Heartless (20 page)

Chapter Thirty-Three

The couple who lived next door to Sophia had been arguing for almost two hours. She had heard heavy footsteps and shouted abuse. It was the same most nights, alcohol-fuelled rows that continued into the early hours until the fiery couple had burned themselves out. Sophia had no idea what they were rowing about tonight, but whatever it was their argument was probably keeping half the street awake too. She was surprised that no-one had called the police. Then again, the police were less welcome around here than rats; this place was crawling with ex-offenders.

Wrapping the pillow tighter around her head in a vain attempt to block out the noise, she felt the room start spinning again. The bottle of vodka she had drunk earlier was lying empty on the floor next to the bed. She regretted her binge.

Drinking it had helped at first, numbing the sting of the prior day’s meeting with the social worker. Sophia had glugged the bottle as she tried to dull out the noise of the woman’s harsh words which echoed in her head, taunting her.

“Rosie has been in Jonathan’s sole care since birth. Frankly, with your criminal record, the chances of you getting any kind of custody are very slim.”

Sophia had cringed at the social worker’s bluntness. The hope that she had felt since she had first set eyes on Rosie: that she would be able to get to know her, vanished.

The social worker was a complete jobs-worth. From the second Sophia had entered her office she had known she was fighting a losing battle. Looking down her nose at Sophia, she kept banging on about was the way the system worked. From what Sophia could gather from reading between the lines of what the woman was saying, the system was full of do-gooders who were so busy focusing their time on people like Sophia that they managed to let the real dregs of society slip through the net and get away with all sorts.

The woman had spoken to her slowly, emphasising words as if Sophia was foreign or simple. Afterwards, she just wanted to get drunk and forget it. But despite her inebriation, the woman’s words continued to swim around her mind. “And even if we could come to an arrangement with Mr Jenkins, what you’re asking for wouldn’t happen overnight. It’s a very long, slow and drawn-out process and the courts will need to see you settled and in a permanent home and employment before you’d be considered for any kind of access. At the moment supervised visitation is your only option, and even that will be a battle if Mr Jenkins disputes it.”

Sophia had gone back to her room at the hostel with a heavy heart, cursing the system that had caused her so much grief. The rules and regulations had stripped her of her innocence and freedom, and now the same system was stopping her from seeing her child. Never had she felt so lost and alone. Sitting on the floor, drunk and in tears, she couldn’t shake the thought that there must be another way.

She regretted going to the Jenkins’ house. They thought that she was heartless; a cold, unloving and un-maternal girl who had given away her baby. They couldn’t understand how scared and confused she had been: still a child herself. But seeing Rosie had stirred up feelings inside her that she never knew she had. As soon as she saw Rosie’s innocent little face, she felt something deep within her heart stir. Her little girl had looked so perfect. She must have been out of her mind to have given her away to someone as disgusting as Jonathan, but back then she had just wanted everyone and everything to disappear.

There was no point dragging up the past now. None of them would believe that Jonathan had forced himself upon her, tricking her into having sex with him, and accomplishing his wish of splitting up her and Tommy. God knows what Jonathan had told him, but whatever it was it had worked: Tommy had gone. She remembered how worried Bernie had looked as she had hurtled down the stairs in a blind panic on hearing Sophia at her front door after all these years. She had probably thought that she had gone there to take Rosie. But that had never been Sophia’s intention when she found herself at the house: she had only wanted Tommy. Seeing Rosie, with her red curls and her face that was like looking into a mirror, had been a punch in the stomach for Sophia; she had been winded by the sudden connection that she felt with her own flesh and blood.

Now, Sophia couldn’t close her eyes without seeing her; Rosie was all she could think about. It was so unexpected. For years the thought of the child, Jonathan’s child, was only a painful reminder of what Jonathan had done to her.

Rosie had stared through her with the same cold eyes as her father. But whereas he made Sophia feel angry, when she looked at her daughter she only felt heart-sorry for what she had done. She had made a dreadful mistake in giving Rosie up.

With thoughts of her daughter swimming around her head Sophia must have finally drifted off, because when she next glanced at the small alarm clock on her dresser she saw that it was five am.

Getting out of bed, unsteady on her feet after the alcohol, she grabbed her robe and wrapped it tightly around her body before making her way to the balcony to get some fresh air. The crisp, cool air that hit her felt refreshing after being in her room all night. The sun peeped through the gaps of the buildings, beguiling her with its false promise of a brighter day. She stared out into the distance taking in the view of the rich green mosaic of the Marshes, a stark contrast to the grey mass of rundown tower blocks that stood in between. She exhaled loudly as the brightness of the sun blinded her for a split second, leaving her squinting. She much preferred dismal rainy days to the brighter sunny ones like this: as at least they mirrored her mood perfectly.

