The Victim (15 page)

Hilda creased up. ‘You can fucking say that again.’

Another person currently drunk and lying on the carpet was Sally Baldwin.

‘Terry, quick!’ shouted Anne, Sally’s stepmum.

Terry Baldwin ran up the stairs and stared at his comatose daughter in despair. Since having the miscarriage and coming out of hospital all Sally had done was sit in her room moping about and drinking herself senseless. Terry lifted his daughter’s body up and lay her on the bed.

‘I searched this room yesterday and couldn’t find any booze. Have a butcher’s around, Anne, see if you can find where she’s fucking stashing it.’

Sick of the sight of Terry’s daughter, Anne reluctantly did as she was told. She could understand that Sally had been through hell in the past few months, but even so, the girl wasn’t helping herself and was causing marital misery between her and Terry. Wishing more than anything that Sally would sod off back to her own flat in Rush Green, Anne burst out crying.

‘I can’t stand this any more, Terry. The girl needs help and we’re not doctors. She needs professional help, not ours.’

Terry held his unhappy wife in his arms. Anne did have a point, as Sally’s behaviour was getting worse rather than better. ‘We’ll get Christmas over and I’ll ring a doctor and sort it. I reckon they’ll send her to rehab, but if they don’t they’ll probably section her.’

Anne hugged her husband and together they left Sally’s bedroom. Terry glanced at his daughter to check she was still asleep before he closed the door. What he didn’t realise at that point was that Sally was awake and had heard every word he’d said.

Eddie circled around like a vulture, looking for a parking space. Christmas Eve was always an extremely busy time at cemeteries and today was no different.

‘Over there, Dad. Look, that geezer in the red car’s pulling out.’

Eddie swooped for the spot and turned off the ignition.

‘Where we meeting the others?’ Joey asked.

‘At the graveside. I knew there’d be nowhere to park, so I told Reg to pick Joanie and Vi up in a cab and I’ll give him the dosh for it. None of ’em can walk far now, the poor bastards.’

Eddie and Joey were early, so took a slow stroll through the graveyard. The place was awash with people, flowers and cards. On some of the graves there were even presents and teddy bears that people had left for their loved ones.

As Eddie strolled past two elderly women who were talking loudly, he couldn’t help but overhear their conversation.

‘I think it’s bloody disgusting. Go and find someone with one of them portable phones and get them to call the police,’ the stout lady said.

‘The bastards want locking up. How can they do something like that in a cemetery, of all places?’ the other replied.

Forever the gentleman, Eddie turned around. It sounded to him as though one of the ladies had had their purse or bag snatched. ‘Are you OK, ladies?’ he enquired.

Both women shook their heads. ‘You wanna see the state of one of the graves down there. It’s been vandalised beyond recognition,’ the stout woman replied.

‘My sister’s plot is only half a dozen away from it an’ all,’ said the other.

Eddie immediately felt his whole body stiffen. His inner sense told him that the grave that had been attacked was probably his father’s. ‘Whereabouts is the grave?’ he asked, feeling queasy.

The smaller woman pointed her finger. ‘Over the back there, on the right.’

Grabbing Joey’s arm, Eddie broke into a run.

‘You don’t think its Grandad’s, do you?’ Joey asked worriedly.

As Eddie neared his father’s grave the first thing he saw was the red and blue paint. ‘The fucking bastards, I’ll kill ’em,’ he screamed.

When they reached the actual grave, Joey spotted the diarrhoea and grabbed his father’s arm. ‘Come on, let’s go and find the others before they find us. You don’t want Auntie Vi and Joanie to see this. Me and you can come back later and clean it up.’

Eddie stared at the expensive granite headstone, that was now smashed, and felt his eyes well up for the second time that day. ‘I’ll kill the fuckers when I get hold of ’em, Joey, I’ll throttle the fucking life out of ’em.’

‘Do you think Grandad’s grave was picked on purposely? Or do you reckon it was just vandals?’ Joey asked.

