The Traitor

Raymond had instructed all of Eddie’s family to sit well away from his parents. ‘I know none of this is your fault, lads, but because Eddie did what he did, it ain’t appropriate for you to sit near the front.’

Eddie’s sons from his first marriage, Gary and Ricky, were devastated by Jessica’s death. They’d loved her immensely, and over the years she’d been a better mother to them than their own. Seeing their dad in prison had broken both boys’ hearts. They knew how much Jess had meant to their old man, and what had happened was the tragedy of all tragedies.

Eddie had only agreed to see them the once. He was a broken man, a shadow of his charismatic former self, and had sat opposite them in bits. Neither Gary nor Ricky had known what to say or do. It was a surreal situation that had devastated everybody. The only words of comfort they could offer their father were to promise to continue the family business and do him proud.

‘All right, Gal? Packed innit?’ their uncle Ronny said in a loud voice, as the boys now entered the church.

Seeing that Ronny’s eyes were already glazed, Gary put his finger to his lips. The service was about to start, and a drunken Ronny causing havoc in his wheelchair was the last thing the vicar needed.

The vicar cleared his throat. He was a seasoned professional, but this particular service was difficult, even for him. ‘Today we are here to commemorate the life of Jessica Anne Mitchell,’ he said.

There wasn’t a dry eye in the house as parts of Jessica’s life were remembered. The twins and Stanley were inconsolable. Joyce couldn’t look at them; if she did, she’d break down, so she ignored their sobs and stared at the vicar.

‘Can we open our hymn books at page twenty-one?’

As the congregation stood up, Raymond had to once again physically support his father.

All things right and beautiful,

All creatures great and small,

All things wise and wonderful:

The Lord God made them all.

Jed O’Hara entered the church and stood quietly at the back. He held the hymn book in his hands, but couldn’t sing because he couldn’t read properly.

Jimmy O’Hara put an arm around his son’s shoulder. Jed was a good boy and had been determined to attend Jessica’s funeral, so he could keep an eye on Frankie. Not wanting his son to become raw meat in a starving lion’s cage, Jimmy had insisted on coming with him. Jed was worried about Frankie; she was carrying his child and he had every right to be there in her hour of need.

Jimmy knew what losing a child was like. His wife, Alice, had been pregnant up until a couple of weeks ago, when she’d suddenly miscarried.

As the hymn came to an end, Ronny Mitchell decided he was busting for the toilet. Being stuck in a wheelchair, he was unable to hold himself like other people could. Nudging his brother, Paulie, he urged him to take him outside.

‘I need a shit. I’ve gotta find a bog,’ he said in an extremely loud tone.

As Raymond stood up to give his speech, an embarrassed Paulie also stood up. Ronny was a nuisance with a capital N at times.

‘Jessica was the most wonderful sister a brother could wish for,’ Raymond began.

While Paulie wheeled his brother towards the exit, a nosy Ronny scanned the mourners. The church was full of villains, most of them mates of Eddie, his father and his uncle Reg. Spotting Jimmy O’Hara’s ugly mush, Ronny did a double take and slammed the brake on his wheelchair.

Because he was staring at the piece of paper he’d so carefully written, Raymond didn’t notice what was happening at the other end of the church and, with tears rolling down his face, carried on with his speech.

‘The day Jessica gave birth to her twins, Frankie and Joey, was the happiest of her life. Even though she was no more than a child herself, she quickly adapted to become the most wonderful …’

Raymond’s speech was stopped in its tracks by Ronny’s drunken voice. ‘Get out of here, you pikey cunts! Hit ’em, Paulie. Go on, fucking do ’em,’ he yelled.

Shocked by the commotion, every mourner turned around to see what was happening.

Jimmy O’Hara held his hands up. ‘Look, we don’t want no trouble. I’ve only come here to support my Jed. He has every right to be here. Jessica was his future mother-in-law and would have been grandmother to his chavvie.’

When Paulie lunged at Jimmy O’Hara, the vicar pleaded for order. ‘Can we stop this awful nonsense? Please respect the deceased and also the house of God,’ he shouted over the loudspeaker.

Uncle Reg eventually broke up the fracas and, with the help of Paulie and a couple of Eddie’s pals, they threw both Jed and Jimmy out of the church.

‘Frankie’s having my chavvie – we’re getting married. Tell ’em Frankie, tell ’em,’ Jed screamed, as he was roughly pushed out of the door.

