and all this stuff in Soho? I know you want to be loyal to him, but what are friends for if you can’t lean on them? I won’t say anything.’
Casey looked up at Franny. It was easier to agree with her friend than tell her the truth, though it wasn’t a complete lie. Things were strained with Vaughn, but it was difficult to know how much was actually him, and how much was Casey. Vaughn had been pushing her away, but then she’d been doing the same with him. He couldn’t find out what was going on. He just couldn’t.
Feigning a smile, Casey spoke to her friend. ‘Yeah, that’s right. It’s Vaughn. All this stuff with Soho has got right under his skin. He’s like a different man.’
‘Try not to worry, Cass, Alfie’s no better. He’s roaming around like he’s got a rod stuck up his arse … It’ll be okay; if it’s any comfort, I know Vaughn loves you. But if I can give you any advice, Cass, it’d be this; talk to him. That’s what gets me and Alfie through the tough times. We talk to each other, and above all we don’t have any secrets.’
Mr Lee stood by the window, wondering quite why the English were so foolish. There seemed to be a common thread which ran through them, a thread of misplaced pride – or as he liked to call it, stupidity.
He’d warned them. Warned them that the trouble wasn’t necessary, and could have so easily been avoided. All they’d had to do was abide by the rules. How easy. How simple; yet as Mr Lee stared in contempt at the bloodied and battered Alfie Jennings lying on the floor, it was clear to him, simple was something the English didn’t like.
Sitting down on the large purple velvet chair, Mr Lee crossed his legs, making him look smaller and more diminutive than he usually did.
‘It’s a shame we couldn’t meet under better circumstances. I was very much looking forward to our discussion later on in the week, but as Robert Burns said, the best laid schemes of mice and men.’ Mr Lee paused, flicking off a stray piece of ash from the large cigar he was smoking. ‘When my men told me you’d decided to continue with your little venture, I thought it best to cut my trip short and have that chat sooner rather than later. I’m sure you understand. And I can only imagine you’ve got a good reason for disobeying my rules.’
Through his swollen, bruised eyes, Alfie glared at Mr Lee. ‘Ain’t no one going to tell me what I can and can’t do, especially from a fucking kitchen sink.’
Mr Lee looked puzzled. ‘Kitchen sink?’
Alfie sneered defiantly. ‘Chink.’
Chang Lee’s face expression hardened. He leaned forward and addressed Alfie, speaking quietly. ‘You see, Mr Jennings, it’s comments like those that I can’t ignore. It never ceases to amaze me how foolish people are.’ Mr Lee nodded his head to Lin and another of his men who walked across to Alfie. They yanked hold of his arms, pulling at his hands as Mr Lee stood up. ‘You leave me no choice, Alfie, and to think all of this could have been avoided.’
Mr Lee nodded again, watching as Lin brought down the machete on Alfie’s forcibly spread fingers. Blood splattered out everywhere along with Alfie’s scream as his little finger was cleanly cut off. His body jerked in shock as what looked like a river of blood streamed out from the mutilated hand.
Mr Lee bent over and picking up the severed finger, walked over to Alfie.
‘Hopefully now you’ll get the message, Mr Jennings and if you haven’t, there’s always the other nine.’ He went to walk away but stopped short of the door. Turning round, he threw the finger at Alfie with a grin. ‘I think you might have more need of that than me.’
‘Here you are. I got this for you.’ Chloe-Jane handed Franny eighty pounds.
Franny looked curious. ‘What’s this for?’
‘It’s for you. For me board and lodgings.’
‘I told you, there’s no need. Really Chloe, I’m happy for you to stay.’
Chloe-Jane shrugged her shoulders. ‘I just want you to take it.’ She pushed the money into Franny’s hand. ‘Please.’
‘Where did you get it from?’
‘I ain’t robbed it, if that’s what you think.’
‘I don’t think that.’
‘It’s me money I saved to come here. I told you I was going to give you some.’
Franny shook her head, going across to the other side of the kitchen to make a cup of tea. She opened a packet of dark chocolate biscuits, offering one to Chloe-Jane who proceeded to take several, much to Franny’s amusement.
‘Listen, Chloe, why don’t you keep the money? You’ll need it when you move on.’
Chloe-Jane bristled. She wanted to yell at Franny that that was the point. She didn’t want to move on. She wanted to stay, because aside from the fact she liked it with Franny, she had nowhere else to go. With a sad smile, Chloe replied, ‘Well until then; take it, it’ll make me feel better.’
Franny looked doubtful. ‘If you’re sure.’
‘I am!’
‘Okay, what I’ll do is, I’ll put it up here in this tin, and for any reason you want it back just take it. No questions asked. Deal?’
‘Deal, and I’ll give you eighty pound a week from now on. I don’t want to leech off anyone.’
‘Well I appreciate that, Chloe. Thank you.’
‘It’s no problem. No problem at all.’
It was getting dark as Chloe-Jane walked along Brewer Street, watching as the passing men ogled at her and the women gave her a look of scorn. She wore a low-cut pink top with nothing underneath, erect nipples obvious under the clinging material. Her tiny white miniskirt skimmed the bottom of her buttocks, and her high patent yellow shoes gave a swagger to her walk.
‘Fancy a drink, darlin’?’ A large, sweaty passing workman hollered out to her from his van.
‘Not with you, mate, I’d rather stick me head down the khazi and drink from there!’
The van sped off beeping its horn, leaving Chloe to cross the road at the junction of Brewer and Glasshouse Street.
Hanging out on the corner, a car pulled up. A man in his late fifties rolled down the window. His voice was low and Chloe could hear a Northern accent.
‘You doing business, love?’
Chloe nodded, quickly looking around before getting in.
‘Just fucking sew it back on. I don’t care how you fucking do it, but there ain’t no way I’m ending up like frigging Anne Boleyn.’ Alfie grimaced at the hospital doctor as he clutched his wrapped bloody hand to his body.
‘She had eleven fingers, not nine, and it was her head that was cut off, not her hand.’ Chloe-Jane smirked at her uncle as she chewed on the constantly present piece of gum.
‘I’ll chop your bleedin’ head off if you don’t shut it,’ Alfie growled at his niece. Why the hell Franny had brought her along, fuck only knew and it pissed him off no end.
‘Alfie, there’s no need for that.’ Franny spoke, not unkindly.
‘Me hand’s