Eddie’s eyes clouded over with anger. ‘This was done on purpose all right, and whoever did it is the same cunt who murdered him.’

Oblivious to their father’s gruesome discovery, Gary and Ricky were sitting in the Barge Aground in Barking having a few pints and debating what they should do next. Neither were particularly close to their mother. She was a drunk and an embarrassment, but they were still concerned for her well-being and had been unable to get in touch with her for the past week now.

‘I think we should go back round there and break in,’ Gary said. They’d already knocked at their mum’s house twice this morning to give her her Christmas presents.

Ricky was concerned, but not as much as his brother. ‘You know what muvver’s like – she’s probably on one of her benders and is dossing round some low-life’s house.’

Gary sighed anxiously. When their mum had first met their dad she’d been absolutely stunning. Gary and Ricky would never have believed it if their dad hadn’t shown him the photographs. Their mum’s decline into alcohol addiction started the minute their dad walked out the door, and Gary and Ricky had had a crappy childhood living with her, even back then. The only thing that had got them through their younger years was spending the weekends with their father.

Ricky finished his beer and stood up. ‘Come on then, if you’re that worried let’s go and break in.’

Beverley lived literally five minutes away from the Barge Aground. The house still belonged to Eddie, and because she was the mother of two of his children, he’d let Beverley live there rent-free for years.

‘Shall we break a window or kick the door in?’ Ricky asked, as he and Gary pulled up outside. Seeing the nosy old bat next door peering through the curtains, Gary stuck two fingers up at her. He’d knocked at a few of the neighbours’, including her, earlier to ask if they’d seen his mum and they’d all been extremely unhelpful.

‘Let’s try and kick the door in; we can always put another lock on for her,’ Gary said.

Kicking the door repeatedly with the sole of his shoe, Gary couldn’t get it to budge. ‘Let’s walk back a few yards and when I count to three, boot it with me,’ Gary ordered. ‘One, two, three.’

As the door flew open, Ricky vomited and Gary staggered backwards overpowered by the rancid smell of death.

After explaining to Joanie, Vi and Reg that Harry’s grave had been vandalised by mindless yobs, Eddie dropped Joey at his apparently pissed grandmother’s house. Joycie’s mates had rung Joey and, sitting at home now, being comforted by Gina, Ed wished he was as pissed as Joycie as well.

‘Pour us another Scotch, babe,’ he said to Gina.

As Gina stood up the phone rang.

‘If that’s for me, tell whoever it is I ain’t in. I’m not in the mood for talking to no cunt today,’ Eddie shouted out. He was stressed, angry and upset, and the more he thought about the state of his father’s grave, the more he thought about the O’Haras. They had something to do with the vandalism and his father’s death, he’d convinced himself of that.

Gina walked back into the room with her hand over the mouthpiece of the phone. ‘It’s Gary. He says it’s urgent,’ she whispered.

‘I ain’t in,’ Eddie mouthed, waving his hands in annoyance.

‘He’s really upset, I think something has happened to him,’ Gina whispered again.

Eddie snatched the phone angrily out of Gina’s hands. ‘Whatever it is, make it fucking quick,’ he spat.

‘It’s Mum. She’s dead.’

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Jimmy O’Hara woke up in a foul mood on Christmas morning for two reasons. Firstly, his grandkids had woken him at 6 a.m. with that awful Mr Blobby record and, secondly, he’d had some news yesterday that had made his blood boil to an extremely high temperature.

Bobby Berkley had been avoiding Jimmy’s calls, so Jimmy had spent the previous day tracking him down. He’d finally found him in a boozer in Crays Hill and had demanded to know what was going on.

