still be about, you know. I’ve got a few loose ends in England that I need to tie up while I’m here,’ Barry said, catching Steph’s eye once again. He had thoroughly enjoyed winding her up.
‘Well, if you’re gonna be about for the stag do, surely you can prolong your trip for one more week and come to the wedding?’ Wayne asked.
Stephanie wanted to strangle her husband-to-be, but instead smiled at him falsely. ‘Don’t drive Barry mad, love. I’m sure he’s got far more important things to do than be hanging about in England for our wedding.’
‘To be honest, Steph, I haven’t. I’ve left a pal of mine in charge of my properties, so I ain’t got to worry about that, and I was gonna doss for a bit in England anyway, so I can spend a bit of time with me old man when he gets out. I’d love to come to the wedding, Jacko, thanks for inviting me, mate. Is it OK if I invite Jolene as well?’
Wayne leapt up from the sofa. ‘Yeah, course it is, and thanks so much for agreeing to come. It means a lot to us, don’t it, Steph?’
Clocking Stephanie’s horrified expression, Barry smirked and grasped Wayne’s hand. ‘How could I say no to the bloke who saved my life, eh?’ Picking up his glass of champagne, Barry raised it in the air. ‘We might not have seen one another for years, but we can never forget the good times, eh? To old pals.’
‘To old pals,’ Wayne repeated, holding his glass in the air.
As Wayne nudged her arm, Stephanie also lifted her glass into the air. She tried to say the words, but none would come out of her mouth. For the first time in her life, Steph was left totally speechless.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
‘How do I look?’ Marlene asked, as she walked into Marge’s lounge and did a little twirl.
Marge stared at the over-the-top outfit and laughed. Marlene was clad from head to foot in black, and even though the skimpy minidress, fishnet stockings, thigh-length boots, fake-fur coat, oversized hat and dark sunglasses were probably, in most people’s opinion, way too over the top for a funeral, the film-star look suited Marlene to a tee. ‘You really do look the bollocks, mate. Does this look OK, what I’ve got on?’
Even though Marge was classed as obese, she had a bubbly personality and a pretty face, therefore could get away with being fat to some extent. ‘I love the trouser suit, and that scarf really sets it off,’ Marlene replied, honestly. She was thrilled that Marge had agreed to attend Jake’s funeral with her, as she was dreading facing his family alone.
‘What time’s Barry picking us up? Is he still at your Chantelle’s?’ Marge asked.
Apart from the first night they had arrived back in England, neither Marlene nor Barry had stayed at Chantelle’s house. Marlene had once kept a frowsy home herself, but since living in Spain and having a cleaner do all the hard graft, she had got used to cleanliness. Chantelle lived in squalor, which is why she had chosen to stay with Marge instead of her daughter. ‘Barry’s staying in a hotel in Brentwood. He’s hired a car as he said he’s gonna stay in England for a few weeks. You’ll never guess where he went the other night. Do you remember that bird he was knocking off over the road in Dagenham? Used to live bang opposite me – Stephanie her name was. Her mother was the fat, stuck-up bitch that I used to call Porky the Pig.’
‘I don’t think I ever saw the girl, but I remember you mentioning her and I remember Porky. Didn’t the girl run off with one of his mates or something?’
‘Yeah, that’s the one. She got with that Wayne Jackman, he was Barry’s old pal from Bethnal Green. Horrible family they were, the Jackmans. The mother was an old bag and the father knifed her to death after catching her at it.’
Unable to stop herself, Marge burst out laughing. Over the years, her and Marge had had more pricks between them than a second-hand dartboard, yet Marlene still had the front to call other women old bags.
‘What you laughing at?’ Marlene asked, in a cross voice.
‘You! It’s the way you tell a story, mate, you do make me laugh,’ Marge said. She daren’t say what she was really thinking as, unlike Marge, who was fully aware of what she was, Marlene liked to class herself as a lady.
‘Well, that’s where Barry went the other night, round that Wayne and Stephanie’s house. I couldn’t believe it when he told me, Marge. That girl broke his fucking heart and he was in bits over her for a long time in Spain. The dirty little whore wants shooting if you ask me.’
‘Knowing your Barry, that’s probably what he’s planning to do,’ Marge joked. Marlene had once proclaimed that Barry had tried to murder her by strangulation, but knowing what a drama queen her friend was, Marge had never actually believed her.
Marlene raised her eyebrows. ‘If I tell you something, swear you won’t say a word to anyone.’
‘Go on, you know you can trust me, mate.’
‘Well, I have no proof of this, but I’ve got a gut feeling that it might have been Barry that killed Jake. They had an argument and never spoke for a few days before his death. The day before Jake got shot, I went out for a drink with Barry and told him how unhappy I was with the old cunt. I said that I’d be really elated if he keeled over one day. I also said that I was positive he’d left everything in his will to me.’
‘Christ, that’s heavy stuff, Mar. Do you think Barry actually shot Jake himself, then?’
‘No. He had a good alibi the night Jake was shot. He was in some posh restaurant with his girlfriend, Jolene, and her parents. Convenient, don’t you think?’ Marlene replied.
‘Why don’t you just ask him outright, mate?’
‘No! Barry tells me nothing. He thinks I’m fucking silly, Marge, but I ain’t. My Barry’s absolutely cakeo and I’m sure he’s involved in drugs out in Spain. He’s a little fucker, always has been.’
Hearing a car engine, Marge looked out of the window. ‘Barry’s just pulled up, mate. We’ll continue this conversation later.’
Seething that Wayne had asked Barry to their wedding without first asking her permission, Stephanie had barely spoken to her husband for the past thirty-six hours.
‘We can’t carry on like this, babe. Let’s call a truce, eh? How about I skip work today and take you out for a slap-up lunch to say I’m sorry for being such a dickhead?’ Wayne asked Stephanie.
Steph glared at her fiancé. A slap-up lunch wasn’t the answer to this particular problem. Uninviting Barry to the wedding was the only way to solve it. ‘You’re gonna have to ring Barry up and tell him he can’t come, Wayne. You’ll have to say that we rang the venue and they said that we can’t have any more guests.’
‘I can’t do that, babe. I’ll make meself look a right mug.’
‘Please, Wayne, I’m sure he was taking the piss out of us the other evening. You were too drunk to notice, but I clocked it. I don’t trust him one little bit.’
Wayne put his arms around Stephanie’s waist. ‘Bazza’s all right and I would have noticed if he was taking the piss. You’re just being paranoid because of what’s happened in the past, that’s all.’
Stephanie nuzzled her face into Wayne’s neck and took in his sweet-smelling aftershave. She loved him so much, he always seemed to get his own way with her. ‘Where you gonna take me for this posh lunch, then?’
Wayne grinned. ‘I take it that means Barry can come to the wedding then?’
‘I suppose so.’
Marlene had thought it an insult that she wasn’t invited to travel to Jake’s funeral in one of the cars behind the coffin. Jake’s family had organized everything, and she only knew the date and time of the service because one of Jake’s friends had informed her. Because of the