Copyright

Published by AVON

A Division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins 2018

Copyright © Jacqui Rose 2018

Cover design © Alison Groom 2018

Cover photograph © Irina Bg / Shutterstock

Cover photograph © Lawrence Garwood / Alamy

Jacqui Rose asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008287283

Ebook Edition © Jun 2018 ISBN: 9780008287290

Version: 2020-01-22

Dedication

To AP and Boo – my joy, my heart, my soul’s desire, my keepers of my peace, my freedom givers, my wingless journeymen – it’s only a shame horses can’t read.

The Devil asked me how I knew my way around the halls of hell. I told him I did not need a map for the darkness I know so well.

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Epigraph

Before

Yesterday

Today

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Chapter 66

Chapter 67

Chapter 68

Chapter 69

Chapter 70

Chapter 71

Chapter 72

Chapter 73

Chapter 74

Chapter 75

Chapter 76

Two Months Later

Acknowledgements

If You Loved Toxic, Turn the Page for a Sneak Peek From Jacqui’s Thrilling New Book Fatal Coming Soon …

Keep reading …

About the Author

Also by Jacqui Rose

About the Publisher

BEFORE

She could hear them now. They weren’t far behind. Closing in and coming ever nearer, calling their names. She could almost feel their breath on her neck, their cloying touch on her skin, pulling her back. They needed to move but above the sound of the rain she could hear the barking dogs, louder and louder. They didn’t have long. She knew that. She could feel the blood trickling down her legs and panic beginning to rise as the dark set in. And the pain, the pain was getting worse. She couldn’t breathe. It was holding her. Slowing her down, making her not want to move, but she had to push through. They had to keep going. They couldn’t rest, not until they were safe. Shhh, they had to be quiet. They had to be still … The dogs, there they were again. Nearer … Nearer … But oh God, the pain. She didn’t know how long she could bear it … Maybe if they just stayed here. Maybe they’d be okay, but she was so cold, and the bleeding was getting heavier … Oh Christ, the blood. The dogs would smell the blood if she didn’t cover it up.

Then, crawling out into the moonlight as the rain poured down, she saw them, they were coming. It was too late, they were coming …

YESTERDAY
ESSEX

In a remote scrap yard, four miles outside Saffron Waldon, Johnny Dwyer bent over the perfectly cut up lines of coke. He paused, almost in reverence, looking appreciatively at the white powder before eagerly pushing the fifty-pound note up into his nostril, hungrily sampling the new batch of cocaine he’d just shipped in.

He felt the burn at the back of his nose followed by the tingling sensation in his throat. This was the best part. The first rush which he’d spend the rest of the night trying to chase.‘Can I move now, Johnny? I’ve got cramp in me bleedin’ foot.’

Johnny stared down at the brass in disgust. Whores, they were all the same. Moaning and doing his head in. Jesus, if he’d wanted that, he would’ve stayed at home. He didn’t know why he’d even bothered and now, now he was regretting it big time.

‘If you know what’s good for you, you’ll shut the fuck up and keep still.’ He bent down again, snorting another line off the hooker’s stomach whilst trying, then quickly giving up on remembering her name.

‘I ain’t going to lie here any longer, I’ve got to go to the bog. I’ll bleedin’ piss meself otherwise.’

Whining and pulling a face she began to wriggle, spilling the coke down the side of her scrawny tattooed hip.

Johnny gnawed down on his lip. That was it. The final straw. Not only did this silly cow think it was okay to waste some decent blow, but she was now beginning to spoil his high.

Leaping towards her and pushing his hands down hard against her throat, Johnny’s eyes bulged with rage.

‘And I ain’t going to pay for some bleedin’ crackhead like you to have a piss in my bathroom, so if you wanna …’

‘Boss?’

The door to the portacabin was flung open. Johnny scowled. ‘Fuck me, what happened to knocking? Give a man a chance to put his cock away.’

Big Billy Baldwin, who stood no taller than five feet, grinned at Johnny. ‘Sorry boss, but he’s here. Ma told me to bring him straight to you. She said you’d know what to do. She also said “enjoy!”’

Tucking his penis back in his trousers, Johnny wiped his nose and nodded. ‘Fine, bring him in … oh, and get her out of here.’

Happy to oblige, Billy stepped forward, grabbing hold and dragging the naked woman off the table.

‘That hurt! Get off me! Oi! Who d’ya think yer manhandling? And what about me bleedin’ money? I need me clothes! I’ve a mind to—’

The cabin door shut, muting the rest of her words.

Straightening himself up, Johnny rubbed his chin, feeling the coarse dark stubble, a throwback to his Romany genes. Sighing, he swept back his black hair as he leant forward on his chair, moodily spinning round the well-used cosh which sat in front of him on the desk.

He hadn’t had the best of days; he’d heard a few things through the Essex grapevine which hadn’t made him very happy. In fact, they’d positively pissed him off.

Ma had told him his wife, Bree, was acting suspiciously again, no doubt planning, thinking about leaving him as she so often did. But of course, that was just never going to happen. No one left him … ever. And if the stupid mare dared or thought she could just get up and go with the kids, then she really was braver than most men he knew.

But he’d sort it. He always did when she decided to step out of line. Though it always surprised him that she still hadn’t learnt the lesson by now; she was his, and she was going nowhere. Yet even with all he’d taught her, every few months she’d get a bee in her bonnet about how she was going to leave, and every few months Ma would tell him about it. And then, well, he just sorted it the best way he knew how.

Rolling a spliff, Johnny thought about the other piece of information he’d heard today. The information which Ron the runt – who was not only one of the biggest grasses between Essex and John o’ Groats, but also one of the biggest liars – had delighted in telling him.

‘It’s true Johnny, I swear it is. I swear. I wouldn’t lie to you. I was told by one of me sources.’

Johnny had stared at him in disbelief, but even when Billy – who’d been branding one of the horses at the time – had held a red-hot, glowing horseshoe inches away from Ron’s face, the runt had sworn that his information was true. That now Reginald Reynolds, the kingpin of Essex, was dead, Vaughn Sadler and Alfie Jennings, two legendary faces of Soho, had decided to come back home. Home to Essex to set up shop and take the crown.

And if Ron was right? Well bollocks to that. There was simply no way he was about to let that happen. No bleedin’ way at all.

On top of all that, he was now going to have to deal with Shane, one of his employees who thought it was okay to do a moonlight fucking flit and go and work somewhere else. So, before he could relax, and get on with the rest of his night, he was going to have to teach Shane a lesson. Then hopefully, things could finally get back to normal.

The door opened.

‘Hello, Shane. Glad you could make it. Come on in.’ Johnny cracked his knuckles, smiling as the tall, lanky young man was brought in by Billy.

Rubbing a bit of coke on his gums, Johnny’s crystal-blue eyes stared coldly. ‘Have I or have I not done a lot for you?’

Shane Hanlan mumbled, gazing down at the chipped, grey vinyl floor. ‘Yes, boss … yes.’

Amusing himself, Johnny tapped the cosh on the palm of his hand, winking at Billy as he leaned towards a trembling, blanching Shane. ‘I can’t hear you. Speak up, son.’

‘Yes, boss! Yes!’

‘That’s better. Now I need to ask you a question … Do you think I’m stupid?’

Shane’s head shot up, his eyes darted around the room as his words rushed out. ‘No, of course not! No way.’

‘No? Then why? Why after all that me and Ma have done for you, do you do this? We train you up. Give you a job. Even welcome you into our home. For what, though? So you can throw it all back in me face and go and leave me?’

‘I was going to come back. Straight up I was. Johnny, you got to believe me.’

Johnny Dwyer exploded. His handsome face turning red. He opened his mouth and bellowed as the veins in the side of his head swelled and pulsated. ‘Do I look like I have mug written all over me forehead? Well, do I?’

With his whole body shaking, Shane could just about tremble out a ‘No’.

‘No, that’s right. But you son, you have disloyalty written right through you, so much so it’s coming out of your fucking arse. And now you’ve given me no option. I got to teach you a lesson, and it breaks me heart to do so. But what choice did you give me, hey? You should never have tried to leave.’

He paused for a moment before whispering into Shane’s ear. ‘I already told ya, nobody leaves Johnny.’

Pulling back from him, Johnny Dwyer’s eyes filled with tears. He lifted the cosh in the air, staring compassionately at Shane. He smiled warmly, speaking softly.

‘I’m sorry, son. I really am.’

The cosh came whistling down, cracking and splitting Shane’s nose in one blow, tearing the skin apart on his eyelids. The blood splattered and poured all over the portacabin walls and floor, and as Johnny brought the cosh down time and time again, Shane Hanlan dropped to the ground, screaming and writhing in agony whilst begging for his life.

Ten minutes later, covered in blood, Johnny Dwyer sat on the floor exhausted, cradling Shane in his arms.

‘That’s it son, it’s over now. Don’t you worry about a thing. You hear me? No need to cry.’

A rasping sound bubbled from Shane’s mouth, his face swollen into an unrecognisable pulp.

‘We’ll get you cleaned up and then everything can get back to normal. And I’m really glad you’re back, son. I thought it was time for my boy to come back to me. You’d been gone long enough. But next time, just remember, nobody ever leaves me … ever.’

As Johnny bent down to kiss Shane on his forehead, a sound of screeching tyres and blaring horns came from outside the portacabin.

Leaping up, Johnny ran out. ‘What the …’

‘Get down, boss! Get down!’ Billy yelled as he dived on the floor and gunfire shots came hard and fast, cracking and speeding through the air, ricocheting off oil cans and scrap metal, and bouncing off skips in the yard.

Sprinting across in front of the portacabins, Johnny threw himself behind the pile of crashed racing cars, frantically scrambling to get to one of the numerous guns which were hidden around the yard.

‘Look out!’ Billy’s voice soared urgently through the air.

Spinning around, Johnny saw the dazzling lights of a speeding red car coming towards him. Desperately, he scrabbled along the hard, gravelled ground, waiting for the impact to hit. But instead the car came to a screeching halt, inches away.

Johnny could smell the heat from the engine. The bumper of the car almost in contact with his face. He was pinned against the wall and all he could do was watch whilst the driver of the car, dressed in a black balaclava, jumped out, rushing round to crouch down beside him.

‘Take this as a warning, Dwyer. Next time there won’t be another chance.’

Reversing at speed, the driver hurled a petrol bomb towards one of the barns, sending it up into a ball of yellow and orange flames. ‘You’ve been warned, Dwyer!’

Johnny silently watched the car drive off into the darkness. Tasting the hatred in his mouth.

‘Who do ya think it was, boss?’

Johnny’s face curled up into a snarl. ‘I don’t know, Billy, but when I find out, they’re going to be dead men.’

By the side of the old watermill on the River Bourne the red car pulled up, skidding to a halt in the darkness of the night. Pulling off his balaclava as he turned off the ignition, Alfie Jennings grinned at Vaughn. ‘Vaughnie, we’re back. We’re fucking back. Essex won’t know what’s hit them.’

TODAY
ESSEX
1

Bree Dwyer chewed nervously on her fingers. She felt sick and was dog-tired having been up most of the night listening to every sound and jumping at every car light which came onto the site.

She glanced up at the large white, glittery-faced clock as she stood in the kitchen of her immaculate, newly decorated static mobile home which was situated just outside the village of Ashdon, close to Shadwell Wood.

She shared her home with her husband and little Molly and Kieran, and on the odd, miserable occasion, her mother-in-law, who only lived next door.

Sighing and taking a sip of orange juice out of an Arsenal mug, Bree tried to swallow, but her mouth was too dry and too sticky, and her stomach kept alternating between painful cramps and butterflies.

She wasn’t ill, she knew that. Though she wished that was all it was. No, her problem was just down to good old-fashioned nerves. Because today was the day she was supposed to be leaving her husband, Johnny, once and for all.

A sudden wave of nausea rushed over her, forcing her to run to the bathroom and lean over the toilet bowl as the sweet sickly water rushed into her mouth. Starting to shake and praying it wasn’t the start of a panic attack, which she often suffered from. She took a deep breath, terrified at the thought of what she was about to do. A moment later, Bree Dwyer began to vomit.

Flushing the toilet, which was entirely encrusted with Swarovski crystals, Bree rinsed out her mouth, pushing her long blonde hair behind her ears. She caught sight of her reflection in the mirror, but quickly turned away. Hating what she saw. Hating seeing the look of fear in her green eyes, reminding her of a startled rabbit.

Holding onto the basin, Bree squeezed her eyes shut, took another deep breath before counting down from ten. Okay, she was ready. It was about to begin.

‘Molly! Kieran! Quickly! Come on babies, we got to go.’

A few seconds later, Molly, who’d just turned six and proudly told anybody who’d listen, appeared at the bathroom door, clutching one of her stuffed giraffes.

