Perfectly Obsessed (17 page)

Chapter Nineteen

Cammie 

“You’re unusually happy, what’s going on?” Marg asks, when I walk into the café.

I hang my coat in the cupboard beside the kitchen hutch and grab my apron.

“Why wouldn’t I be happy? It’s my birthday,” I point out.

“Please, I saw your face last year and the year before. You’ve never been this happy on your birthday since I’ve known you,” she snorts.

“That’s because Drake has never called me at the crack of dawn before,” I beam, starting to wipe down a table a customer just vacated.

Her eyebrows shoot up nearly reaching her eyebrows.

“How much did that cost him?”

“He mentioned something about trading some cigarettes,” I murmur quietly.

“I never thought I’d see the day that he really fell in love. That boy is hard as stone apart from with you.”

Marg has been filling me in on Drake’s earlier life and what he was like as a child.

“Was he always that way?” I ask, wanting to know everything I possibly can about him.

She deals with an old man customer before handing the order to Les and joining me again.

“He was always a serious little thing. Very perceptive and took everything to heart. He could see how much Suzie struggled sometimes and he would try to help, bless his heart.”

“How could he help? He was only a child.”

She laughs but whatever memory she is recovering it doesn’t sound like she finds it funny, more like sad.

“One time, he was mucking about with his friends playing football. He must have been about ten years old at this point, he came in with holes in his school trousers from sliding and tackling for the ball. Suzie broke down because she didn’t get paid till the end of the week and she fought hard to keep Drake well dressed and fed. She often went without to make sure he had everything,”

She quickly nips to the hutch and collects the old man’s all day breakfast, makes sure he doesn’t need anything else and returns to my side.

“Well, Drake hated it when she cried. He literally couldn’t stand seeing her upset. She was a strong sort but sometimes the world forced her down. She mended them as best she could that night so he could still go to school the next day but when he came into the café that day he was in a brand new pair of trousers looking shifty but happy with himself.”

I was so captivated with her memory I forgot all about the cleaning and stood listening intently.

“What did he do?” I ask.

“He went down the market and stole two pairs.”

“He admitted it?”

“Sure he did, he never lied to Suzie. He didn’t want her working harder because of him.”

“He was only ten,” I whisper in disbelief.

I imagine a ten-year-old Drake sneaking around market stalls and stealing school trousers to help his mother out. I never had to worry about that stuff growing up, if I ruined anything it was always replaced without hesitation. My heart breaks a little for Drake.

“Lovey, ten-year-olds around these parts have the savvy of any adult you would meet. Being raised here forces you to grow up before your time, they have no place enjoying a childhood because their parents’ habits are more important.”

I nod in understanding and ask, “What did his mum say?”

I can’t imagine she would have been proud that her ten-year-old was stealing to help her out.

“Oh, she tore him a new one and made him come straight to the café after school for a month. She never made him take them back because well, it did help her out not that she would ever admit that to him. She did her best to hide how hard she had it but like I said, he was perceptive and it was only the two of them, you know? He saw everything right from an early age.”

“I think that’s one of the saddest stories I’ve ever heard,” I say, meaning every word.

“That might be, but that’s story of most kids’ lives around here. Drake never played football after that in case he ripped up another pair of trousers.”

Christ, that is even worse. A child shouldn’t have to give up having fun just to help his mother out.

“If he loves you then he’ll move heaven and earth to help you. Right or wrong, he helped his mum more than a kid should have and I know how he’s helped you. You’re the only one apart from Suzie that he’s loved and he loves passionately and seriously. That’s why I gave you a hard time in the beginning, I wanted to make sure you deserved it.”

I remain silent. To know there has only been two people in his life that he has loved is heart-breaking but at the same time, to know I am the second one he has let into his life gives me unbelievable boost of strength to wait the rest of this sentence with him. Not that I was going anywhere.

“Anyway, enough of that for today. Here, this is from the man himself. Obviously I had to buy it but everything else is Drake.”

