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.
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.
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