Her long corkscrew blonde hair tumbled down in waves over her tiny, little shoulders. She spoke, sounding like someone much older than her age.

‘What’s the rush? Where are we going? Are the others coming?’

Bending down to hurriedly button up Molly’s butterfly print blouse properly, Bree shook her head, speaking in a whisper as if there was somebody listening. ‘No, darlin’, they’re not.’

Molly scowled. Her button nose wrinkling up. ‘Why not? I want them to come.’

Nervously, Bree looked around. It seemed like her heart was pounding so hard in her chest, it was just about the only thing she could hear. ‘I know sweetheart, but if they do, then they’ll find out about the surprise.’

Molly’s face suddenly lit up. She called in excitement, ‘Kieran! Kieran! Come on, there’s a surprise.’

Panicked at the volume of her daughter’s voice, Bree gently shushed Molly, putting her finger over her lips. ‘Shhh! We got to try to keep quiet, darlin’. We don’t want anyone hearing us, do we?’

Smiling and kissing Molly on her forehead, Bree tried to push down the rising panic, attempting to ignore the thought she’d started something she couldn’t finish.

‘Well, what is it? What’s the surprise? Is it for me?’ Kieran Dwyer, although only nine, was the spitting image of his father. Both in temperament and looks. He stood at the bathroom door, grinning widely. He loved surprises.

‘No, sweetheart.’

Kieran folded his arms petulantly, reminding Bree so much of Johnny. ‘Then I ain’t going bleedin’ nowhere. Go on your own.’

Tenderly smoothing down his thick black hair, Bree looked sadly at Kieran. She loved him so much at times it ached, but with each passing day, Kieran was becoming more and more like Johnny. Idolising him and wanting to be just like his father when he ‘grew up’; another reason why she had to get them away before it was too late.

Patiently, Bree spoke, crouching down to Kieran’s height. ‘Okay, I tell you what, how about this. If you come with me now, I’ll buy you any game you want.’

Kieran’s blue eyes darkened as he stared suspiciously at Bree. ‘Any game?’

‘Any. I promise. But we have to go, now.’

‘Why?’

That was enough talk. Grabbing hold of both Kieran’s and Molly’s hands, Bree gently pulled the pair along the hallway. But as they neared the front door, it burst open and a tall figure, silhouetted against the bright sun, stood just inside the hallway.

‘Hello, darlin’. What’s all this then?’

Backing away, Bree clutched the children’s hands tightly as she began to shake.

‘Johnny … I … I …’

High-pitched laughter burst out as he clapped his hands, skipping on the spot. ‘Bree falls for it every time! Funny Bree. Funny Bree.’

Bree’s legs collapsed underneath her. ‘Ryan! You bleedin’ idiot. What you have to go and do that for?’

Ryan shrugged, looking hurt. His face crumpled as he held his head and rocked back and forth on the spot. ‘I found kittens. Nice, nice kittens. Have I done bad? Has Ryan done bad? In trouble with Ma? In trouble with Ma?’

Bree stared at Ryan Dwyer, Johnny’s identical twin brother. She tried to keep her voice even as she smiled at him kindly, trying to alleviate his panic. ‘Shhh, Ryan. It’s okay. You’re not in trouble. I promise. But we have to go. Come on, hurry.’

Molly piped up. ‘We’re going to get a surprise.’

Ryan’s eyes narrowed, looking troubled, his mind trying to comprehend. He stuttered.

‘Does … does … does Johnny know? Got to tell Johnny. We tell Johnny.’

Getting up, with her legs still trembling, Bree spoke soothingly. ‘Well it wouldn’t be a surprise then, would it, Ryan. Look, darlin’, we need to go. Come on Molly, hold my hand.’

Bree only managed to get part way down the stone white path before Ryan, who was dressed as usual in a blue Ralph Lauren tracksuit, stopped.

‘Wait! Need to tell Ma!’

Bree spun round, her face strained with fear. ‘No, Ryan, you don’t need to do that. Please. It’s just our secret. Remember? It will spoil the surprise.’

Ryan turned his head to the side, keeping his eyes on Bree. He rocked on his feet, looking anxious as he played with his hands. ‘No, need to tell Ma. Need to tell Ma. Ma! Ma!’

‘Please, Ryan, no! Don’t!’

‘Ma!’

The pink front door to the next mobile home was opened. ‘What the bleedin’ hell’s all that racket for?’

Ma Dwyer stood in a blue, silk cornflower print dressing gown, tied too tightly around her bulging waistline. She rested her arms on her hips as her grossly obese body wobbled towards Bree and Ryan; the top of her legs sounding noisily as they rubbed and squelched together with sweat.

With egg yolk dried on her chin, Ma Dwyer sniffed, then burped loudly. ‘This better bloody be good Ryan, otherwise I’ll be giving you another brain injury.’

Holding Ryan’s hand, Bree shook her head frantically. Her eyes wide with terror. ‘Ryan, no. Look at me, no!’

‘What she bleedin’ on about? Go on, tell yer ma.’

A moment of hesitation rushed through Ryan’s eyes before Ma Dwyer reached up and whacked her son hard around the head. ‘I’m talking to you, you little shit.’

Ryan rubbed his head, looking so much younger than his thirty years. ‘We shouldn’t tell you. Can’t tell Ma.’

Ma stared at Ryan. Her voice was mean and hard. ‘I’m warning you son, you better tell me, unless of course you want to be in trouble. Is that what you want, Ryan? You want to be in trouble?’

Agitated, Ryan looked down, playing with his hands as he shook his head. ‘No. No.’

‘Then tell me!’

Blurting the words out as quickly as he could, Ryan said, ‘She’s off to get Johnny a surprise. A secret.’

Ma Dwyer grinned nastily. ‘Is she now … Take the kids into the house, Ryan, I want a little word with Bree.’

‘But I want to see the kittens.’

‘I said take the friggin’ kids inside, you dopey muppet!’

Ma Dwyer watched as Ryan skipped into the house with Molly and Kieran, who were giggling happily. She turned coldly to Bree.

‘So now you can tell me all about this surprise, or maybe I should just call Johnny and ask him … Oh, no need … Look … Somebody’s going to be taught a lesson.’

As Ma cackled, Bree swivelled round to see Johnny’s black Range Rover coming up the drive. The next minute Bree started to run, listening to the sound of Ma Dwyer’s screeching voice behind her.

‘Johnny! Johnny! Quick, she went that way!’

Bree Dwyer had never run so fast in her life. She could hardly get her breath as she leapt and bounded through the thick undergrowth of Shadwell Wood, feeling the bushes and branches tearing at her flesh.

She could hear Johnny behind her as she raced through the woods. Faster and faster she went, stumbling down ditches, scrambling and falling as her shoe caught in the twisted shrubs. She slipped on the wet leaves and her nails scraped at the mud as she tried to get her footing, as she slid back down the hill.

She could taste her tears and her own fear and her chest began to tighten. She was too afraid to look behind her, but she knew Johnny was there. Closing in. Coming to get her.

‘Don’t run from me, Bree! There’s nowhere to go!’

Johnny’s voice seemed to engulf the whole of the area; echoing through the trees, echoing through the branches. Her legs were aching now, but she continued to run, her thin trousers covered in blood. She headed towards a small, gravelled track aiming for the copse on the other side.

‘Bree! Bree!’

She glanced back, then she heard a roar. A screech. The sudden slamming of brakes.

‘Look where you’re going, you dozy mare! I could’ve killed you.’

She spun round, feeling the car on her leg as she leant her hands on the hot bonnet. Panting.

Blinking.

Staring at the driver. A moment of slight recognition passed between them before Bree began to run.

‘Hey, come back! You alright, love?’

Limping, she leant against a tree, trying to get her breath. She had no idea where she was, and even though the woods were close to where she lived, she’d never ventured into them on her own.

Setting off again along an overgrown path, Bree heard the cracking of twigs but before she had time to turn around, heavy, rough hands grabbed her. She screamed as she was pulled down into the undergrowth. Feeling Johnny’s breath against her neck.

She froze as he sat behind her, putting his hands round her waist, drawing her in between his legs. Kissing her on her neck whilst stroking her hair.

He spoke quietly. A dangerous lull in his voice. ‘What did you think you were doing, Bree?’

Her words were breathless with fear. ‘Nothing.’

‘You was going to leave me, weren’t you?’

She shook her head quickly. ‘I wasn’t, I swear, Johnny.’

Slightly too hard, he nibbled the lobe of her ear, making Bree flinch. ‘I don’t believe you, baby.’

Bree shivered, feeling like she had a thousand ants crawling underneath her skin. ‘All I wanted to do was just take the kids out. I was going to get you a surprise.’

He shrieked into her ear, causing the nesting starlings to fly out of the trees and into the sky. ‘Liar!’

‘Please, Johnny.’

‘You know what I have to do now Bree, don’t you? I have to teach you a lesson.’

Bree couldn’t control her shaking, her body went into spasms, and she didn’t know if it was just the wet earth or if she’d wet herself in fear.

‘And why do I, Bree? Why do I have to teach you a lesson?’

Bree stayed silent as her whole body trembled.

‘I said, why do I? Say it! Say it, Bree!’

Crying and gasping for air, Bree Dwyer closed her eyes, only just managing to speak.

‘Because nobody ever leaves Johnny.’

2

‘Wakey, wakey! Come on my handsome darlin’s, what’s all this? The day has started and you two pieces of lump are still in bed.’

Lola Harding cackled loudly as she energetically opened the curtains in the garishly decorated silver and velvet master bedroom of Janine Jennings’ large mansion just outside the straggling village of Wimbish in Essex.

‘Do me a favour! Bloody hell, Lola! Turn it in. Are you trying to kill me?’

‘No one died of a bit of sunshine, hey Janine?’

Leaning against the bedroom door, Janine Jennings sniffed as she bit into her fifth chocolate biscuit of the morning. ‘Don’t know why yer bothering, my husband has always been a lazy bastard.’

Alfie Jennings sat straight up. ‘Ex-husband.’

Janine guffawed with laughter. Her gold necklaces jangling with her. ‘You see, that’s the way to get him out of bed; remind him of our nuptials. Come on Vaughnie, take them covers off yer head. What’s wrong with you two? You asked me to wake you up.’

Alfie groaned. ‘Not this bloody early. And if I’d known me and Vaughnie had to share a bed when you said we could stay, I wouldn’t have bothered.’

Janine scowled. ‘Beggars can’t be choosers and anyway it’s only temporary, ain’t it?’ She paused before adding, ‘I thought you were supposed to be picking up Franny today.’

Alfie’s smile was tight as he tried not to let his anger overwhelm him as he thought of Franny. Franny Doyle, the woman he’d given his heart to. So strong, so beautiful, so clever, so fearless yet with a vulnerability which had made him fall in love with her, no matter how much he had tried to stop himself. But he had, and he’d fallen hard.

The daughter of one of the most notorious gangsters, he’d met Franny in Soho but after a while they’d decided to leave and go and live in Spain; there was nothing in the West End for them anymore. The place had changed beyond recognition. There was no more making money. Gangsters and faces had moved out. Tourists and foreigners, druggies and coffee shops had moved in. The council had clamped down, going into overdrive on any illegal activity, something they would’ve once turned a blind eye to or at least he could’ve paid them off. So, Spain had been their ideal.

He’d even given up the business for her after she’d become tired of seeing how many people it hurt. And he’d been happy to go semi-legitimate, or as happy as he could’ve been. But now, now was entirely different and happy certainly wasn’t a word which came to mind.

He stared at Janine and then at Vaughn. He shrugged, trying his best to sound unruffled.

‘There’s been a slight change of plan.’

Vaughn’s words shot out. ‘What the hell are you talking about?’

‘Look, calm down, nothing’s wrong. Franny’s on her way, she’s just been a bit delayed, that’s all.’

Incensed, Vaughn got out of bed, throwing the duvet in Alfie’s face. He walked across to the crushed velvet window seat and lit up a cigarette, inhaling it hard.

‘That’s all? She’s got two million quid of our money which, let me remind you, is all the money we’ve got in the world, and you expect me to be calm?’

Alfie got up from the mattress, pulling on his red sweat top over his muscular body, much to Lola’s dismay; albeit she was nearing seventy, she still had an admiring eye for a handsome man.

Then, lying through his teeth, Alfie said, ‘It’s just a little hiccup. Apparently when Franny got on the boat there were a lot of coast guards and police about at Puerto Banús and Puerto de la Bajadilla doing a routine sweep of all the private vessels, so she thought it was best to wait until everything’s quietened down before they set off. She knows what she’s doing.’

‘That’s what I’m afraid of. Franny knows exactly what she’s doing.’

Alfie stared at Vaughn, hoping the anger he felt towards Franny didn’t show on his face. Hoping he didn’t give anything away. Not yet anyway.

