Revenge (33 page)

Chapter Ninety-Four

Declan Costello was laughing loudly; he liked a good joke, and he also liked a drink in the afternoon. The new barmaid was a real comedienne. She could make a cat laugh. Shame she looked like a fucking Russian athlete – if she had the looks he would have been on her in nanoseconds. He was getting older now, and was still overweight but that didn’t bother him too much, he had never been what anyone would ever call a looker. Many girls had tried to tie him down, but he had never let himself get caught. After a few weeks they bored him, even the really good-looking ones. He didn’t want a life partner, never had.

He was waiting for Michael. It was Thursday, and that meant Michael would meet him in the private club they owned in East London by one o’clock at the latest. It was something they had done for years. Michael always liked to hear everything that was going on first-hand, and Declan was more than happy to oblige. He always gave Michael the lowdown on everything and everyone he dealt with. After Michael had nearly murdered him all those years ago, no one had been more amazed than him when Michael had brought him back into the fold, treating him as if nothing untoward had happened between them. It had been a real learning curve for him, and he had never forgotten it. Michael had only ever mentioned their contretemps once, on the day he had come round to his house just after he had finally left the hospital. After enquiring about his health, Michael had looked at him sadly, before saying, ‘I never want us to fall out again, Declan. All I want is for
you
to keep your eye on the ball in the future. You were supposed to have my back, you were supposed to be making my life easier.’

Declan had been so grateful to be given another chance, he had sworn to prove himself worthy of Michael’s kindness. He had never once forgotten his role, and he relished his position, realising how easily it could be taken from him if he ever fucked up again. His laziness, combined with his refusal to think for himself, had nearly cost him not just his livelihood, but also his life. It was a mistake he wouldn’t make a second time.

He took a deep gulp of his beer, enjoying the icy coldness as it slipped down his throat. He was a very happy man, and that was something that he really valued these days. He had lived through the humiliation of Michael’s attack, and that had been very hard for him; without Michael Flynn he was basically worth nothing.

He held up his empty glass to the barmaid, and she took it quickly, filling it up once more for him. The bar was empty; they had just had the whole place decorated, and it was odd to see it so clean-looking. But it still had the old-fashioned vibe to it; the men who frequented this place would not be comfortable otherwise.

He glanced towards the stairs. He had heard the door opening, and he watched Michael Flynn walking down the stairway slowly. He was still a very handsome man. Michael had never put on any weight, he still had a good body on him. He would get better looking as he got older, the jammy fucker; some men were lucky like that.

‘All right, Michael.’ It was a greeting, not a question.

Michael smiled. ‘All right, Declan. You’re looking good, mate.’

Declan grinned with pleasure. ‘I feel fine anyway. That’s the main thing. Drink?’

The barmaid took the order, and Declan was amazed to see Michael Flynn drinking a large whisky so early in the day. ‘
Are
you all right, Michael?’

Declan’s voice was genuinely worried, and Michael swallowed his drink down in one before answering him. ‘It’s my Jessie. She didn’t turn up for her money. I know it’s silly to worry, but she’s never missed a Thursday before.’

He motioned to the barmaid for another drink, and she took his glass from him without a word. She refilled it and placed it on the bar in front of him. He smiled his thanks, noticing she wasn’t the usual eyeful they employed.

‘I don’t know, Declan. It’s not like her. I’m worried.’

Declan knew how fragile Michael’s situation was regarding his only daughter. He suspected that young Jessie was probably shacked up with some piece of shit lowlife somewhere, but he knew better than to say that. Instead he took a drink of his beer, before saying easily, ‘I’m sure she will turn up. You haven’t got anything to worry about there, mate. She probably had a late night.’

Michael looked at his old friend. Declan was ageing before his eyes. It didn’t help that he dressed like a fucking Nigerian refugee. He always looked like he had got dressed in the dark. ‘I suppose so. But Josephine wanted me to report back to her, and how can I do that now? I’ve sent someone round to her gaff. She won’t like it, but who gives a fuck? I need to know she’s OK.’

Declan didn’t say anything. Jessie Flynn was notorious in their world. Her name was a by-word for whoring. She had used up all her brownie points with her uncle Declan years ago. She disgusted him now. If she was
his
daughter he would have crippled her many moons ago, put a stop to her gallop then and there. She had slept with everyone they knew.

