pal looked very drunk, but he and that Pat had looked far more than just friends, and Jock didn’t have a clue what he was now going to say to Joyce.

Within seconds of walking indoors, Jock heard his phone ringing. He glanced at the clock. It was 4 p.m. and his daughter usually rang him at this time most days. He picked up the phone and was horrified to hear Joyce on the other end.

‘Well, did you find the old bastard?’

‘Aye, but I didn’t speak to him, Joycie. He’s still really angry with me, I could see it in his face.’

‘So, where is he then? Where did you see him?’

Aware of how irate Joyce sounded, Jock chose his words carefully. He didn’t want to get his old mate into too much trouble, but if he didn’t give Joycie some information, she would be sure to call the police and find out Stanley’s whereabouts anyway.

‘He was in the Orsett Cock pub. He’s staying with a friend who lives up that way, I think.’

‘Friend! What friend? Apart from you, my Stanley has never had any bleedin’ friends. What’s the bloke’s name he’s stopping with?’

‘I’ve no idea,’ Jock replied untruthfully.

Joyce instinctively knew that Jock was lying. Stanley had definitely been behaving oddly for the last couple of months. He disappeared regularly, usually at lunchtime. He’d put on weight, but ate smaller meals at home, and she could swear she’d whiffed women’s perfume on his clothes and it certainly wasn’t her Estée Lauder. It all added up now, every single, last, sordid detail.

‘What’s the old tart’s name, Jock? I know it’s a woman, so don’t you dare fucking lie to me.’

Jock felt like a rabbit caught in the headlights. ‘I swear, it’s not what you think, Joycie. Him and Pat are just friends, that’s all. Your Stanley has decent morals, love,’ he stammered.

‘Well, I’ll give him morals and I’ll give her fucking Pat. What’s the old bag’s address?’ Joyce screamed down the phone.

Jock was petrified of Joyce at the best of times. ‘I don’t know, I swear I don’t. All I know is she lives in Orsett,’ he said, his hands shaking.

‘Well, I’ll be taking a little trip to Orsett and when I find that dirty old bastard I married, I’m gonna chop his fucking bits off and feed ’em to his pigeons.’

Unaware that his old woman was on his tail and currently spitting feathers, Stanley and Pat were rather inebriated and cuddled up on the sofa. They had left the pub about an hour ago and they must have sunk at least ten or twelve drinks while they were out. At one point, Stanley had even felt his legs start to buckle.

‘Do you wanna watch a film, Stanley, or shall we have an early night?’ Pat asked him expectantly.

Not getting the gist of what she was asking, Stanley smiled at her. Unlike Joycie, Pat was a loving person and he sometimes liked it when she put her arms around him. It made him feel manly and wanted. ‘You watch a film if you like, love. I’m knackered, though, so I think I’ll have an early one.’

Desperate to get Stanley into her own bed rather than the one in the spare room, Pat edged towards his lips and placed her own there.

Feeling Pat’s tongue inside his mouth, Stanley leaped from the sofa as if he had a bullet up his arse. ‘Night, love,’ he shouted, as he ran from the room and bolted up the stairs. He was desperate for the safety of the spare room. He and Joycie hadn’t kissed for years and even when they used to, there were no tongues involved. Petrified that Pat was going to come into his room, Stanley finally stopped shaking as he heard her footsteps plod past. ‘Thank you, God,’ he mumbled gratefully.

Terry Baldwin sat in a corridor in Harold Wood Hospital. Sally had been rushed to the maternity unit and he’d been waiting ages for some news. Putting his head in his hands, Terry cursed the day his daughter had ever set eyes on Jed O’Hara. The little shit had already robbed him of one grandchild, his beloved Luke, and if Sally were to lose another because of Jed, Terry would have no choice but to top the little bastard.

Saying a silent prayer to God that all the blood Sally had lost would turn out to be no more than a false alarm, Terry heard his name being called. He stood up and looked into the doctor’s eyes.

‘I’m so sorry, Mr Baldwin, but I’m afraid we were unable to save the baby. On a positive note, your daughter is stable and we have given her something to sedate her so she can get some sleep. She was, understandably, very upset, so we would like to keep her in for observation.’

Overcome by grief for the second time in weeks, Terry let out a muffled cry and slumped back onto the chair. This would be the end of his Sally and he knew it.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Joycie Smith was still seething the following morning. Never in a million years would she have guessed that Stanley would ever leave for some old slapper. Her husband was certainly no Richard Gere and Joyce could not understand how any other woman would even like him, let alone fancy him.

Pacing up and down the living room, Joycie glanced at the clock on the wall. ‘What time did Dominic say he’d get here?’ she asked Joey. Patience had never been one of Joycie’s virtues and she was doing buttons to get to Orsett and confront her philandering husband and his bit of fluff.

Joey sighed. He’d been working late last night when his nan had rung and told him what had happened. She’d gone bananas on the phone and, worried about her sanity, Joey had come straight over from work. He and Dom had made plans themselves today and, as much as Joey loved his nan, he was getting a bit sick of her interfering in his life. Whenever there was a drama it was Joey she called and in Joey’s opinion, her own son Raymond got away very lightly indeed.

‘Where you going?’ Joyce shouted as Joey picked his mobile up and stomped out of the room.

Ignoring her question, Joey opened the back door and punched in a number. ‘Raymond, it’s me, Joey. Listen, you need to get over to your mum’s ASAP. Your dad’s run off with another woman and I don’t know what to do.’

