return of Wayne, shall we?’ Richard said, holding his glass aloft.
Stephanie joined Tammy in holding hers aloft and then made a toast of her own. ‘To Richard and my best friend Tammy. Wishing you all the best for your new life in Spain.’
Tammy and Richard both looked at one another and laughed. ‘To us,’ they said in unison.
Barry walked into the Indian restaurant in Chadwell Heath and immediately knew why his mother and her friend had changed their original plan of him picking them up from Marge’s house. He only had to glance at the pair of them to know they had been out drinking for most of the day.
Spotting Barry walking towards her, Marlene glared at the four ugly men that were sitting at the next table. They had been trying to chat her and Marge up for the past half an hour, but when Marlene had suggested they treat her and her friend to a bottle of wine, the miserly gits had refused. ‘This is my handsome toy boy, the one I told you about. Now, yous tight bastards can fuck right off,’ Marlene said, throwing her arms around her son’s neck.
‘Get off me. Everyone’s looking at us,’ Barry hissed.
‘Me and Marge’ll have a nice bottle of wine, boy,’ Marlene said, flopping back down on her chair.
‘Let’s have red, like my arse. Look Barry, I burnt it on one of them bleedin’ sunbeds,’ Marge said, standing up, turning around, and pulling the waistband of her black leggings down to reveal all.
Hearing the four blokes on the next table laugh, Barry’s face turned as red as Marge’s backside. He leant across the table. ‘If yous two show me up once more, they’ll be no wine, no meal – there’ll be fuck all. Understand?’
‘Gertcha, you miserable little sod. Becoming more like that father of yours as every day passes, you are,’ Marlene said, chuckling.
‘Come on, let’s behave ourselves. I’m bloody well gasping and starving,’ Marge said, nudging Marlene to urge her to tone it down a bit. She didn’t want to miss out on her free meal and drinks.
‘Shall I order a selection of grub for all of us?’ Barry asked, studying the menu. The quicker they ate and he got out of the restaurant, the better. His mother when sober was bad enough, but pissed she was an absolute nightmare.
‘Oi, Gunga Din, we want two bottles of wine, one red and one white and whatever my toy boy’s having,’ Marge shouted to the young waiter.
Barry jumped up and walked over to where the open-mouthed waiter was standing. ‘I’m really sorry. That woman’s my mother. She has recently suffered a family bereavement, therefore has got herself a little bit drunk today. Just bring the two bottles of wine over, a bottled lager for me, then I’ll order the food. We’ll be out of your way in no time, I promise.’
As the young waiter scuttled off like a frightened mouse, Barry sat back down. ‘So, why the phone call, Mum? Last time I saw you, you accused me of murdering poor old Jakey. Then, next thing I know, you’re ringing me up telling me how much you love me and what a fantastic son I am. What you after, dosh?’
‘Would madams like to taste the wine?’ the waiter asked, quickly reappearing.
Barry shook his head. ‘Nope. They’d drink petrol if it came in a bottle, mate. Can you just bring us up a selection of rice and bread? I’ll have Tandoori chicken. What do yous two want as your main?’ Barry asked. He waited for the order to be taken, then stared at his mother. ‘Well, what you after then?’
Marlene grinned. ‘I could really do with some readies, boy, and I also need you to get all me beautiful clothes sent over ’ere from Spain for me.’
Previously guessing that his mother was going to be on his earhole for cash, Barry had come well prepared. Pulling a thick wad of money out of his back pocket, he began counting off fifty-pound notes. ‘Will a grand be OK?’
‘I suppose it will have to be,’ Marlene replied, ungratefully. ‘What about me clothes though? Walking about in the same half a dozen outfits, I am. How quick can you get ’em back to England for me?’
Barry handed Marlene the wedge, then sighed. ‘I don’t think I’m gonna be able to get your clothes back for you. Your old gaff in Spain has already been sold, Mum.’
Marlene felt the hairs stand up on the back of her neck. ‘Sold! Sold! Whaddya mean it’s been fucking sold?’
‘Someone bought it within days of it going up for sale. Jolene rang me to tell me a week or so back.’
To say Marlene was in a state of unadulterated shock was putting it mildly. ‘I want my clothes, I want my ornaments and I want my fucking furniture back,’ she screamed.
‘Well I’m sorry, Mum, but apart from buying you some new clothes, I can’t really help you,’ Barry replied, bravely.
Leaning forwards, Marlene pointed her forefinger in her son’s face. ‘If I was you I’d take that statement back, because I’m telling you now, if you don’t get your arse back to Spain and sort out my belongings, I shall be making a phone call to the Spanish Old Bill and I’ll be telling ’em that it was you who ordered the hit on Jake. And that ain’t all I’ll do. I know that it’s you responsible for Wayne Jackman’s disappearance, you scheming little bastard. You’ve done him in, I know you have. Want me to go and have a chat with that little slapper Stephanie who you can’t keep away from, do you? ’Cause if I don’t get my stuff back, I will, you know.’
Barry shook his head in disgust. ‘Now you listen to me and you listen very carefully, muvver. I had sod all to do with Jake getting killed or Jacko’s disappearance, and if you don’t stop spreading vicious fucking lies and spouting that vulgar mouth of yours off to every Tom, Dick and Harry, me and you are gonna come to blows. Understand?’
Marlene stood up and began waving her arms about like a lunatic to attract people’s attention. She turned to the four men on the next table who she had insulted earlier. ‘Did you hear what my son just said to me, lads? He has just threatened to kill his own mother and I want yous to be my witnesses. He has already tried to end my life in the past.’
‘You said he was your toy boy,’ one of the men replied. The other three blokes immediately started to chuckle. They had all thought that Marlene was quite attractive in a tarty sort of way earlier, but they could now tell she was a liability.
‘Sit down, mate. You can’t be shouting out things like that. Barry didn’t mean it that way,’ Marge said, grabbing Marlene’s arm.
When she went into full actress mode and started to cry, Barry looked at his mother in horror. ‘Sit down, for fuck’s sake,’ he spat.
The restaurant wasn’t packed to the rafters, but Marlene was well aware that she now had everybody’s attention. ‘My son has already murdered my partner and his ex-girlfriend’s fiancé. Now he is threatening to kill me also,’ she shouted, in a posh, overly dramatic, tearful voice.
Marge put her head in her hands. She loved Marlene, but when she got a bee in her bonnet, especially when this drunk, there was truly no stopping her. Marge liked Barry. He was a good lad and, in her opinion, Marlene didn’t realize how lucky she was to have such a charming, generous son.
As Marlene carried on with her amateur dramatics, Barry calmly polished off his lager. His mother going around spreading rumours that he had been responsible for Jake’s murder was one thing, but her spouting off about him being responsible for Wayne’s disappearance was another. Barry stood up and turned to his mother’s rather stunned-looking audience. He could see the young waiter standing there with their tray of food, far too frightened to bring it over to the table. ‘I am so, so sorry, everybody, for my mother’s outrageous behaviour. As you have probably already realized, she is an old lush with a severe alcohol dependency, which makes her talk utter rubbish and behave in this appalling manner.’
When his mother’s posh voice turned into her usual coarse one, Barry couldn’t help but smirk as he clocked the shocked look on the other diners’