Staring down at the balcony beneath hers, she looked at the washing that was strewn on any available space, including the backs of chairs and the bars of an old rusty bike. The washing swung aimlessly in the breeze above pots filled with dead or wilting plants.

She tried to take her mind off her current situation, and thought about getting dressed. She had wanted to get over to her nan’s early that morning and do her a nice cooked breakfast. She hadn’t been eating properly and Sophia was worried. Albert continued to make her lovely meals, but her nan never seemed to have an appetite for them or anything else.

Sophia tried to gather some energy; even just the thought of cooking a breakfast with the mother of all hangovers was making her feel queasy. Running her hand along the banister, she flicked a tiny purple flower that lay flaccidly on the metal railing. The dot of colour floated gracefully down to the road below.

It was then that she saw him. He was standing at the end of the street, leaning against a fence, watching her.

For a second she thought that the tall dark figure was Tommy and automatically her heart raced. Then she saw iciness of his stare and realised her mistake.

Obviously unfazed at being visible Jonathan lit a cigarette, his eyes never leaving Sophia. He was trying to frighten her, she realised. It worked. Sophia ran from the balcony and into her room, her heart beating hard in her chest. How did he know where to find her, and what did he want? She had known that Bernie and Stanley would have told him of her visit by now and he wouldn’t have been happy about her seeing Rosie.

Waiting a few minutes, she peeped out from behind her curtain to check if he was still there, still watching. But he had gone. Feeling her heart rate slow, her panic turned to anger. What did he think: that he could warn her off? That she was going to do just as she always had and not fight back?

Everything, and everyone, in her life had changed over the past eight years. Her father was dead; her mother a shadow of her former self; Tommy was gone. All she had left was her nan, who seemed to be getting frailer by the day. And then there was little Rosie.

As she tugged on her jeans, Sophia’s mind was all over the place. For years, Jonathan had been in the back of her mind confusing and scaring her. Everything had worked out fine for him. He had it all. He had destroyed her and Tommy’s relationship, and as a reward he been given a daughter. And it wasn’t enough: now he was trying to intimidate her. Well, Sophia had had enough of being intimidated. If Jonathan was worried about her trying to make contact with her child, then so he bloody well should be she thought. Rosie was her daughter, and she was going to get her back.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Paranoid that she was being followed, Sophia walked faster. Unable to shake the unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach, she just wanted to get to her nan’s house. Jonathan knew where she lived; he had been watching her.

Turning into the street where she had been brought up, Sophia couldn’t bear to look at her old house. The memories were too painful. Quickly she made her way down her nan’s garden path.

When she saw that the front door was ajar, Sophia knew something bad had happened. Following a spate of burglaries in the area, her nan locked up the house as if it was Fort Knox. Sophia’s hands trembled as she pushed the door open and stepped inside.

“Nan?”

Sophia gave a gasp as she saw that the house had been ransacked. Her nan’s belongings were strewn on the floor, many of them broken.

Stepping carefully over the broken pieces of Nessa’s favourite vase, Sophia knew she would have to call the police; but first she needed to find her nan.

In the kitchen, the cupboards had been emptied and their contents were on the floor. The fridge had been upturned with food spilling out. Four chairs had been broken and her nan’s finest china smashed into smithereens.

Sophia couldn’t believe how much stuff had been destroyed.

“Nan?” Sophia called again as she climbed the stairs. If someone had caused this much carnage, they were capable of hurting a vulnerable old lady. And her nan wouldn’t have taken this attack lying down. She had a fighting spirit, and if someone had broken into her home to rob her, she would have fought tooth and nail on principle. Sophia knew only too well just from being locked up with crack-heads when she was in prison that you couldn’t be like that anymore. She had met people so twisted they would think nothing of bumping you off for their next fix of drugs. One nutcase that had been in the cell next door had beaten someone to death for a tenner… ten pounds for a life.

Reaching her nan’s bedroom, Sophia felt so scared at what she might find that she could barely open the door.

“Oh Nan, thank God,” Sophia said, relief spreading through her. Her nan was cowering in the chair in the corner of the room, shaking like a leaf and clutching her chest with trembling hands. “Are you hurt, Nan?”

“Has he gone?” Nessa whispered.

“I think so,” Sophia knelt at her nan’s feet, reaching for her hands.

“I’ve had a bit of an accident,” Nessa admitted.

Nessa had always prided herself in the fact that even in her eighties and with a bad hip she was always in full control of her faculties, unlike some of her friends that were of a similar age, and Sophia knew that she would be mortified that she had wet herself.

“Forget about that, Nan,” Sophia said quietly as she ignored the dark patch of urine on her nan’s nightdress. It was the least of their worries right now.

“He came here,” Nessa said, in a strained voice.

“Who?”

“That Jonathan,” Nessa cried. “He broke in a couple of hours ago. He said that you’re to take this as a warning to leave Rosie alone.”

As she relayed the message, she wheezed as she fought against the increasing pain in her chest.

