Heartless (10 page)

“Oh well pardon me for caring,” Mary said as she continued to rudely gawp at the two women who were clearly anything but alright. Taking in the cuts on the woman’s face, Mary knew that her friends would all have a field day with this information; they loved a bit of drama.

“Albert,” Nessa shouted as she rolled her eyes at her neighbour’s blatant rudeness as she continued to lean out of the window and have a good old gawp, “come and help me get Kaitlin in, will you? Perhaps you’d like to borrow my camera, Mary? Then maybe you could take a bloody photo? Or better still perhaps you would like me to get some crayons out and draw you a fecking picture.”

Nessa shot down her neighbour with a glare before Mary finally took the hint, and looking indignant scarpered back inside her own house slamming the window behind her.

Nessa was glad that Albert, who had stayed later tonight so they could watch a film, had been on hand to help. He had rushed to the doorway on hearing the panic in Nessa’s voice, gasping as he saw Sophia holding her barely conscious mother upright. He wrapped his arms around Kaitlin’s waist to help take some of the pressure off a now distraught Sophia. Carefully he assisted them both to the sofa, where Kaitlin had collapsed.

When Sophia had managed to stop crying, she begged her nan not to call an ambulance; the only thing that her mum had been able to say as they had made it across the street had been not to let Nessa call the authorities. It was the only thing that she had asked, and she had made Sophia promise her on her life that she wouldn’t, knowing that it would only make things worse for them in the long run.

If it hadn’t been for Albert being there to give Kaitlin a once-over and make sure that she wasn’t badly injured, Nessa would have been left with no choice but to go against the girl’s wishes. Albert had seen many an injury in his career as a doctor at Homerton Hospital, and he assured Nessa that Kaitlin’s injuries looked worse than they actually were. She had been beaten black and blue, and was by no means a pretty sight, but this time she had been extremely lucky and nothing had been broken.

“I think she’ll be okay after some rest. She’s taken a thorough beating, that’s for sure. She’s in shock and exhausted. So make sure that you keep an eye on her at all times,” Albert warned, “if she deteriorates in any way, then you must call an ambulance. Don’t take any chances in case she has concussion.”

The past two days had felt like the longest ever to Nessa, as Kaitlin fell in and out of sleep without eating any food. The only thing she would do was sip water. Sophia hadn’t left her mother’s side.

Nessa had been worried sick as she prayed to God that Kaitlin would be alright. She was convinced that they should have taken her into A&E, and constantly tried to shake off the horrible thoughts of severe concussion or even worse bleeding on the brain. Who knew what damage that reckless son of hers had caused? It was only Sophia being so adamant that Nessa mustn’t call anyone and of course Albert’s reassurance that had caused her to finally let it go. She couldn’t describe how relieved she felt now that Kaitlin had woken up.

“You must be famished, my lovey, shall I warm up some soup or make a nice sandwich?” Nessa asked Kaitlin.

Slowly shaking her head, Kaitlin tried to sit up. A pain spread through her chest, causing her to lie back down. She felt like she had done ten rounds with Lennox Lewis.

“Stay as you are, Mum, you need to rest,” Sophia ordered as she looked at her worriedly. “It’s alright, Nan, she only wants some water at the moment; she only woke up about half an hour ago. Maybe we can do her something to eat a bit later on.”

“Well, I’ll make us a hot drink then, Soph. I could do with something a bit stronger than a cup of PG now, but that’s all I have in so it’ll have to do.”

As Nessa busied herself in the kitchen, Kaitlin tried to prop herself up against the arm of the sofa wincing as she moved. Thinking of her husband and what he had done to her, she clenched her fists. This was the worst beating he had given her. She knew that over time his temper had been getting worse. Up until now she had made excuses for him: he was depressed, he had lost his job, they had no money and too much debt... even when he caused an argument about nothing, she had blamed herself. Maybe she had wound him up; maybe she really was a terrible wife, she would think. She must be, because she couldn’t make him happy. But after what he had done to her in front of Sophia, there was no going back: if she did then the next time she got away from him would be by being carried out of that house in a body bag. There would be no more excuses. Jamesie was a violent bully, and Kaitlin had walked around with blinkers on for too long in the hope that his behaviour would change.

“You alright, Mum?” Sophia asked. “Do you need painkillers?”