‘Daughters, eh, Declan? A breed apart!’

Declan laughed gently. ‘I wouldn’t know, Michael. I never wanted kids, or a wife, come to that. You know me, mate. I never felt the urge to reproduce.’

Michael was laughing despite himself. ‘I can’t say I fucking blame you for that. Anyway, what’s the score? I heard about the aggro in the lap-dancing club.’

Declan groaned theatrically, pleased to be changing the subject. ‘If you had seen the bloke who caused it, you’d freak out. He was as old as the hills for a start, and the girl was all of nineteen. He had made the fatal mistake they make, of course – assumed that because he had been giving her money all night he owned her. Then, when her shift was over and she tried to leave, he kicked off. Typical city type, thinks the whole world owes him allegiance. Well, he got a fucking slap in the end – there was no talking to him. He’s barred now, the wrinkled up old ponce.’ Declan motioned for more drinks before saying craftily, ‘I had to laugh, though, he was two grand down, and drunk as a coot, but he was a game old fucker, I’ll give him that.’

Michael was laughing with him now. ‘It always amazes me that they just don’t get it.’

Declan picked up his fresh pint, drinking deeply, enjoying it. ‘’Course they don’t get it, Michael. If they did we wouldn’t earn a fucking bean!’

Chapter Ninety-Five

Hannah Flynn was listening to her arch enemy with interest. Lana wasn’t her favourite person, but she did oftentimes have a good insight into her daughter’s life.

‘I tell you, Hannah, my Josephine is getting worse. If it wasn’t for that little boy I don’t know what she would do.’

Hannah nodded slowly in agreement. Her daughter-in-law was not a bad girl; as the years had gone on, she had become quite attached to her. Josephine was weak, that was her problem. She had no backbone. Jessie’s antics had been the last straw really. Her pregnancy had knocked them all for six, but it had broken Josephine. She had never recovered.

She had made her way round to Lana’s because, for the first time ever, Jessie hadn’t turned up at her house for a late lunch. She always came to her on a Thursday. Jessie saw her dad first, picked up her cash, and then she came straight to her nana’s. Hannah made them lunch, and they chatted together. It was the highlight of her week. But today she hadn’t shown up; that wasn’t right. Jessie never missed their lunch together. She had tried her mobile over and over again, and nothing – it had just rung. She had come round to Lana’s house in the end, hoping to find out something about her granddaughter. But it was obvious Lana knew even less than she did.

‘Has anyone seen Jessie today?’

Lana shrugged. ‘Not that I know of, Hannah. When does anyone ever see the mardy bitch? I could smack her face at times.’

Hannah sipped at her tea. She was aware that Jessie didn’t really bother with her mum’s family, and that pleased her usually. Nevertheless she still felt uncomfortable about Jessie being a no-show. As unreliable as Jessie could be, she always came round to her house on a Thursday. It was their little secret.

Chapter Ninety-Six

Jake was so boisterous and loud, Josephine could hear him even through the tightly shut French doors in her bedroom. He was tearing around the gardens as usual and, smiling to herself, she made her way out on to her balcony to watch him. His nanny, Dana, was chasing him, and he was easily getting away from her. She could see the glee on his face as he laughed loudly. Jake had such a lust for life. She saw him standing on the lawn, his hands on his hips. He looked so much like her Michael, she felt the sting of tears in her eyes. She thanked God every day that her grandson didn’t look like whoever had fathered him. It would have been very hard to look at the child if he had nothing of his family in him.

Josephine sat down on the nearest chair and wiped a hand across her mouth. She hated to think like that, but she couldn’t help herself. Jake meant the world to her and, even though she couldn’t bring herself to do much with him, she made sure that inside the house he spent quality time with her. He was already questioning her lifestyle, asking her why she never took him to school, or went for a walk with him. He was always asking about his mum; he knew she should be around more, that his friends’ mums were always there. He didn’t have his mum, and he didn’t have his nana there for him either. She couldn’t be there for him – she couldn’t leave the house, not even for her grandson. Jake was getting to an age where he was noticing these things.

She saw Dana pick her grandson up and swing him around. The girl was so good with him. She genuinely did care for the child.