When they’d left for Spain, both he and Vaughn – who he’d known since he was a teenager – had invested in property. Clubs and restaurants initially, then finally a resort just south of Torremolinos, but then – and maybe it was his own fault for not keeping an eye on the legitimate businesses as he had done the illegitimate ones – the developer had gone bankrupt before the place had been finished, heading off to Mexico with their money, leaving unpaid workers and contractors as well as him and Vaughn out of pocket. The bank had closed in and they’d been left with not much change from fuck all.

But just when they’d started to worry, Reginald Reynolds, Essex kingpin, number one face and an old trusted friend of them both, had got in contact wanting to sell his bookmaker business, which not only incorporated the best legal pitches at racetracks like Cheltenham and Newmarket, but also the monopoly on the systematic illegal betting market in the East of England. And of course, they’d jumped at the chance. It was not only the reason they’d been looking for to come back home to Essex, it was a licence to print money. And all for just two million big ones.

It was a deal that couldn’t be missed and once they’d shaken on it, Reggie had put the word around that he and Vaughn were going to be his successors when he retired, which not surprisingly hadn’t gone down well with a lot of people.

They hadn’t known at the time, but Reginald hadn’t been retiring but had been fighting cancer, and was just putting his affairs in order for his family before it was too late. Two weeks after the details had been sorted, his widow, Reenie had been in touch letting them know Reginald was dead.

Vaughn had sold his house and Alfie had sold his villa, getting the money they needed together. Obviously, the likes of Reggie and his family only dealt in cash and certainly no transfers through any bank, so it was decided that they would travel to England first and Franny would follow with the cash on the boat of an old associate of theirs, later. Easy. Or it was supposed to have been.

‘Fuck’s sake, what’s with all the paranoia? Just leave it, okay?’

Alfie turned around but felt Vaughn’s grip on his arm. ‘Listen, until I have me money in me hand, I ain’t going to leave anything. You hear me?’

‘Get yer hands off me.’ Alfie shoved Vaughn, who fell back into Lola, then, just managing to keep his balance, Vaughn sprang at Alfie, grabbing hold of his top. With his face red, he hissed his warning.

‘I’ve already lost nearly everything because you didn’t keep your eye on the ball with that developer, pretending everything was fine. So, I’m telling you now Alfie, if anything’s happened to me money, I’m going to hold you responsible. And I’ll come for you. You understand me?’

‘Don’t threaten me, Vaughn, unless you want to be a dead man walking.’

Scrabbling between them, Lola tried to pull the men apart. She appealed to Vaughn. ‘This is Franny we’re talking about. She ain’t going to rip you off, is she? None of this is Alfie’s fault. I know you’ve had it tough these last few months, but see sense, Vaughn.’

‘Have you forgotten that Franny is the daughter of Patrick Doyle, one of the biggest gangsters there was?’

‘No, but …’

‘But nothing Lola. The apple don’t fall far from the tree, does it?’

Lola, not enjoying hearing Vaughn saying anything negative about her friend, put her hands on her hips as she stood in front of him. ‘Vaughn Sadler, have you ever, in all the time that you’ve known Franny, had any reason not to trust her?’

‘No, but …’

‘But nothing, right back at you. If Franny says she’s been delayed, then she’s been delayed. It’s going to be fine.’

Vaughn, unable to help himself, snapped at Lola. ‘In less than a month’s time we are supposed to be finalising the deal with Reginald Reynolds’ widow to buy his pitches, pay off who needs to be paid off to get the bookies’ licences, as well as recruit and pay a trusted team of men that we can have around us. Tell me Lola, how the fuck are we supposed to do that now? More to the point, how are you expecting me to keep calm when some bird is floating round the Costa with two million big ones in her back pocket?’

‘Vaughn, love—’

‘No, Lola! Hear me out. Reginald did us a favour by putting us first in line for his business. Everybody wanted it, and you know that. Once we get it up and running – if we do – it’ll mean we won’t have to think about money again, but now, thanks to this muppet, there’s a chance we could lose this opportunity.’

Alfie glared at Vaughn. ‘Stop winding yourself up, mate. It’ll be fine.’

‘Will it? It better be, because I’ve risked everything on this. Sold everything I had right under me missus’ nose and because of that, she’s gone and left me. That money is all I’ve got.’

‘It ain’t only yours.’

‘No, but it wasn’t me who gave the money to Franny, was it?’

Alfie, always one to be hot headed, said, ‘Look, so she’s delayed, it’s no biggie. You’re acting like someone’s robbed your fucking grave. And as for Casey, maybe you should’ve been more honest with your missus, perhaps that way she might not have done a runner, or maybe it was just her excuse.’

Vaughn went to swing at Alfie but pulled back as Lola stepped in his way. She smiled at him, hating seeing them argue. ‘Vaughn, lovie, please. Alf’s right, you’re getting yourself worked up over nothing. Franny will be here soon, and as for Casey, she’ll come round and see sense. Once she understands you did it for your future, she’ll be fine about it. I’ll have a word with her if it helps. Look, how about instead of all this arguing, which ain’t going to do any of us any good, why don’t I make you all some breakfast?’

The resounding cry of ‘no’ was heard round the room as everyone present remembered the days of Lola’s café, which she’d run in Soho for years. Her breakfasts had been infamous.

Lola shrugged. ‘Then at least kiss and make up. Come on, Vaughn. Alf, how about you?’

Neither of the men moved and Lola sighed. She’d known and loved Alfie and Vaughn for as long as she could remember, meeting them in Soho back in the day. In all that time she’d never known the two men have so few options, but then, they may never have come back to England otherwise. She hid a small smile. Every cloud.

Vaughn, ignoring Lola’s plea for reconciliation, spoke to Alfie, his voice full of hostility.

‘And what are we supposed to do for money until Franny comes? What are we supposed to tell Reginald’s widow?’

‘We tell her nothing because there’s nothing to tell. And in the meantime, we stick to our plan. We let everybody know we’re back and we mean business. Essex is ours for the taking.’

‘Just the two of us?’

‘Yeah, because they won’t know that, will they. We give it large like we always did. And in a couple of days Franny will be here, and then we’ll have the money to recruit some of the people who used to work for us. It’ll be sweet.’

Vaughn looked at Alfie. ‘Okay, but I’m telling you, Franny needs to be here by the end of the week.’

Janine, who’d been unusually quiet, piped up. ‘And you’ve got here. You can both stay here with me.’

‘See, there’s an offer no man can resist.’ As he said it, Alfie rolled his eyes causing Janine to let out a screech.

‘I saw that! Did you see that, Lola? Bleedin’ fucking cheek. I don’t know why I bother. You should be thanking me, Alfie. You should be grateful.’

‘Grateful! I’d be more grateful to an arse full of piles.’

Seething, Janine turned to Lola. ‘I knew this was a bad idea. I should never have listened to you. I’m a mug. That’s what me mates said when I told them I was going to let you stay. They said, Janine. You. Are. A. Mug.’

Lola pushed Janine and Vaughn gently out of the door. She smiled at Alfie. ‘Why don’t you get dressed and come downstairs for a nice cup of tea.’

‘Thanks Lola, I’ll be there in a minute.’

‘And Alfie, it’s good to have you back … I missed ya. Both of ya.’

Hearing the others heading downstairs, Alfie pulled out his phone. He stared at the text from Franny.

Please don’t be angry Alfie, but something’s come up. It’s probably better if you don’t know what. But trust me when I say, I wish it could be different. I won’t be coming to England. One day you’ll understand why I’ve done this. If it’s any consolation, I do love you. F.

Dialling Franny’s number, it switched straight onto voicemail. Speaking quietly Alfie hissed through his teeth. ‘Franny, it’s me. You better start picking up the fucking phone, you hear me? Just pick up the fucking phone. I want my money.’

He clicked off the call before hurling the phone against the wall, wondering which was greater, his broken heart or his anger.

3

Stepping out of his silver Audi Q5, which had seen better days, Eddie Styler lit a cigarette, admiring as he always did the mock-Tudor cladding he’d had fitted last year on the large, five-bedroom property on the private gated estate, just south of Emerson Park, Essex.

The place was a far cry from the run-down council block in South London he’d been born and brought up in, where drug addicts shot up on stairwells and anyone passing who cared to used the lobby as a giant urinal.

Unlike his childhood home, which he’d been ashamed of, number 25 Colney Close impressed, making him the envy of his family, most of whom still resided in the same shit hole they were born in and no doubt would be carried out in a box from.

It’d been the double garage feature of the house which had excited him, and within minutes of seeing the place, he’d put in an offer, well over the asking price, much to his wife, Sandra’s disgust. But then, when wasn’t the moany cow disgusted at him for one thing or another? And God, didn’t she just like to remind him how it was her money and not his that had bought the place.

But they were married, so by rights that made it his whether she liked it or not. To have and to hold. For richer, for poorer. His home. His castle.

Irritated at the thought of her, Eddie gritted his teeth too hard, causing the white filling that’d cost him near on three hundred quid last week, start to throb, making his present mood considerably worse.

Stomping towards the house and having inhaled deeply on the cigarette, which made his green eyes water, Eddie opened the front door, being hit immediately by the nauseating smell of Sandra’s constantly burning vanilla and honeysuckle scented candle, causing his eyes to water some more.

He clenched his fists feeling the stress catapult through him. How long he’d resented Sandra he didn’t know. Maybe it was the moment he’d said ‘I do’ and had lifted her wedding veil to see her dark, cold beady eyes staring at him as she chewed down on a piece of gum. But no matter when it was, Eddie knew he resented her now … hated the stupid cow now.

They’d made an odd-looking couple; her at six foot three – all pale skin and jutting bones – and him, barely five foot tall of rounded Greek heritage. But it hadn’t mattered, because money had been the reason he’d got together with her in the first place, desperate to escape the poverty of his life, and Sandra, with her flashy car and expensive shoes, had been his ticket out. Well, that’s what he’d thought she was. But rather than having money at his fingertips as he’d imagined, she’d held onto her bank accounts tightly like they were a life raft.

Despite her, over the years he’d tried to make a name for himself, wheeling and dealing, using old contacts and being the middle- man for the Mr Bigs, but each time he’d thought he was making a reputation, each time he could smell success, each time he thought he could finally leave Sandra, someone or something came along to squeeze the balls out of whatever deal he was trying to make and he’d be left with nothing at all.

But a few years ago, things had started to look up. He’d got the call from Reginald Reynolds, the number one face in Essex, who made the Kray twins look like something out of a children’s storybook. And he’d worked hard for Reginald. Becoming his right-hand man. Setting up the beatings, the tortures, the paybacks, the deals, and with Reginald Reynolds’ men behind him, his own name had become synonymous with fear. There wasn’t a man alive who’d say no to him. He could run up debts at casinos, debts with pimps, he had money at his fingertips. That was, of course, before Reginald Reynolds had popped his clogs at a very inconvenient time.

At first though, he’d been pleased that Reginald had finally snuffed it, assuming he was going to take the Essex crown. But after discovering from Reggie’s widow, Reenie, that rather than him – after all his loyalty – being the natural successor to his empire, he’d arranged that the scumbags, Alfie Jennings and Vaughn Sadler, were going to take over, he’d gone to the cemetery in Chigwell and pissed on Reginald’s grave.

But there was one thing that Reginald hadn’t managed to finalise before he’d died. A deal which only he really knew about. And once he’d pulled it off, things were going to be different. What he had lined up would change everything and no one was going to mess this up. And unlike all the other times, there was no question he wasn’t going to pull it off. Because everything was riding on it. Everything.

Even though Reginald had left some outstanding money to pay on the goods, thankfully he was able to find some cash himself by forging Sandra’s name on a remortgage application, getting the readies transferred into a bank account she didn’t know about, which had given him enough to finalise the deal of all deals, and all without any of Reggie’s men or family knowing about it. And the beautiful thing was, even if Sandra did eventually find out about the loan, it wouldn’t matter because they’d literally be rolling in it. Or rather he would. And then? Well then, it’d be adios Sandra.

Tiptoeing along the dark, oak wooden hallway to the cupboard under the stairs, he glanced up towards the bedroom, pausing and checking for any sound. He opened the stair cupboard door, quickly rummaging in the large box of tools he never used, and pulled out a half empty bottle of whiskey. The screw top couldn’t come off fast enough for Eddie and he knocked it back in one; wincing at the burn.

Content and preoccupied in his thoughts, Eddie absentmindedly stepped backwards, knocking over one of Sandra’s glass candle holders, shattering shards of glass all over the dark wooden floor.

‘Bollocks!’

Sighing and feeling the effect of the alcohol, Eddie heard Sandra, her voice grating through the silence of the darkness.

‘Eddie, is that you? What time is it? Eddie! What the bleedin’ hell are you doing?’

Walking up the stairs, Eddie thought it best to knock a couple of hours off, knowing that his wife would start to complain and ask a dozen questions about where he’d been if she knew the real time.

