Born Evil (37 page)

Breathing a sigh of relief as Charlie and Billy ran towards her, she ordered her son to sit next to her in the front.

‘I’ll drive you to the station, then I want you to promise me you’ll get the first available train to Glasgow.’

Charlie smiled. He was so excited about moving up North with his dad, he could barely believe his luck.

‘There’s a thousand pounds in here,’ she said, handing him a white envelope. ‘Now, what I’m gonna do, Charlie, is open up a new account at a different bank. Steve won’t know about it, no one will. When you get to Scotland, all you have to do is open up a savings account, and that way I can send you money on a regular basis.’

‘No problem, Mum,’ he said. What a touch! She’d keep them in beer, fags and drugs. Result, he thought as he turned and grinned at his dad.

Mickey struck gold within five minutes. The third person he asked about Andy happened to be a heroin addict, dying for a fix. Snatching the twenty quid from Mickey’s hand, the junkie gladly pointed him to the door of Andy’s flat. Receiving no reply to his frantic knocking, Mickey kicked it down within seconds.

‘Fuck,’ he said, as he realised the place was empty.

‘You check out the bedroom, Steve, see if they’ve been here. I’ll case the rest of it.’

‘Any joy?’ Mickey shouted, minutes later.

The place was a tip, a shit-hole. Andy obviously spent the bulk of his life purchasing drugs rather than belongings.

‘Fuck all in here,’ Steve said, closing the door that hung ajar on the wardrobe. Just as he was about to leave the room, he clocked something bright blue sticking out from under the bed. He took one look at the Glasgow Rangers shirt and knew that Billy and Charlie had been there. Wishing it had been Mickey and not he who had found the bastard thing, he stood rooted to the spot, wondering what to do for the best.

Images of Debbie came into his mind. Her laughter, her temper, the lovely evening they’d enjoyed the previous night, their unfinished love-making this morning. Choosing his heart over his head, Steve opened the bedroom window and flung the Glasgow Rangers shirt out into the murky Barking air.

‘Any luck?’ Mickey asked seconds later as he stomped into the room to double-check Steve’s search.

‘Nothing in here, mate,’ Steve lied, wondering if the guilt he was feeling was showing on his face.

Andy strolled along happily swinging his tenner’s worth of Stella in a carrier bag. Billy had left him fifty quid as a thank you for putting him and Charlie up, and Andy had wasted little time in spending it. As Andy was permanently skint, purchasing crack, puff and a crate of lager all in one go was a fucking luxury to him. Having spent his money wisely, he couldn’t wait to get home, stick on a bit of Hendrix, and get well and truly shit-faced.

‘Oi, Andy!’ little Terry Jackson called out. ‘Don’t go to your flat,’ he said, pointing towards the tower block. ‘There’s two big geezers up there and they’ve booted your door in.’

‘What did they look like?’ asked a panic-stricken Andy.

‘Dunno if they’re old bill, but one’s a big skinhead geezer and the other one’s tall with dark hair.’

Dropping his beers so that he could run faster, Andy turned around and literally fled for his life.

At King’s Cross, Debbie couldn’t bear to let her son walk off without seeing him safely on to the train. ‘I want a bit of time alone with him,’ she said to Billy, urging him to make himself scarce. Billy took the hint and went off to purchase his sidekick and himself some booze for the journey.

Sitting down on a bench next to Charlie, Debbie held his clammy hand.

‘Mum! There’s people looking,’ Charlie said, snatching it away. He felt totally embarrassed by her behaviour and open tearfulness. ‘Why don’t you go?’ he said callously, as he looked around for his dad.

‘Don’t be like that, love. I am your mum. I just wanna say goodbye and make sure you get on the train all right.’

‘I said I’d get on the train, didn’t I? I ain’t gonna leg it, am I?’

‘Don’t be nasty to me, Charlie. I love you more than anything and I’ve always been there for you. Don’t be like this to me.’

‘Sorry,’ Charlie said. She was cramping his style now. He couldn’t wait to get rid of her.

Hurt by his uncaring attitude, Debbie stood up. ‘As soon as your dad gets back, go and sit in the carriage. The train’s just pulled in and they’re letting people go through.’

‘Okay,’ he replied, wishing his dad would bloody well hurry up.

‘Now don’t forget, Charlie, as soon as you get there, buy a mobile phone. I need you to keep in touch with me regularly and let me know how you’re doing. If you’re unhappy at all, or your dad’s not looking after you properly, I’ll come and get you, love. Things are bound to die down with Mickey in time, and you know you’ve always got a home with me.’