Frankie went to run to her boyfriend’s aid, but Raymond put his arm out and stopped her. ‘You stay there. It’s your mother’s funeral, and you’re partly to blame for all this,’ he reminded her coldly.

Traumatised, Stanley and Joey clung to one another and, seeing their anguish, Joyce was unable to keep it together any more. Bursting into tears, she fell to her knees. ‘The least my baby deserved was a good send-off. Why us, God? Why?’ she screamed.

CHAPTER TWO

As a distraught Joyce was led from the church by Stanley, Raymond urged the vicar to round the service up. Jessica’s funeral had been completely ruined and the quicker it was over, the better.

Raymond sadly shook his head. Like most men, he was sceptical about the idea of life after death, but if by any chance it did exist, his sister would be horrified by what had just happened.

The vicar quickly wrapped up his speech with a prayer, then led the mourners outside for the burial.

Joyce had all but collapsed and was now sitting on a chair, sipping water and being comforted by friends and the curate. ‘I can’t watch my baby being put into that grave, I just can’t face it,’ she wept.

Urging Stanley to walk on ahead, Hilda and Rita crouched down either side of her. ‘You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Joycie. Jess knows you’re here and that’s all that matters,’ Rita said kindly.

Jimmy and Jed had now disappeared, but Ronny was still there. Ray caught up with him and gave him a sharp dig in his shoulder. ‘Did you have to kick off in the middle of my speech? Ain’t you got no fucking sense? Why didn’t you wait till we all got outside?’

Looking remorseful, Ronny shrugged. ‘I know me and Paulie fell out with Ed, but he’s still me brother, Ray. When I saw them pikey shitbags there, I just lost it. How dare they fucking turn up?’

Raymond sighed. He felt the same as Ronny did himself. The difference was, he had a brain, so would have handled things better.

As Ronny held out his right hand, Raymond unwillingly shook it. ‘Look, no hard feelings, but I think it might be best if you don’t come back to the house afterwards. Me mum’s proper upset by what happened in the church and it ain’t fair on her.’

Ronny glanced at Paulie. He hated missing out on a free funeral piss-up. ‘I ain’t gonna upset your mum,’ he slurred.

Realising Polly had now caught up with him, Raymond linked arms with her and said no more. Ronny could have a full-scale argument with an ant, and Ray just wasn’t in the mood to row with him.

Joey broke down completely as his mother’s coffin was lowered into the ground. ‘I want her back, Frankie, I really want her back,’ he sobbed.

With tears streaming down her own face, Frankie cuddled him. ‘I want her back as well, Joey.’

Overcome by grief himself, Stanley led the twins away. ‘Let’s go and find your nan,’ he told them gently.

The mood in the hearse on the journey back to the house was extremely sombre. Annoyed with herself for breaking down inside the church, Joyce was the first to pull herself together. ‘Look, I know the service never went as well as we planned, but let’s see if we can give Jessica a good send-off back at home. It’s what she would have wanted, I know it is,’ she said brightly.

Admiring his mother’s strength, Raymond squeezed her hand. ‘I’ll second that. Let’s do our Jessica proud.’

Over in south London, Eddie Mitchell was also having an extremely difficult day. The knowledge that his wife was being buried and that he wasn’t able to attend had torn his heart to shreds. He had been in solitary confinement for five days now, serving his punishment for lashing out at the screws. In solitary, Ed had had very little contact with anyone, and the silence suited him just fine.

The other prisoners did his head in and he couldn’t give a shit about exercising or watching the telly. Nothing mattered any more, his life had all but ended. Chewing his lip, Eddie guessed what the time was. The funeral must be all over now, it had to be. Wondering how the service had gone, Ed wiped the sweat from his brow. His Jessica, his beautiful wife, was probably now lying six foot under and it was all his bloody fault. Hearing the jangle of keys, Eddie looked up as two screws walked in.

‘Up you get, Mitchell, you’re being moved early,’ the tall one said.

Eddie looked at the two guards in amazement. He had another two days to do in solitary yet. ‘Why am I being moved?’ he mumbled.

As the two guards grinned at one another, Eddie knew that his already awful day was about to take another turn for the worse.

Over in Rainham, the house had become packed to the rafters, so Stanley escaped to the serenity of his pigeon shed. Fifty per cent of the mourners were probably villains and he couldn’t be doing with any of the dodgy bastards, he’d rather be sitting on his own.

‘You in there, Stan?’

Recognising his best pal Jock’s voice, Stanley opened the door. ‘Come in, mate. I’ve stocked up with bitter; let’s have a beer in here, eh?’