“No, darling; I’ll be fine.” Kaitlin looked at her daughter, and the sadness in her heart deepened. She recognised the look of hurt and confusion behind Sophia’s pretty green eyes that were now shadowed by ugly dark purple bruises. Her face looked sore and swollen. Jamesie had hurt her Sophia, and Kaitlin had never felt angrier.

“I was dreaming about when I had you, Sophia,” Kaitlin said quietly, as she closed her eyes, willing her dream to return. “You were a tiny baby. Beautiful, you were. I lay in my bed at the hospital, and the midwife wrapped you in a blanket and placed you in my arms. You were the most delicate, precious little thing I had ever seen: let alone held. I couldn’t believe that you were mine. I promised you that I would love and protect you for the rest of my days... Oh God, Sophia: I am so, so sorry!”

A single tear slipped out from the corner of Kaitlin’s eye.

“Don’t be silly, Mum,” Sophia said, feeling a lump form in the back of her throat and her own tears escaping as she spoke. “You have nothing to be sorry for; this isn’t your fault.”

“Where is he?” Unable to speak his name, Kaitlin wondered if Jamesie had bothered to check that he hadn’t killed her.

“I think he’s still over at the house, Mum,” Sophia said. She hadn’t seen him leave, and she had been watching out of the window constantly since they had arrived. She wanted to know what he would do next, reckoning that her dad had probably been expecting a visit from the police, and half-expecting him to do a runner as he was such a coward. But as far as she could tell, he hadn’t left the house. He normally went to the pub around five pm, but she hadn’t seen him leave, and the lights had been on each evening and switched off around midnight. She hoped that he was festering inside, driving himself mad as he waited for a visit from the Old Bill. He must have been going out of his mind not knowing what was going to happen. Sophia had wanted to call the police, maybe getting him locked up would be the wake-up call he needed. But she would never go against her mother’s wishes. Even after all he had done, she knew her mum was too scared to involve anyone, especially the authorities. Sophia had even had to snatch the phone from her nan’s hand at one point, begging her not to call them. Nessa had been shocked at how forceful the girl had been, and had agreed that she would leave it for now, but only on the condition that once Kaitlin was feeling a bit stronger, they report Jamesie.

Sophia had never seen Nessa so angry. She had told Sophia that Jamesie might not have factored in her life for a long time anyway, but after what he had done this time he was dead to her. Nessa wondered if he realised that he could have killed his wife. Her intuition told her that it wasn’t going to be just the physical scars that would need healing. And as for him touching Sophia: that was the final nail in his coffin. He was lower than low, as far as his mother was concerned; the scum of the earth. She no longer had a son.

“Here we go, my honeys.” Nessa smiled as she returned, carrying a tray which held three mugs of tea and a plate of biscuits. “As my dear old mum used to say, pour yourself a cup of tea and count your blessings. She used to swear that there was not a situation in the world that a good cuppa couldn’t sort out. We’ll have you back to yourself again in no time, sweetheart.”

Nessa spoke with more conviction than she really felt, however. She also knew she was kidding no-one. Jamesie had crossed the line by a mile this time. There would be no coming back from this one.

Chapter Twelve

“Wait,” Tommy whispered, as he grabbed the back of Jonathan’s jumper to stop him going any further along the landing. “I think I just heard something.”

Tommy was terrified. He could have sworn he had heard a creaking noise coming from a room at the other end of the landing.

Jonathan stood still and listened. The only noise that he could hear was the sound of his brother’s fast and heavy breaths, which were due to Tommy working himself up into a state.

“I can’t hear anything; you must be imagining things, Tommy. Come on.”

Tommy reluctantly obeyed Jonathan’s orders again. He followed closely behind his brother as they made their way towards the back bedroom. Reaching the rear bedroom, Jonathan gently pressed down the handle and slowly pushed the door ajar. Shining the torch in, Jonathan reflected the light off the pink walls and saw the posters of Sophia’s favourite band, The Backstreet Boys, plastered all over the walls.

Tommy peered in and nodded: it was definitely Sophia’s room. Her purple Reebok rucksack was open on the floor. When Jonathan shone the torch over to the neatly made bed, Tommy felt disappointed when he saw that it was empty.

The bedroom door hit the wall and a man holding a baseball bat came into the room.

