Blood Sister: A thrilling and gritty crime drama (41 page)

‘Probably stop indoors. Maybe ask Bex to come over to do my nails.’

Babs pulled Jen to fully face her. ‘If he comes calling again, don’t let him in. The first thing you do my girl is lock yourself in the bedroom, get on that fancy mobile of yours and let me know.’

Fifty-Six

Sneaking out of the house wasn’t the problem for Nicky. It was making sure no one noticed that he was gone. He considered claiming that he was doing homework but he knew not even his mum was going to buy that. And it was Dee who was the problem. Nicky knew he could be gone for a month before John would ask, ‘Where’s the kid?’ But Dee had a nasty habit of poking her nose in when he was after a little privacy, and on that evening he was looking for maximum privacy. Nicky sat on his bed thinking long and hard before he realised the answer was staring him in the face. He got dressed to go out and then went downstairs.

Dee was lying on the sky blue chaise longue with two slices of cucumber on her eyes. Nicky got that. She’d shed a lot of tears since the car had been stolen and her eyes needed a rest. John was enjoying the break that his wife’s rest cure was providing. He had one of his favourite books to hand – a true-crime book about East End gangsters. He enjoyed bringing his expert knowledge to the genre and correcting the author under his breath. ‘That’s rubbish, I know who did that blag and it wasn’t him . . . Only hurt bad guys my arse – he was a proper fucking psycho that bloke . . . The guilty man might be a mystery to the author but I know who it was – it was me.’ And so on.

Neither of the two adults acknowledged his presence, which was just how he wanted it. Nicky walked to the middle of the room, lit the blue touch paper and prepared to retire. ‘’Ere Mum, has Dad found your car yet?’

The fireworks went off immediately. Dee pounced on his words. She tore off the cucumber, sat up and turned on her husband. ‘No, he fucking hasn’t. He’s too busy reading a fucking book by the look of it.’

John looked at Nicky with something approaching shock mixed with displeasure, before pleading with his wife, ‘I’ve got half of London looking for that car. What do you want me to do? Go out myself with an A–Z and a torch . . . ?’

With the job done, his parents arguing away like cats and dogs, Nicky went in to the hall and let himself out of the house without even bothering to keep his departure too quiet. He knew mum. The row he’d started would last until she collapsed, exhausted. Dad would grin and bear it. Even in the unlikely event that John asked, ‘Where’s Nicky?’ the response would be, ‘Never mind about Nicky, where’s my car?’

He walked down the drive with a smile on his face, kicking gravel as he went. There were times when having a bat-shit crazy mother was an advantage in life. And this was one of them.

Tiffany had chosen a twenty-four hour burger bar out in the suburbs where London begins to merge into Essex – one of those flat places that don’t even have a proper name of their own – as she assumed that would mean she wouldn’t be recognised. But sitting at the window, watching the continuous stream of customers come out, she began to worry. She worried that someone might recognise her, or worse, identify who she’d come to meet. There was a car park outside and, in the distance, a sign for a tube station. She was desperate to get this meeting done and dusted before fate played a hand and someone shouted, ‘Hi, Tiff! What are you doing here?’ Looking at her watch became a nervous twitch. Looking at the clock on the wall became another as she hoped one or the other would speed up so this could be over.

A Ford Escort circled the car park before pulling up about as far away from the burger bar as it was possible to be, in a place where there were no lamps and light. A shadowy figure climbed out of the car, cap pulled low and then a hood over it. The figure walked slowly, head nodding, weaving and ducking as if an unseen attacker was lying in wait between the car and the swing doors into the outlet. After peering through the window a couple of times and giving the car park a lingering look, the person came in and drifted around like a ghost before finally settling nervously opposite Tiffany at her table.

Tiffany smiled and whispered, ‘You can take your cap and hood off now. If anyone knows we’re here, they’ll know we’re here – if you know what I mean, Jen.’

Jen prayed hard that no one knew she was here. Flippin’ hell, thinking about what she’d done still made her heart race way too fast. She did what her sister told her to, and catching the expression on Tiffany’s face told her what she looked like with her face exposed – tired, pinched, skin as white as snow.

‘Is he here yet?’ she asked quietly.

‘No.’

‘Are you sure he’s coming?’

