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‘Listen sweetheart, think whatever you like, it ain’t going to make an iota of difference to me, but I’m telling you if you carry on like this, you’ll make lots of enemies. And the kind of enemies you’ll make around here, I wouldn’t wish on even you.’
Franny turned her attention from Vaughn to Del, speaking in a low hushed tone. ‘Is that a threat, Del? Because if it is, you better take that back right now.’
Del shook his head. ‘You know how it is, Fran. What you playing at? She ain’t even your family, but you’re happy for her to destroy the relationships around you with the likes of me and Vaughn.’
It was Franny’s turn to shake her head. ‘If my relationship with you is so easily broken, maybe I’m better off without it. And as for her not being family; you’re wrong. She’s Alfie’s family, which makes her mine. So if you’ve got a problem with her, you’ve got a problem with me.’
Chloe-Jane once again couldn’t help feeling delighted with what Franny had just said, but this time she didn’t try to hide it. Standing in the tiny hospital waiting room, she grinned as Del and Vaughn looked on. For the first time in her life she felt wanted, and no one but no one was going to take that away from her. If anyone tried, Chloe-Jane was going to make them wish they hadn’t. Oh yes, she would make certain of that.
12
Franny sat in Lola’s kitchen. She looked around at the tired orange paisley wallpaper and brown tiles and although it certainly was in need of redecoration, there was something comforting about the familiarity of the place. Days gone past of happy times with her father, memories of late-night chats with friends, and crying through difficult times over cups of tea. It was all here, here in this room.
‘Do you think it’s true, Lola? Do you think Alfie is the reason why the triads attacked Soho?’
Lola Harding, dressed in a cheap designer knock-off dress, plonked a cup of steaming hot tea in front of Franny. Her expression was sympathetic.
‘Listen Fran, I love Alf, we all do, even Vaughnie does in his own way, but both you and I know he’s a chancer. Old school he is, always ducking and diving like the rest of us, but unlike the rest of it, he takes it too far. He gets greedy. No, don’t look like that Fran, you know I’m telling the truth. Ain’t got no reason to lie to you. You and I go as far back as when you were a baby, and I’ve never told you an untruth and I ain’t going to start now. See sense darlin’. Alfie needs to stop what he’s started; he’s making enemies everywhere, those triads will kill him if he’s not careful, and I don’t want to see something happen to him.’
Franny bit her lip. She didn’t want to argue with Lola, especially as she was still upset from the attack on her café, even if it now looked a hundred times better than it ever did. Casey had told her that Lola had called Vaughn up several times demanding high-spec fittings and fixtures for the café which certainly wasn’t reminiscent of the cheap and grimy décor it’d had previous to the attack.
‘What is it all of a sudden about everyone wanting to be enemies? We’ve all been friends for years and now all that’s changing. The Soho I used to know is disappearing, Lola. All the good times we had aren’t there anymore. Do you remember how we always got together on Sundays? Me and my dad and my Uncle Cab, Del, Vaughn, Alfie and the Taylors. And then there was you and …’
‘Any bastard I’d fallen for that week.’ Lola cackled, reaching out to take Franny’s hands into hers over the kitchen table.
‘The picture’s changing, Lola and I can’t help feeling sad; it’s like we’re all being written out of a story and it’s time to go our separate ways.’
‘Fucking hell girl, remind me to invite you round again won’t you when I need cheering up? Christ, you make a funeral march sound cheery.’
Franny laughed, tears of mixed emotions brimming up in her eyes. ‘Thank you, Lola.’
Lola looked surprised. ‘For what?’
‘For making me laugh, for being here … for being you.’
Lola blushed, then winked at Franny. ‘You soft cow, you certainly take after your father. The gift of the gab he had, or as I like to call it; bullshit.’
The two women burst into laughter. The evening light faded as they both hung onto the memories of the past, both uncertain of the future.
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