Gritting his teeth, he gave a saccharine reply. ‘It’s one o’clock, teddy bear. Go back to sleep.’

Immediately, the bedside light flicked on, and Sandra, sleepy eyed and messy haired, stared at him accusingly. ‘How the fuck am I supposed to sleep when you’re banging about like a brass band?’

Knowing it was best not to reply, Eddie undressed and slipped into bed, feeling the cold as if the sheets were made of a thin layer of ice. He shivered as he lay on the very edge of the super king size bed, which was mostly taken up by Sandra and all her cushions.

‘Is Barrie in okay?’

In no mood to go on an early morning hunt for the cat he hated – who perpetually seemed to have a supercilious smugness on his face – and having seen him wandering down the street yesterday morning and not since, Eddie answered casually, pushing down the sense of loathing towards Sandra that immersed his whole being.

‘He’s curled up on the sofa …’

‘Have you been drinking?’

Too quickly, Eddie shook his head and answered, ‘No.’

For the next few minutes Sandra continued to stare, looking for a giveaway tell-tale sign as Eddie Styler smiled reassuringly at his wife, trying to push down his hatred, thinking as he so often did how like her brother, Alfie Jennings, she looked.

4

Great Dunmow, like so many other small market towns across Essex, was surrounded by picturesque countryside and as Alfie Jennings drove through the rural location, sitting on the River Chelmer, once home to the Romans, his mind thought back to yesterday. To the woman in the woods. She’d looked terrified, running away from something or someone, but she’d dashed away before he’d had a chance to speak to her. He was certain he knew her from somewhere, he was sure of it, her face looked so familiar, but he couldn’t quite place her. It would come back to him, he was certain.

Driving past the small shops and museum on the winding, pretty high street, Alfie turned left, flicking his cigarette out of the window as he tried not to let himself think about Franny. He couldn’t get his head around the text. He didn’t know what he was supposed to think. But what he did know was he needed to sort out the shit she’d landed him in.

Pulling up his Range Rover by a large thatched yellow house, set by a private lake and standing in several acres of pristine grounds, Alfie got out, resisting the temptation to call Franny again. That could wait. He didn’t want to wind himself up any more than he had to because if he wasn’t careful, he was going to lose it. Big time.

Trying to crick the tension out of his neck as he pressed the buzzer on the gates, Alfie waited, the heavy rain trickling down the back of his coat.

Eventually he heard a man’s voice crackling through the intercom, speaking in the broadest of Yorkshire accents. ‘Hey up Alfie, you look like you could do with a brolly.’

Alfie looked up to the CCTV camera, his face curled up in a snarl. ‘Just let me fucking in.’

He heard laughter as the electric gates duly swung open but before Alfie could get to the house, a large man with a protruding forehead and a Bryllcreamed sweep over, came around the corner armed with two golfing umbrellas.

‘Here take this, we’ll go into the garden and talk.’

Alfie stared at Lloyd Page. Lloyd had come down from Sheffield fifteen years ago to become one of the biggest drug traffickers in the East of England, as well as one of the boldest swindlers around. The man wouldn’t lose any sleep over robbing food from his own baby’s mouth if it meant him getting a few more quid.

‘I ain’t partial to country walks, Lloyd. I’d rather talk here.’

Lloyd belched loudly, sending the smell of pickled onions into Alfie’s face. ‘Suit yourself. You’ve always been a stubborn bastard.’

Alfie narrowed his eyes, gazing coldly and evenly at Lloyd. ‘I’m not here to do niceties, I’m here to find out if there’s anything going on.’

With the umbrella in one hand and a cigar in the other, Lloyd smirked, holding Alfie’s gaze.

‘This is what I couldn’t understand on the phone when you called. You see, I was under the impression that you were supposed to take over Reginald Reynolds’ crown. You and Vaughnie were supposed to be the next Kingpins, the whole of the East thought that, yet here you are, begging me for a touch.’

‘I ain’t begging no one.’

‘No?’

‘No.’

Lloyd shrugged. ‘I don’t believe you Alf, I think something’s not quite right. I reckon you’re a bit desperate, otherwise why would you be here without your sidekick? Funny that.’

Alfie stepped in close to Lloyd. ‘Do I look like I’m laughing? And you don’t need to worry about the ins and outs of my business. All you need to know is that I need a job, and quick. And you also need to keep your mouth shut about me being here.’

‘And why would I do that? I think a lot of people would want to know, don’t you?’

‘Because, Lloyd, you ain’t stupid and you like your life too much. You and me, we go back a long way, which means I know everything that you’ve done. I know everyone that you’ve turned over, everyone you’ve ripped off. Wasn’t it only a couple of years ago you pulled one over on the Peterson brothers. Robbed over a ton of heroin right from under their noses. To this day, Smithy Peterson and his brothers want to know who it was. And rumour has it, they like burying people alive.’

‘You wouldn’t snake?’

‘Oh, I would, Lloyd. I’ll do what I have to. I’ll take no prisoners, son.’

Lloyd’s face turned into a picture of anger. ‘It’s quiet at the moment, there isn’t anything much about.’

‘Then unquieten it, because I need something.’

Sighing, Lloyd said, ‘Look, there might be a shipment of coke coming through in the next few days. It’ll be on a lorry and I was hoping to get my fingers on it. I’m speaking to my sources at the moment. It’s not certain yet, but it sounds like it could be an easy job.’

Alfie stared out towards the immaculate landscaped garden. Jacking lorries of coke was a young man’s game, often a mug’s game, and it certainly didn’t help that it was Lloyd Page he’d be working through. He was, as Vaughn had always described him, an idiot of the biggest kind. But then, it seemed like it might be his only option if he couldn’t sort out the problem with Franny. Not that jacking a lorry full of blow would give them the money they needed, but it was a start.

‘Then I’ll have that.’

‘Alf, come on, I needed that myself …’

‘I said, I’ll have that.’

‘But it might not even happen.’

‘So, you better make sure it does.’

5

Bree Dwyer felt her husband’s breath before she saw him in the dark of their cream-walled bedroom. Her body ached and the ropes tied round her hands and ankles cut deeply into her, burning and rubbing. The dried blood from her nose sat in crusty lumps above her mouth, and with the air of a priest, Johnny smiled warmly, kissing Bree calmly on her head before untying her from the wicker chair that had dug and scraped into the back of her bare legs.

He looked at her, his head cocked to one side. ‘Well?’

Licking her torn lip and flinching, Bree knew exactly what was expected of her. ‘I’m sorry, Johnny.’

He leaned in, the overpowering aroma of his sickly-sweet aftershave rushing up Bree’s nose.

‘And?’

‘And I ain’t ever going to try to leave you again, because …’

She faltered, feeling nauseous.

‘Because?’

‘… because no one leaves Johnny.’

A wide grin spread across Johnny’s wind-tanned face. He laughed, pleased with himself.

‘So you’ve learned your lesson this time, darlin’?’

Bree willed herself not to vomit there and then. Whatever she did, Bree Dwyer knew there was no way she could be sick in front of Johnny. Panicked, her eyes filled with tears as she desperately tried to swallow down the bile that rushed with force into her mouth.

Johnny’s eyes darkened. ‘I asked you a question.’

The door suddenly flung open, making Bree jump, and giving her the distraction she needed to alleviate the nausea.

There, standing in the doorway, was Ma Dwyer; oedema-swollen ankles and feet pushed tightly into stained, pink fluffy slippers and dressed as usual in her thigh-length silk dressing gown.

Looking contemptuously at Bree, Ma pulled out her nasal pump spray, keenly squirting it up into her left nostril. ‘What’s going on, baby?’

Johnny circled his fingers inside the thin, pale yellow cotton dress Bree was wearing. ‘I’m just waiting for an answer, ain’t I, Bree?’

Bree nodded, her eyes darting from Ma to Johnny.

Ma Dwyer frowned. ‘Well we ain’t got time for you two to get all lovey-dovey and kiss and make up. We gotta be somewhere. You best get moving, Johnny. Eddie Styler don’t like to be stood up … Oh, bleedin’ hell, here comes Noddy.’

Ma crossed her arms across her enormous, braless breasts as she watched her other son, Ryan, come nervously into the bedroom.

Ryan Dwyer turned to his mother. ‘Ma?’

‘Shut it!’ And with that, Ma Dwyer marched out of the room.

Giving a last, cutting glance to Bree, Johnny headed for the door whilst snarling instructions to his brother. ‘Make sure she don’t go anywhere, Ryan. You understand me?’

And not waiting for an answer, Johnny hurried away.

Ryan, spectacularly identical to Johnny, looked at Bree. She smiled at him tenderly as he touched her bruised, swollen face. His damaged brain trying to understand.

‘Johnny’s angry with Bree. You should never leave Johnny. Trouble. Ma says there’ll be trouble.’

‘I know, sweetheart, I know.’

Bree went to the door, looking down the hall before closing it quietly. Pressing her body against it, she turned back to look at Ryan, her eyes filled with tears.

‘But one day Ryan, we will. We’ll leave here for good, and you’ll be free, and then sweetheart, we’ll have no more trouble.’

It was dark and the private traveller site was quiet apart from the sound of the dog barking on Willoughby’s farm, some way off in the distance. As Kieran sat under the bushes – a place where he often slept – watching Ma Dwyer waddle down the path in her silk dressing gown, forcefully sniffing the white bottled, nasal plastic pump spray she always carried, he dug his fingers into his leg; drawing blood, feeling the pain and enjoying it.

The steel blade he held in his other hand caught the light of the moon. He smirked, glimpsing the reflection of his mouth, then, quietly humming, Kieran Dwyer began to cut.

6

‘Pick up, for God’s sake! I don’t know how many bleedin’ messages I’ve left but you can’t keep ignoring me. For fuck’s sake Franny, why are you doing this to me, darlin’? Just call me and let’s sort this out. I get that you could be mad at me. Maybe I didn’t give you as much attention as I should’ve done, or maybe you think I don’t tell you that I love you enough. But I do love ya, from the minute I knew ya, I started falling for ya. But Jesus, Fran, whatever it is I’ve done, don’t take it out on our future. Vaughn’s future. You want me to come and find you, Franny? Is that what you want, darlin’? To show you I care? Cos I do, but I just haven’t got time for these fucking games at the moment! Franny!’

Alfie took the phone away from his mouth, taking in deep breaths of air to calm himself down. He tried again. ‘Look baby, I know you’ll get these messages so please, just call me. I need to get me hands on the money. Sort this deal out with Reenie Reynolds before it goes tits up. I’m trying to be patient here girl, but you won’t answer any of me calls, so what am I supposed to do? I feel like a muppet talking to this machine so for fuck’s sake, talk to me! Yes, I’ve made mistakes, probably lots, but surely it can’t be two million pounds’ worth of mistakes! Franny! You do realise if you were anyone else, I’d hunt you down and put a bullet in your fucking head … but I can’t do that can I? Cos I love ya. I fucking love ya … Franny!’ He shouted down the phone before slamming it hard on the white kitchen table.

‘Alfie?’

He turned, startled. ‘Lola, I never saw you.’

She looked at him strangely. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Nothing.’

Lola came to sit down next to him and took his hand gently. ‘Don’t give me that darlin’, I spent half me life playing people, so I know when someone’s telling me a Jackanory.’

‘Look, it’s okay.’

‘It ain’t, is it, though? You look like you haven’t had any kip and you probably haven’t eaten either. Here, have some of this.’ Lola picked up the jug of porridge, pouring it into one of the breakfast bowls on the table. It slopped heavily in.

‘Eat up, love.’

Alfie Jennings knew there were some things in life he couldn’t do; hurting a kid, mugging a person, knocking his missus about, to name but a few. And now as he stared at the lumpy, water-logged, powder-clogged porridge, eating it was one more thing to add to the list of the things he could never do.

‘Come on Alf, eat up or you’ll be a bag of bones.’

Alfie raised his eyebrows at Lola. He gave her a crooked smile. ‘More like I’ll be a bag of bones if I eat it. I’ll be bleedin’ six foot under. The state of it, girl.’

Lola Harding, an ex-Tom turned café owner who meant the world to Alfie, cackled heartily; happier than she’d been for a long time.

Feeling the varicose veins in her legs begin to throb, her expression became serious.

‘What’s going on, Alf? What’s happening with Franny? You missing her, is that it?’

He didn’t want to talk about Franny, mainly because it hurt, but it hurt more knowing he didn’t know why she was doing this or maybe he did.

Franny had been good for him. She’d made him grow up. Taking none of his bullshit or his womanising ways and he’d liked it. He’d liked the fact that when they’d got to Spain he’d slowed down and no longer had to look over his shoulder, but after a while, slowing down felt like a death sentence. A long, slow, agonising one and maybe she’d known that.