Jock followed him in and sat on the wooden bench. His heart went out to his pal, Stanley and, having a daughter himself, he couldn’t begin to imagine how the poor bastard must be feeling. Cracking open a can, Jock studied the pigeons.

‘I think you should breed Ethel with Willie rather than Ernie next time,’ he said, trying to cheer Stan up.

Stanley shook his head. ‘Ethel hates Willie! Her and Ernie are inseparable, he’d be heartbroken, like I am now,’ he replied, bursting into tears.

Jock moved towards his pal and awkwardly put an arm round his shoulder. ‘Go on, Stan. Let it all out, mate.’

‘I miss Jess so much, Jock. What am I gonna do without her, eh?’

Jock had no answer to Stanley’s question. ‘I don’t know, mate.’

Inside the house, Joyce was knocking back yet another glass of brandy. She studied the people in the living room. She’d been so distressed at the cemetery earlier that she’d barely recognised anyone. Mary, Ginny and Linda, who had been friends with Jessica since childhood, were all there, and lots of the twins’ friends had come to pay their respects as well.

As she stared at the three older ladies with Gary and Ricky, Joycie suddenly remembered who they were. Ed’s auntie Joan, his aunt Vi, and his father Harry’s lady friend, Sylvie. Most families would have been appalled by the heavy presence of the Mitchell clan, but Joycie wasn’t. Being old school, she saw it as a mark of respect, not a fucking liberty.

Feeling smothered by people’s condolences, Joey and Frankie went out in the garden with their friends. Joey was pissed, but Jed had insisted that Frankie only had a couple of drinks. ‘I really fancy another vodka,’ she said to her pals.

Stacey smiled at her. ‘I’ll go and get you one. I’m sure another weak one won’t hurt the baby, Frankie.’

As Demi and Paige followed Stacey into the house, Frankie pretended to Joey that she was going to the toilet.

‘I’m busting to go meself, so I’ll come with you,’ he said.

Frankie was annoyed. ‘For fuck’s sake, Joey, leave me alone for five minutes, will ya?’

Running up the stairs, Frankie shut her bedroom door. She was desperate to ring Jed, to make sure he was OK.

Jed answered immediately, and then launched into a torrent of abuse. ‘I swear on our chavvie’s life, Frankie, if you don’t get your arse down to my trailer in the next hour, I’m gonna come round to yours and fucking drag you down the road,’ he ended.

Not for the first time that day, Frankie began to cry. ‘Please Jed, it’s my mum’s funeral and I can’t leave, not yet. I promise, as soon as today’s over, I’ll sort things out with my family and then we can be together. I’m sorry for what happened earlier with my uncles, but that’s not my fault. Please be patient, Jed. I can’t leave Joey on his own, not tonight. He’s not ready.’

Jed seldom lost his temper, but when he did, he lost it big style. ‘I’ve had enough of this now, Frankie. I know what happened to your old girl was awful, but don’t treat me like a fucking dinlo. I know you’ve had a drink, I can hear it in your voice, and I ain’t having it, not when you’re carrying my chavvie. I’m telling you again, if you ain’t back within the hour, I’m coming round there. I’ve had a gutful of your family and, as far as I’m concerned, all of ’em can go fuck their grandmother.’

As he cut her off, Frankie slumped onto her bed. Joey, who had followed her upstairs anyway and heard her side of the conversation, opened her bedroom door. ‘When are you going to realise that Jed’s an arsehole and he’s no good, eh?’ he said, as he held her close.

‘What am I gonna do if he turns up here? Raymond will kill him, I know he will,’ Frankie sobbed.

For once, Joey was the strong one out of the two of them. ‘Listen to me. There’s Raymond, Paulie, Uncle Reg, Uncle Albert and all Dad’s mates here. Jed won’t turn up here today, trust me. He’s bluffing.’

As he dried her eyes with his handkerchief, Frankie forced a smile. Jed had never spoken to her like that before and she was furious with him. How could he treat her like that, today of all days?

Joey held his sister’s hand. ‘Come on, let’s go back downstairs, and you can sort things out with Jed tomorrow.’

Having finally been enticed out of his pigeon shed by Jock, Stanley was horrified to see his wife not only inebriated, but also laughing and joking with Eddie’s aunts and uncles. Spotting Joycie’s parents, whom he had always liked immensely, Stan sidled towards them. Ivy and Bill were both well into their eighties now and neither looked the picture of health.