Marg pulls a black velvet box from her pocket and hands it over.

I hate he isn’t here to give me it himself but I love that he went to the trouble of arranging this with Marg to surprise me.

I open the box and find a pendent attached to a thin chain. At first I think it’s a piece of tacky jewellery. Then I look closer at the detail on the pendent and see what it symbolises. Inside a letter C there is a small star and engraved on the star is the letter D.

“This came for you yesterday.”

Marg passes over a card and I smile knowing my day is about to get a whole load better.

Tearing the envelope open I pull out a standard birthday card and read his words.

‘Happy birthday babe,

I hope you like your gift. I want you to have a piece of me and if you are wondering about the star and what it represents then, think of what we could have had but got taken from us. It is the three of us together, always, around your neck and resting on your heart. Good or bad memories, they are our memories and I hold them all close to my heart.

Enjoy your day and I’ll be thinking of you until I call.

All my love, D’

My cheeks are soaked with tears I didn’t realise I was letting free and I quickly wipe them away. A few more months, that’s all. I can’t allow myself to think the worst and he won’t make parole. I have to believe he’ll be released soon.

“Does he ask why you are still using my address?” she asks.

“No, thank God. Luckily, I won’t have to lie much longer, I hate it.”

“You’ve done well. Once he sees that for himself, he’ll be fine.”

The fire inspector came to the conclusion that the fire was arson and it was started in the flat above mine and Drakes. Stan couldn’t find anything out about it, so we put it down to not having anything to do with Drake and his enemies.

Two weeks after the fire and no patience left watching Marg and William playing happy couples a flat became available for rent in the building Stan rents in.

I wasn’t too happy to be living so close to him but he thought it was the best thing to ever happen. He said it would be easier to keep an eye on me and that Drake wouldn’t be as pissed when he got out and found me living elsewhere. To be honest, the flat is a lot bigger and nicer than Drake’s old place too. After hours of cleaning every surface in the one-bedroom flat and a lick of paint Stan begrudgingly helped with, it feels more like a home now. A home for Drake to come out to.

“Do you like it?” Marg asks, watching me still looking at the pendent.

“I love it. Can you help me put it on, please?”

She takes the box from me and I pull my hair away from my neck. The gold is cold against my skin for a minute before it warms up from my body heat and becomes a permeant fixture. 

Throughout the day I find myself not experiencing the sick feeling in the bottom of my stomach I have come to live with since Drake’s arrest. I feel light and I dare to say, happy.

Drake isn’t here in person but he is always with me, in mind and soul.

Chapter Twenty - May 2005

Drake

I haven’t slept properly in three nights. Only two more hours and I’ll be sitting or standing in front of the parole board. I’m not sorry one fucking bit. I don’t own one shred of remorse. What I chose to inflict on Calvin James was brutal and calculated. I already decided to make him bleed before Cammie asked me to hurt him. My mind was as clear as glass. I knew exactly what I was doing and I would gladly do it again and again.

Yet, when I walk in front of the board I will play the part of the most remorseful man in the world, without over doing it. I promised my girl I would make parole and I’m not breaking that promise.

Two nights ago Cammie was followed home from the café by Sly Sammy. He is a ghost from the past I didn’t expect to show his face when I got banged up. Now he has and I don’t like it. Five years ago, I slept with his wife and it got messy. To be fair, I didn’t know she was his wife. I didn’t know she was married at all. I don’t keep track of who’s married to whom. The only faces I keep track of is the faces that benefit me.

This isn’t the first time Stan has caught him sniffing around Cammie. His promise to wait and fuck someone I got close with whether she wanted it or not didn’t bother me at the time. I had no intention of settling down back then.

Apart from seeing him around the pubs occasionally I haven’t given him a second thought. When I did see him, he would always have to stop himself from confronting me knowing I would be able to take him with only a couple of jabs to his jaw. Sammy is more of a wait it out and strike behind your back kind of man. Hence, why he is nicknamed ‘Sly’. And he is a nasty fucker to go with it, when he threatened ‘whether she wanted it or not’ he fucking meant it. What perfect timing for him with me in here unable to look out for Cammie?

