any closer …’
‘Alright, alright I get it Lorn, but you could be mistaken, it could be innocent.’
‘Yeah like the acid bath murderer was.’
Frankie got annoyed.
‘You’re not helping, Lorn.’
‘What do you want me to say?’
‘I dunno, but there must be another explanation.’
‘Here, look, if you don’t believe me. Take a look at this.’
Lorna proceeded to go into her Chloé oversized bag. A moment later she brought out a tiny digital camera and thrust it under Frankie’s nose.
‘What do you …’
‘Just look at them, Frankie.’
With a furrowed brow, Frankie Taylor started to scroll through pictures of his wife and a man he’d never seen before in what he’d only describe as a passionate embrace. Lorna had certainly been thorough in the task he’d set her. He didn’t know whether to be angry with her or not. But then why would he be? She’d only done what he’d asked her to do. And it showed she cared. He continued to stare at the photos as Lorna spoke to him.
‘Okay Frank, let’s just say it was an innocent hug. We’ll go with the Disney version if it makes you feel better. But what you should ask yourself is; what was she doing there in the first place? If it was so bleeding innocent, why didn’t she tell you where she was going? Ask her and see what she says. If she doesn’t tell you the truth, then you know she’s up to something.’
Frankie listened hard to his sister and then nodded.
‘Get out now, Lorn. I want to be on my own. I need to think.’
‘Whatever you say, Frankie.’
‘And Lorn?’
‘Yes, Frankie?’
‘Thank you.’
Lorna closed the door behind her leaving her brother with his head in his hands. As she leant on the closed door a wide grin spread over her face. Tonight she’d come a little closer to getting rid of Gypsy and when she had, she, Lorna Taylor, would get exactly what she deserved.
Gypsy sat in her dressing room and sighed. She felt emotionally drained. It’d been a difficult night. First from the fright she’d had, though she could see now she’d overreacted and let her imagination get carried away. And then of course there was the clinic.
She’d got upset when they’d explained things to her and she’d broken down in tears, so much so, one of the staff – a young very flamboyant gay man – had walked her out and helped her hail a taxi. He’d been lovely and had given her a big hug and she’d held onto it, needing every ounce of his concern. When she’d arrived home, she’d popped her head round the door to see Frankie still watching the poker. She’d only spoken to him later to let him know the spray tan lady had arrived but she hadn’t bothered saying anything else. After all, what he didn’t know about couldn’t hurt him.
It was getting late now and Johnny Taylor eyed the grey tower block up and down for a fourth time. It was a shithole. Nobody needed to tell him that. He hadn’t even seen inside but in his gut he knew. Knew he wouldn’t make his worst enemy have a piss in the place where he’d put his daughter.
A group of kids tumbled out of the block of flats leaving the steel door open. Their beltless jeans hung almost to their knees, showing off designer underwear and youthful taut stomachs. They stopped pushing and joking with one another when they saw Johnny, nodding their heads in respect for one of Soho’s upcoming faces, turning up their own swagger as they did so.
Inside, Johnny decided to walk up the concrete stairwell rather than risk going into the lift which had shit smeared all over the sides. Gina’s flat was on the sixteenth floor. He could’ve easily bounded up the flight of stairs but he chose to walk slowly, taking in the filth, the graffiti walls, the used syringes and general rubbish strewn along the corridors.
He could feel the anger increasing with every flight of stairs he walked up. The fury ran through his body but he wasn’t entirely sure if he was more upset about Harley or the money he’d dished out. He knew it was a terrible thing to think. It should’ve been all about his daughter but the fact that he kept thinking about the money worried him.
He hated the thought he might be a bad father. He’d been given everything in the world; love, money, and apart from the situation with Maggie, he’d had the freedom to enjoy his life as he wished.
He’d always been surrounded by his mum, his doting father or the hookers from the clubs who’d babysat him. All of them giving him truckloads of love. He’d presumed he’d be the same with his own child – and at first he had.
It’d been a shock when Maggie had told him she was pregnant and he’d needed to go on one of his ‘legendaries’ to get his head round it. When the news had properly sunk in he’d been happy. Not one part of him had wanted her to get rid of it. But then to his shame, when things got tough and complicated, he’d stuck his head in the proverbial. Whilst his wife was banged up he’d palmed his daughter off to Gina Daniels and got on with his life. It was, even by his standards, totally unforgivable.
Gina shuffled to the front door, her hair in yellow Velcro rollers and her feet in brown slippers stained with grease. Her mouth was stuffed full of chocolate and some of it spat out as she swore at the hammering on the door.
‘Bleedin’ hell, I ain’t no frigging racehorse, what’s the rush?’
Gina pulled open the front door. She was about to continue spouting off when she came face to face with Johnny Taylor standing there, his face looking like a bulldog chewing a wasp.
‘Johnny!’
‘Get out me way Gina, I want to see Harley and I want to know what the fuck’s going on.’
‘I … I don’t know what you mean.’
‘Well ain’t that convenient? You didn’t think I’d eventually come round to see how you and Nicky were robbing me blind did you?’
Gina Daniels pursed her lips with indignation. She was argumentative whether she was wrong or right but especially when she was wrong.
‘Jon Jon, I ain’t robbing no one. If anybody’s being robbed it’s me.’
‘How do you figure that one out?’
‘I’m being sucked dry by your daughter. Every minute of the day she wants some part of me. Some days I worry I’ll wake up and I’ll just be a pile of bones, she’s taken that much of me.’
Johnny wasn’t interested in hearing it. He pushed past Gina roughly, walking into the front room, seeing the piled up takeaway trays, the overflowing ashtrays, the crumpled Lotto slips and in the corner, curled up on the mismatched burgundy chair, was his beautiful daughter, Harley.