He’d tried to fight it. He really had. Tried to ignore the nagging feeling that something wasn’t right. But no matter how much he’d tried to be what Franny had wanted him to be, he just couldn’t do it. How could he? After all, he was Alfie Jennings, the boy from the East End, where poverty had lingered in the air and a black eye came quicker than a cup of tea. The boy who’d spent much of his childhood waiting outside the various brothels in Soho for his alcoholic, bullying father to cop off with the endless toothless Toms. The boy whose friends were the pimps, gangsters, bouncers and club owners of Soho. The boy whose brother, Connor, had died on a robbery gone wrong. And the boy who’d wept as he’d held his dead mother’s hand all night when he’d found her in the outhouse, covered in blood, still clutching the shears she’d stabbed herself with after life had become too much. And it was those moments that had made the boy become a man.

He’d become driven, determined and ruthless. Deciding life owed him but he didn’t owe anything to life. He hadn’t cared who he’d hurt; eliminating anyone who’d got in the way of him achieving his goal – to become one of the untouchables. A face. Someone no one could hurt again.

And that’s how he’d lived, and he’d been happy. But then he’d met Franny and all that changed. He’d done what he vowed he’d never do. He’d fallen in love. Given it all up and moved away.

It was perfect, or it had been until happy became restless, so when Reggie Reynolds had got in touch he’d jumped at it, arranging to come back to England to get back in the game as soon as he could. He loved the life he was born into. It was part of who he was. But in all that time, he realised he’d never asked Franny how she felt. Never asked her if it was okay with her if they came back. So maybe, just maybe, this was her way of payback. Two million pounds’ worth of payback. Oh yes, Franny Doyle had a lot to answer for.

Angry at the thought of her, he clenched his fist, before leaning in to kiss Lola on her cheek. ‘I’m where I need to be, but I need to tell you something about the money, and you need to swear you won’t tell the others.’

7

Surrounded by marshes and wide-open wheat fields near the grassy sea wall just outside Bradwell on the Dengie Peninsula of East Essex, Eddie Styler spat the last bit of curried chicken out of the car window, landing it at the feet of Johnny and Ma Dwyer.

He picked out the piece of cardamom pod stuck in his back tooth as he got out of his hired Porsche Cayenne. It was important to keep up appearances. He no longer had Reginald’s men to stand behind, and word was slowly getting out that he’d lost it, that he was no longer a name to be reckoned with. But he had to put up a front. He needed to pull off this deal no matter what. And Ma and Johnny were the perfect people to do it.

Hobbling across to the pair – the skin on the back of his feet had been rubbed off by his new Gucci loafers – Eddie looked at his watch. They were late. And late in his books equated to a lack of respect.

Eddie stared at Ma and Johnny, his squat rounded body dwarfed by Johnny’s tall frame and Ma’s wide girth. He enjoyed seeing the unease in their eyes. The fear which for the past few years had come hand in hand with his name. If only Sandra looked at him like that, but the only thing he ever saw in her eyes was contempt.

Pulling his thoughts away from his wife, Eddie channelled his secret humiliation and snarled at the pair, realising that neither of them knew that he no longer had any of Reginald’s men at his beck and call. ‘What the fuck time do you call this?’

Johnny shrugged apologetically. ‘I’m sorry. I had a few domestic matters to sort out. You know how it is.’

‘No, I don’t, but what I do know is you’re mugging me off. And I don’t like it at all. Makes me think I can’t rely on you and that makes me very nervous.’

Ma Dwyer piped up. She and Eddie went back a long way, and of all people he should know better than to think that. ‘Look, ain’t no one mugging anyone off. Johnny ain’t like that, you know he’s trustworthy. He’s never let you down. If you’ve got a problem, talk to me.’

Eddie, having never liked Ma Dwyer for all the time he’d known her, nor liked the influence she had on Johnny, raised his voice. ‘When I want your fucking opinion, Ma, then shoot me, cos when things become that desperate, I know it’s over. But until that time, keep your mouth closed … The only thing I want to hear is that everything is ready. I don’t want any fuck-ups, cos if there are, I warn you Johnny, it’ll be your head along with your Ma’s which’ll be floating out to sea for the gulls to wax off.’

Smarting slightly, Johnny nodded. ‘Everything’s in order. Ain’t nothing to worry about … but Eddie, and I don’t mean any disrespect by this, but we were wondering when we were going to get our money, or at least part of it anyway. You know it’s usually fifty per cent up front.’

Walking back to his car and feeling the chill of the sea air, Eddie stopped. Fuck. He’d hoped he might’ve got away without them asking. People asking questions was the last thing he needed. Then, deciding the best form of defence was attack, Eddie swivelled round, pointing his chubby finger at them as he padded towards them, putting Johnny in mind of a penguin.

‘What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Are you calling me cheap? You saying I ain’t good for it? Don’t forget who I am. Reggie might be dead and gone, but that don’t mean anything’s changed. You disrespect me, you disrespect all of Reginald’s men. One word from me and they’ll have you for fucking breakfast.’

Johnny put his hands up. ‘Like I say Eddie, ain’t no disrespect meant. It’s just that …’

The sound of Eddie flicking out a retractable metal baton stopped Johnny saying another word. Even he knew when it was wise to leave it.

8

Bree Dwyer reached out her hand for Kieran as she crouched on the ground. She was sore, and the bruises on her body and face had mottled her skin, turning from red to blue. ‘Come on Kieran, you can’t sit there all day … Please, darlin’, come out.’

She smiled sadly as he sat under the bush, scowling and refusing to move.

‘Why don’t you come inside with me. We can make a cake. Watch some TV. What about playing with your sister. Molly would like that. Anything you want to do, but please come out.’

Looking at her coldly, Kieran kicked at the dusty ground with his feet. ‘Dad said you tried to leave. He said you didn’t care about us anymore.’

Bree felt the anger towards Johnny swell up inside her but she spoke warmly to Kieran.

‘What? No! Sweetheart, you know I love you.’

Kieran’s face screwed up in fury. ‘No, you don’t … You’re a bitch! I hate you!’

‘Please, don’t say that. Listen to me darlin’, I …’

‘Kieran! Kieran!’ Ma Dwyer’s shrill voice came from inside the mobile home, carrying across the length of the site. ‘Kieran! Where are you?’

‘I’m coming!’

Scampering out from underneath the bush as quick as his legs would allow, Bree watched as Kieran ran without bothering to look back.

Feeling the hard ground on her knees and the heaviness in her heart, she sighed, sadness overwhelming her.

About to get up, Bree caught a glimpse of something under the bush. Glancing behind her and making sure no one was around, she reached over, stretching out her arm and scraping the skin on her elbow as it caught on a small, sharp twig.

She grabbed hold of the object, pulling it towards her, and was surprised to see it was Kieran’s grey duffle bag. Quickly zipping it open, Bree frowned. Her thoughts raced back to Kieran as she stared at Molly’s favourite toy giraffe, shredded and cut up into tiny pieces with a razor blade lying in what remained of the stuffing.

Confused, Bree rummaged some more. At the bottom was a rolled-up blue plastic carrier. She pulled it out, feeling something hard inside it. Immediately she placed it on the ground, taking another cautious glance around before unwrapping the bag.

A tiny yelp escaped from her lips. She stared in horror, feeling a sudden chill. Inside the bag were bones. Small little bones looking like skeletal remains. Bones wrapped up in a dirty knitted shawl that looked like it belonged to a tiny baby.

9

Janine Jennings, dressed in a luminous pink velvet tracksuit, drowned out the sound of the Jacuzzi bubbling away in the corner as she snored loudly on the cream lounger by the side of the blue tiled indoor pool.

Vaughn, lying next to her, stared up at the glass retractable roof. He sighed, irritated. ‘Turn it in darlin’, you sound like a bleedin’ billy goat … Janine! Janine!’

Not getting a response, and resisting the temptation to poke her hard, Vaughn stood up, walking across to the French doors which looked out over the garden and terrace and onto the wide-open countryside beyond, surrounding the village of Wimbish. He watched the sun shining down on the sandstone paving as he thought about Casey.

He missed her. Waking up to her. Joking with her. Confiding in her. She was his best friend. Though ironically, when they’d got together, he hadn’t known if it was even going to last more than a day. She had her demons, drinking to blot out her pain and he had a problem with getting close to anyone at all.

But somehow, they’d made it work, and they’d built their relationship on love and trust, which meant no lies. Ever. And although he wasn’t entirely sure if not telling Casey about selling his house right from under her nose constituted a lie rather than just an omission, within a week of her finding out she’d got up and left, telling him she needed space to think.

So, whatever happened, he needed this deal with Reenie Reynolds to go through as quickly and as smoothly as possible, so he could explain to Casey that although he was wrong not to tell her, it’d been worth it. That risking the home they shared together hadn’t been some reckless, fruitless venture, but security for their future, not to mention being able to get back to the life he’d missed.

But the problem was he couldn’t get out of his mind what Alfie had said. That Casey had just used this situation as an excuse to leave him. In fact, the thought wasn’t so much in his mind as eating him up inside.

‘Alright Vaughnie.’ Alfie, looking tense, strolled in from the main house. He stopped in front of Janine who now lay with her mouth wide open. He gave a wry smile. ‘I see sleeping beauty is getting her kip, waiting for her prince, but for fuck’s sake, don’t kiss her, I could do with Janine not waking up for a hundred years.’

‘I heard that, Alfred!’

‘Yeah, well, you need to hear this too …’ He stopped, wondering quite how to say it, quite how to make it sound as casual as possible.

Sitting up, Janine, her hair in large yellow Velcro rollers, scowled. ‘You look suspicious.’

Alfie stared at her. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, then quickly said, ‘There’s no easy way of saying this, so I’ll just come straight out with it … It doesn’t look like Franny’s coming back with the money.’

The scream from Janine was followed by a huge splash, as Vaughn ran over, catching Alfie hard on the chin with his fist before pushing him into the pool.

Spitting out a mouthful of water, Alfie yelled up at Vaughn, ‘I’ll sort it, okay?’

Standing above him on the side of the pool, Vaughn, his face twisted in anger, shouted back, ‘How? How the fuck are you going to get two bloody quid, let alone two million?’

Janine, struggling to push herself up from the sun lounger, butted in. ‘And what am I supposed to do? I rely on the money you give me and now we’ll all end up on the bleedin’ streets because of you!’

Pushing his hair away from his eyes, Alfie growled at Janine. ‘Just shut up, Janine, I’ll do a job, okay.’

Vaughn stared at Alfie. ‘A job? Are you having a laugh? Just the two of us?’

‘We can get a small crew then.’

‘Get real Alf, cos no matter how much we say please, ain’t nobody I know who’s going to work for us for nothing.’

‘Then we do it ourselves. I’ve already started putting me feelers out about …’

‘Hold up, so how long have you known about Franny and the money?’

‘Only a few days.’

Vaughn could hardly speak from rage. ‘And you’re only telling us now?’

‘Well I didn’t want to believe it, did I? I thought she’d come to her senses. I dunno, I thought she wouldn’t do this to me.’

‘Well she did and it’s not just you, is it? It was two million fucking pounds of my money as well!’

‘I know, and that’s why I tried to line up a job to sort this shit out. I thought if we could give Reenie a down payment—’

Vaughn interrupted. ‘A down payment! We ain’t buying a bleedin’ car you know!’

‘Look, I ain’t giving up without a fight. If this job comes off it’s a start … We’ll be jacking some coke from a lorry. It’s not great, but it’s better than nothing.’

Vaughn let out a loud, rueful laugh. ‘Not great? It’s a mug’s game! I never came back to England to start sticking people up and maybe getting a bullet in me head.’

‘But it’s money Vaughn, and that’s what we need. And nobody is going to get a bullet in their head. We can do this. I know we can. Look at us. This is me, Alfie Jennings, once Soho’s number one face, and fuck me, you’re Vaughn Sadler, the Vaughn Sadler. Come on pal, don’t look like that!’

‘You turned us over again! I came back home to take over a multi-million-pound business, a future for me and Casey, and you’ve messed that up.’

Angry himself now, Alfie shouted, ‘You need to knock that idea out of your head. Your bird’s well and truly flitted.’

‘You bastard!’

Seething, Vaughn jumped into the pool, grabbing hold of Alfie and pushing him under the water, holding him down as Alfie splashed his arms about trying to come up for air.

‘I’m going to kill you! I’m going to fucking kill you, Alf!’

Lola, who’d just walked into the pool house, yelled as she ran over, kneeling down at the side of the swimming pool. She swung at Vaughn’s back, hitting him hard. ‘Vaughnie, leave him alone! Let go! You’re going to drown him! It ain’t his fault! Stop!’

Vaughn swivelled round, glaring with contempt at Lola. ‘You knew? You were in on it?’

‘I weren’t in on anything, but yes, I knew.’

‘By heck, this is cosy, I’m missing out. Pool parties during the day, this is what they must mean about swinging in the suburbs.’ Lloyd Page’s voice boomed out as he stood laughing behind Lola.

