The Take (24 page)

Ozzy must never find out about any of it, and she knew from Jimmy's worried expression that this was going to be the make-or-break time.

As Maggie drove back to her house she had the windows open because she felt physically sick, and her head was clammy. She could not believe what she had just done and she wished that Jimmy had kept her out of it. It showed how worried he must be to involve her in this.

She remembered that she was supposed to be doing his mother's hair this morning and sighed. As she pulled up at the traffic lights two young men stared at the beautiful woman in the Mercedes sports car and tried to catch her attention. Even though this happened on a daily basis, she was suddenly convinced that they were following her. She wheelspinned away, and left them in her wake and wondering what the hell was wrong with the blonde in the brand-new Merc.

Jackie was drinking white wine mixed with vodka. It was eleven o'clock in the morning and so it was early even for her. Little Freddie understood that something momentous had happened and was for once in his life being quiet, and it was this that made everything seem even more surreal.

The alcohol was her painkiller, it was her crutch against the world and it was also the reason she got out of bed these days. She knew Freddie didn't want her, not really. The only thing keeping him near her was their son, and now the girls were growing he was suddenly taking an interest in them again. They had trundled along OK until this last event, but now she was frightened, seriously frightened of what this could all become, what it could all cause.

Freddie had killed a brass.

The words kept going round in her head and even though she knew it was true she was still having trouble coming to terms with it. Her hands were shaking and she wasn't sure if it was her usual morning unsteadiness or because she was in shock.

Jimmy had accused him of rape, said it had to be rape because no one would willingly be treated like that. But she was a brass, so she was used to being treated like shit. It was how brasses earned their money, wasn't it? They did what the wives refused to do for their men, at least that is what Freddie had always told her.

They had disposed of her belongings, according to Jimmy, but he had also said they had called an ambulance and pretended that she had been topped by a customer. In her heart she knew this was a load of crap, that this story was for her benefit, concocted by Jimmy when he had calmed down and seen how the news had affected her. He had been brought back to earth by her crying and screaming. But how could she believe this of the man she had loved for so long, who was the only reason she was even sitting at this table, who was everything to her no matter what.

She wasn't that stupid, she could work the truth out for herself, and it was the knowledge that he had done exactly what he had been accused of that frightened her so much.

They had dumped the body, they would have
had
to.

She wondered how they had shut up the other girls in the house. It must have cost them fortunes. Well, she didn't care how much as long as Freddie was going to walk away from it.

If this Stephanie, or
whatever
her real name was, had been topped by a punter, she still would have been disposed of. The last thing they needed was anyone scrutinising their working practices.

She gulped at her drink, and as she glanced once more at the clock she wondered if the girls would be back today. She had a feeling that they would be left at Maggie's or her mum's until Easter was over and this could all be sorted out.

She burped, and tasted the tannic cheapness of the wine, then she topped up the glass and drank once more. She needed oblivion and she knew that today of all days it was not to be hers. This was far too serious to anaesthetise with wine or vodka. This needed brandy or even whisky.

As usual, all she could think about was her and her needs. The dead girl was not really anything in her mind, she was just a brass, and who cared about brasses? She hated the woman who had caused all this, and she was sure it had just been an accident. Freddie wouldn't hurt a woman for no reason. A man, yeah, but not a female, not a
woman
, it was not feasible. He was a womaniser, she knew that much, and womanisers
liked
women. A man who'd harm them didn't like women. It stood to reason, didn't it, really?

She closed her eyes on her thoughts. She didn't really know what to believe; she only knew what she
wanted
to believe, what she
needed
to believe. And that was that her husband could not be the monster that everyone seemed to assume he was. She knew him, had given him four children. If anyone knew about her husband then it was
her
.

She knew that people thought she was a mug, but that was OK as far as she was concerned. No one knew him like she did. No one saw the kindness that was inside him when he dealt with his kids, or the way he tried to be a good person. The drugs and the drink got to him like they did her. It was an illness.

She clung on to this new thought as if it was a lifeline, which for her of course it was.

She heard the front door open and she turned in fear towards it.

Freddie knew he had fucked up big time. He also knew he had got to get back into everyone's good books and he had to get back into them sooner rather than later. He could suffocate that silly bitch all over again, she was nothing but trouble. Was he going to have to pay for this for the rest of his natural? So he had
accidentally
topped a brass, a fucking brass, a woman who, for a C-note, would shag a fucking doorpost. He knew Steph, she would shag a Rottweiler for a score and a large lump of dope.

Why hadn't he just gone home? He had asked himself the same question over and over again.