‘I’m so sorry I never got much of a chance to talk to you earlier. It was just such a difficult day and I didn’t really know if I was coming or going,’ Stan apologised.

Ivy hugged her son-in-law. Stanley was a lovely man, but her Joycie had never truly appreciated him. That’s why she and her daughter had never really seen eye to eye. Joycie had always blamed her mother for encouraging her to marry Stanley; the silly little cow had always thought she was worth more.

‘I’m so sorry, Stan. Me and you knew all along what that Eddie was capable of, didn’t we? Do you remember Jessica getting married to the bastard? I told you at the reception that he had them eyes – you know, cold and calculating. I’ll never forget it, that man sent shivers down my spine and I just knew he’d ruin her bleeding life.’

Keeping half an eye on his wife, Stanley nodded. ‘I remember that conversation, Ivy. I told you that his eyes reminded me of dead fish.’

Hearing his old woman screech with laughter, Stanley decided enough was enough. Storming over to where she was standing, he roughly grabbed her arm and yanked her into the kitchen.

‘What do you think you’re doing? You senile old bastard!’ Joyce yelled at him.

For once in his downtrodden life, Stanley had the bottle to give her what for. ‘How can you stand there laughing and joking with Eddie’s relations when we’ve just buried our daughter? What is the matter with you, eh? Your parents are disgusted by your behaviour and so am I, and I’ll tell you something else, shall I? If you think I’m living in that murdering bastard’s house one day longer than I need to, you can think again, Joycie.’

Shocked by Stanley’s outburst, Joyce did her best not to show it. ‘Move, then, if you don’t like it. You go back to that pokey council house of ours, see if I care. I’m staying here, ’cause it makes me feel close to my Jessica.’

Aware of Eddie’s sons, Gary and Ricky, staring at them, Stan led Joyce out on to the front drive.

‘You must think I’ve just stepped off the banana boat, Joycie. When we first found out Jessica had been murdered, you couldn’t agree with me enough about Eddie and his family. You soon changed your mind when you moved in ’ere though, didn’t you? All you’ve ever wanted is a nice, big house so you can show it off to your friends. I’m not as shallow as you, Joycie. I know exactly what you think of me and the home I’ve worked my bollocks off for over the years. I even bought it for you off that right-to-buy scheme ’cause you begged me to and I’ve bought you new furniture at your every whim. Well, I’ve had enough of it now, and tomorrow I’m going back home. You can do as you please. Stay ’ere on your own, for all I care.’

Joyce was gobsmacked. Stanley had rarely raised his voice to her throughout the whole of their marriage. As he walked away, she stood open-mouthed, and for once she said nothing.

Eddie Mitchell was agitated as he sat on the bunk in his cell. He’d known by the attitude of the two prison guards that he was in for a nasty surprise. They’d been laughing and joking as they took him down a corridor he’d never seen before. ‘Ain’t I going back to me old cell?’ Ed asked, bewildered.

The shorter guard grinned at the taller one. ‘No, Mitchell. The guvnor decided you and Malik weren’t suited and you needed better company, so he’s found you a new home with a nice friendly English cellmate.’

Ed had been in the cell for what seemed like four hours now and he still didn’t have a clue who he was sharing with. Apart from a few belongings, there was no sign of the geezer.

When he heard the key slot into the lock, Eddie picked up his book and pretended to read it. Glancing out of the corner of his eye, he felt his heart leap into his chest as he recognised his new cellmate.

After her argument with Jed, Frankie had necked at least four more vodkas. Her hormones were having a field day, and she was tired, depressed, lonely and tearful. She and Jed rarely argued. On the odd occasion when they’d had a lovers’ tiff, it had always been immediately resolved.

Seeing Dougie and Vicki, her parents’ friends, heading her way to say goodbye, Frankie forced herself to be polite. About to get Vicki to take her mobile number so when she gave birth they could swap baby talk, Frankie heard a commotion coming from her left.

‘Get out of here, before I kill yer,’ she heard somebody yell.

Looking around, Frankie dropped Vicki’s pen in shock. Jed was sitting on a nearby wall, telling her uncle Reg where to get off.

Reg hobbled towards Jed. ‘Do yourself a favour, son, and get the fuck out of here, before you get hurt,’ he warned, his eyes bulging.

‘I’m going nowhere without my wife-to-be. You do whatever you have to, you senile old grunter. Frankie belongs to me and she’s coming with me right now.’

Aware that Gary, Ricky and Raymond had all run out of the house, Frankie began to scream. ‘Don’t hurt him. Please don’t hurt Jed,’ she begged.

