at me getting all emotional. What a prick! Seriously guys, I know we’re pissed, but getting that off me chest has done me the world of good. I ain’t told no other bugger and I ain’t gonna. Let’s just keep it between ourselves, eh?’
When Danno, Potter and Cooksie all nodded, Wayne toasted them with his glass of champagne. ‘To true friends.’
Stephanie Crouch arrived home at twelve o’clock on the dot. She was merry rather than drunk and had really enjoyed her evening with Tammy. It was sad in parts but, now she understood why her mate was taking such a risk, she could finally be happy for her. As Steph put her key in the door, she could hear her home phone ringing. Guessing it was probably Wayne, she ran into the lounge to answer it. ‘Hello.’
‘It’s me, Steph. You only just got in?’ her mum asked her.
‘What’s up? Are the kids OK?’ Steph asked, ignoring her mother’s question.
‘Yeah, they’ve been asleep for hours,’ Pam replied.
‘What’s wrong then? Angie ain’t been performing again, has she?’
‘No. Is Wayne home?’ Pam asked. She had something important to tell Stephanie and she didn’t want to cause any trouble.
Feeling anxious and annoyed at the same time, Stephanie couldn’t help but lose her patience. ‘No, he ain’t! For Christ’s sake, just spit it out will you, Mum?’
‘I would have rung you on that new mobile thing you’ve got, but I knew you were out with Tammy and I didn’t wanna spoil your evening. It’s Barry, he’s come back home.’
‘Barry who?’ Stephanie asked, dumbly.
‘Your ex-boyfriend, Barry. You know, Marlene’s son. She’s back an’ all. They pulled up in a cab a couple of hours ago and went in their old house. They had two suitcases with ’em, so they must be planning on staying for a while.’
Feeling as if she had just been struck by a bolt of lightning, Stephanie gasped and dropped the phone in shock.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The following morning, Steph was a bundle of nerves as she drove towards her mother’s house. She had barely slept a wink last night and when she had finally managed to nod off, she had dreamt that Barry Franklin had turned up at her wedding with a gun in his hand and tried to shoot Wayne. Beside herself with worry, Stephanie let out a deep sigh. Wayne hadn’t got in until half three this morning and had been in no fit state to have a serious conversation with. Stephanie knew she had to tell him that Barry was back home. If her ex was staying bang opposite her mother, she could hardly not bloody tell Wayne.
As Stephanie neared her mother’s house her anxiety started to heighten. Whether she would ever have dumped Barry in favour of Wayne, she really didn’t know, but in the end the decision had been made for her.
Swerving onto a kerb, Stephanie slammed on the brakes and repeatedly banged her head gently against the steering wheel. She had two beautiful children, would soon be marrying the man of her dreams, she was financially secure and healthy; so why did this have to happen to spoil her perfect life? Picturing Barry Franklin’s face, Stephanie took the mobile phone Wayne had recently bought her out of her bag and rang her mother. ‘Are you ready?’ she asked, when Pam answered the phone.
‘Yeah. Why? You ain’t running late, are you?’
‘No, I’m parked up in Ford Road. Walk the way you normally go to work and you’ll see me by the crossroads,’ Steph replied.
‘Why can’t you pick me up from home? I’ll be late if I have to carry Tyler.’
‘Because of Barry, Mum. If I bump into him, I’ll die a death, and I really can’t face the embarrassment of it all.’
Barry Franklin woke up in his old bedroom and stared at the surroundings in utter disgust. He had been rather inebriated when he’d gone to bed last night, so hadn’t taken much notice of the room, but in the cold light of day it looked awful. There was dust everywhere, cobwebs hanging from the ceiling, and pieces of stale food scattered about on the carpet. Looking at the colour of the filthy, stained quilt he had slept under, Barry sat up and immediately began scratching at his skin. Compared to his current surroundings, he lived in what could only be described as a palace back in Spain, and Barry knew without a doubt that he could not spend another night at his sister’s house. He would rather shell out for a hotel somewhere.
As a little mixed-race head poked out from under the quilt in the bed opposite him, Barry smiled. Chantelle had three children now, all by different men. AJ was the oldest. He was nearly ten and was the son of the Indian guy Chantelle had been with when Barry had moved to Spain. Ajay senior was now in Belmarsh. He had been caught with a big stash of heroin and was doing a fifteen stretch. The child currently staring at him with a look of bewilderment on his face was Chantelle’s middle one, Jermain. His father was of Jamaican origin, but had wanted little to do with his son and had only seen him twice since his birth.
‘You all right, boy? I’m your Uncle Barry.’
‘Get out my room,’ the child replied, glaring at him.
Barry got out of bed. The bedroom had the same odour as a public toilet, and he guessed that one if not more of the kids must wet the bed on a regular basis. Barry hadn’t even met his youngest nephew yet. Daryl was only two, had an English father, and Chantelle was happy to let his dad bring him up. Apparently, she only saw Daryl every other weekend and had even cancelled the child’s last visit.
‘I said get out my room,’ Jermain repeated, angrily.
‘Chill out, boy. I’m going in a tick,’ Barry replied. He walked over to the window and stared through the grimy glass at the house across the road. He knew Pam still lived there and Stephanie visited her regularly with her two children. He also knew that Stephanie and Wayne were getting married in three weeks’ time. He might live thousands of miles away, but the grapevine was a funny old thing, and there wasn’t much that went on that he didn’t get to hear about. Barry let go of the shabby curtain. Steph had killed his faith in the female gender for a very long time, and after spending years screwing everything in sight, Barry had finally met the girl he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Jolene, her name was. She was eighteen years old, a real stunner, and after being together for just over a year, they had recently got engaged.
‘If you don’t go, I’m gonna get my mum to beat you up,’ Jermain growled, appearing by Barry’s side.
Ruffling the child’s short Afro hair, Barry chuckled and hurriedly left the room.
After disclosing her fears to her mum, and Pam reassuring her that Barry had not come back to ruin her wedding or carry out some sort of revenge attack, Stephanie drove back to Chigwell in a much better frame of mind. Wayne had still been in bed when she’d arrived home, so she had got Dannielle ready for school, dropped her at the gates and was now on the way back home again with Tyler.
‘All right, babe? Cor, I was bladdered last night, girl. Did you hear me come in?’ Wayne asked as Stephanie shut the front door.
‘Yeah, I spoke to you, don’t you remember?’
‘I can’t remember Jack shit,’ Wayne said, hugging his wife-to-be.
‘So, did you have a good night? How were Potter and Cooksie? Are they still a pair of wankers?’ Stephanie enquired, genuinely interested.
‘Yeah, a bit, but they’re OK. Cooksie is unemployed and is living with some old bird in Elm Park who has three kids by some other geezer, and Potter works for the Underground. I dunno what he does there, he didn’t say. He’s got kids of his own and lives in Southend, but he ain’t married. Right, I’d better get off to work now, babe. I’ll probably be late tonight. I’ve got a business meeting with some geezer.’
‘Par, Daddy, par,’ Tyler said, grabbing hold of his father’s leg.
‘Not