‘Thanks,’ Charlie said ungratefully.

His dad was walking towards them so he stood up. ‘I’d better go, Mum.’

As Debbie put her arms around him, she felt empty and betrayed by his obvious lack of emotion. He seemed to feel nothing for her at all.

‘’Bye, Charlie. Take care, son,’ she murmured.

‘See ya, Debs,’ Billy said awkwardly.

‘Take care of him for me,’ Debbie pleaded, tears streaming down her face.

Feeling momentarily sorry for his ex, Billy patted her on the arm. ‘’Course I’ll look after him. Don’t worry, he’ll be fine with me.’

Debbie wept as she watched them get into their carriage and then, as the train pulled away, sobbed her heart out. Not knowing when she was going to see her beloved boy again was pure hell, but at least this way he was still alive. Packing him off with Billy was the last thing she had wanted to do, but it was better than seeing him cold on a mortuary slab.

Debbie headed back to the car park, started the engine and switched on her mobile. She’d kept it off all day, in case Steve rang her. She’d enjoyed last night and couldn’t face lying to him. Dialling her answer-phone, the only voice that she expected to hear was his. The tearful messages from her mother she hadn’t expected.

Debbie pressed Call-back. ‘Come on, Mum,’ she muttered, annoyed to hear the engaged signal. Heading for home, she kept on pressing redial. ‘Whatever’s wrong?’ she asked when June finally answered.

‘Oh, Debs,’ her mother sobbed. ‘I don’t know how to say this, love, but … it’s Gracie.’

‘What’s the matter? Has she had an accident?’ Debbie asked frantically.

‘No, worse than that. She told me something, Debs, something terrible.’

‘Oh, for Christ’s sake, Mum. Just spit it out, will ya?’

Debbie’s day had been bad enough. The last thing she needed was her mother playing the drama queen.

June took a deep breath. ‘Our poor little Gracie … oh, Debs, she’s been sexually abused!’

Debbie swerved violently. How she escaped death then only God knew. She missed an oncoming lorry by inches.

THE DAY HAD
started off pleasantly for June. Peter was out playing golf, the sun was shining, and she was surrounded by her grandchildren. At one o’clock, she put a tired Alfie down for a nap. A cooking lesson was next on the agenda. She helped the girls make their very first Victoria sponge.

‘My stomach is so full, Nanny, I feel sick.’

June smiled at a pale-looking Rosie. She’d eaten half the bloody cake, no wonder she felt so ill. ‘Go and have a lie down on your bed, darling. A little sleep will make you feel much better.’

For once, Rosie did as she was told.

As soon as the little girl had left the room, a concerned June turned to her eldest granddaughter. ‘You’ve been very quiet the last couple of days. Is everything all right, Gracie?’

Chewing her fingernails, the child nodded and looked away.

June sat down at the kitchen table, and looked directly at her. ‘You can tell your old nan anything, you know. Even things you can’t tell Mummy and Daddy.’

Gracie’s eyes filled with tears. ‘It’s a secret, Nanny. I do want to tell you, but I can’t.’

‘Why not?’ June asked her gently.

‘Because if I tell you, Rosie will be chopped up and killed.’

June kneeled down next to her. ‘Don’t cry, Gracie. No one will hurt Rosie, I promise you that. Now you must tell Nanny who’s been upsetting you. Is it somebody at school?’

Gracie shook her head. Should she tell or should she not? Unsure what to do for the best, she decided to test the water. ‘You know I was asking if Charlie did bad things to Lois?’

June nodded. She might have known this had something to do with her evil bastard grandson. ‘Has he been nasty to you? Has he threatened you, Gracie? You must tell me.’

Gracie knew it was now or never. She desperately needed to tell someone. Averting her innocent eyes from her nan’s, she stared into her lap. ‘Charlie did bad things to me, too. He used to make me play special games with him. Is that what he did to Lois, Nanny?’

June took a deep, steadying breath. ‘Tell Nanny what special games, darling, and I’ll tell you if they’re the same ones as Lois played.’

As she spoke, Gracie held her breath. ‘He made me play the willy game, Nanny, that’s what he called it. He made me put his dinkle in my mouth and kiss it until he told me to stop.’

June felt her blood run cold. Gasping for breath, she reached for the phone.

After her near brush with death, the drive back through London to her mother’s seemed to take Debbie forever. Her head was all over the place and she didn’t know what to think. She felt sick, ill and emotional, and just hoped there’d been a mix up somewhere along the line and a simple explanation would contradict the words she’d just heard.

