gonna be burying another baby if you carry on like that,’ Terry had warned her only yesterday.
‘I’m so unhappy living here. I need to move back in with Jed. Please say I can, Dad. You can’t keep me away from him for ever. I love him.’
Sick of watching Sally necking the wine night after night, Terry had reluctantly agreed that she could move back in with her no-good, pikey arsehole of a boyfriend. When Luke had first been murdered, Terry had turned up at the O’Haras’ and ordered Sally to return home so she was safe and they could grieve and cry together. Terry had hoped that she would leave Jed for good, especially when she learned from the police that Frankie was also pregnant in the nick with the toerag’s child, but it wasn’t to be. The silly little cow was going back to him for now, until Terry found a way to get the piece of shit out of her life for good.
The pub door opened and Terry nodded as Jamie Carroll sat down opposite him. Jamie was a fixer and whether you wanted a firearm, a dodgy motor got rid of, or some bastard assassinated, Jamie could fix it for you.
‘What you having to drink?’ Terry asked.
‘Nothing, I’ve gotta be in Shoreditch in half an hour. You got the boodle?’
Terry nodded. ‘Shall I give it to you here?’
‘No. I’ll leave first; you finish your beer and meet me outside in five minutes. I’m in a silver Jag.’
Obeying Jamie’s orders, Terry sipped his pint. He then stood up, checked nobody was watching him and left the pub. He spotted the Jag at the far end of the car park and walked towards it.
‘Shall I get in while you count it? It’s in bundles of a thousand.’
Jamie shook his head. He’d done bird with Baldwin and knew he was sweet. ‘I trust ya. As soon as I get the nod, I’ll let you know,’ he replied. He started the engine and sped out of the car park like a racing driver.
Terry watched him go and then got into his own car. There was no going back now, not now he’d called it on. Nothing would bring Lukey boy back, but as the child’s grandfather, Terry saw it as his duty to do whatever he could for Luke’s memory.
Georgie and Harry O’Hara sat silently on the sofa as their dad fondled Sally on the armchair. Neither child particularly disliked Sally – she had always been quite kind to them and given them lots of attention when Luke was alive – but today she was solely focused on their father and had barely spoken to them all afternoon. Noticing that her dad had put his hand up Sally’s short skirt, Georgie grabbed Harry’s hand.
‘Come on, let’s play in the other room,’ she said.
Thrilled to have Sally back and also desperate for a leg-over, Jed was happy to let his children do their own thing. His mum had gone to do the weekly shop, his father had driven her there, and when she got back he would leave her in charge of the kids while he took Sally upstairs for a good seeing-to. It would do them good to spend some time alone; they could have sex, then talk about Lukey boy.
‘What you doin’, Georgie?’ Harry asked, as his sister stood on a chair and removed items from the fridge.
‘Ssh,’ Georgie warned. She didn’t want her father to get wind of what she was up to.
Harry watched his sister in awe as she buttered the bread, spread some Marmite over it, then put big lumps of cheese in the middle. Georgie placed the sandwiches into her Mister Blobby lunchbox. She then placed four cans of Pepsi and four packets of crisps in a carrier bag.
‘You hold the lunchbox, I’ll carry the bag ’cause it’s heavier,’ she whispered to Harry.
Georgie put her Puffa jacket on, helped Harry into his, opened the front door and urged Harry to follow her outside. She could hear her dad making strange noises in the living room, so she left the door slightly open in case he heard it click shut.
‘Are we going for a picnic, Georgie?’ Harry asked excitedly.
Georgie held Harry’s hand and urged him to run towards the nearby fields. ‘No, we’re running away to Nanny Joycie’s house.’
Unaware that his great-grandchildren were on their way to his old abode, Stanley Smith finished the last of his rabbit stew and puffed out his cheeks.
‘Have some more,’ Pat the Pigeon ordered, as she leaped out of her seat to bring the large saucepan over.
‘Christ no, I’m that bloated I can’t even move.’
Pat smiled. She knew how to take care of a man – her mother had instilled it into her from a very early age. ‘Patricia, all you’ve got to do in life is learn to cook like an angel and act like a whore in the bedroom. If you can successfully master those two acts, no man will ever leave you – why would he?’ her mum used to insist.
‘I’ve made a rhubarb crumble, but if you’re stuffed we’ll eat that later for supper, Stanley. My Christine lent me a film the other day, reckons it’s bloody brilliant. It’s called Thelma and Louise. Have you seen it?’
Stanley shook his head. ‘Well, you go and make yourself comfortable in the living room while I wash up and then we’ll have a couple of cans of bitter to wash that dinner down and watch our film.’
Stanley grinned and did as he was told. Unlike Joycie, who had always treated and spoken to him like something untoward on the bottom of her shoe, Pat was kind, she respected him and Stanley could get very used to that indeed.
Back in bitterly cold Rainham, Harry O’Hara was shivering, tired and had just fallen over on the uneven ground and grazed his knee. ‘Can you pick me up, Georgie? My knee hurts,’ he asked with a tremor in his voice.
Seeing headlights approaching, Georgie pushed Harry behind a bush. The only way to Nanny Joycie’s house was via the road and because it was a country lane there was no pavement to walk on.
‘Why do you keep pushing me?’ Harry wept.
Aware that Harry’s teeth were chattering, Georgie gave him a hug. She opened her Mr Blobby lunchbox, gave Harry a sandwich, then handed him a can of Pepsi out of the carrier bag. It was dark now, pitch black, and as they nibbled on their sandwiches they could barely see what they were eating.
‘I’m sorry I pushed you, Harry, but if we don’t get out the way when a car drives along, we might get run over.’
Harry nodded tearfully. He didn’t like the dark, had always been afraid of it. ‘When will we see Nanny Joycie’s house?’ he asked.
‘Soon, but you have to walk quicker, Harry. I can’t carry you.’
They finished their sandwiches in silence, then Georgie stood up and grabbed her brother’s hand. She knew they were going the right way. Her teacher had taught her how to tell her left from her right and she knew her nan’s house was this way, because she’d spotted it from her grandad Jimmy’s truck. Georgie didn’t miss going to school at all. She hadn’t been back since her mummy had disappeared and she was pleased that she didn’t have to sit cooped up in a classroom every day. Not only that, she didn’t want to leave Harry indoors on his own. If she went to school, her brother would have no one to play with.
Feeling herself shiver, Georgie turned to her brother.