Now he was being made to feel like he was a
criminal
or something. Anyone would think he had hurt a civilian the way they were all carrying on, and if Pat found out, well, that would be the icing on the cake. Patricia would walk away from him and all that he stood for without a second's thought. As hard as she was, she liked the girls and in her own way she took care of them.

He had been out of his nut, it could have happened to anyone. It wasn't like it was planned or something, it was an
accident
.

If only he had not smoked the cocaine. Why couldn't he ever leave well alone? Why did he have to always be out of it? The brandy had already softened the edges, so why he had carried on drinking and coking, he didn't know. But Steph was as up for it as he was, only no one was interested in that fact.

She had wanted him there, she was always happy to see him, so why should he be given the bum's rush over a fucking brass? Well, this just all seemed outrageous and over the top as far as he was concerned.

He had enjoyed it, that was the real truth.

But he would swallow, he had no choice really, and when the time was right he would make sure that they all understood once and for all who really was the daddy.

Paul and Liselle watched Freddie as he downed drink after drink. The gossip had reached them, and they were doing what everyone else was doing. Waiting to see what happened before they decided on any action they might take.

The pub was empty except for Freddie, and they were glad about that. But when little Maggie walked in they both knew that trouble was going to come at any second. It was in her eyes, in her walk, in her very demeanour.

'You fucking nutter, you make me sick!' Her voice was low and husky, and Liselle pushed her husband towards their living quarters. She would deal with this. She knew that, no matter what, Freddie would not touch a hair on this girl's head. Not today anyway.

Liselle placed a large Scotch and Coke on the bar in front of Maggie, but she wasn't interested.

'My Jimmy has to sort out your shit all the time, but you have gone too far with this. My sister might fucking think you are the dog's knob but I know you for what you are, and my Jimmy does as well now.'

'Fuck off, Maggie.' He sounded bored, but there was an underlying fear in his voice and both Maggie and Liselle picked it up.

'Go home and have a few kids, might shut your fucking big trap up once and for all.'

'My Jimmy is a decent man, and he is bailing you out as usual. You are a joke, mate, but I warn you now, Freddie. One more fucking stunt like this and he will walk away, and if my sister has any sense she will do the same. You have no respect any more, you have no real rep, you are a
bully
boy, a fucking ice cream and you have finally gone too far.'

He looked at her, imagining how it would feel to punch her lights out and fuck her until she screamed. But he just smiled and said to Liselle, 'Hark at her, eh? The cunts are in control, the split arses are on the rampage.' He moved towards her quickly and she jumped in fright, which just made him laugh louder.

'Go home, Maggie, before I forget you are a relative.'

'I am no relative of yours, mate. You are fucking scum, and it's only Ozzy's wrath that is keeping you out of the courts. You do realise that, don't you?'

'Piss off, go and cut someone's hair, it's all you are fit for. Go and suck Jimmy's cock, put a smile on his face for once, eh?'

He was laughing once more, and she wondered at a man who could kill someone and not care about it.

'If you ain't careful, Mags, your husband will be bedding the brasses again. He has had his fair share, I can tell you.'

She knew he was lying to her and she spat at him then, and the globule of phlegm hung off his chin.

'Go home yourself,
cunt
, Jackie's looking for you as always and you never know, you might need an alibi.'

He smiled at her once more but she knew she had scored a major point. He was a real enemy now and she didn't care. That girl was dead, and because of her husband this man was going to walk away from it all. This grieved her.

She left the pub with her head held high and her heart nearly broken.

Freddie wiped his face with his hand and licked off the spittle with relish, much to the disgust of Liselle.

The point had been made and Liselle admired young Maggie for that much at least, even though she knew Freddie would never forgive her.

Jimmy was sitting with Pat, and they were discussing the events of the night before. Both were aware that there was no way Ozzy could ever get even a hint of what had really happened. He would go ballistic and he would be within his rights, they were all aware of that, so this was a serious case of saving their own arses.

Freddie did not know that Patricia had been alerted by one of the other girls, and the fact that he thought he might just walk away from it really annoyed her. She was the main boss, her brother's hologram for when he wasn't there, and he had not been there for a long time thanks to his natural aggression and the judicial system.

'We can't have this ever get out. I have threatened all the girls with death, pain, torture and destruction if they ever open their mouths, whether it is to each other or to their pimps.'

'Pimps?'

Pat wanted to laugh, even Jimmy was a fool where brasses were concerned. Brasses loved their pimps, because every man in their orbit used them for money. At least with the pimp they had a level of respect — all the time they were earning they were treated with decency. That was why Jimmy would never be a good brothel boy. He didn't have the innate cunning needed by pimps to keep the girls in line, or in love, however they looked at it, or the complete disregard for other people that was the main requisite of a man who lived off women. She knew he hated the fact they had the houses, saw himself as above all that. But it was a decent money-spinner and the sooner he accepted that the better off he would be.

