The Know (22 page)

‘What do you think then, Joanie?’

Verna Obadiah, a West Indian girl married to a Nigerian, was breathless with anticipation over what Joanie was going to say.

She turned over another card.

‘The hanged man! Will he die, Joanie?’

Joanie grinned.

‘No, you silly cow. This denotes all sorts of things. But I can tell you now, he ain’t going to leave his wife for you.’

Verna’s boyfriend was a bus driver called Roger with startling blue eyes and sandy-red hair. Her husband had no idea she was seeing him and even the advent of a light-skinned child had not alerted him to anything going on. But Verna lived in hope, and hope, as Joanie had always maintained, was all people like them had most of the time.

‘Your old man finds out what you’ve been up to and
you’ll
be hanged, girl!’

Verna laughed.

‘He wouldn’t notice if I was missing until he went to the fridge and the beer had run out!’

Joanie laughed with her.

‘What do you want to do, Verna?’

It was a fair question and Verna was honest in return. Joanie gave great advice. Everyone knew that.

‘I want to get away from the old man and I hoped me bloke would help me to do that.’

Joanie shook her head and then got up to put the kettle on.

‘Your husband’ll kill you, Verna, and then he’ll kill Roger.’

The woman smiled sadly.

‘I know. Roger’s trying to get rid of me an’ all. I think his wife has got a whiff of something going on.’

She stretched and yawned loudly.

‘Just tell me that things will pan out, eh?’

Joanie spooned sugar into cups as she said wearily, ‘Things always do pan out - that’s the trouble. You don’t need the cards to tell you that, Verna. No matter what happens, you get over it eventually.’

It was advice she’d given over the years to countless women, from her mates on the street to visiting royalty like Kathy McClellan, the wife of Big John, who’d visited her regularly all the time her old man did his lump. He was out now and chasing everything in a skirt apparently, but Kathy still thought Joanie was marvellous for telling her things would pan out.

Other people saw Joanie as a tower of strength. She only wished she felt like one too.

 
Della was surprised by Joseph’s son. He was huge, yes, but he was also very well-mannered and so helpful. She was amazed to find she liked him. He had complimented her on her home, her décor and her cooking. He had admired her family photographs and had eaten only small amounts of food while obviously enjoying what he had had.

Now he was telling her about his little job child-minding a neighbour’s daughter. Della knew Joanie and liked her as much as she could like anyone. She had a good reputation roundabouts did Joanie Brewer, that her children had not wrecked no matter what they did. If Joanie saw fit to let him take care of her child, and she was an exemplary mother there was no doubt about that, then Della would see him in the same light.

She could feel Joseph’s nervousness. It was coming off him in waves. He had hardly spoken and yet his son had ignored that fact, filling the silence with his easy chatter and even making Della laugh. When he got up to leave she was disappointed.

‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like another cup of tea?’

He smiled at her.

‘No, really. I have to get back. My job. You know what it’s like.’

She smiled back and nodded.

‘Thank you for a wonderful afternoon, I can see why my father wanted to come here. It really is a lovely home and you were a most gracious hostess.’

Della was beaming at him as he walked down the path. She nudged Joseph and he waved half-heartedly as his only child waddled off up the road.

‘What a nice boy, Joseph.’

He nodded but she was aware that he didn’t answer her verbally. Men were so strange at times.

 
Tommy walked home in the darkening evening. He actually had enjoyed the visit, but he admitted to himself that he had enjoyed his father’s discomfiture more.

His face when Tommy had gone into raptures about how pretty Della’s grand-daughters were! It had been worth going for that alone.

God paid back debts without money, all right.

Tommy was in his element.

As he walked home he thought about the evening ahead. They were going to frame the posters tonight, and Kira wanted to put glitter on the wood to make them look more glamorous. He had bought the glitter glue that day and knew she would go into raptures over it.

Then, later, they would walk over to her own home where he would put her to bed and give her a cuddle as he told her a story. That was the best part of the night as far as he was concerned: her little body pressed close to his as he whispered stories into her ear.

Chapter Eleven

Jon Jon picked up the money from the parlours as usual. He was in a good mood; life was getting better by the day. All he had to do was sort out Jeanette and everything would fall into place.

He walked into the new parlour in Barking. It was quiet inside, restful. He smiled at the girls and walked through to the office.

Ginger Carvey, a fifty-year-old prostitute whose hair gave her the nickname, grinned at him. Her good looks were marred by the black teeth that were displayed every time she opened her mouth. Jon Jon shuddered at the sight of them.

‘You get better looking every time I see you, boy!’

He laughed.

‘Pity I can’t say the same for you, Ginge!’

She grinned again.

‘Cheeky little fucker.’

She poured him a drink and he swallowed the whisky quickly, picked up the money and left. The girls all smiled at him. Since the news had gone round he was seeing a brass they were all hoping the next one would be them. Anything to make life easier.

Plus he was good-looking, Jon Jon Brewer, and looked older than his years. He gave them all a collective wink as he walked from the building. That was when he heard the shouting start.

Back inside, he ran to the source of all the noise. A woman was cowering in her booth, a large man bending over her. He had her by the hair. She was nearly naked and he was without trousers or underpants. He was a big old boy, all hanging belly and hairy legs.

Jon Jon grabbed him by the hair and forced him on to the ground. Letting go of the girl, the man started swearing and shouting.

‘What you fucking doing, man? What you beating on the girl for?’ Jon Jon roared.

The man was on his knees now and it was uncomfortable.