Tiffany faked a grin. ‘Sure.’ Then she stared into her milkshake and admitted, ‘He promised – but then he’s about as reliable as a reformed junkie in a chemist.’

The two sisters stared out into the car park. Tiffany caught sight of another figure in black trackie bottoms, pumps and a black jacket. This figure too had a cap on, pulled so low it covered the top half of his face. He too was weaving between the cars, occasionally looking up from under his cap. But to Tiffany, it seemed that, unlike Jen, he was enjoying this cloak and dagger moment. When the figure reached the doors, he flung them both open and entered like a cowboy gunning for trouble in a Western. Looking out from under his cap, he spotted Tiffany and sauntered over to their table where he sat down. She reached over and pulled his cap off as if she were his mum. ‘Jen – this is Nicky. Dee and John’s son. He’s also the young man who stole his mum’s car.’

Fifty-Seven

‘Howay man, Bernie Gallows is the name.’ The young man in overalls, who had just walked into the garage, announced his arrival to one of the workers, before adding, ‘Can I speak to the owner?’

The mechanic noticed his Geordie accent straight away. The owner, Felix, was not going to be best pleased at having to speak to someone so late in the day; the boss was hoping to get off for parents’ evening at his daughter’s school. His daughter was a bit of a handful so Felix was always touchy when he had to go to speak to her teachers.

‘I’ll get him for you.’

The first thing an irritated Felix noticed about the fella was his hair. It resembled a badly fitted, curly wig that looked like it wanted to be anywhere other than on someone’s head. Plus, the geezer wore a pair of glasses that would look better on a woman.

‘You want to speak to me?’

‘The name’s Bernie Gallows.’ Umm, Felix thought, that’s a very strange Geordie accent – his bitch of an ex-missus had come from that part of the country; he’d drawn the short straw in the divorce settlement and ended up with the wild kid. But Felix let the customer talk; he’d had all sorts come in here.

‘I run my own car maintenance business out of Grays and I’m looking for an engine for a 1987 Ford Escort and can’t find one anywhere. One of my customers drove his car around with no oil in it and it’s a bust. I don’t suppose you have one you could sell me, do you?’ His accent seemed to fade and he sounded more like a young chancer from
Coronation Street
as he went on. ‘I’ll pay good money for it like.’

‘Well Bernie, as you can see, I run a little garage not a breakers yard, so I can’t help I’m afraid.’

But Bernie Gallows seemed to have lost interest in the engine and seemed to be carefully scanning the yard and lock-ups outside. Then his attention seemed to wander to the gates. Even when Felix said, ‘You’re a long way from home, Bernie, aren’t you?’ he didn’t notice for a few seconds before he turned his attention back to the question.

‘Howay, came south for the work like and met a girl – you know?’

‘I meant Grays – you’re a long way from there too.’

Bernie obviously wasn’t keen on being questioned and was now checking the walls of the office. ‘Grays? Howay, I move around a lot, you have to in this business.’

Felix got impatient. He was not looking forward to this parents’ evening lark. ‘Well I’m sorry, I can’t help you and I’m afraid we’re closing now.’ Bernie took no notice so the owner repeated his goodbye more firmly.

His visitor finally got the message and slowly and gradually began to make his way out. ‘Thanks anyway.’

‘You’re welcome.’

Felix walked back to the office and said to Gladys, his secretary ‘Google Bernie Gallows.’

A minute later she reported, ‘Can’t find nothing about him or a car business in Grays with his name.’

Felix walked back into the workroom and stared hard at the closed door. He turned back to his secretary. ‘Make sure everything is shut away and locked up and I’ll take care of the burglar alarm. I’ve got a feeling we haven’t seen the last of Mr Bernie Gallows.’

Although Tiffany kept interrupting and insisting they were here to discuss the matter at hand, Nicky couldn’t help trying to impress Jen with what a lad he was. At the same time he was half apologising for stealing the car in the first place while clearing himself of blame.

‘Thing is, Jen, I totally sorted myself out, right?’ Nicky leaned across the table and told her. ‘I mean, if I had a kid and he had issues and he overcame those issues – did I tell you I suffered from low self-esteem? – I’d mark the occasion with a little something, like a motorbike for my kid. But what did I get? Nothing. Fu—’

‘Oi,’ Tiffany pointed at him, ‘watch the tongue.’