Pulling up on her mother’s driveway, she was relieved to see Peter’s car wasn’t there. Things were bad enough without him sticking his oar in.

‘Oh, Debbie!’ June ushered her daughter into the living room, her eyes red-raw from crying.

‘Where are the girls?’ she asked immediately.

‘Peter’s taken them out with Alfie. I asked him to, so we could talk.’

Biting her nails, Debbie sat down opposite her mother. ‘What exactly did Gracie say to you, Mum?’

‘We were in the kitchen, on our own. I’d been teaching her how to bake a cake when she started asking questions about Charlie. She wanted to know if he would be coming back, and then she asked me what he’d done to Lois. Well, I didn’t know what to tell her, so I just said that he’d been a bad boy to Lois and he was in a lot of trouble.’

‘Go on,’ Debbie said, getting agitated.

June blew her nose and continued. ‘She’s been very quiet for days so I asked her what the matter was. It took a bit of persuading, but then she just came out with it, Debs. She said Charlie made her suck his willy! After I rang you, I gently asked her some more questions. She said when she was a little girl, Charlie played “special” games with her … used to make her touch him, you know, down there. I froze, Debs, didn’t know what to do. I asked her if he’d ever touched her in a naughty place but she said no and clammed up. She didn’t want to talk about it any more. Oh, Debs, our poor Gracie! What are we going to do?’

Debbie put her head in her hands. She felt like her whole world had just crashed at her feet. She’d spent years walking around in rose-tinted glasses, sticking up for Charlie – and now this. How could he do such a thing? Worst of all, how could he do it to his own little sister?

Snatching the glass of wine offered to her, she gulped it down in one then held it out for a refill. ‘What time is Peter bringing ’em back, Mum?’ She felt sick, cheated, and dreaded the questions she knew she would have to ask her daughter.

‘I told him I’d ring him when we’d had our little chat.’

‘Did you tell him what had happened? What Gracie said?’

‘No, I didn’t,’ June replied firmly. ‘I told him that you and Steve hadn’t been getting along and you were coming round for a girlie chat.’

‘Thanks,’ Debbie mumbled awkwardly. ‘You don’t think he’s touched Rosie as well, do you, Mum?’

June shrugged. ‘I don’t know, love. By the sound of it, the little bastard’s capable of anything. He’s never been right, love, not since the day he was born. It’s a shame, but there’s something seriously wrong with that boy.’

Holding her glass out for yet another top-up, Debbie sat in silence. She had to think now, and think quick. As she debated whether or not to trust her mum and tell her the story of Charlie’s departure, she decided she needed to confide in someone.

‘So that’s it, Mum,’ she said, ending her story. ‘Him and Billy’ll be halfway to Scotland by now.’

‘Apart from hell, it’s the best place for him.’ June’s tone was vicious as she thought about her no-good grandson. ‘Listen, Debs, you can’t have no more to do with the lad, not after this. You’ve got to wash your hands of him, you’ve no other choice. You’ve done more for that boy than any other mother in the world would have, and all he’s ever done is throw it back in your face. Cut the apron strings, love. Let him fuck off with his scumbag of a father. They’re well suited, them two. May God be my judge, they’re a match made in heaven. Or, in their case, fucking hell!’

Debbie stared at the woman who had given birth to her. June looked old, all of a sudden, and Debbie could see lines of worry etched across her forehead. Determined not to cause her any more heartache, she spoke from the heart. ‘I promise you, Mum, I’ll never have nothing else to do with Charlie, not after this. But I need you to make a promise to me.’

‘What?’

‘I want you to promise that you’ll never tell Steve or Mickey what happened in our home. Or anyone else, for that matter.’

‘Surely you’re not still trying to protect the boy, Debs?’

‘I swear, Mum, I’m not. Charlie’s history. If he’s touched my girls, I don’t care if I never see him again. Having said that, I don’t want the police knocking on my door asking me to identify his body. And, believe me, if word gets out, that is exactly what will happen.’

June nodded reluctantly. A mother herself, she understood her daughter’s dilemma.

With the subject closed, both mother and daughter turned their attention to the girls, discussing what to do for the best.

‘Look, ring Peter now, Mum, and tell him to bring ’em back. When he gets here, suggest he pops out for a pint or something. I’m gonna take Gracie upstairs and have a little chat with her. You can have a gentle word with Rosie.’