Josephine could feel the erratic beating of her heart and the shortness of breath that heralded a panic attack. She was sweating profusely, unable to prevent it happening. Closing her eyes tightly, she concentrated on her breathing, taking deep breaths slowly and evenly, like the doctor had taught her. She felt the panic subsiding, and the terror left her body as quickly as it had arrived. Then she heard her name being called and, standing up, she saw that Jake was now down below her, on the patio, looking up at her balcony, his handsome face cross. He had his hands on his hips; she had been away with the fairies, and had not heard him calling her name.

‘Really, Nana, it’s not good enough, you know! I’ve been calling up to you for ages!’

As he stormed off, Dana looked up at her and shrugged, before following him into the house.

Josephine closed her eyes in distress. This was happening to her more and more lately; she seemed to be losing all sense of time and place. She saw her pack of cigarettes on the table, and she lit one quickly, drawing on it deeply. Then she smoked it slowly until the trembling in her body subsided once again.

Chapter Ninety-Seven

‘So you’re sure she wasn’t there?’

Daniel Carter nodded. ‘I let meself in, Michael, as you told me to. I’m telling you, there wasn’t a soul in that flat. I searched everywhere. Jessie had definitely left the building.’

Michael expected as much; his big fear had been that she would be in there, but dead as a doornail. With her lifestyle, that wasn’t exactly unheard of. ‘OK. Thanks, Daniel. I appreciate it.’

Daniel Carter was heart-sorry that he couldn’t put the man’s mind at rest. ‘I can ask about if you want, Michael? See where she is?’

Michael laughed bitterly. ‘I’ve already done that. Thanks anyway, mate.’ He watched Daniel leave the room and, sitting down behind his desk, he sighed heavily.

No one seemed to have clapped eyes on Jessie since last night. She had scored in Upney, then cabbed it back to her flat. After that, no one had seen or, more to the point, heard from her. Her mobile was permanently attached to her lughole, yet she hadn’t used it in the hours since. The piece of shit she had been hanging about with was shitting bricks now. He had been dragged from his bed, and questioned by three very large men. But he had been telling the truth – he had gone on to a club, which had been verified. Michael knew she hadn’t been nicked or he would have heard about it by now. He owned the local Filth, and they always contacted him immediately whenever she was arrested. Nevertheless he insisted that they check. But nothing. Jessie had disappeared off the face of the earth.

He tried her mobile again, but it just rang and rang. Where else could he look for his daughter? Jessie didn’t know that her whereabouts were always reported to him; if she turned up somewhere, he knew about it. It was his way of looking out for her and checking out the men she socialised with. It was so fucking hard having to pretend to everyone around him that he didn’t care about her life choices, knowing that if he interfered she would turn away from her mother completely and could cause problems for them and her little boy. She had him by the nuts.

Chapter Ninety-Eight

Josephine was listening to Jake as he chattered away to her. He was dressed for school, and she looked at him with pride; he was such a handsome boy.

‘Dana’s promised to take me to the park after school. I wish you would come with us, Nana. It’s such fun. I like the swings best. But Dana says that’s because I am such a fidget bucket!’ He laughed with delight. ‘I promise you, Nana, I will be a very good boy. I won’t make too much noise.’

Josephine hugged him tightly and kissed his forehead. ‘I think you and Dana will have a good time, Jake. You know your nana has lots of work to do. But I will see you when you get home, and you can tell me all about it.’

Jake looked at his nana intently for long moments, and Josephine could tell that he didn’t believe her about having to work.

‘OK, then. But I wish you would try to come with us sometimes.’

‘I will, Jake. Now get along or you’ll be late.’

He kissed her on the cheek, and she could hear him talking and fussing as he made his way down the stairs. She heard the front door slam, and sighed sadly; the house was so empty when he wasn’t in it. It had always been far too big really. Michael loved it and, in her own way, so did she. It was a home fit for a large family; as Michael used to joke, many years ago, the Von Trapps would get lost in it. That was back when they had thought they would be banging out babies as and when they desired them, before the pain of disappointment had settled over them. That was a long time ago.

She stood up slowly, and made herself cross the large landing to the bedroom she had once shared with her husband. As she walked into the room, she was pleased to see that he was already wide awake. He was sitting up in bed, watching the news on TV. He had a large mug of black coffee in his hands, so she knew he had already been up and about for a while.