“What the fuck are you doing in my house?” he shouted as he lurched forward, swinging the bat about wildly. Straight away Tommy knew that this was Mr O’Hagan. He was gritting his teeth in anger as he spat his words out, his face red with rage as he shouted. He looked like a nutcase standing there wearing only his y-fronts and with a crazed look in his eyes, and Jonathan had a feeling that he could cause them some real damage with the bat if they didn’t get out of there fast.

Tommy stood frozen to the spot with fear.

Mr O’Hagan swung the bat again, as he looked at the intruders. Jonathan tried to work out what to do. He wished that they hadn’t taken off their balaclavas now. Mr O’Hagan knew what they looked like.

“Run,” Jonathan shouted, failing to come up with a better idea. Adrenaline surged through his veins as he grabbed hold of Tommy’s arm and tugged him out of his trance. “Fucking run, Tommy!”

Tommy didn’t have time to think. Hearing his brother’s words, he charged towards the door in a panic.

Seeing one of the boys running towards him, Mr O’Hagan brought the bat crashing down, just missing Tommy’s head as it connected with the boy’s shoulder and made a loud crack. The blow sent Tommy off balance. This caused him to charge straight into Mr O’Hagan as he made for the stairwell, sending the man flying into the wall behind him before Tommy made his escape down the stairs. Dropping the bat, Jamesie recovered and grabbed at Jonathan as he tried to get past him too. Jamesie gripped Jonathan by a clump of his hair. “Tommy? You better not be one of the fucking scroats that’s been knocking about with my daughter.” Jamesie was fuming now. If this Tommy thought that he could break in here in the middle of the night then Jamesie was going to enjoy teaching the little fucker a lesson.

He clenched his fist, ready to punch the boy in the face. “You boys must be fucking stupid coming in here.”

The blow caught him off guard. He felt the hard sharp twist as the blade punctured his abdomen, sending a scorching pain all the way through him. Falling to the floor, Jamesie held his stomach as he writhed in agony. He clutched the handle of the knife that had stabbed him. The blade was deep inside him. Unable to gather his strength, he couldn’t pull it out and even in his shocked state he didn’t think that it would have been wise to do so even if he could have.

Jonathan stared at Sophia’s dad, mesmerised by how powerless he looked as he squirmed about. He was at Jonathan’s mercy, a lamb to the slaughter.

Jamesie spat out a mouthful of blood and held his hand up as if to plead with Jonathan. Jonathan smiled down at him: it was a sickly sweet grin that told the man he was enjoying watching his gruesome demise.

Jonathan stared at Mr O’Hagan for a few more seconds, fascinated as he listened to the strange gurgling noises that were coming from the man’s throat before he reluctantly walked away. He and Tommy needed to get out of there as quickly as possible.

Reaching the back door, Jonathan could see no sign of Tommy and guessed that he had kept running in fear. Quickly, Jonathan contemplated what to do next. Mr O’Hagan had seen Jonathan’s face and heard him shout Tommy’s name. It wouldn’t take long for the police to work out who had done the stabbing.

There was a shed in the O’Hagans’ back garden. Jonathan expected it to be locked, but it wasn’t: he pulled open the door and rummaged around inside, hoping to find something flammable. His luck was in; behind some deckchairs and a rusty old barbeque he spotted a Gerry can that was half-full of petrol.

Going into the lounge, Jonathan knew that he had to be quick. He checked that Mr O’Hagan hadn’t managed to get down the stairs. Satisfied that the injured man was still upstairs, hopefully about to croak it, Jonathan poured the petrol generously all over the floor and sofa, dowsing them thoroughly in the liquid before running back to the safety of the back door. Lobbing the can in the room, he hoped that the evidence that he had used it would be destroyed along with the rest of the house.

Lighting a match Jonathan held it up for a second as it crackled, enjoying the last few seconds of calm. The smell of petrol filled his nose. Picturing Mr O’Hagan lying upstairs bleeding to death, Jonathan had never felt more powerful as he tossed the match into the room and watched as an inferno began to rage. The flames flickered up around him, licking the walls as the fury of the fire grew. His face warmed by the burst of heat that filled the room, Jonathan knew he had to get out, but stared mesmerised at the chaos and destruction. Wishing that he could stay to watch the damage as the house burned down around him, and disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to hear the piercing screams of agony as the fire reached Mr O’Hagan, Jonathan turned and ran. He needed to get home quickly, before anyone saw him.