'I think he has learned his lesson, Pat, I think he is as frightened as we are about what happened.'

His loyalty knew no bounds. If only Jimmy could hear the way Freddie cunted him when he had had a drink. The way he laughed about his
perfect
life with his
perfect
wife. The jealousy was there, and even though she knew in another way Freddie loved and admired his younger counterpart, at times she understood how hard it was for him to see the boy who had looked up to him actually making more of his life than he ever would.

The world they lived in was a funny place. You could be the biggest piece of shit but if you achieved and did not tread on anyone's toes you were fêted. If you fucked up, or someone decided to take what you had and succeeded, then you were forgotten about. It was the way things worked. No one gave a toss who they were earning with as long as they were earning.

Jimmy, she knew, had never understood her relationship with Freddie, and she could not explain, even to herself, the excitement a truly dangerous man generated inside her chest. The knowledge of his exploits and the fact that he treated her with kid gloves was a heady package. Every time she stripped him off and saw the want in him, it made her almost come there and then with the thrill of it all. He was like a wild animal who she had tamed. And now, although of course she would not say this out loud, she practically owned him. She would hint that she knew about the event, make him realise subtly that she had him over a barrel, and watch as he tried his best to make her want him even though he had fucked up big time.

And want him she did, like she had never wanted anyone in her life before.

She liked to be in control, money did that to a body. When you could keep yourself, make your own decisions and most of the men you met were wary or even scared of you and your connections, it was a natural progression. Now she used the men, they did not use her. She needed sex, nothing more and nothing less. There wasn't a man walking who could give her more than she could give herself, so why bother?

She would have Freddie again. She knew without a doubt that he actually cared about her, and it was probably the nearest that bastard had ever come to loving a woman. She was willing to give him another whirl, and this time he would be so far under her thumb she would leave an imprint.

But until then she had to talk Jimmy round and let him believe that she was only swallowing because of him, that she was willing to keep Freddie on the firm because of all the money they had invested. After all, as she would remind him, Ozzy was her brother and it would mean lying to him, at least by omission if not to his face. He would owe her, Freddie and Jimmy would owe her big time.

She wondered if Jimmy would see through her. He was a clever little fucker and she respected that in him. She was also wary of him because her brother thought the sun shone out of his every orifice, and that included his arse.

She knew that Ozzy had a good head for people and she also knew that as long as Ozzy wanted him, then she wanted him as well.

She knew how to play the game. She wasn't stupid.

'You all right, love?'

Freddie was holding a crying Jackie and she was letting him hold her. Enjoying the feel of him as his strong arms tightened around her.

This was what she wanted, what she needed. He poured her another generous shot of vodka and still holding her he motioned with his head to the glass. Deep down she knew that normally he would have been telling her not to drink, accusing her of being a piss head, a drunkard. Today, she knew it suited him to get her drunk, to get her on his side and as always she was quite happy to let that happen.

If only he knew that no matter what he did she would be there for him. She always had been in the past, hadn't she? No matter what he had done, she had stood by him, defended him, cared about him. Why would that change, unless of course he had really murdered the girl and now he was frightened?

She pushed that thought from her head. He was a man and all men chased strange. Her own father had chased enough of it when she was growing up.

She saw a picture of Jimmy flash into her drink-muddled brain and forced it away again. Freddie joked at times that Jimmy was a bit Stoke-on-Trent, well, maybe he was. That would explain why they were so happy. Her sister and Jimmy were like some kind of parody, like a fucking advert for happy families, or Kellogg's Cornflakes.

That might be why. If Jimmy
was
a bit of a shirt-lifter, then that explained a lot.

She knew what she was thinking was all wrong, and even worse, she was being completely disloyal to a sister who had
always
supported her, who had always cleared up her messes. But she needed to think it so she could feel better about herself and her husband's latest escapade. Jackie would sacrifice anyone for her own peace of mind, or her husband's.

She was so pleased that he was with her, trying to make her believe in him. This was exactly what she needed in her life. Freddie knew where his bread was buttered and it was buttered with her and by her.

Freddie held his wife, knowing that the more he was with her the more chance she would believe his side of the story. Also, love her or loathe her, Jackie wouldn't blank him even if she had seen him do it with her own eyes. Whatever he said she took on board.

'You didn't do it deliberately, did you, Freddie?'

He had been expecting this question, it meant that he was nearly home and dry. This was where she convinced herself he was telling her the truth. He had been there, done that so many times that he could have nodded off and still given the correct responses.

