tension coming into her own voice. ‘Me? Where am I?’
‘Well who else do you thinking I’m talking to?’
‘I’m … I’m …’
On the other end of the line, Alfie impatiently cut in. ‘Look, it don’t matter. Just get yourself down to the club straightaway. We’ve had a bit of trouble. How long will you be anyway?’
Awkwardly, Franny said, ‘The thing is, Alf, I’m a bit busy right now. I mean, do you really need me? Can’t you and Vaughn handle whatever it is?’
There was a long pause and Franny could hear Alfie’s breathing down the phone as he seethed. Eventually he spoke.
‘Listen to me, Fran, I ain’t in the mood for this, so whatever the hell it is that you’re doing at this time of night: having a bath, painting your toenails, watching a bit of Netflix … I. Don’t. Care. Because all I care about is you getting yourself down here asap. Understand?’
‘Alfie, like I say …’
Franny frowned at her phone as Alfie cut off the call. Sighing, she glanced at the time. It was just gone one-thirty in the morning. The night-time traffic in London was almost as bad as it was during the day, so she knew it’d take her at least an hour and a half to get back to Soho, and by that time, she had no doubt Alfie would be gunning for her, and that was even before Vaughn got involved. As she saw it, it would be pointless even trying to rush back and pretend she’d just been in the bath. And okay, when she did finally get there, Alfie would have a hundred and one questions for her. Still, what else could she do? She’d just have to man up and face that when she saw him, but for now, she figured she might as well stay and do what she was here to do, because after all, she was already in trouble. Big trouble.
With her mind made up, Franny defiantly turned off her phone, shoving it back into her pocket as she headed for the row of maisonettes across the road. She tried to push the thought of Alfie, and the guilt, from her mind.
Realising she’d forgotten to bring the key, Franny pressed the silver buzzer on the black wooden door, checking over her shoulder nervously. Getting no answer and not wanting to stand there longer than she had to, Franny pressed again agitatedly, holding down the buzzer this time as she stared directly at the doorbell camera. A second later, she heard the click of the lock and she hurried into the communal entrance where another door just in front of her sprung open, taking her into a private stairwell that led up into a bright, spacious flat overlooking the Thames.
Bree Dwyer stood smiling at Franny. ‘Thank you for coming.’
Forcing down her irritation, knowing that a lot of it was caused by her own guilt, something her father had always tried to teach her not to feel, Franny smiled as she looked back at Bree. ‘No problem, it was just a bit difficult to get away. I’m not in the best of moods because Alfie …’
Bree cut in, concern etched across her face. ‘Is he okay?’
Franny nodded as she took off her jacket at the same time as noticing how much weight Bree was losing. ‘He’s fine, just under a bit of pressure, like we all are. You know how it is.’
Bree’s big blue eyes widened. ‘So, what’s wrong with him?’
With her irritation returning, Franny, not wanting to be reminded of Alfie, snapped, ‘I said he’s fine. Anyway, I’m not here to talk about him, I’m here to see you, and of course …’ Franny trailed off and turned around, walking across to the pink cot in the corner of the room. She bent over the hand-carved bar rails. ‘… And of course, this little one.’
Behind Franny, Bree ran her hand through her long blonde hair as she rolled her eyes. She spoke wearily. ‘She’s only just got to sleep, Fran. Leave her, will you?’
Ignoring Bree, Franny scooped the baby into her arms, bringing her in to her chest, stroking her silky mass of hair. ‘Don’t be stupid, she’s fine; she can sleep anytime.’
‘You don’t have to snap. I was only saying.’
Rubbing her head, knowing that she shouldn’t really take how she was feeling out on Bree, Franny tried to sound warmer. ‘Then don’t make it difficult for me to see her every time I come here, because unfortunately for me, I can only get away at certain times. You’re not looking so good by the way. I hope you’re looking after yourself. You can’t get ill. What would happen to Mia if you did?’
Bree gave a tight smile as she gathered up Mia’s cuddly toys from the floor. ‘Like I said before, I’m eating fine, but maybe if I was able to get out now and then, get some sunshine, perhaps I’d feel better. I feel like a prisoner here, Fran. It feels like I’m back in my old life.’
Triggered again, Franny’s hostility returned as she stared at Bree, seeing the dark rings underneath her eyes. The old life that Bree was referring to was with her ex-husband, Johnny, who along with his mother, Ma Dwyer, had abused Bree and kept her a virtual slave. And it’d been when she was still married to him, and on one of the few occasions he had let Bree out, that Bree had bumped into Alfie after not seeing him since she was a teenager.
Though what happened next was something that none of them could’ve predicted. Alfie believed that Franny had left him and stolen his and Vaughn’s money, and wasn’t coming back, and Bree was desperate for someone to take care of her. Alfie and Bree had quickly got together, wanting each other to help heal their broken hearts.
And of course, it had been a shock. A real shock when she had finally returned to Essex to explain the truth to Alfie about what had really happened with his money, to find out that he had already set up with Bree. It had felt like someone had punched her in the stomach. Hurting her more than she cared to admit. So she had done what she always did when something hurt her; she had put up her defenses, coming across as cold and unfeeling. And she was good at doing that. What she wasn’t good at was feeling, and especially feeling hurt. But being numb to pain was just how she liked it, and that way it was easier for her to forgive Alfie for breaking her heart.
Surprisingly, amid the mess of it all, her and Bree’s friendship had blossomed and when Bree had discovered she was pregnant, more than likely with Alfie’s baby – though there was a possibility it was Johnny’s – Bree had been somewhere between happy and scared.
Bree had told her that she wanted the baby but hadn’t wanted the lifestyle that came with Alfie, and she of all people had understood that, because even though she’d been born into this life of crime, there were times, many times, that she wished she could get away herself.
Her heart had gone out to Bree, and of course she’d wanted to help, but both of them knew if Bree did go through with the pregnancy, Alfie would never just let her leave with his child to get on with life as she wanted to. So they’d, or rather she’d come up with the plan to allow Bree to have her baby in peace. And it’d seemed so simple at first: tell Alfie that Bree had lost the baby, and then afterwards she would help Bree get a flat so she could get on with her life, and she would get on with her life with Alfie, and everything would go back to the way it was. Though the best laid plans always had a way of messing up.
And the way she saw it, Bree had a lot to do with it all going wrong by not having the patience to see this out. All Bree seemed to do now was put pressure on her, something she just didn’t need.
Sighing with exasperation, Franny snapped again, ‘What are you talking about? Why are you talking about being a prisoner? This is nothing like your old life. You’ve got everything here. And don’t forget you were part of this plan as much as I was. You agreed to it all. I never forced you, Bree, you wanted this. But now you’re making out like I’m the bad guy here.’
‘I’m not. It’s just that before Mia was born, it was okay staying here, but it’s got worse