‘I’m sorry, Jimmy. I ain’t been avoiding you, mush, I was just trying to get your wonga together before I contacted you. What’s happened is that when you paid me that dosh up front for you know what, Pete told me to put it together with what I had stashed of his and purchase a bit of land with it. The land ain’t far from here and was going for a song. Then a couple of days later, I visits Pete in Belmarsh and he informs me that Mr Mitchell’s brothers have been shunted to a different wing. Apparently, they got beaten up and were moved for their own safety. Pete says he’s still gonna try and get to ’em if he can, but I didn’t wanna call you, Jimmy, not until I got ya five grand back. I was gonna return you your dough and if Pete does manage to catch up with ’em, you can give me the full whack all at once.’

Jimmy wasn’t annoyed about the dosh. He’d known Bobby and Pete Berkley for years and he knew they wouldn’t knock him. What he was annoyed about was Eddie Mitchell double-crossing him. He didn’t believe for a minute that fate had played a hand in Paulie and Ronny being moved and Jimmy was determined to find out the truth and then make Eddie Mitchell pay the price.

‘Nanny, Grandad, can we open our presents now?’ Georgie asked, leaping on her grandparents’ bed. Georgie had tried to wake her father, but he’d gone out last night with their Uncle Sammy and wouldn’t get out of bed.

‘Of course you can,’ Alice said, hugging her granddaughter.

Jimmy pointed an angry finger at Georgie. ‘That bastard record is driving me mad now. I don’t wanna hear it no more today – got me?’

Seeing Georgie’s lip wobble, Alice punched her miserable husband on the arm. ‘I don’t know what or who has rattled your cage, Jimmy O’Hara, but if you spoil mine and the chavvies’ Christmas, I’m leaving you for good, understand?’

Wary of his wife’s threat and temper, Jimmy immediately apologised.

Terry Baldwin bent down next to Sally’s bed and gently shook his daughter. The money he’d shelled out to Jamie Carroll in the Thatched House car park in Barking had left him rather short of readies, but he’d still managed to push the boat out, present-wise, for Sally. He’d wanted to cheer her up a bit.

‘Wakey, wakey, darling. Are you going to come downstairs and open up your presents?’

Sally ignored her father’s question and pulled the quilt over her head.

‘Sally, you can’t carry on like this, love. I’m ever so worried about you. Please come downstairs.’

With memories of her son, Luke, flashing through her mind, Sally closed her eyes and wept.

Hearing his phone ringing in the other room, Terry shut Sally’s bedroom door and went to answer it.

‘It’s done,’ the caller said.

Terry smiled as the line went dead. That call was the best Christmas present he could have wished for.

Over in Rainham, Dominic had just turned up at Joycie’s house with Madonna in his arms. He put the dog on the floor and hugged Joey.

‘Did you bring all our presents with you?’ Joey asked hopefully.

Dominic shook his head. ‘I searched under the tree and found all the family presents. I thought what we’d do is pop home on the way to your dad’s tomorrow and open ours then.’

Joey nodded. ‘I’m gonna wake Nan up now. I think Raymond and the others are coming over at eleven, so she needs to get her skates on. I put the turkey in the oven at six o’clock this morning for her, but she’ll have to do the rest herself.’

‘How is she?’ Dom asked concerned.

‘She was in an awful state when I arrived last night and I’m really annoyed with my grandad. I can’t believe that he sent her divorce papers through at Christmas; no wonder she got herself so drunk. I know my nan has been an old cow at times to Grandad over the years, but she doesn’t deserve to be treated like this, it’s so wrong.’

Dominic agreed. He liked Joycie; she was one of life’s characters.

Upstairs, Joyce sat up with a dry mouth, vague memories, and a blinding headache. She stared at Joey. ‘I don’t remember coming to bed or anything,’ she mumbled.

‘Me and Rita had to half-carry you upstairs, Nan. I’ve never seen you that drunk before, you couldn’t even stand. Grandad’s bang out of order for what he did and I’ve decided I want no more to do with him.’

Joyce gave her loyal grandson a hug. ‘What’s the time?’ she asked groggily.

‘It’s just gone nine.’

Horrified that she hadn’t got up at six as she’d planned, Joyce jumped out of bed. ‘The turkey!’ she screamed.