‘I can’t come over. I’m with Polly and we’re on our way to visit her parents,’ Raymond said bluntly.

Joey was fuming. Who did Raymond think he was, Lord Fucking Fauntleroy? Sick of taking shit from people, Joey gave it to him good and proper. ‘Joycie might be my nan, but she’s your bloody mother. She needs you, so best you ring Polly’s parents, tell them you have to cancel, then turn your car around and get your arse over here. I’ve already lost my mum, Ray, but you’ve still got yours, so instead of avoiding her, make the fucking most of it.’

Raymond was astounded by his nephew’s little speech. Joey no longer sounded like a feminine little gay boy – he sounded just like his father.

Eddie Mitchell smiled as he ended his phone call. His plan to keep his brothers safe had worked like a dream so far. Worried that Jimmy O’Hara’s henchman would get to them, Eddie had ordered someone to give both Ronny and Paulie a pasting.

‘Don’t go too heavy, but make it look bad. Aim for their faces and make as much mess as you can without actually hurting ’em,’ had been Ed’s exact words. He’d then got word to his brothers via another inmate to tell them the score. ‘You must insist that you’re frightened for your lives and demand to be moved either to solitary or another nick. With Ronny being a cripple, the guvnor should swallow it.’

He’d also told his ally to warn them that under no circumstances must they contact him. ‘If they ring me or send me any silly fucking letters, they’re on their own,’ he said.

Ed smiled as Gina walked into the room and put her arms around his waist from behind.

‘Dinner’s nearly ready,’ she said lovingly.

Eddie turned around, tilted her chin and kissed her tenderly. He was picking Stuart up on Monday, so this was the last weekend that they’d have the house to themselves for a while.

‘After we’ve eaten, let’s have an early night, eh, babe?’

Gina grinned. ‘Only if you promise to ravish me.’

Eddie grabbed the cheeks of her arse and rubbed his rapidly growing erection against her groin. ‘Oh, I shall ravish you all right. In fact, I’m gonna shag your brains out all weekend.’

Gina giggled. She adored Eddie talking dirty to her. Her fiancé’s vulgarity was her ultimate turn-on.

* * *

Raymond dropped Polly off at her parents’ house and drove towards his mother’s. Joey’s words had somehow struck a chord, and even though Joyce drove him mad at times, Raymond realised he should make more of an effort to be there for her.

‘You took your time. I thought Polly’s parents had moved over this way,’ Joey said as he answered the front door.

‘Essex is a big place, Joey. If you drove, you’d know that Polly’s parents have moved to Loughton, which isn’t exactly spitting distance from here, is it now?’ Raymond replied sarcastically.

Ignoring his uncle’s sarcasm, Joey began to give him the lowdown on exactly what had happened between Joyce and Stanley.

Sick of waiting for a lift, Joyce had been necking the Baileys as if it were chocolate milkshake and was now in an extremely vicious mood.

Raymond walked into the room and sat down on the sofa next to his mum. Feeling awkward, he hugged her. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll find Dad and then he’ll come back home. I’m sure this woman is only a friend, whoever she is.’

‘Friend! I’ll give her fucking friend. Do you know where that Orsett Cock pub is, Raymond?’

Ray nodded.

Joyce stood up. ‘Come on then, let’s go and find the dirty old pervert who fathered you.’

Joey glanced at Dominic and smirked. His earlier outburst had obviously hit home and now that Raymond had turned up and taken over, their weekend could continue as planned.

Eddie Mitchell smiled as he rubbed Gina’s slightly swollen naked stomach. He might be fifty-three, but he didn’t look it and in his mind he was still only twenty-one. He couldn’t wait to be a dad again. When the twins were born he’d left all that baby stuff to Jessica, but this time he wanted to be part of it. ‘So what we gonna call this little beauty then?’ he asked tenderly.

Gina turned her head towards Eddie and grinned. She would be thirty-five by the time the baby was born and she had never been so excited about anything in her life before. There was a time when Gina had given up on meeting Mr Right and becoming a mother, but meeting Eddie Mitchell had changed all that. From the first moment Gina had laid eyes on Eddie, she had known he was the one and now he had made all her dreams come true.

‘I like Michaela for a girl and Bradley for a boy,’ Gina suggested.

Eddie pondered over her choices, then turned to her. ‘I like Rosie, be a nice tribute to me mum. Michaela’s OK, though. My Frankie’s real name is Francesca and Georgie’s birth name is Georgina, so like both of these, Michaela will be shortened to Micky. Micky Mitchell, yeah, sounds proper. I dunno about Bradley though, sounds a bit poofy to me and, as much as I love Joey, I don’t want two gay sons.’

‘Bradley don’t sound poofy! What about Gavin, do you like that?’ Gina asked.

Eddie shook his head. ‘Gavin Mitchell sounds like a fucking accountant who drinks piña coladas and plays squash at weekends.’

Gina playfully punched his arm. Eddie could be such a comical bastard at times; his sense of humour was second to none. ‘You pick some boys’ names then,’ she urged him.

Eddie propped himself up on his elbow and thought carefully. If they had a son, he wanted him to have an old-fashioned, masculine-sounding name. He hated all that trendy bollocks. ‘I like Lenny. Lenny Mitchell, whaddya think?’

Gina smiled. She wasn’t struck on the name Lenny, but she quite liked Rosie. ‘If it’s a girl, you can call her Rosie, after your mum. If it’s a boy though, I choose. I quite like Aaron as well.’

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