The Feud (4 page)

Joyce folded the page and urged Jess to sit next to her. ‘I’ve been dying to know how your evening went. Oh, Jess, I thought he was lovely. Now, tell me everything from the start.’

Jessica’s eyes shone. ‘I’ve had such a wonderful evening, Mum. We didn’t end up going to the pictures, we went to a pub in East Ham instead. Eddie’s so popular, you know. Wherever we go, he has people hanging on his every word. And you’ll never guess what, Mum?’

Joyce could barely contain her excitement. ‘What? What’s happened?’

Jessica giggled. ‘He said the L word for the first time. He told me he’s in love with me.’

Joyce clapped her hands. ‘How did he say it? What were you talking about at the time? Did he say it in the pub?’

Jessica shook her head. ‘It was right at the end of the evening. We were outside chatting in the car. I wanted to go back to his flat, but he said no. He said that he promised you and dad that he’d get me home early and then he
just said it. “I love you, Jess,” he said, and then he stared talking about our future together.’

Joyce clasped her daughter’s hands. ‘That’s marvellous, darling. I’m so excited. I wish I’d seen his car. Why didn’t he come round in it earlier?’

‘His brother Ronny wanted to borrow it. Eddie’s so kind, he said yes straight away.’

Joyce smiled. ‘I’ve never been in a Mercedes. Do you think you and him could take me out for a ride in it one day?’

‘Of course. I’ll ask him tomorrow,’ Jess replied.

‘So what happens now? Do you think he might propose?’ Joyce asked.

Jessica shrugged. ‘Hopefully, soon he might. I’d definitely say yes if he did.’

Joyce studied her beautiful daughter. She was no longer a little girl. She was all grown up. Joyce held both of her hands. ‘Let me give you some advice, darling. True love is extremely hard to find, I should know. So if you’re lucky enough to have found it, make sure you hang on to it. I mean, Eddie’s thirty, isn’t he? And when a man’s been married, he’s obviously used to a sexual relationship. Don’t let him get away, Jess, you do what you’ve got to do to keep him happy.’

Embarrassed, Jessica stood up. She was close to her mum, but wasn’t used to discussing her sex life with her. ‘I’m tired now, Mum, I’m gonna go to bed. I understand what you’re saying and don’t worry, I won’t let him get away.’

As Jessica left the room, Joyce couldn’t stop smiling. She couldn’t wait to tell all of her friends at her dressmaking class. None of their daughters had captured a bloke half as good as Eddie, and she couldn’t wait to brag about her daughter’s rich, handsome boyfriend.

* * *

After a restless night, Eddie got up early and sorted out a meet with his father. Two o’clock at his aunt’s house was the arrangement. His Auntie Joan lived locally in Whitechapel and she allowed them to hold all their urgent meetings upstairs in her house.

His Auntie Joan had all but brought him and his brothers up, and Eddie was still very close to her. His mum had died when he was five years old. Ed could just about picture her face and he remembered her giving him lots of cuddles. The only other memory he had was of her coughing continuously and spitting blood into a bucket. One day he’d gone off to school and when he returned, she was gone.

He was too young to understand what was happening at the time, but he found out years later that she had been taken to a sanatorium and had later died there. Apparently, she’d contracted tuberculosis, better known as TB, and it was that, and pneumonia, that had killed her.

Harry, his dad, had never remarried. His house was still a shrine to the woman he had lost and he spent hours tending her grave. He visited a woman called Sylvie and sometimes took her out, but he refused to get too close. ‘Your mother was the kindest, most beautiful woman in the world. No other woman will ever hold a candle to her,’ he repeatedly told Eddie.

Eddie looked at his watch. His stomach was rumbling and he needed a nice cooked breakfast to start his brain functioning properly. He opened Ronny’s bedroom door.

‘Wakey, wakey. You getting up today, or what?’

‘What’s the time?’ Ronny mumbled.

‘Ten o’clock. I’ve arranged a meet with dad for two. I wanna go to the café first, then we’d best pop our heads in the Flag, see if them bastards did any damage last night, before we meet the others.’

Ronny propped himself up and squinted at Eddie through one eye. ‘Sorry if I was a bit out of order last night. Jess is a top girl and I really do want you to be happy.’

Eddie smiled. ‘Forget it. Now get your fucking arse in gear, I’m starving.’

A full English fry-up was followed by the trip to their local. As Eddie walked in, he was relieved to see that the pub still looked intact. John, the guv’nor, was out, so he got the lowdown off Betsy, the barmaid.