Nicky carried on as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘They gave me nothing for turning myself around, not even a pat on the head. So I took the spare car key from the office and drove off in my mum’s car to wind the bitch up. I mean, I was going to bring it back a couple of hours later but then the old man chased me and crashed his Range Rover and I thought, uh-oh, I’m in trouble now. Not that I was scared of course, coz I’m well hard, me.’

Tiffany interrupted again. ‘Nicky mate, my sister doesn’t care why you took the car. Anyway she knows already because I told her that when I sussed that it was you. You’ve already given me chapter and verse on why you did it.’

But Nicky wasn’t listening. ‘So I thought, fuck – what now? So my mate I’m at school with, his parents live in this massive farm about five miles from us and I took it up there and I says to the geezer, can I hide this motor somewhere? Because it’s like a bit hot. So he says to me, yeah mate, no problem. So we hid it in a barn on their estate and covered it in hay bales. Sweet eh?’

If Jen thought it was sweet, she wasn’t saying. In fact, she said nothing at all. Nicky took this as an accusation. ‘I mean, you can bloody talk.’ He ignored Tiffany’s look of displeasure at the cursing. ‘You and your sister, taking advantage of my mistake and blaming her husband for the blag so my dad would run him out of town. That’s bang out of order that is and no mistake. Now my old man is running round talking about shooting people. I’m well in the crap now.’

Jen cringed, hearing Nicky put into words what she’d been party to. Why, oh why did I get involved in this? You know why girl: because you wanted Nuts to sling his hook for good.

Tiffany put her nanny face on. ‘Nicky, do me a favour, shut the hell up, mate.’

The car thief wilted and muttered. ‘Well I am, ain’t I?’

‘We’re all in the crap,’ she reminded him. ‘That’s why we’re here, so we can take some action together before anyone gets hurt. As long as we’re smart, none of us need to get into any trouble.’ She stared at her big sister. ‘Did you know that Nuts worked for John Black years back? Must’ve been the same time he was going out with you.’

Jen rubbed her forehead like she couldn’t believe she was in some burger bar talking about her involvement in a stolen car instead of at home with her beautiful girls. ‘I didn’t know until John Black told me, after he invited himself into my home. I suspect it had something to do with Nuts getting nicked that time I was pregnant with Courtney.’ She gave her sister a strange look. ‘Hang on a minute, you were nicked because of your involvement in some car ring and so was Nuts. Did you—?‘

‘I swear, Jen,’ Tiffany patted her palm over her heart while her other hand in her lap crossed two fingers, ‘it wasn’t the same thing. And if it was I never knew Nuts was a player.’ Her fingers uncrossed; at least the last was true.

Jen leaned across the table looking murderous. ‘I swear, Tiff, if you’ve been lying I will swing for you.’

‘I am still here you know,’ Nicky butted in.

Both women swiftly turned to him and collectively ordered, ‘Shut up.’

Tiffany carried on talking. ‘Forget the past. It’s the here and now that matters. We have to be smart.’ She looked at Nicky ‘What’s happening up at the house?’

Nicky shrugged and gave her an outline of what he’d heard, assuring Jen that her kids were in no danger because he knew his mum and she wouldn’t have it; his mum loved kids.

Tiffany exploded. ‘Yeah – and I know what your dad’s like. He’d blow up a children’s home if he thought it would get Dee off his back. Alright – you go home and only get in touch if you’ve got something important to report. And don’t forget, your dad may be tapping phones, so make sure you use a call box somewhere.’

Jen watched her sister’s face and knew that she was holding back on something. What wasn’t Tiff telling her?

Nicky was disgusted. ‘Is that it? I’ve taken two buses to get here. You could have asked me what was going on by phone. I thought we’d be doing something a bit naughty to straighten things out.’ He turned to Jen and wrinkled his eyebrows. ‘I’m well naughty, me.’

Tiffany took his cap, put it on the youngster’s head and pulled it down so his ears stuck out. ‘I just wanted to know what’s happening at home.’ But that wasn’t quite the truth. She wanted to make sure that he wasn’t weakening or going to ’fess up to his parents and wreck any chance she had of devising an escape route. But the kid was cocky, stupid and seemed to be enjoying the drama. There was no danger from him. ‘So, get two buses home. Or, there’s a car park outside, go and steal a car and go home that way.’ She added with affection, ‘Look after yourself.’