Jumping off the wall, Jed showed no fear as Raymond went for him. ‘Frankie’s my woman,’ he screamed, as Raymond caught him straight on the chin.

Watching Jed fall to the grass, Frankie intervened and chucked herself on top of him. Seeing his uncle trying to manhandle his sister, Joey also joined in the fracas.

‘Leave Frankie alone,’ he shouted, as his weak punches landed nowhere.

Having been told that it was all kicking off in the garden, Joyce flew into action. ‘Oi, whaddya think you’re doing?’ she screamed, as she lost her footing and stacked it in one of the flowerbeds.

As all hell broke loose, Frankie decided enough was enough. She needed to make a decision, and if she was ever going to leave home, that moment was definitely now.

CHAPTER THREE

Stanley’s alarm clock went off at eight the following morning and he immediately got out of bed.

After the mass brawl in the garden the previous evening, he’d sodded off upstairs without saying goodnight to a single soul. Jessica’s funeral had been a catastrophe from start to finish, and Stanley would never forgive the bastards that had ruined it. Animals, that’s what the Mitchells were, and he was just glad that Jock had already left when the whole wake kicked off.

Pulling his suitcase out from under the bed, Stanley began to pack his clothes. The quicker he got out of this cursed house with its awful memories, the better.

Hearing her husband banging about in the room next door, Joyce lifted her head off the pillow. She felt as sick as a parrot, and as she burped, she heaved. All she could taste and smell was brandy, and she vowed there and then never to touch the poxy drink again.

Joyce got up and put on her dressing gown. Her recollection of the previous evening was vague, to say the least, but she could sort of remember a big fight happening. Noticing a large bruise and cut on her leg, she winced as she touched it. Surely she hadn’t fallen over in front of all the mourners? Desperate to get rid of the taste of brandy, Joyce made her way downstairs to make herself a coffee. Gagging for some fresh air and to rid the house of the smell of stale smoke, Joyce opened the conservatory door.

‘Christ almighty,’ she mumbled in complete astonishment.

Jessica’s once-perfect garden looked as if a bomb had hit it. All the furniture was smashed to pieces. The wooden table was lying upside down and the chairs had no legs left on them.

Shuffling outside, Joyce put her hand over her mouth as she noticed that all the beautiful flowerbeds had been trampled on. Seeing shards of glass by her feet, she turned to her left. The three smashed windows were the final straw for Joyce, and she ran back into the house.

‘Stanley! Stanley!’ she screamed.

When Stanley marched down the stairs with a suitcase in his hand, Joyce looked at him in bewilderment. ‘What are you doing? What’s with the case? You seen the state of the garden? Everything’s smashed to smithereens.’

Dropping his case, Stanley ran out the back. He’d locked the pigeon shed, but what if it had been smashed or the birds had died of fright? Fearful for the safety of his babies, Stanley shook as he put the key in the door.

‘Thank God,’ he said, as all four cooed at him. ‘Daddy’s here now and he’s taking you back home, away from this loony bin.’

‘What are you gonna do about cleaning this mess up, Stanley? I think I’ll ring Raymond, he’ll know a glazier. The twins can help an’ all. I mean, we don’t ask ’em to do much, do we?’

For once in his life, Stanley felt like a man as he spoke. ‘You ask who you like, Joycie. I won’t be here. I told you yesterday, I’m moving back home.’

Joyce remembered bits of what Stanley had said the previous day about leaving, but she thought it had been one of his little tantrums. ‘Don’t be silly, Stanley. You can’t leave me here on my own.’

‘Come with me then, Joycie. I told you last night, I cannot live in this house one minute longer, and I meant it. There’s too many memories, and it’s making me ill.’

Joyce had waited all her life to live in a luxury property and she wasn’t about to walk away from it without a fight. Turning on the tears, she begged her husband to stay. ‘Please don’t go, Stanley. It makes me feel close to Jessica, living here. I can almost feel her presence at times. And what about the twins? You can’t leave them. They need both of us.’

Stanley shook his head. It was obvious Joyce didn’t remember that Frankie had done a runner last night. ‘Cor, you must have been well gone, love. Frankie left home last night. Don’t you remember the gypsy boy turning up here for her? That’s what started the fight. I bet you don’t even recall falling arse over tit in the flowerbeds, do you, dear? No, well you wouldn’t, would you? I’m off, Joycie. Jock’s coming round in an hour with the van. He’s gonna take the pigeons back for me.’