‘They never touched the bar area, but the sinks in the gents were pulled off the wall. Dirty, foul-mouthed bastards they were. You should have heard the things they were saying to Kim, the pretty new barmaid. She burst into tears in the end and I had to send her home.’

Eddie ordered himself and Ronny a drink. ‘Did they cause agg with any of the regulars?’ he asked.

Betsy shook her head. ‘All the regulars left soon after they arrived. They were so bloody loud, no one could hear themselves think.’

Eddie told Betsy to keep the change and thanked her for the information. ‘Tell John I’ll pop back and see him tomorrow. And if anyone comes in asking for protection money, tell him not to pay it.’

‘You don’t think they’ll come back, do you?’ Betsy asked. ‘Only, I’m in here on me own till tonight.’

‘I doubt it. We’ll have to pay ’em a little visit, let ’em know they’re not welcome.’

Betsy smiled. She loved Eddie Mitchell: he was handsome, had a real presence about him and she wished she was twenty years younger.

Eddie and Ronny left the Flag and drove straight over to Whitechapel.

* * *

Auntie Joan let them in and gave them both a big hug. ‘Your father, brothers and Uncle Reg are already upstairs. You go on up and I’ll bring you up some tea and sandwiches.’

Eddie got straight down to business. His dad, Uncle Reg and brothers sat quietly as the story of the O’Haras unfolded. No one said a word until he’d finished, then Ronny was the first to speak.

‘They’re obviously trying it on on our turf again. I bet they go round all our boozers and start demanding protection money. I think we should go in the Chobham with shooters. Can you imagine their faces if the five of us walked in armed?’

Harry Mitchell looked at Ronny as though he’d just crawled out from under a stone. ‘Shut up, you idiot. The Chobham’s their fucking headquarters, they’ll have so many witnesses backing ’em up, we’ll be nicked within an hour.’

Ronny felt his face redden. His dad had a wonderful way of putting him down and treating him like an imbecile in front of the rest of the family. He never did that to Eddie. Whenever he came out with an idea, his old man listened intently.

‘All right to come in, boys?’

Harry jumped up and answered the door to Joan.

‘That plate is ham and the other one’s salmon. I baked you some rock cakes and there’s more downstairs if you want them.’

Harry smiled as he took the trays off Joan. When his beautiful wife had been so cruelly taken from him, her sister had taken over from where she’d left off. She’d cooked, cleaned, washed, ironed and even taken care of the boys for him. Harry had never forgotten her kindness and had seen her all right over the years. When her
husband, Alf, had run off with another woman, Harry had had him kneecapped and paid up her mortgage for her. Alf was now confined to a wheelchair, lived alone and was unable to walk, let alone run, the fucking arsehole.

As Harry munched away on a ham sandwich, he came to a decision. He’d leave the boys out of this one and sort it out himself. Butch O’Hara had shaken hands with him and called a truce, which had now been broken. Therefore, it should be Butch that was made to pay.

Pouring himself a cup of sugary, strong tea, Harry sipped it in almost a ladylike fashion and then wiped his mouth with a serviette.

‘Right, I’ve come to a decision,’ he said.

As always, the table fell silent as the head of the family spoke. ‘I don’t want yous boys involved in this one. I had a deal with Butch and it’ll be him that pays.’

Paulie was the first to speak. ‘You can’t do it alone, Dad. His sons are always with him, you’ll need back-up.’

‘You’re not a teenager any more,’ Ronny told his father.

Harry thumped his fist on the table. ‘I’m fifty-five, not fucking ninety. Now, I want you all to take note of what I’m saying. I am sorting this one out alone and if any of yous starts your own war with Jimmy O’Hara or any of the others behind my back, you’ll have me to answer to.’

No one argued. When Harry Mitchell gave out orders, he was always obeyed.

‘How you gonna collar Butch on his own?’Eddie asked.

Harry smiled. ‘Every Wednesday morning Butch travels alone up to Southhall horse market. It’s his only day away from the boys. The horsebox he goes in isn’t kept on the site, he keeps it in a lock-up around the corner. He leaves really early, about half-five and I’m gonna wait for him at the lock-up.’

Reg nodded. He loved the idea. ‘What you gonna do? Frighten him or finish him off?’

Harry shrugged. ‘I dunno. Butch is probably totally unaware that his boys have been performing on our territory. I might just shoot him in the foot, give him a little warning. Mind you, if we have any repercussions, I’ll blow his fucking brains out.’

