Disobey (8 page)

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.’