Standing chest-deep in the pool with a gasping, red-faced Alfie next to him, Vaughn’s expression was a picture of puzzlement and anger. ‘What the fuck is he doing here?’

‘I let him in,’ Lola muttered, looking upset.

‘I can see that, but I want to know why.’

‘Hello to you too, Vaughn, always a pleasure, though I take it Alfie hasn’t told you about our arrangement … about the job he begged me to give him.’

10

‘What is this?’

Accusingly, Sandra stood in the hallway as Eddie opened the front door. Her tall, skinny body wrapped up in double layer of cream knitwear and jeans.

‘Well go on then Eddie, I’m waiting. What have you got to say for yourself? What you playing at?’

Carefully, Eddie eased off his Gucci loafers attempting to avoid aggravating the painful blisters any more than he had to. He stared at Sandra, hating her as she held up the budget brand tin of cat food in her hand.

‘They didn’t have any Kitty-Kat, so I thought he’d like that.’

‘How many bleedin’ times have I told you, Barrie don’t eat this. If I told you that you were having a bit of steak for tea and instead I put a turd on your plate, how would you like it?’

‘It ain’t quite the same, Sandra, and besides, he’s only a cat.’

With an overhead shot, Sandra threw the tin of cat food at Eddie. ‘Oh, is that how it is now.’

The tin, narrowly missing Eddie’s head, smashed into the wall, leaving a large dent in the newly painted porch. He scrambled up, attempting a smile.

‘Pumpkin I’m sorry, I’ll go and get Barrie some food …’

The sound of smashing glass stopped Eddie finishing off his sentence. A loud voice came from outside.

‘Eddie! Eddie! We know you’re in there. We just want a word. Come on Eddie, open up!’

Eddie’s face paled. He whispered to Sandra, ‘Don’t open the door. Come on, hurry up, let’s go out the back.’

Not waiting for Sandra’s reply, Eddie grabbed hold of her arm, pulling her along with him towards the kitchen.

He froze. His stomach lurching.

‘Hello, Eddie. Going somewhere?’

Jason Robinson, one of the Costa del Sol’s biggest faces stood in front of him, all six foot ten of muscle. His tanned, highly polished head shone proudly under the ceiling spots. ‘I’m disappointed in you, Eddie. You don’t come and see me. You don’t answer me calls. So what am I to think, eh? Especially as you owe me some money.’

Sandra shot Eddie a look.

Jason walked forward, grinning a set of perfectly veneered teeth at her. ‘Oh, hasn’t he told you darlin’? Your old man owes one hell of a lot of money. You see, he liked to run up large tabs at my casinos, he also liked not to pay his bills, giving it large about Reginald Reynolds and what Reggie’s men would do to us. He even got Reginald’s men to put a couple of my employees in hospital to show that he meant business, didn’t you Eddie? The thing is, there aren’t any apron skirts to hide under anymore. Reginald’s pushing up the daisies and his men don’t give a fuck about you Ed, which leaves you with a major problem – me.’

Eddie stuttered his words. ‘Okay … okay, listen, Jason, I’m good for it, or I will be. Just give me a couple of days and you’ll see your money and then some.’

‘Thing is, I don’t believe you. And I did a bit of digging, seems like it ain’t just me you owe money to. Seems like you ran up hundreds of thousands in Reggie’s name, so it makes me think I won’t get me money back.’

Eddie suddenly made a dash for the back door, but not before he felt a hot pain at the back of his head followed by the warmth of his own blood trickling down his neck as one of Jason’s men struck him with a small steel baton.

The punches ensued, raining down on Eddie, pummelling him hard in the stomach, until he collapsed on the floor and noisily began to cough up blood, watched emotionlessly by Sandra.

Bending over Eddie, Jason pulled out his lighter. Flicking it on and off. ‘A little bit of a reminder Eddie, don’t fuck with me, son. You’re on your own now and I’ll be back very soon, and you better have me money, otherwise you and this house, along with your missus, will be going up in a ball of flames.’

11

‘What’s wrong with you? Can you just shut the hell up?’ Johnny Dwyer snarled at his brother as he sat on the couch in the living room of Ma’s mobile home. He rubbed his head.

‘Come on Ryan, what’s with the tears? You’re doing me head in.’

Sobbing noisily into his hands, Ryan’s whole body shook. ‘Can’t find them. Can’t find them.’

‘What can’t you find?’

‘Can’t find them.’

Leaping up, Johnny roughly pulled his brother’s hands away from his face. ‘Jesus Christ, Ryan, stop crying and just tell me.’

Ryan looked up, blinking away his tears. ‘Yeah? Tell Johnny?’

‘Yeah. I’m your brother, ain’t I? You don’t keep secrets from Johnny, unless you want to be in trouble. You wanna be in trouble?’

Panicked, Ryan shook his head. ‘… the kittens. Kittens have gone.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘My kittens ain’t there.’

Pressing his temples to try to stop his headache, Johnny snapped. ‘Then I’ll get you some more, just stop fucking crying.’

‘Don’t want more. Want my kittens.’

Ryan burst into tears again, which sent Johnny rushing back over to where his brother sat. He grabbed Ryan by his tracksuit top, dragging him up off the sofa and pulling him across to the mirror. He yelled, the veins on his temples, bulging out. ‘Look! Look! Look at you, Ryan! What do you see?’

Johnny and Ryan both stared into the mirror. Where one stopped the other one began. Even Johnny couldn’t see any differences. So startlingly similar. The same piercing blue eyes. The same thick, dark hair and the same handsome, chiselled face. But as Ryan cried, Johnny snarled and suddenly the difference appeared; the cold, hard cruelty in Johnny’s eyes.

‘I’ll tell you, shall I, Ryan? I’ll tell you what I see. I see a baby and not a grown man! That’s what you are Ryan, a baby!’

Ryan continued to sob as Johnny held and shook the back of his brother’s neck as he talked.

‘What did Ma always say to us? What did she say?’

‘No crying. No crying.’

‘That’s right, because we’re the Dwyer boys. We should never cry, and if one cries, Ma will make sure both of us cry, and after what you were going to do to me, I ain’t never going to cry for you no more.’

12

Wrapped up in a thick towelling dressing gown with his hair still wet, Vaughn Sadler stared with loathing at Lloyd Page who sat opposite him at Janine’s white kitchen table. He’d never liked the man in all the years he’d known him. He was a flash conman who happily served up heroin to kids, and certainly not someone he wanted to have dealings with. But it was beginning to dawn on him that Alfie and Franny might have given him no choice. And every fibre in his body hated them both for putting him in this position.

‘By heck Lola, that was some bacon sarnie, lass. Fancy coming round my gaff to be my cook.’

Lola grinned a gummy smile, basking in praise as she scraped the burnt remnants off the large frying pan. Like a schoolgirl, she giggled. ‘There’s more where that came from.’

‘I shouldn’t. But what the heck … Pile it on cocker, but I’m telling you Lola, if I cack me pants, I’m blaming you.’

This remark was followed by hooting laughter, which only served to further irritate Vaughn. The man was a prize prick.

Banging his fist hard on the table, Vaughn snapped at Lola. ‘When you’ve quite finished playing The Great British Bake Off, I’d appreciate it if I could talk to Lloyd in private.’

Lloyd glared at Vaughn. ‘Hold up, sunshine, there’s no need to talk to the lady like that. I think an apology is in order.’

Lola, feeling the tension between the two men, tried to placate. ‘Oh, don’t worry about it Lloyd, I’m not offended. I’ve known Vaughnie too long to get upset about him giving me the alligator. I’m used to him snapping. I take no notice.’

Lloyd Page’s blue eyes narrowed as his jaw visibly pulsated. He cracked his gold-sovereign-covered fingers as he leant forward, narrowly missing putting his elbow in the remains of the underdone fried egg. ‘You might not be offended pet, but that don’t mean I’m not. Manners maketh man in my book, so unless you apologise to Lola now, believe me Vaughn, it won’t be chuffing manners which’ll maketh you, it’ll be me.’

Vaughn leapt up, sending the dishes crashing everywhere. He grabbed hold of Lloyd’s black silk shirt, hearing it rip as he bellowed over the table, his rugged handsome face screwed up in anger as his thick silver hair flopped over his eyes. ‘Don’t come in my fucking house and try to give out orders.’

With a supercilious smile, Lloyd spoke dangerously evenly, not raising his voice at all.

‘But this ain’t your house, is it? From what I understand, you and Alf are a bit desperate at the moment, aren’t you? You should’ve seen the way he was begging me. It was shameful really.’

Still holding onto Lloyd’s shirt, Vaughn hissed in his face. ‘Alfie would never beg the likes of you.’

Lloyd’s tone was quietly menacing. ‘Are you sure about that? Desperate people do desperate things and I don’t think you’d want that getting out, otherwise people will be wondering how exactly you and Alf are going to take over Reggie Reynolds’ business … So that’s why you should be nice to me. You need me, Vaughn. So let’s start with you taking your hands off me, shall we?’

As Vaughn opened his mouth to tell Lloyd exactly what he thought of him, the kitchen door flung open.

The sight of Vaughn holding onto Lloyd stopped both Alfie and Janine in their tracks, but it was Janine who ran forward first, swiping Vaughn hard across his muscular back.

‘What the bleedin’ hell do you think you’re playing at? Let him go! We need him! Vaughn!’

Lloyd winked. ‘You best do what the lady says. At least someone has a bit of sense round here, eh Janine.’

Vaughn glared at Alfie, who was now dry from his dip in the pool and with fury running through him like the North winds. ‘You need to start talking, Alf. Otherwise I’m going to put him in the ground,’ he growled.

‘Look, Janine’s right, we do need him. This job I was talking about earlier, it was from Lloyd. We could do his job.’

Vaughn shook his head vehemently. ‘Oh no. No fucking way. I will not have anything to do with this fucking snake.’

Janine, munching on a king-size Mars bar, spoke angrily. ‘This ain’t the time to get choosy. Thanks to bleedin’ Alfie, it looks like you might not have a choice.’

Lloyd shrugged his shoulders in amusement. ‘That’s exactly what I tried to tell him, Jan.’

Going for a head-butt, Vaughn lurched forward but was pulled back by Alfie as Janine squawked shrilly at him in the background. ‘Vaughn, you ain’t listening, just swallow yer pride for once, like all of us have to.’

Dropping hold of Lloyd, Vaughn raged. His face taking on several different shades of red. ‘Alfie, you need to sort your missus out. Shut her up!’

Alfie, just as furious with Janine as Vaughn was, roared. He pointed at her, incensed. ‘Ex-missus! And believe me, over the years I’ve tried to get her to put a sock in it, but she ain’t stopped rabbiting from when I met her till now. My head’s done in! But she’s right, if we want to salvage this, we need to do this job.’ He stopped to glare at Lloyd, trying to calm down.

13

‘Give me a kiss then.’

Bree blushed, stifling a giggle. ‘And if I say no?’

‘Then I’ll love you anyway.’

Chewing her lip, Bree thought for a moment before standing on her tiptoes, quickly landing a large, gentle kiss. ‘There, happy now?’

‘Won’t be happy until you marry me, and don’t say we’re too young, say yes.’

Bree laughed but the sound of a door opening stopped her saying anything.

‘You better go, Bree. She won’t be happy if she finds you here.’

‘I hate this.’

‘I know, but once she gets to know you, she’ll love you … just like I do. It’ll take time, that’s all. Just give her a chance.’

‘I don’t think she’ll ever like me.’

‘She will. I promise. Now go on, get out of here … I’ll see you tomorrow.’

She waved goodbye, running happily towards her push bike, which she’d hidden in the bracken down by the stream. An overwhelming sense of joy came over her, something she’d never experienced before and something she’d certainly never had in her miserable childhood spent being passed from one foster home to another.

Humming quietly to herself, Bree’s thoughts came to an abrupt halt. Puzzled, she looked around. Damn, it wasn’t there. She must have left it further down the hill. The whole of the woods all looked the same.

She sighed, annoyed with herself for being so stupid, and quickly headed for the winding, muddy path. Although it was dusk, the track and the woods were still quite visible, but as she continued to walk, the darkness began to fall and the shadows of the trees twisted and distorted into monstrous shapes as the branches chattered and whispered in the autumn winds. She shivered.

A noise.

Another.

And Bree let out a scream as she spun round. ‘Oh my god, you gave me a fright … Are you alright?’

There in the darkness was Ma. Her bulbous figure standing motionless. Her stare, narrow and cold.

‘I warned you, Bree. I told you what would happen. You should’ve listened. But little bitches like you never do.’

Slowly, Bree began to back away as the wind picked up, then she started to run, heading into the dark of the woods.