‘I didn’t hear you come in last night, Michael.’

She sat on the bed beside him, and he leant over to kiss her lightly on the lips. ‘I was late in, Josephine. I didn’t want to wake you up, darling.’

‘Did you talk to Jessie? She hasn’t called since Tuesday morning. How did she seem yesterday? Did you ask her about Sunday?’

Michael Flynn looked at his lovely wife, who he loved more than anything else in the world. She was already in full make-up as always, and dressed in a very fetching cream-coloured silk dressing gown. It was expensive, he could see that, and it looked wonderful on her. Lana must have picked it out for her. She had always taken such good care of herself; the last few years, it was all she ever did. It was surreal, seeing her fully made-up night or day, her hair and her make-up perfect, as if she was going somewhere. His life was fraught with so many problems; sometimes, like now, he resented her for that. But he wouldn’t say anything. It was too late.

‘I didn’t see her, love. I had a lot on yesterday, and I didn’t hang about too long. To be honest, I wasn’t in the mood for her anyway.’

Josephine smiled at her husband gently. ‘I was hoping you’d seen her. But you know Jessie – she’ll turn up at some point.’

Michael nodded his agreement. ‘Like a fucking bad penny, she is. Anyway, we shouldn’t let her bother us. She knows where we are.’

Josephine didn’t like her husband’s attitude but she didn’t comment. ‘I wish she’d call me though, Michael. We talk regularly, you know that.’

He grabbed his wife’s hand, and squeezed it tightly. She had such small hands and feet, she was so fragile.

‘Don’t worry, Josephine. Knowing our Jessie, she’s probably shacked up with some lowlife she met last night. It wouldn’t be the first time, would it?’

Josephine didn’t reply; this was upsetting her now. She didn’t need her husband to remind her of her daughter’s failings. She pulled her hand roughly away from Michael’s, and he knew he had hurt her feelings. But he couldn’t tell her the truth, that Jessie had dropped off the radar and no one seemed to know where she was.

‘I better get myself back, Michael, I have a few things I need to sort out today.’

Michael felt his anger rising at Josephine’s words, but he swallowed it down as always. All his wife actually did, day in and day out, was repair her make-up, paint her nails and rearrange her boxes of crap. For the first time in years, he felt he needed her, wanted her to be like she was in the old days, when he could tell her anything, and she would advise him, listen to him. He didn’t like having to admit to himself that his lovely wife Josephine was like a stranger to him these days. She would choose her old crap over him, over Jake, over Jessie, if she had to. He had done his best to see his wife happy; now he wasn’t so sure he had done the right thing by her. All he had accomplished was to allow Josephine to live a life without any meaning. He had stood back and let it happen. The doctors had given her pills, but no one challenged her or told her that her life was odd, that
she
was odd. The psychiatrist talked to her for hours in her rooms; he paid the fucker a small fortune, but Josephine just got worse. Looking at her now, he wondered how he could have let it happen. When she had first started bulk-buying food, he should have put his foot down then. They rarely made love any more, and they talked only in generalities of things that were of no real importance. All they had in common was Jake.

He could see Josephine watching him warily, and he wanted to grab hold of her, drag her into bed with him, and give her a serious seeing to, like in the old days. But he didn’t feel he could do that to her any more. She wasn’t the old Josephine, the woman he had married – this was a woman who lived inside herself, whose every waking moment was lived in a vacuum.

‘Are you happy, Josephine? I mean
really
happy?’

He could see the confusion on her face at his question, and he wanted to slap her, wanted to make her react to him without thinking it through first. ‘Answer me! It’s not a hard question, is it? It’s a simple yes or no.’

Josephine looked down at her hands, unable to look her husband in the face. ‘Of course I’m happy, Michael. What a thing to ask.’

Michael put his finger under her chin, and he made her look him in the eyes, before he said seriously, ‘I don’t think you are, Josephine. I don’t think you have been happy for a long time. Not really.’

Josephine looked at her husband, saw the sadness in his expression, and the way he was waiting expectantly for her answer. ‘I am happy, Michael.’

She meant it. He smiled because he knew she was telling him the truth – as she saw it. ‘Good. That’s all I wanted to know.’