‘I put that on early this morning,’ Joey told her.

Joyce thanked her grandson, then went for a shower. As the warm water cascaded over her body, Joyce vowed there and then that she would never be upset over, or mention her husband ever again. From today onwards, Stanley Smith was history.

Gina put a cup of coffee on the bedside cabinet, sat down on the edge of the bed and stared at her husband. He was so bloody handsome even when he was sleeping. Gina had been up since the crack of dawn. The turkey she had cooked yesterday, but everything else she’d prepared this morning. Her friend Claire was coming over for Christmas and was staying for a couple of days. Claire was still single and it had been Eddie’s idea to invite her.

‘Stuart’s mum is going to her sister’s in Cornwall, so you’d best invite your mate, Gina, else you’re gonna be surrounded by fucking geezers,’ he’d insisted.

Gina smiled as Eddie opened his eyes. She lay on the bed next to him and gave him a big hug. Yesterday had been an awful day for him and he’d sat up until five o’clock in the morning drinking downstairs with his sons. Unlike Jessica, whom Eddie spoke about often, Gina had never heard him mention his first wife, Beverley. She’d once asked him about her and he’d given her a three-word answer.

‘She’s an alkie,’ he’d said and immediately changed the subject.

Eddie sat himself up. He felt like shit and wanted Christmas to be over already.

Seeing the pain in his eyes, Gina kissed him tenderly on the lips. ‘I know it’s going to be crap Christmas now, but let’s try and get through it the best we can. A couple of days and it will all be over,’ she said understandingly.

Eddie put his arms around her. ‘When you’re struck with a double dose of bad luck there will always be a third, Gina. Mark my words, we’ll have another fucking disaster – it’s on the cards.’

Jed laughed at Harry’s excitement as he sat in his toy car. The bloody thing had cost him a fortune, but it had a proper little engine in it that was recharged by a generator.

‘How fast does it actually go?’ Jimmy asked Jed. He’d cheered up a bit now and was determined not to let Eddie Mitchell’s double-dealing spoil his Christmas.

‘Ten mile an hour. Let’s take him outside and teach him how to drive it properly.’

Georgie was on cloud nine. She had been given some fantastic presents, but her favourite was the Barbie doll and all the accessories. She had loads of clothes to dress Barbie in and Barbie even had her own sports car and a horse. ‘Do you think I look like Barbie, Nanny?’ she asked.

Alice laughed and hugged her granddaughter. ‘You’re much prettier than Barbie, Georgie girl.’

‘Am I?’ Georgie asked surprised.

Smothering Georgie with kisses, Alice carried her into the kitchen. ‘You gonna try one of Nanna’s sausage rolls?’

Georgie nodded and greedily ate three. Alice grinned. Over the past month or so Georgie had stopped being finicky and was eating like a horse. She was still waif-like, but that was because she was tall for her age.

‘Let’s take some sausage rolls outside to Harry and Daddy, shall we?’

Georgie ran into the lounge, grabbed Barbie and followed her nan out of the back door.

Jed, Alice and Jimmy watched Harry with pride. ‘Look at him; he’s a natural in that motor,’ Jimmy said, laughing.

‘Drive down the end, then do a three-point turn like I showed you, Harry,’ Jed shouted out.

Harry skilfully did as he was told and drove back towards his father. Jed clapped, lifted him out of the car and swung him around in the air. ‘You’re gonna be a great driver, just like your daddy, ain’t ya, boy?’

As Grandad Jimmy fussed over him and Nanny Alice kissed him and handed him a sausage roll, Harry grinned. He rather liked his new family after all.

Over in Holloway, Frankie and Babs were on a bit of a downer. They’d spent the past hour talking about their children and the realisation that they were both about to spend their first Christmas without them had suddenly hit them like a ton of bricks.

‘I bet my Georgie and Harry are so unhappy today. I used to make such a fuss of ’em on Christmas Day and I bet they will have the day from hell with Jed, Jimmy and Alice,’ Frankie said sadly.