It felt to Bree she was going around in circles. All the trees looked alike and all the paths seemed to be the same. Suddenly her foot caught on an ivy root, sending her forward, plunging her head first into the wet moss and mud. With her hands stinging from trying to break her fall and the rough earth digging into her skin, Bree desperately tried to keep quiet as she crawled along on her hands and knees.

A branch snapped beneath her leg, the sound resonating through the woods, and within seconds Ma Dwyer reappeared, pushing her body forcefully through the dense scrub to get to Bree, her hand reaching and grappling in the dark.

Bree began to scramble up but the mud was too wet and she found herself slipping. She turned to see Ma closing in on her, a maniacal look on her face, eyes wild and frenzied.

She screamed as she felt Ma grab her hair before she was flung backwards and dragged through the bushes. Her head felt like it was on fire, then a crippling pain exploded. Unbearable. Ripping through Bree’s eye as a small branch caught and tore into her lid. She could taste the blood trickling down her cheek and into her mouth as Ma continued to drag her along.

Out from under the trees, the moon high in the night sky, Ma stared at Bree, a nasty smile on her face. Then Ma’s fist came smashing down as her heavy body straddled Bree, banging her head against the ground.

‘You leave my son alone! You ain’t taking him from me. He’s mine!’

Her mouth full of blood, Bree gave a breathless, staggered reply. ‘I love him though! I love him!’

Ma let out a piercing, deafening scream. ‘You can’t love him, he ain’t yours to love! So, you shut your dirty mouth, you just shut your dirty mouth!’

Pushing herself upright, Ma raised her foot, ready to bring it down on Bree’s mouth.

‘Stop, Ma! Don’t!’

Ma turned to look at Johnny. ‘I won’t let her, Johnny. I won’t let her take anyone away from me.’

Johnny walked up to Ma, he spoke gently. ‘Don’t do it, Ma. Don’t hurt her. Bree ain’t done nothin’. She ain’t going to take no one away, is she?’

Ma looked down at Bree who was curled up in a ball. ‘Ain’t she?’

‘No, she ain’t … because nobody ever leaves Ma.’

14

‘How the fuck can you lose a lorry full of horses? Who does that?’ Eddie Styler raged, filling Johnny’s overheated Range Rover with his seething, uncontrollable anger as they sat overlooking the deserted beach at Sandy Point, Holland Haven. He was visibly shaking and he hadn’t slept one wink because every time he’d tried to close his eyes, Jason Robinson’s face flashed through his mind, though it certainly hadn’t helped that Sandra had insisted on grilling him like she was part of the secret police.

He hadn’t eaten either, partly due to the pain in his mouth which he’d sustained from the beating, but mainly because he felt sick. Sick at the idea that if he didn’t find the money to pay off the people he owed, he was a walking dead man. And not for the first time, he cursed the memory of Reginald Reynolds for leaving him with nothing after all his loyalty.

Ma sat at the back, her voice cold, a hint of amusement in it. ‘Eddie, you look terrible mate, are you sure you’re okay? You look like you need to see a quack.’

Hysteria coursed through Eddie. He screamed out his words as he bashed his fist on the dash over and over, in time with his words.

‘And … Why … Am … I … Not … Okay … Cos … Of … You … Two … Fucks.’

Ma Dwyer leant forward from the back, putting her hand on Eddie’s shoulder. ‘You better calm down before you do yourself a mischief. Not only that, but you better be careful how you talk to us.’

Scrambling in his pocket, Eddie pulled out a small gun, his hand trembling as he attempted to point it at Johnny and Ma. His face going purple with fury. ‘Have you forgotten who I am? Have you forgotten who you’re talking to?’

Ma looked at him evenly, a small smile pulling at her lips. ‘Oh no, Eddie, I know exactly who I’m talking to, but right now I just don’t care.’

The gun shook in his hand as he spoke. ‘You think this is a joke? Do you realise what you’ve done to me? Do you know what I had riding on this? You need to find my fucking lorry, cos when they come looking for me, I’ll be sending them right to your door, Ma.’

‘You ain’t doing yourself any favours, so just put the gun down, Eddie.’

‘And why should I do that? You turned me right over. Tell me Ma, were you in on it?’

She laughed nastily. ‘In on what?’

Exploding again and slurring his words from the copious amounts of whiskey he’d consumed, Eddie looked on the verge of tears. ‘On taking everything I had left in the world!’

With ease, Ma flicked the gun out of Eddie’s hand. ‘And that’s the big problem, ain’t it Eddie? You see I’ve been speaking to a couple of Reginald Reynolds’ men, and they told me none of them are working for you anymore. Not only that, but they told me how much you liked to run up debts in Reggie’s name. But now the fella’s brown bread, you are out on your own and people want their money, and you ain’t got it, have you? Which means you ain’t got our money either. We want our money, Eddie.’

Eddie went into his pocket, pulling out a flick knife. ‘What? Are you trying to mug me off? Your men lost me fucking lorry, so I ain’t paying you nothing.’

Johnny sneered at him. ‘That’s not how it works, and you know it. We still did the job. My men still brought the lorry across the Channel. There were still risks for us. We never did anything wrong on our end, and even before this happened, you were never straight with us.’

‘What am I, a fucking spirit level? I told you what you needed to know.’

Ma leant over the car seat again to squeeze Eddie’s shoulder, slightly too hard for his liking. ‘No, Eddie, you didn’t. You never told us you didn’t have any money. But now we’re telling you what you need to know. If we don’t get our money, Johnny here won’t be held responsible for his actions. Seventy-two hours Edward, and after that, those seagulls need to be fed.’

‘Alfie, you need to come and look at this.’

Alfie threw down the mucking out fork. ‘Janine, whatever it is you’ve got to say, got to show me or bleedin’ got to moan about, I don’t want to know. We have been shovelling shit for the past few hours, and we have not found one bag of coke, yet who knew that a dozen or so horses could shit so much, so to say I ain’t in the mood, is to put it fucking lightly.’

‘Suit yourself.’

‘What is that supposed to mean?’

‘It means, suit yourself.’

Furious, Alfie spun round to look at her, the usually perfectly coiffed hair flopping over her face in a sweaty, hot mess.

‘Fine, go on then. You win, Janine. Spit it out, tell me exactly what it is you have to say.’

Janine Jennings hid the biggest smile. ‘I think you might like it.’

Alfie let out a roar. ‘Just tell me!’

‘See it for yourself.’ Janine held up a small, clear plastic grip bag covered in steaming manure.

Alfie grinned. ‘You found the coke.’

‘No Alf, I ain’t. I found the diamonds.’

‘What? What are you talking about woman?’

‘Diamonds, Alfred. Lots and lots of shiny diamonds.’

Lola and Janine sat at the table opposite Vaughn and Alfie in the lavishly gold decorated dining room of Janine’s house. In the middle of the table sat several empty Chinese takeaway cartons along with a pile of small yet perfectly cut diamonds.

‘Do you think he knows?’

Drawing his eyes away from the table, Alfie glanced at Vaughn. ‘You mean Lloyd?’

‘Yeah. Do you reckon he knew it wasn’t coke, and just thought it was best to keep schtum?’

Picking out the last piece of chow mein from the side of one of the foil cartons, Alfie raised his eyebrows. ‘But why? He only offered us the gig because he had to and let’s face it, we would’ve taken anything.’

‘Maybe, but he didn’t know that.’

‘Come off it Vaughnie, we were desperate. He smelled it the minute I went to see him. I nearly begged the geezer. Nearly.’

‘So why not just be upfront with us?’

Alfie, still hungry, leaned across to Janine’s plate to pinch one of her pork balls. Managing to come away with only a hard slap to his hand, he pulled a face. ‘Cos there’s a big difference in jacking a lorry of coke and jacking a lorry of diamonds. Perhaps when I came along he was already looking for a couple of mugs who’d be willing to take the risk, but at the same time someone who’d do the job properly. And hey presto, we come along and don’t we just fit the bill.’

Vaughn nodded slowly as he thought about Lloyd. The geezer might be a prick, but he was a shrewd one. Nobody with any sense would agree to jack a lorry of diamonds on their own turf, it just wasn’t worth it, and Lloyd had known that, but as Alf had said, they’d been desperate and hadn’t bothered asking too many questions. They’d been slack. Too eager to get the money for Reenie Reynolds. To Lloyd it must’ve looked like they were a pair of puppy dogs begging for a fucking walk.

‘Get him on the phone, now! Tell him we want him to come around for a little chat. Let’s see what he has to say.’

Alfie looked at Vaughn dubiously. ‘You sure about this?’

‘No, Alf, I’m not, but what I am sure about is that nobody takes me for a mug.’

15

‘So what are you telling me?’ Lloyd Page stood with his henchmen in the well-manicured garden of Janine’s mansion as Alf sat next to Vaughn on the chocolate rattan garden chair.

‘Why don’t you just come and sit down.’

‘No ta, Alf. I prefer to stand. Make you nervous, does it?’

Alfie gave a cold laugh. ‘Why would it? I was just being polite to me elders, age catches up on us all, thought you’d fancy a pew. You know, rest yer bones.’

With his broad Yorkshire accent dangerously icy, Lloyd held Alfie’s stare. ‘I’ll wait till I’m dead and buried for that. Like to keep on me toes personally, Alf. Never know when you might have to do a runner … Anyhows, as nice as this chat is, let’s get down to the nitty-gritty, shall we? I’m still in the dark here. Why the urgent phone call?’

Vaughn glanced at Alfie. Even though they had the threat of the Peterson brothers to hang over Lloyd’s head, he would’ve felt so much better if Lloyd hadn’t brought his goons. But they’d come up against worse. Much worse. And like Alf had said, when they put their minds to it, they were still a force to be reckoned with.

Alfie was still on a buzz from jacking the lorry, he got that, but what he didn’t get was how he could be so calm about Franny. Even the name wound him up. He could feel the anger towards her running around his body. The woman had turned them over and the truth was, although he was pissed with Alfie, he hadn’t seen it coming either.

He’d known Franny and her father, Patrick Doyle, for many years, and he would’ve put his last pound on the fact that she wouldn’t have ripped him off. Problem was she took his last pound anyway. And it was like a razor blade slicing at his skin. She’d fucked it up big time for them, and they needed to salvage the situation before it was too late.

‘Christ!’ All eyes turned to look at Vaughn, who had without thinking, slammed down his fist on the table, knocking over the milky tea Lola had made him earlier, sending it flying.

Lloyd scanned him darkly. ‘Problem?’

‘No, mate. Just a pesky insect.’

‘You often do that?’

Vaughn glanced around, seeing the broken teacup on the floor. He shrugged his shoulders. ‘What can I say? I hate flies.’

Silence fell and the only noise was the distant hum of the cars on the bypass.

Lloyd pushed again. ‘So, come on then? What have you got for me?’

Vaughn, directing his anger at him, snapped, ‘That’s the fucking thing. We ain’t got anything for you. There wasn’t anything in the truck.’

Lloyd twisted round to look at his men, then opened his arms wide to stare at Alfie before crouching down to Vaughn’s eye level and very carefully said, ‘You better be fucking kidding me. I might’ve given you a squeeze by letting you have that job, but I was still going to get my cut, so don’t think you can treat me like a mug.’

Smelling the cologne Lloyd was wearing, Vaughn curled up his nose. ‘Thing is Lloyd, I’m not, and unless this was your idea of a sick joke, I want to know why, when we put our necks on the line, you didn’t check your source properly that his information was correct. You should’ve known the only thing those horses were filled with was shit. Have you any idea how many pieces of fucking crap we went through?’

Lloyd’s eyes darted everywhere. Agitated, he wagged his finger. ‘No, this can’t be right. You’re telling me you found nothing?’

‘Exactly.’

Kicking one of the rattan chairs over, Lloyd raised his voice. ‘That’s bullshit!’

‘No Lloyd, horseshit. Lots and lots of horseshit and not much else.’

Panting, Lloyd eyeballed Vaughn and Alfie. ‘I don’t believe you.’

‘What don’t you believe?’

Lloyd bellowed, his voice becoming an octave higher as he screamed, red-faced at Vaughn. ‘That the tooth fairy is real … What the fuck do you think I mean?’

Evenly, Vaughn said, ‘Just checking.’

Lloyd took a swing at Vaughn before diving on him, tipping him backwards on the chair. Both men went down, but it was Vaughn who scrambled up first, wiping the blood off his face.

He raged at Lloyd. ‘I’m telling you the truth! There was no coke! It’s screwed us up as well. We were banking on being able to knock that out and get some money behind us. It ain’t just you who’s agged about it. Think how we feel. You ain’t really lost nothin’, but we have got a lot riding on it.’

Lloyd listened. Watched. And then slowly said, ‘You’re being straight up, aren’t you?’

With his hands resting on his knees, and bending forward, Vaughn turned his head to look at Lloyd. ‘Too right I am.’

‘And what about the horses?’

‘As arranged, dumped off at the sanctuary.’