As far as I’m concerned, he has it coming when I’m free. Stan has managed to keep him away from her but he has been too close to her in my eyes and he will pay for that. Cammie is nothing like his wife, she chose to sleep with me behind his back. He needs to sort her out rather seeking revenge on me. Cammie is a God damn angel compared to her and I won’t let anyone, especially Sly fucking Sammy near her. It doesn’t matter if I’m locked up for ten years or standing right next to her, no one is getting to her.

My fingers drum the phone booth as I wait for Stan to answer. I don’t have to wait long.

“Alright mate, it’s Drake.”

“Alright, are you calling with some good news?” he asks, hopeful.

“I’ve still got a while before they come and get me, besides, I won’t know their decision straight off.”

“So why the call? Are you missing my voice that much?” he jokes.

“Shut up funny fucker. I’m calling because I want to know how Cammie is, does she still have a problem with the vermin?”

I can’t mention names or ask him outright like I was on the street because the phone calls are monitored and again, I can’t have anything creep up and screw my chances today.

“I laid down the poison and it hasn’t been back,” he replies, dryly.

“That’s good. Really good.”

“I’m in the café as we speak and she’s working.”

When isn’t she working? The only other person I’ve known to work an honest job as many hours as she does, was my mother. I hate both.

“How is she? Is she getting treated alright?”

Stan laughs down the phone and then coughs, it sounds like he’s choking on something.

“What’s so funny?” I ask.

“Nothing, of course she’s being treated well. Everyone who comes in here knows who she is.”

Sometimes that is as much as a curse then it is a good thing.

“Okay I better go. These mobiles drain my phone cards.”

“Alright mate, let us know how you get on.”

They sat stiffly in their cheap, haggard suits and an array of plastic cups of coffee sat in front of them. The screw led me to a plastic chair bang in the middle of the small room facing the panel of three men and to my left was sitting Calvin James with another stiff in a suit.

I sat there listening to them go on about my crime, what the judge said when he sent me down and to Calvin’s victim statement.

It was surprising to say the least. He said that although he suffered pain and couldn’t work for eight months after my attack, he bears no ill will towards me.

When I smiled at him, a genuine smile not a smirk I wanted to throw at him he smiled back and everyone saw it.

The process dragged on and forty-five minutes seemed like a month without gym privileges before they turned their questions to me.

“You were imprisoned because you committed a very serious and violent crime. We’ve read through your files and compared to previous times you’ve been here. The officers have seen a drastic change in you. No longer argumentative or disruptive. There is no note of violence from you Mr Deveroux.” One stiff says, looking at me over his glasses.

Another stiff asks, “What has changed this time around? You have never shown any regards for authority before, yet the last two years and four months you have been the model prisoner.”

I shuffle in my seat and sit straight. Show time.

“I’ve never had anything or anyone worth keeping on the straight for. This time I do.”

“And this would be?”

“My girlfriend. She isn’t the type of woman who will stand for such behaviour and I refuse to lose her because of a lifestyle I shouldn’t be living in the first place,” I say with as much sincerity as I can.

“What do you plan to do if you’re released early?”

“I’ve been speaking with an old friend and he’s told me that I have a job waiting if I’m released.”

Of course, there is no job but if they look into it and they will. They will find Stan with a painting and decorating company that he set up a few months ago.

“It sounds like you’re taking this serious this time, making plans for a future away from crime.”

“I am,” I say, sternly.

It goes on and on for another half hour, before I am led away from the panel holding my freedom in their hands, Calvin quickly stands and pushes past his liaison officer.

He shakes my hand and tells me he hopes to see me on the out soon. I find it weird considering what I did to the bloke and if I do see him on the street again, it will take a lot not to plunge a blade into his stomach again. All eyes were on us and were lapping up the scene. It had to have helped my case so I played along and smiled and shook his hand.