‘Why don’t you just blow his brains out anyway?’ Ronny said, laughing.

Harry ignored his idiotic son. ‘Oh, one more thing before we go. I’m gonna need a driver to come with me. You up for it, Eddie?’

‘Sure, Dad. When do you wanna do it, this Wednesday coming?’

Harry pondered momentarily. ‘I think we’ll leave it till the following week. They might be waiting for repercussions and we want them to enjoy a nice little surprise.’

Ronny glanced at Paulie. Neither said anything, but both were thinking the same thing. At thirty-six, Paul was the oldest. Ronny was thirty-three, yet Eddie, the youngest, was the golden fucking boy.

Reg clocked Ronny’s annoyance and looked away. He was Harry’s younger brother and had always been in his shadow, yet it had never bothered him. He didn’t mind Paulie, he was OK, but Ronny was a moron and Reg made a mental note to keep a close eye on him. For months, he’d noticed him becoming more and more jealous of Eddie and it wasn’t on – they were brothers, for fuck’s sake.

With the meeting over, everybody said their goodbyes and went their separate ways.

Joyce glanced at the clock and opened the oven door. She tested the knife in her fruit cake and, happy it was
properly cooked, put it on the kitchen top to cool down. Eddie was due to pick her daughter up soon, and she’d baked it especially for him.

Sitting in his armchair, Stanley was unable to concentrate on
Hawaii Five-O.
Usually, he was glued to anything Steve McGarrett did, but today the only thing he could concentrate on was that smarmy bastard who would shortly be picking his daughter up.

Stanley hadn’t been able to sleep properly the previous night and, when he had dozed off, he’d had nightmares about Harry Mitchell. He’d dreamt that Mitchell had taken out his eye instead of Roger Dodds’.

His nightmare had only come to an end when Joyce punched him in the side of the head. ‘What you screaming out and fidgeting for? You silly old bastard,’ she’d said.

Stan had ignored her and gone downstairs to make himself a cup of tea. He’d sat up the rest of the night, frightened to go back to sleep in case his nightmare returned.

Joyce heard her daughter coming down the stairs and yelled out to her to come into the kitchen.

‘Well, how do I look?’ Jessica asked.

Joyce stared at her. She was wearing a flowery top, white plastic boots and sexy yellow hotpants.

‘You look sensational. Where did you get your shorts?’ she asked.

Jess giggled. ‘They’re not called shorts, Mum, they’re hotpants. They were only cheap, I got ’em down Petticoat Lane.’

‘What time’s Eddie picking you up? Where’s he taking you tonight?’ Joyce asked excitedly.

‘He’s picking me up at six, I’m not sure where we’re going yet.’

Joyce smiled and pointed to the fruit cake. ‘I made that for your Eddie. Are you gonna invite him in?’

‘I wasn’t planning to.’

Noticing her mum’s disappointment, Jessica immediately changed her tune. ‘I’m sure he’ll have time to come in for a quick cup of tea,’ she said.

Joyce urged Jessica to shut the kitchen door. Last night, she’d been so excited about her daughter’s romance, she could barely sleep. She had thought of an idea and she really didn’t want Stanley earwigging.

‘What’s the matter?’ Jessica asked.

‘You know what we were talking about last night? About you making sure you don’t let go of Ed.’

Jessica nodded.

Moving nearer, Joyce continued. ‘Why don’t you trap him? You know, get pregnant on purpose. I mean, let’s face it, Jess, blokes like him don’t come along every day and I’m sure if you were carrying his child, he’d propose.’

Jessica looked at her mother in horror. She wanted Eddie to propose to her because he loved her, not because she had a bun in the oven. They’d done it twice without a rubber, but only because Ed had run out, and she had no intention of trapping him. She was about to tell her mum to mind her own bloody business when the doorbell rang.

‘Quick, don’t keep him waiting,’

Joyce said. ‘Don’t you dare say anything about babies and stuff in front of him, Mum.’

Joyce pushed her towards the front door. ‘Of course not, dear.’

Stanley felt himself flinch as Eddie walked towards him.

‘Good evening, Mr Smith,’ Eddie said, holding out his hand.

As Jessica stepped out from behind him, Stan glared
at her. ‘Surely you’re not going out like that? You’ve got no bloody clothes on.’

Jessica raised her eyebrows. She didn’t know who she liked the least. Her domineering mother, who was always trying to run her life for her, or her old-fashioned father, who still thought she was twelve years old.