‘And you checked properly? The sanctuary won’t suddenly find themselves knee-deep in bags of nose candy?’

‘I swear on all that is precious Lloyd, there wasn’t any coke.’

Alfie cut in. ‘But maybe you knew that Lloyd, maybe you thought the lorry was transporting something else.’

As Lloyd stared at Alfie, Vaughn studied him closely, watching the genuine look of curiosity spread across his face. ‘Like what, Alf?’

Alfie shrugged. ‘You tell us.’

Bewilderment furrowed Lloyd’s forehead. ‘What the fuck are you on about?’

Vaughn glanced at Alfie, but spoke to Lloyd. ‘Nothing, mate. We’re all a bit pissed off, but I guess we’ll just have to put this one down as the one that got away.’

16

Wednesday turned into Thursday and Bree Dwyer found herself hurriedly pushing the trolley round the small supermarket in Saffron Walden. She was trying to push the unease away, trying to forget what she saw in Kieran’s bag, whilst praying that the tribute band recording of Cliff Richard’s greatest hits – which was on a loop and being played throughout the store – would stop.

She checked her watch. The fourth time in less than five minutes. If she didn’t get a move on the shopping list would go out the window, and she’d have to abandon the packets of crisps, burgers and iced gems, like she so often did.

Time was always her enemy. An hour and a half. That’s all she had. All Johnny had given her. His present to her. Her time limit. To drive, to park, to get everything she needed, but every breath, every turn, robbed her of time.

Inanimate objects stealing those precious seconds: her purse to find the change for the carpark meter; her trainer lace needing to be tied. But she’d learnt the hard way. Over time. Throughout many beatings. She’d learnt that preparation was the key.

And so everything she did was calculated to the minute with military precision. Before she set off the money was already sorted in the glove compartment. The trainers replaced with slip-on shoes. It didn’t matter if there were roadworks or traffic, because it was her job to get back. Because that was the only way. Fail to prepare, prepare to … well, she didn’t like to think of it, to think about one of Johnny’s lessons he liked to teach her.

She sighed, the grimness of the place exacerbating the sense of emptiness she felt. The half-stacked shelves. The empty aisles save an intoxicated old man. The bargain bins of processed own-brand tins. It wasn’t her choice to come here, she would’ve rather gone to the new shopping centre further down the road, but that was at least another fifteen minutes. And that wasn’t even an option.

Oh God, how she longed to run. To throw down the spaghetti hoops and run to the car. To keep on driving. Past the petrol station, past the lay-by, past the roundabout and just keep on going. But she knew. Johnny knew. She wasn’t going anywhere. Not on her own. Not now. Not ever. So however tempting it was to get back in the car and never look back, she always did. She always looked back and she always returned home.

Bree glanced down at her watch again. It was getting late. She was annoyed with herself. Thinking had slowed her down, and now the line at the checkout had three people in it.

Deciding to leave the washing-up liquid, which was over in the next aisle, Bree rushed over to the till, behind the drunken man, behind a pregnant woman whose basket was filled with discount vodka and Cherryade.

Watching as the checkout man – Steve, according to his name badge – chewed and blew bubbles whilst trying but failing to get a packet of porridge oats to scan, Bree pushed down the sense of panic.

Indifferent to the rising impatience of the queuing customers, Steve excruciatingly slowly picked up a grey phone which was partly hidden under the five-pence bags. He spoke into it. His voice crackling over the store’s speakers cut into a Grazioso version of ‘The Young Ones’. ‘Anyone got a price for this?’

Lacking any sign of enthusiasm, Steve waved the porridge oats in the air, resting his arm in his other hand as he did so.

A woman with thinning grey hair, wearing a nylon blue-checked tabard, shuffled towards the till. Speaking with a lisp owing to missing her top teeth, she sniffed, asking, ‘Price for what?’

‘These.’

She nodded, taking the packets of oats, and shuffled away as slowly as Steve had picked up the phone.

Bree, seeing that this could take some time, spoke warmly. ‘Hi, I’m in a rush and I’m just wondering if there was someone else here who could go on the other till.’

Blowing another bubble, Steve, with cutting derision, stared at Bree. ‘I don’t know, let’s see, shall we?’ His voice dripped with sarcasm.

Steve then proceeded to get up from his swivel chair and search under the counter, before reappearing to lift up the leaflets and plastic bags on the side. He turned back to Bree, coldly. ‘Doesn’t look like they’re there.’

‘Please, I’m in a real hurry.’

‘Look, darlin’. Everyone’s in a rush, but it ain’t everyone who’s chewing me off about it. Only you.’

‘Don’t speak to her like that.’

Steve stared aggressively. ‘What’s it to do with you, mate?’

Alfie Jennings grinned as he stepped forward from behind Bree. ‘Nothing, not a damn fucking thing, but unfortunately for you mate, I’ve made it my business. Problem with that … Steve?’

And as Steve gulped hard, unwittingly swallowing his chewing gum, he turned red before only managing a quiet voice to simply say, ‘No.’

Alfie stood in the supermarket’s tree-lined carpark in Saffron Walden – a medieval market town located in northwest Essex – listening but not really concentrating on the gratitude the woman was offering him. For a start, she was a sort. A proper sort. Soft pale skin, long tumbling waves, slim yet a curvaceous body … Oh shit. He had to stop. He was getting a boner. Not a good look in the first five minutes of speaking to her. But Christ, it’d been a while since he’d made love to a woman.

Before he’d left Spain, he hadn’t seen Franny properly for at least three weeks whilst he and Vaughn got the last lot of the money together, and then when he had seen her it’d been for less than five minutes when he’d just handed the money over to her. Shit! He suddenly felt the anger rise up in him. Franny was the absolute last person he wanted to think about now. It hurt like hell. Not that he’d let on to the others how angry, how gutted he was with her, because if he did, he knew he’d end up winding himself up and no doubt arguing with Vaughn and Janine about it even more, and that was the last thing he needed.

The other reason he found himself not being able to concentrate on what this woman was saying, was the fact it’d just dawned on him that this was the woman he’d seen in the woods, looking terrified, looking like she was trying to get away – though it still hadn’t come back to him how else he knew her.

‘… so anyway, thank you so much.’

‘Sorry?’ Alfie shook himself out of his thoughts.

‘Just thank you, I’m really grateful. Anyway, I’ve really got to go.’

Carrying her shopping, Bree began to jog towards her car.

A sudden thought hit Alfie. Pounding his being. ‘Stop! Hold up.’

Looking at her watch, Bree, trying not to be rude, gave a tight smile as she waited.

‘I know you, don’t I?’

‘No, I don’t think so. Sorry, but I really have to go.’

Bree turned but was held back by Alfie as he gently grabbed her arm. ‘Don’t give me that.’

Confused, Bree looked worried, agitated. ‘What … what are you talking about?’

A large grin crossed and stayed on Alfie’s handsome face. ‘Bree O’Neill. You were mates with my little sister. God, I remember picking you both up from school. Drove me mad. There’s me, a spotty teenager wanting to give it large, but instead I’ve got two little kids in tow. Wasn’t great for me image …’ He stopped to laugh before saying, ‘You don’t remember me, do you?’

Bree stared then a small flicker of recognition turned into a shy smile. ‘Alfie … Alfie Jennings.’

‘That’s right girl. It’s Alfie.’

The warmth with which Alfie said this hit and ripped at Bree. Unexpectedly, she burst into tears.

Alfie, taken aback and slightly embarrassed, joked, ‘Fuck me, girl, I knew I had an effect on women, but I was hoping it was more about the magnetic than the misery. Come here, you soft cow, give us a hug.’

A hug which was watched by Ma Dwyer as she sat in her car opposite.

‘And did you let him touch you … here? Did he touch you here, Bree?’ Johnny grabbed Bree between her legs as he whispered into her ear. Pressing his body hard against hers. She gave out a small, painful yelp.

‘Did you like it, Bree? Did you ask him for more?’

‘Johnny, you got to believe me. I only spoke to him for a moment.’

‘Liar!’ Johnny punched the wall, centimetres from Bree’s head. ‘Ma told me she saw you in the car park.’

Bree nodded, speaking breathlessly. ‘Exactly! I only talked.’

Johnny whispered back. ‘Don’t lie to me. Don’t make it worse.’

‘I’m not.’

‘What was it like, Bree?’

Terrified, Bree turned her head to the side. Her words were almost inaudible. ‘Nothing happened.’

Staring at her, Johnny suddenly dropped to his knees. Sobbing as he buried and pushed his head into Bree’s stomach. Wild-eyed, he gazed up at her. A ghost-like look on his face.

‘How many times, Bree? Why, why, why did you do it to me? How many times did you let him fuck you?’

Bree closed her eyes, praying, trying anything she could to let her imagination protect her from what was about to follow. As Johnny began to undo his belt, she imagined the crystal-blue waters of a faraway ocean, the sparkle of the sea as she dived in. And as Johnny roughly pulled at her clothes she saw the racing dolphins. And as his hands touched her body she saw herself leaping out of the cooling ocean into the mirrored blue sky to soar over the mountains and high above the trees over the planes and fields to a place far away.

‘I’ll leave you to it, Johnny.’ Ma Dwyer smiled at her son as she opened the door and left the room.

17

‘Diamonds, all those bleedin’ diamonds. Whoever those belong to ain’t going to be happy.’

Putting Bree to the back of his mind, Alfie snapped. ‘Fuck me, Janine, could you be anymore insightful?’

Janine sniffed. ‘Don’t start getting sarcastic with me, just cos you’re hungry.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t be hungry, would I, if you’d brought me a bleedin’ burger? Everyone else gets one.’

‘You weren’t about, were you?’

‘No, because I was in the bleedin’ carzey having a piss!’

Wanting to stop a row, Lola chipped in. ‘These must be worth a couple of mill. Problem is, whoever they do belong to will come looking, and once that happens, there won’t be any hiding place. It’s not like the coke, with these, there’s no way to knock them out without anyone getting wind. And then there’s Lloyd, if he finds out, he’ll think you mugged him off good and proper. There’ll always be a trail and eventually Vaughnie, it’ll come back to you. I’m worried. You sure you shouldn’t just cut your losses and—’

Vaughn interrupted. ‘Give them back?’

‘Exactly. Maybe if you had people around you, but until you get some money, you won’t be able to pay anybody, so it’s a different ball game. Why don’t you just duck out now while you can. Then once you get back on your feet you can do what you like.’

‘What about Reenie though? We can’t let this opportunity slip through our fingers. To own that business would put us right up there.’

Lola smiled. ‘I know, darlin, but arrange to do another job. Call Franny again, go look for her, anything but this Vaughn. Playing with somebody else’s diamonds is only going to lead to trouble. Even Lloyd didn’t know about them, so whoever they do belong to, they obviously wanted to bring them into the country without anyone knowing, and now that their diamonds have disappeared, they’ll come looking, they probably are already. Stay well away from this, sweetheart.’

‘Hang on, hang on. Ain’t no one giving them back or staying away from them,’ Janine mumbled, her mouth full of a greasy cheeseburger. ‘We need this, Reenie ain’t going to wait, she’ll sell the business to someone else and we can’t let that happen.’

Lola frowned. ‘Come on Janine, how can just Alfie and Vaughn take on the boys behind this. They’d be stupid to. It could be anyone. Russians. Eastern Europeans. Triads … Mafia.’

Janine scoffed. ‘The Mafia! Do me a favour, Lola. You’re talking out of your bum hole.’

‘No, I bleedin’ ain’t. I don’t trust it and like I say, even Lloyd thought it was one thing but then it turned out to be another. They don’t need to be involved in this. There’ll be another job out there for them.’

‘Not like this there won’t.’

‘For starters, Janine, how are they going to get rid of them?’

Oblivious to the ketchup running down her chin, Janine haughtily said, ‘Lola, they’ve been in the business long enough to know people.’

Lola sighed, irritated at her attitude. ‘And they’ve been away, and people aren’t happy that they’re back. They’ll be watching them, so any move they make will draw attention. One phone call from Vaughnie or Alf trying to sell this lot and every single crime family from here to the Costa will know about it, which means the people who own them will find out too.’

‘When did they make you their bleedin’ keeper?’

‘And when did they make you someone that doesn’t give a shit about her friends … Actually, don’t answer that, Janine. But there’s no way they should be touching them. It’s like playing with fire.’

Vaughn nodded. ‘Unfortunately, as much as it would be sweet and solve all our problems, I have to agree with you, Lola. We’d be mugs to go near them.’

Alfie, who’d been sitting silently, looked across and smiled at Lola. She was a cracking old bird. Fiercely loyal and always looking out for both him and Vaughn. He’d known her for years and they’d never really fallen out, mainly because he always seemed to agree with her. She spoke sense … but not on this. This was different and sometimes, just sometimes, the only thing to do was play with fire.

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