He pushed her away from him, making sure she felt vulnerable, making sure she felt his upset by his anger. Felt rejected. He looked as innocent as the day was long, he was all wide eyes and broken heart. She knew she had just done a wrong one and she would have to pay for that.

'Please, Jackie, are you trying to hurt me or what? Are you deliberately trying to make me feel even worse than I do already?'

He was picking up his cigarettes now, and his lighter, he was telling her with his body language that he was going to walk away from her, leave her, maybe for good. He was capable of doing that, even over this, he was capable of leaving her high and dry for days or even weeks on end. He had done that so many times, just walked away from her, from the kids…

He sighed heavily. 'I can't do this any more, Jackie, I just can't take this any more, you know. I try and be honest, be straight…'

She was clinging to him now, her whole body was trying to hold him to her, near to her, keep him in his seat so she could look at him, be with him all night. It had been so long since they had loved properly, since she had felt this good about herself.

She loved it when he needed her, and he needed her so rarely that when he did she would do anything to keep the feelings only he made her feel.

Ozzy had no idea what was going on. He had problems of his own. A new screw had appeared as if by magic on the SSB unit and was under the impression he was there to do a job or something.

He would not be bought off, he would not be told and, worse than that, he was under the mistaken apprehension that he had some kind of
sway
.

That he might even be
listened
to.

This was an anomaly for all the men on the unit, who had thought he might just be holding out for a few extra quid. That was not unheard of in the prison system, after all they were all after what they could get and the cons and screws alike understood that.

This guy though, this Harry Parker, really was the
unreachable
screw. They had all heard of them but this was the first time they had ever come across one. He was rude, arrogant and he could not be bought. It was time for them to do what had to be done and it was Ozzy who decided to do the dirty deed.

When young Harry, as he had become known, walked into the recreation room at seven thirty in the evening, ready to tell everyone to go to bed and have sweet dreams etc, he found the place empty except for Ozzy.

Ozzy smiled at him in a friendly but threatening fashion, and said, 'I think it's time we had a meet, don't you?'

Harry shook his head. The more the screws told him he was a mug the more he was determined to do what he thought was right. His arrogance knew no bounds, not yet anyway.

'No, I don't. I think you had better get your fat arse off the chair and get your fat body into your cell. I am bolting down in—' he looked at his watch then — 'fifteen seconds.' He smiled at Ozzy with that infuriating smile he had, the smile that had made his wife leave him, his family endure him and his friends avoid him.

Ozzy didn't move for a while. He stared the man down before saying reasonably, 'So this can never be resolved, is that what you are saying?'

Harry nodded once more, then he said sarcastically and with the voice of a winner, 'At
last.''
Pointing at Ozzy, he said in a most disrespectful manner, 'You don't scare me, none of you. You're all villains and you're all banged up. I am going home to my house and the telly. The sooner you understand that on my watch you all take care and look out for yourselves, the better off you will all be.'

Harry was still smiling his maddening smile he had. It never touched his eyes and it held no real mirth.

'Is that right, you obnoxious little cunt.'

Harry was shocked at the language, even though he had heard worse than that over the years. 'Get up, Ozzy, and don't you ever talk to me like that again. If you do you will be on report.'

Ozzy still sat there quietly and without any thought of moving anywhere.

This threw Harry, who was now getting frightened. The other screws should have been there by now and it occurred to him he might be on his own. He was a bully, but only when he was assured he could be one without ever getting any kind of comeback. He was the man in the pub who caused a fight and then stepped back as someone else finished it for him.

Ozzy understood him, probably better than he knew himself, and getting up he walked to Harry and with a lightning movement he chivved him. The shank he used was very sharp and had been made in the machine shop a few days earlier. It was a Stanley knife blade embedded in a piece of wood that was supposed to have been the bow of a model boat being made for a charity auction.

It was a lethal weapon, and it was also a handy little tool.

Ozzy watched as young Harry put his hand up to his throat, and he watched as he saw the complete bewilderment on the man's face. He really could not believe he had been chivved, he had actually believed that he would not get any retribution whatsoever.

It was amazing, really. Someone should have given him the unofficial rulebook. It was down to the screws to take care of each other, it was not the cons' job to make sure they looked after their own.

There was a horrible gurgling noise coming from old Harry. Ozzy had done this enough times to know it was the end of the line for him, he was going to die on the filthy floor of the rec room. Well, he wouldn't be the first, and definitely not the last.

What a pointless death, and what a pointless cunt to come into a drum like this and really believe that he could get the better of them all. Bring back Esther Rantzen and her jobsworths.