she gratefully snatched it out of his hand. Being a couple of months pregnant, Frankie knew she shouldn’t really be smoking, but the sound of people arriving downstairs filled her with dread.
Her mother’s death and the circumstances surrounding it had created the biggest underworld talking point since the Brinks Mat robbery. The press had had a ball, they’d milked it for all it was worth.
‘Gangland boss kills wife in jealous rage’, ‘Gangster finds wife in bed with daughter’s boyfriend’, ‘Mitchell’s moment of madness’ were just some of the headlines Frankie had seen.
Most of what had been written was just awful, vicious lies. A couple of the more sensible papers had got the story right, but the ones at the lower end of the scale had written absolute trash just to sell their papers.
Both Frankie and Joey had barely left the house since their mother’s death. Frankie had sneaked out a few times to meet up with Jed, but on the last occasion the press had seen her climbing over the back fence and plastered her picture all over the papers.
‘Picture of innocence’ had been the sarcastic headline.
Frankie was mortified. All her friends had seen it and had called her on her mobile. Instead of being a victim, Frankie felt like the accused.
Things at home had been no better. Her nan and grandad had moved in to look after her and Joey. Jed wasn’t allowed anywhere near the house and every time Frankie mentioned his name, everyone in the room went quiet.
Frankie missed her mother dreadfully, but what had happened was neither her nor Jed’s fault. She hadn’t asked her father to turn up at Tilbury with a gun, had she now?
As her brother dissolved into tears yet again, Frankie hugged him. Joey wasn’t as strong as her, and he wasn’t coping very well at all.
‘Listen, Joey, in a minute we’ve got to go downstairs and face everyone. You’ve got to be brave for Mum’s sake.’
Joey threw himself on his bed. ‘I can’t go to Mum’s funeral. I just can’t face it. Let me stay here, Frankie. Tell Nan and Grandad I’m not well.’
Frankie stroked her brother’s back. Joey had been as close to her mum as anyone had. That’s why Frankie hadn’t already moved in with Jed: she couldn’t have lived with her guilt if she had left Joey at home with her grandparents. They were twins, had been inseparable, even in the womb; no one could look after him like she could.
‘Come on, Joey. Put your suit on, and we’ll go downstairs. You’ll never forgive yourself if you don’t go. You’ll regret it for the rest of your life.’
Joey sat up. ‘It’s all right for you. You’ve got Jed to look after you. Mum’s dead, Dad’s in prison and Nan and Grandad do my head in. I’ve got nothing and no one, Frankie, and I know you’re gonna be moving out soon. What am I gonna do then, eh?’
Frankie squeezed his hand. ‘I’ll only be living down the road, Joey. And what about when I have the baby? You’ll be an uncle for the first time, and I know you’ll be the best uncle ever. All you have to do is stop blaming Jed for everything, then you can be part of our lives.’
As she finally persuaded Joey to get dressed, Frankie made a mental note to ring Dominic the following day. Her brother had barely spoken to his ex since their father had found out Joey was gay and threatened Dom, but now Eddie was banged up, he could ruin her brother’s relationship no more. Joey was desperate for love and support and Frankie needed him to be OK before she could move on with her own life.
Downstairs, Joycie was keeping herself busy. She’d chatted to all the mourners, kept their drinks topped up, and managed to convince herself that she was over the worst. No amount of sobbing would bring her beautiful Jessica back from the dead, so she just had to get on with things.
It had been kind of her friends, Rita and Hilda, to come to the house, instead of just turning up at the service. They’d been her neighbours at her old house in Upney for over thirty years, and had known Jessica since she was knee-high.
‘So, what do you think of the house?’ Joyce asked them brightly.
Rita and Hilda glanced at one another. Joyce liked to act as if she was as tough as old boots, but they both knew that she wasn’t. Her behaviour today, considering what had befallen her, was strange, to say the least.
Gary and Ricky, Eddie’s sons from his previous marriage, had just turned up and, seeing them in deep conversation with Raymond, Stanley eyed his son suspiciously. Joyce might have forgotten about Raymond’s involvement on the night of Jessica’s murder, but Stanley most certainly hadn’t. If it wasn’t for Joyce, he could have quite easily washed his hands of the boy, but his wife had given him a lecture.
‘Now, you listen to me, Stanley, and you listen bloody carefully. I’ve lost one child and if you think I’m having the other banished from our lives, you can think again. Our son had nothing to do with what happened. He wouldn’t hurt a fly, that boy. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. He loved every hair on our Jessica’s head, did our Raymond.’
Joycie wasn’t one to argue with, and Stanley had little choice other than to agree and reluctantly forgive his son. Trouble was, deep down he hadn’t – it was all pretence.
As the twins appeared, there were lots of emotional condolences. Vicki, Jessica’s heavily pregnant best friend, sobbed as she clung to Frankie. ‘I loved your mum so much. She was such a wonderful woman. I’ve already told Dougie, if we have a little girl, I want to name her Jessica.’
Tears were streaming down her face, but Frankie forced a smile. ‘Mum would have been honoured,’ she whispered.
As more and more people arrived, Stanley became increasingly anxious. All he’d wanted was a quiet send-off for his daughter and already it was turning into a bloody circus. The driveway was packed with people he didn’t know and Stan was furious that Eddie’s brothers had shown their faces. It would have been bad enough if they had turned up at the church, let alone coming to the house beforehand. Surely they were aware of what Eddie had done? Didn’t they have any remorse or guilt whatsoever?
By the time the hearse arrived, the driveway was a mass of beautiful flowers.
As she cuddled her grandchildren, one on either side, Joyce couldn’t bear to look at the coffin she’d so carefully chosen. It just didn’t seem possible for Jessica to be inside that box. Trying to suppress her emotions, Joyce took a deep breath. She had to keep it together in front of all these people. Stanley was in a terrible state and somebody had to look after the twins. Aware that the undertaker was ready to take Jessica on her final journey, Joyce led Frankie and Joey outside.
Seeing his father almost collapse with grief, Raymond held Stanley’s arm to support him. ‘I’ve got you, Dad. Just hold my arm and walk with me,’ he told him.
Joyce had insisted they just have the one family car. She’d never got on with her parents – she hadn’t even seen them for years – and they were going straight to the service. Jessica’s other grandparents, on Stanley’s side, were both dead.
Joyce, Stanley, Frankie, Joey, Raymond and Polly sat in the hearse behind the coffin. Everybody else was to make their own way to the cemetery. In normal circumstances there would have been at least three or four cars laid on for Eddie’s sons, brothers and family. However, the circumstances surrounding Jessica’s death were anything but normal.
As the chief undertaker walked in front of the hearse, the cars crawled along behind him.
Stanley was furious as he saw how many reporters were taking pictures on the road outside. ‘Couldn’t they have left us alone for just one day?’ he mumbled.
Raymond put a comforting arm around his father’s shoulder, but it was quickly brushed away.
Noticing the young reporter who had given her a wonderful write-up in the Daily Mirror, Joyce gave a solemn wave. Stanley went apeshit. ‘Our daughter is lying in that coffin in front of us. Show some respect,