‘Let me fucking go, you little bastard!’

Jon Jon kicked him in the gut as he let go of his hair. By the time the man had lumbered to his feet Jon Jon had the Stanley knife in his hand. He was not taking any chances.

‘You lairy old fucker, what’s your problem?’

The girl was outside the cubicle now, surrounded by the other brasses.

‘She owes me! Tell him, you ugly bitch. Go on then, fucking tell him!’

The girl was crying and Jon Jon felt a moment’s sorrow for her.

‘No, big boy.
You
tell me.’

‘She owes me money. I work for a debt collector and this is how she pays the debt off.’

‘Not any more she don’t.’

This from Ginger.

‘You are making a fucking meal of this two hundred quid. She’s repaid it ten times over. You’re never out of this fucking place.’

Jon Jon picked up the man’s trousers and threw them at him.

‘Get dressed and fuck off. The debt is paid.’

‘Oh, no, it ain’t!’

Jon Jon squared up to him.

‘Are you up for a real row then? Me and you?’

There was something in Jon Jon’s voice that alerted everyone to danger. His eyes were like slits and his mouth was set in a grim line. His stance was solid. Jon Jon was up for a row. A serious row.

The big man was not up for anything and it showed. He was a coward and he had proved it by picking on the girl in the first place. He put his trousers on and left but as he walked out he spat in the girl’s face.

Jon Jon took him down then full force. The Stanley knife opened up the man’s head, and as he grabbed at it the blade was pulled once more across his fingers. Then Jon Jon kicked and pummelled him until he was spent. Finally he half pulled and half dragged the man out the back of the building and left him in the car park behind the parade of shops.

He locked the door once he was inside, washed his hands, and the blade and then said to Ginger, ‘If he comes back, you ring me, right?’

She nodded.

‘You’re a good boy, Jon Jon.’

‘Who’s he work for?’

‘Jesmond.’

Jon Jon laughed.

‘I can expect a call from him then, can’t I?’

Ginger laughed.

‘You’re not even bothered, are you?’

He shrugged with the arrogance of youth.

‘Well, you should be. He’s a hard nut to crack.’

Jon Jon winked at her.

‘Ah, Ginger, but so am I.’

He walked from the building and as he got into the car Earl said, ‘Your phone has been going like the clappers.’

‘Why don’t you answer it?’

Earl shrugged.

‘It was flashing up
Mum
. So it wasn’t a work call.’

As they pulled away from the kerb a police car passed them and Earl cut it up by the traffic lights. He was laughing as the filth pulled them over.

‘You stupid prick!’

Earl was not laughing now he realised what he had done. Jon Jon was not in the mood for any more aggravation, especially as he had over forty grand sitting under the passenger seat. He’d have to ring his mother back later.

 
Joanie was worried. She had not seen hide nor hair of Kira all afternoon. As she walked up to Tommy’s, she smiled. Kira was still so entranced with the painting of the Barbie room she was probably sitting there now discussing it.

Tommy opened the door and looked surprised to see Joanie there. He was in a dressing gown and had obviously just had a bath.

‘Hello, Joanie.’

He didn’t invite her in and she felt awkward for a second.

‘I just got out of the bath.’

She nodded at his explanation.

‘It wouldn’t take Einstein to work that out, Tommy. Have you seen Kira, by any chance?’

He was immediately concerned.

‘No. She was supposed to pop up but I haven’t seen her yet.’

He was pulling the dressing gown around him, no mean feat since it was two sizes too small.

‘Did she say she was going anywhere to you at all?’

He could hear the fear in Joanie’s voice.

He shook his head.

‘Not a word. Have you tried all her little friends?’

‘It’s getting on for seven o’clock, Tommy. She wouldn’t stay that long.’

He shook his head, looking puzzled.

‘Look, Joanie, let me get dressed and I’ll come over, OK?’

She nodded. He watched her walk away. Then, closing the door, he threw off the dressing gown and struggled into his clothes.

 
Monika nearly fainted when she saw Joanie on her doorstep. It didn’t help that she was sober and had just woken up.

‘All right, Mon?’

Joanie sounded friendly so Monika smiled as best she could and invited her in. In her heart she couldn’t wait to make things up. No one else put up with her like Joanie did.

Joanie meanwhile could smell Monika’s last take-away over the acrid smell of ingrained dirt. She wondered how she had ever let it bother her before. Monika had often let Bethany sleep at hers but Joanie had never once let Kira sleep in this house. It had been a bone of contention once. Now she was getting so worried she wouldn’t care if she found Kira ensconced in Bethany’s bed, filthy sheets included.

‘Is Bethany in? Only I’m looking for Kira.’

Monika blinked a few times before she bellowed out her daughter’s name then shrugged. She walked through to the kitchen with Joanie following her.

‘It’s only half-seven, Joanie, she’s probably out with her mates.’ Monika’s voice sounded bored. ‘You worry too fucking much. You should let her have a bit of independence now and again. Do her the world of good.’

‘Like you do Bethany, you mean?’

It was out before Joanie thought what she was saying and Monika turned on her.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

There was belligerence in her voice and her stance.

Joanie took a deep breath.

‘I’m sorry, Mon, but I’m worried.’

Monika was appeased by the apology.

‘Look, kids like a wander. That’s natural. She’s probably playing out and forgot the time. Bethany’s always doing it.’

Because Bethany knows there is never anyone at home. No one who cares anyway. But Joanie stopped herself from saying that out loud.