Eddie and Jessica had spoken about baby names for months leading up to the birth. They hadn’t known what they were having, so they had chosen two names for a boy and two for a girl.
Francesca was Jessica’s choice. She thought it was the prettiest name she’d ever heard. Eddie chose Joseph. He wanted the name to be a tribute to his deceased grandfather. Their names were shortened within the first few years of their lives. Everybody referred to them as Frankie and Joey. They adored one another, and everything they did, they did together.
Jessica’s thoughts were interrupted by her son.
‘Mum, I think I’m gonna be sick.’
Unable to find her usual supply of sick bags, Jessica urged him to try and hold on for a minute. ‘Open the window, Joey. I can’t stop in the middle of the A13. Let me get round this corner and I’ll –’
The sound of retching mixed with the smell of sick stopped Jess in mid-sentence.
‘Urgh! Mum, open the roof.’ Frankie said, holding her head out of the window.
Spotting a lay-by, Jessica pulled over to inspect the damage. It was everywhere – all over Joey, the seats and the bloody carpet. With nothing but a box of tissues, Jess did her best to clean up both her son and the car. She daren’t tell Ed. He’d only recently bought her the red Mercedes convertible as a birthday present and he wouldn’t be impressed to know it was now covered in spew.
‘Make sure you’ve got a sick bag with you when you take Joey out,’ Ed insisted.
Jessica had carried a couple originally, but Joey had already used them and, with a brain like a sieve, she had forgotten to replace them.
‘Now, come on, don’t cry,’ Jessica said, wiping away her son’s tears.
Poor little sod, it wasn’t his fault that he was a terrible traveller. Frankie loved being in the car and was fine, but Joey, unfortunately, was the opposite.
Jessica put down the roof and continued her journey towards Tesco. Her parents and brother were coming over this evening and she had promised to cook them a slap-up meal. She couldn’t wait to show her dad and brother around her new house. Her mum had already visited and had fallen head over heels with it, but her dad and brother hadn’t yet seen the finished article.
‘Oh, Jess, it looks like a mansion. It reminds me of one of them posh houses in them American films your father watches.’
Jessica was thrilled with her new surroundings. The house was any woman’s dream. Eddie had had it built from scratch by some pals of his. He’d bought the land, got planning permission and, even though it had taken ages to finish, it was well worth the wait. The area, in the country lanes of Rainham, Essex, was perfect for the kids.
Before they had moved, they’d still lived in Upney, near Jessica’s parents, and Eddie had hated the area. ‘It’s a fucking shit-hole round here, Jess. Now the kids are nearing school age, we need to move somewhere nicer,’ he had told her a couple of years back.
Jessica had been reluctant to move at first but, within a month, Eddie had persuaded her. Eddie had forbidden Jessica to see the new house until it was all finished, and when she had, she was gobsmacked. Set in an acre of ground, it had four bedrooms, two bathrooms, a big dining room, a luxury lounge and the most enormous, modern kitchen she had ever seen.
Jessica whooped with delight when she saw the garden. Eddie had made it into a playground for the kids. They had swings, slides, a trampoline, and he’d even had their own tree-house built for them.
‘Well, what do you think?’ he’d asked her.
‘I absolutely love it. It’s the nicest house I’ve ever seen in my life,’ Jessica said, overwhelmed.
Eddie might be a rough diamond, but his good points definitely outweighed his bad. Jessica was sort of aware of how her husband earned his money, but she never asked any questions. Eddie had a dark side to him sometimes, especially when he drank Scotch. They were the times Jessica chose to forget. Many a time Ed’s eyes would blacken and he’d lose his rag over the most trivial thing. Jessica always forgave him. She loved him too much not to, but he did frighten her. He’d never hit her or anything like that, but there were occasions when she’d feared he would.
Overall though, Ed was a fantastic husband, a good dad and a wonderful provider. Jess had never wanted for anything since the day she’d met him and she had never seen him so much as glance at another woman. On the whole, their marriage was extremely happy and everyone had their faults, didn’t they?’
‘Mum, Mum, I need a wee-wee,’ Joey said, snapping Jess out of her daydream.
Jessica quickly stopped the car. Her son had a weak bladder at the best of times.
‘Go behind that bush over there,’ she ordered.
Frankie laughed as her brother disappeared into the undergrowth. ‘Joey is funny, isn’t he, Mummy?’
Jessica ruffled her daughter’s hair. Frankie and Joey might be twins, but in many ways they were chalk and cheese. They looked nothing like one another and their personalities were extremely different. Frankie had dark hair and was more like Eddie. She was a proper tomboy, a little daredevil, who would try anything once. Joey was the opposite. He had blond hair and was more like herself. He hated heights, was petrified of insects and cried every time he watched Lassie.
Eddie would get really annoyed with Joey sometimes. ‘You’re meant to be a boy. Stop acting like a fucking wimp,’ he would shout at his son.
Jessica would comfort Joey, wipe away his tears, and then Eddie would have a go at her. ‘You’re to blame for the way he is. You mollycoddle the fucking kid. It’s a hard life out there, Jess, and he needs to shape up before it’s too late. Ricky and Gary were never like him, they were proper little boys. Joey acts like a sissy and if you don’t knock it out of him, then I fucking will.’
Jessica smiled as her son got back into the car. ‘You OK now, love?’
Joey nodded. ‘Can me and Frankie have an ice cream from the shop, Mum?’
‘No, because you won’t eat your dinner,’ Jessica said sternly.
‘Please, Mum, we promise we will eat our dinner,’ Frankie whinged.
Jessica could never say no to her kids and both of them knew it. ‘OK, but don’t tell your dad,’ she said.
Frankie and Joey locked eyes. ‘Thank you, Mummy,’ they said, smiling at one another.
In the heart of London’s East End, tempers were starting to fray. As Eddie Mitchell stared at the shivering wreck of a man, he felt nothing but contempt. ‘What do you mean, you ain’t got the fucking money? You know the rules,’ he shouted menacingly.
‘I’m really sorry. My car broke down and I had to get that repaired, then my fridge-freezer went wrong. I’ll pay you next week, I promise I will,’ the man pleaded.
Eddie turned to his two brothers. ‘What do you reckon lads? Should we give him another week or cut the cunt’s ear off?’
Ronny Mitchell gave a sadistic grin. ‘I don’t think we should chop off his
