The Take (49 page)

Even Dicky was laughing as Richie helped Harry calm his wife down. Then he turned back to Terry Baker. Terry was about to get the hiding of his life, and no one watching the event, not even young Dianna, was willing to help him out.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Terry was lying on the filthy floor battered and bleeding, and against her better judgement Dianna went to him. As she tried to kneel on the floor beside him to give him some kind of comfort, Roxanna dragged her away roughly.

'Leave him, Di, for fuck's sake. He is a fucking muppet.' Her tone showed that she thought her sister had gone mad.

But look at him, Rox, he's in a right state.'

'Fucking right and all, so he should be.'

Rox's voice was hard and without any emotion whatsoever, and it occurred to Dianna that even though she professed to loathe their so-called father, Rox was actually more like him than she thought.

In fact, it was the loyalty factor that was kicking in, no more and no less.

Dianna could hear Terry groaning, knew he had to be in terrible pain and she didn't know what to do about any of it.
She
had caused all this. He had explained about her father hating him, and how Freddie had used him in the past. If she had only waited for him outside, if only she had not walked away from him like she had, this would never have happened. Now look at him. He would never forgive her, she knew that, and who could blame him?

His forearm was shattered, it was hanging loosely at the elbow. He had been trounced so badly that he would never be able to work again. He was covered in his own blood and even though they knew he would live, that would not guarantee him a pass once Freddie Jackson heard the full story.

Terry had to have been mad to even think he might get away with mugging off Freddie's kinfolk. Jackie Jackson was renowned as a piss head, a pill popper and a wanker, and that was just what
her friends
said about her in the comfort and safety of their own homes. But she
was
Freddie Jackson's wife, even if he only stuck around because of the boy. Jackie was off limits to anyone who valued their life, their family's lives, or their credibility.

Terry Baker must be off his trolley, but then, they had heard the stories about him. Gossip was, after all, their main conversational directive. It wasn't
classed
as gossip, of course, it was classed as tipping each other the wink, or giving out the nod. They dealt
in facts
, not women's chat.

Dicky was shaking with the anger and the excitement a real heavy tear up created in a body, especially when he was the undisputed victor. He gulped at the brandy handed to him by Paul, and he felt the friendly and respectful hand that squeezed his shoulder gently. Paul was telling him he had done the right thing.

As he looked at Rox he knew he had pleased this beautiful woman of his no end. She was made up with pride, and she was beaming at him now as he tried to calm himself down.

He had saved her mother's reputation, what was left of it anyway, and defended her honour. Whatever
she
might think of her mother privately, no one outside their tight-knit circle of family would ever hear it from her. Jackie was, after all, her mother. In their world that accounted for everything.

Dicky understood that way of thinking, and he would give Jackie her creds. His own mother had been on the game most of her life, and he respected her for that. He didn't
like
it, but he
understood
it. The grief he had taken as a child over her chosen, but ultimately lucrative, lifestyle had paid off for them both. The fights that had consequently ensued as she had been called names, been denigrated by the kids he mixed with, had stood him in good stead for this kind of life. He could have a row, and he appreciated the fact that he could take on men much larger than him, because that had been a must all his life.

Fight
or
die
, had been his only option then, and he had fought for his mother at first and then later on for himself, for the respect of his peers. His father had been either banged up or on the trot most of his life. She had done what she could to keep them clothed and fed, and no one would ever say anything about her that was even remotely out of order.

Now the fight was over, the doors had been locked and the place was to all intents and purposes out of bounds, especially to the Old Bill. It was taken for granted that, naturally, no one had seen or even heard anything that had happened.

Terry would be dumped outside a hospital at some point, but for the moment he could lie there and think about what a cunt he was, because that was the general consensus of every person in the building.

Rox pulled Dianna to one side and said under her breath, 'What the fuck is going on with you? He was cunting our mother and you were going to help him?'

She was trying to understand this sister of hers, who as far as she was concerned needed a slap herself. They all knew the score, they had grown up knowing the score, so why would Dianna,
Dianna
of all the people in this place, try and help him? It didn't make sense, but being a clever girl the reason why hit her like a billiard ball in a sock.

'Is he the mystery bloke? Is he the fucking squeeze you've been hiding away? No wonder you didn't want the old man to know about him. That is Terry Baker.'

Dianna nodded. She had been sussed.

'Dad hates him, Di.'

Dianna was nearly in tears. 'Dad hates everyone.' She sounded like a petulant child even to her own ears.

'He hates him for a reason and you know that. For all his faults Dad looks out for us in his own way. Terry Baker was banged up on an armed robbery and he caused untold aggravation for the old man before he went. You would do well to remember that in future.'

Terry Baker had gone down in history as one of the only people to ever mug off Freddie Jackson and get away with it, but only because of a lucky capture while robbing a NatWest bank in Silvertown. No one knew what had caused the barney in the first place, only that Freddie had been looking for him for days before the fatal blag. The lump Terry had incurred had in fact been a lifesaver.

He was handsome, a man with panache, and he was also what was commonly termed an arsehole. He had gone down in local folklore as a man who had blagged with no rhyme or reason, except for a pump-action shotgun and two mates as stupid and naïve as he was. He had always been a person with a personality deficit, which was caused by his complete lack of one in the first place.

He would argue over a pound, and with drink or drugs inside him he became morose and aggressive and he was also under the mistaken impression that he could take on all comers. Terry Baker was a lot of things but a fighter was not one of them. He was a weapons man, a machete king, not a fisticuffs person, regardless of what he might think to the contrary.