Babs’ heart went out to Frankie. She had been allowed to phone Matilda and Jordan this morning and she’d spoken to them for a good ten minutes. Poor Frankie wasn’t even allowed to speak to her children and Babs prayed that the civil court hearing would go in her friend’s favour.

‘Let’s not talk about our kids no more today. I mean, it ain’t every day Holloway throws a party for us, so let’s just enjoy ourselves, eh?’ Babs suggested.

‘Yeah, sod it. We’re stuck in ’ere, neither of us can change that, so we might as well make the most of Christmas.’

Babs put an arm around her friend’s shoulder. ‘Me and you are gonna groove to that music later. We gonna show ’em how it’s done. I do a great impression of Gloria Gaynor, you know.’

Frankie laughed. Babs was one of the funniest, sweetest people she had ever met and she certainly didn’t deserve to be cooped up in prison. ‘I want you to promise me something,’ Frankie said.

‘What?’

‘I want you to promise me that in the New Year you’ll let me have a word with my dad to see if he can help you with your trial. You shouldn’t be in here, Babs, and when I get out I want you to be out there with me. Who’s gonna be my best friend if you’re stuck in here for years, eh?’

Babs smiled at her friend. ‘The only promise I can give you is that I’ll think about what you’re saying, sweet child. Now, no more sad talk, let’s go party.’

Stanley Smith had had the best Christmas Day ever so far. It had been Pat’s idea to buy the pigeons’ Christmas presents and bring the birds indoors for the day. ‘Look at my Mildred, she’s gonna fall off the bloody thing if she swings any faster,’ Pat said, laughing.

Stanley chuckled. The pigeons loved their swings and his three were fighting over the same one. ‘No, Willie, that one’s yours,’ Stanley said, pointing to the empty swing.

As Pat approached him from behind and put her arms around his waist, Stanley flinched nervously. He adored everything about Pat, bar one thing. He loved her smile, her personality, her hearty chuckle, her adoration and knowledge of pigeons, but she was always trying to touch and kiss him, which made Stanley feel very awkward indeed.

‘I’m busting for a wee, love,’ he said, loosening her grip on him.

Once inside the lavatory, Stanley stood over the toilet and stared at his small, flaccid penis. He hadn’t had an erection for years and didn’t even know if he was capable of having them any more. He’d never been sex-mad, even as a young man, and the thought of having to poke his John Thomas in someone at his age filled him with dread. Shaking his little problem, Stanley zipped himself up, washed his hands and stared at himself in the mirror. He was divorcing Joycie, and if he was to have a happy future with Pat, then he had to try and give the woman what she wanted.

Terry Baldwin picked up the knife and began to carve the turkey. Originally, Anne’s sister and her husband were meant to be coming over for Christmas and staying a couple of days, but because of Sally’s recent behaviour, Anne had cancelled the arrangement.

‘My sister and her husband absolutely adore the festive time of year and it’s not fair on them or Sally if they come here. We are bound to have a morbid Christmas because of poor little Luke and we’d be better spending it alone,’ Anne insisted.

Initially, Terry had been in a good mood earlier because of the phone call he’d received, but then memories of last Christmas, which he’d spent with Luke, had come back to haunt him and he’d broken down. Anne had held him in her arms until his tears subsided. Determined now to try and be as upbeat as he possibly could, Terry grinned at his wife as she brought the potatoes and parsnips in.

‘Do us a favour, love, go and tell Sally that dinner’s ready, will ya?’

Terry had been upstairs to see his daughter twice in the last three hours and, seeing as he was having no joy enticing her out of her bedroom, he hoped Anne might have more luck.

Anne walked up the stairs and as she opened Sally’s bedroom door, let out the most awful blood-curdling scream.

‘Whatever’s wrong?’ Terry said, running up the stairs.

In such awful shock that she couldn’t even speak, Anne pointed towards the wooden beams in the ceiling.