But women
loved
him. He knew how to push all the right buttons and his handsome face was adept at hiding his utter contempt for the female population. He had seen Dianna as nothing more than a bit of fluff, some fun. He was shagging his biggest enemy's daughter, and what more could any man in his position want?

'Dad, please, Dad…'

Freddie sighed as he stopped the car. As he looked as his son, his boy, he was not surprised to find that he had no feelings for him whatsoever. He had felt a lot of emotions about this child over the years, anger, love, sorrow. Even he was susceptible to a child's ability to make you love them, make you protect them, but even Freddie Jackson had his limit.

No matter what he had done in his own life, no matter how badly he had treated Little Freddie and even Maggie over the years, he could not, in any way, shape or form countenance his son's actions.

Little Freddie frightened him. This was a child who, without knowing it, had taken away the son he had secretly loved.

Jimmy Junior had been everything he had wanted in a child. He was also his trump card in a war that he had caused by himself and which he was also fighting by himself. Every time Jimmy had made a new deal, had cranked his power up another notch, Freddie had been able to console himself that he had the upper hand, that he knew something Jimmy boy didn't. He had needed that power.

Then something had happened that he would have believed impossible, and after a long time of fighting it, had eventually had to accept it.

Jimmy Junior had got
under
his skin, had made him
vulnerable
. And this child of his, Little Freddie, had somehow
sensed
that, had
resented
that, and like his father would, he had taken steps to prevent it from going any further.

In one way, a detached part of him could see the boy's point of view, but it was wrong. Little Freddie was far too young to be removing anyone from his orbit. Far too young to have countenanced even
letting
the thought cross his mind.

He kept seeing that little boy fighting for his breath, and it was the knowledge another child had wilfully and purposely brought that suffering about that was so hard to stomach. He desperately needed to make some sense of it all. He loved Little Freddie in his own peculiar way, and he knew this child loved him,
really
loved him.

He had proved that by his actions.

He also knew that this boy of his was a time bomb. One day he could be at risk from his son, and Rox's child could easily be what he saw as the next threat to his security.

Driving along, he had told Little Freddie that he knew what he had done and that he was going to give him up. Not to the filth, that would be too much even for Freddie Jackson, but he would put him into care and leave him there to rot.

But now he had actually stopped the car, had made himself stare into Little Freddie's eyes, he wondered whether he could in all honesty go that far. This boy had kept him in a house he hated, with a woman he had not wanted since before he had been sentenced and shut away from the world for years, and he had been dragged up by his wife, the child's own mother, the person who should have been the one to make sure he was secure and cared for. Jackie had a lot to answer for, and he had a lot of things to make good somehow, to
mend
.

It was this simple fact that was stopping him in his tracks now. He knew what it was like to be unwanted. His father had never cared for him, not really, and he understood his son's fear that someone else might be more important than him. Might be snatching the little bit of love and affection he was given as and when it suited the parent in question.

Freddie was more than aware of his failings, and he wanted to put this night, and this son, as far away from him as he could, but he was responsible for Little Freddie.

He knew he should do what he had promised, but it was easier said than done. This was his legal flesh and blood, and he wasn't so sure he could dump him now.

It wasn't just his face and the fear it was displaying, though. He could feel the genuine terror coming off his only son in waves. It was also because Little Freddie was his only son, and he knew how it felt to be ignored, knew how it felt to be unwanted, seen as nothing more than a bind. Freddie's mother too had used him and made him the be all and end all of her married life. Like Jackie, Maddie had known that his father would have gone on the trot. It had been left to Freddie to make sure he finally did the right thing, and he had. Freddie had been there for his father from the beginning to the end of his chequered and pointless life.

So he wasn't sure he could turn this child away now the anger had subsided and the knee-jerk reaction of earlier in the day had all but worn off.

He had a duty to his only son. He should be standing by him, trying to make sense of what had happened and try to stop it happening ever again.

He wanted to wash his hands of Little Freddie and punish him for his actions, and until now he had been determined to do just that. But now, looking at him and seeing the child's deep unhappiness he really was not so sure he should give up on him. Jimmy Junior was gone, but this boy was still here.

His mobile went off and cursing silently to himself he answered it.

Lena and Joe had come back to the hospital because they didn't really know what else to do. They felt so guilty, so responsible. Their daughter was prostrate with grief and they decided they should be beside her no matter what.

Joe, especially, felt the full force of what had happened. He felt it so acutely that he wondered if he would survive this feeling he was carrying around in his chest like a lead weight. It wasn't just that the boy had died, it was also because he knew it was not the accident everyone thought it was.

He should have opened his mouth as soon as he had realised what had really gone on. That mad bastard Freddie had finally killed someone, and he had killed the dearest, the most important person in their lives.

But, for all that, and as big a fucker as that child was, Joe's natural loyalty made him unsure about bringing this into the public domain. Little Freddie was his flesh and blood, and Joe was also worried about Jackie's reaction.

In his heart he was worried about Freddie knowing the score, though he was even more worried about Maggie finding out. It would bring his whole family down in an instant.

He also knew, or rather
guessed
, that Jimmy knew far more about this than he was letting on. So he sat with his wife and son-in-law by the bedside of his lovely daughter, who he knew would never recover from this tragedy.

Jackie snorted her line of coke, sniffing noisily as she brought the white powder through her nose and into the back of her throat. The bitter taste made her gag but she brought her head forward and sniffed loudly once more to make sure she got the full monty inside her head. Then she looked into the dirty mirror that adorned the wall of the pub toilet and for the first time in years saw herself as others saw her.