“Oh my God, Nan, I’m so sorry.” Sophia felt sick with guilt. This was all her fault. Her nan’s house had been smashed up and she had been left in this terrified state because of her. Sophia constantly brought pain and trouble to her nan’s life.

“I only went to their house to see Tommy, but he wasn’t there. I didn’t mean for Rosie to see me, but she did. It’s all such a mess, Nan... I’m so sorry.” Sophia started to cry. Everything backfired on her. She had only ever had good intentions, but she was always being punished for what she did. “Nan, we have to call the police. We can’t let him get away with this.”

“No… no police. He said he’ll kill you if you cause him any trouble, and I think he really meant it. You didn’t see him, he looked crazy...”

Nessa keeled over.

“Nan,” Sophia screamed.

Her nan lay motionless at her feet. Sophia used the phone on the dresser to call an ambulance.

“Please help, it’s my nan, she’s unconscious.” As she begged for help, the woman at the other end of the phone told her to remain calm. Remain calm? Her nan was lying unresponsive on the floor. How could anyone be calm at a time like this?

“Please, just hurry,” Sophia cried. “I think she’s had a heart attack. Please...”

Sophia couldn’t lose her nan: not now. She had only just got her back.

Chapter Thirty-Five

As the car pulled up in a narrow street, Dolly looked at the row of terraced houses in confusion. She didn’t think she had any punters around there. Jono got out of the car and opened the passenger door.

“Where are we, then?” Dolly asked as Jono led her across the road to a pathway. Dolly had had the best night’s sleep in ages last night at home in her own bed. However, she had woken up dreading going back out with Jono. She couldn’t face another punter. Not after all the work she had put in the previous day.

Tottering behind him on her heels as he strode in front of her, his six-foot frame towering above her and his long leather jacket swishing around him, she was knackered but she tried her hardest to keep up.

As they reached the front of the hospital Dolly realised that this must be their destination, but knowing better than to keep asking Jono questions she just followed without saying a word. Envisaging that she would probably have to give some bed-bound old codger a blowie, she just hoped that whatever they were there for was over quickly so she could get home and get some more well-earned sleep.

They went into the hospital and Jono pressed the lift button. Waiting for it to come, Dolly tried to ignore the stares that she was receiving from the old grannies sitting in a cluster just outside the little tea kiosk. She could tell that they were talking about her. Dolly guessed her black PVC playsuit and red six-inch heels were bound to draw attention: after all that’s exactly why she wore them. Except at this time of day and in this kind of environment it was the wrong kind of attention. It didn’t help that Jono was standing next to her, and with his towering frame giving him the look of her minder they both stuck out a mile.

“Would you look at the state of that one? She’s leaving nothing to the imagination,” one of the old dears with a sour pout and a disapproving stare said loudly. The other ladies were listening intently, taking in the old bag’s words as if they were gospel. “Her clothes are so skimpy you can almost see her religion.”

The other women sniggered.

“My religion?” Dolly smiled at the woman who had spoken. “Oh, I’ve never heard anyone call it that before. I just call it my cunt.”

Dolly winked and blew the old lady a kiss as the lift door closed on her and Jono. Smiling to herself about putting the miserable cow in her place, Dolly turned to see that Jono was glaring at her.

“Did you have to do that?” he demanded.

“What?” Dolly feigned innocence. “You have to admit, it was funny. Never mind choking on her tea, that old dear almost choked on her false gnashers.”

“Just keep your head down and stop drawing attention to us,” Jono warned.

“You are joking, aren’t you?” Dolly scoffed. She looked at them both in the mirrored wall. “You have seen what we look like, haven’t you? I’m trussed up in my streetwalking finest, and you look like something that’s just stepped out of the bloody Matrix.”

Jono didn’t reply: he was in one of his humourless moods again. Dolly changed the subject. “So, what are we here for then?”

“You’ll see,” Jono said bluntly, as the lift doors opened. “Now no more of your bloody lip, okay, just follow me.”

Jono was having second thoughts about bringing Dolly with him; working alone was always easier. The girl was a bleeding liability.

***

Maria Byrnes had worked as a nurse at Homerton University Hospital for a year, but every single day had the freshness and excitement of her first. She enjoyed everything about her job: the buzz, the busy atmosphere, the other staff and the patients. She didn’t care about the debt that she had accumulated to get there nor did the thought of the endless nights where she had stay up into the early hours almost pulling her hair out in frustration as she studied for her exams bother her anymore. Every bit of effort she had put in had been worth it, as far as she was concerned. She had worked so hard to get to where she was, and now at twenty-seven years old she was living her dream.

As she stared down at her patient’s flaccid penis, with its torn skin and jagged stitches, she tried to remind herself of all of the above.

“Christ al-fucking-mighty, will you please be a little more careful, my nads are bloody killing me,” Roache screamed, as Maria reapplied the dressing around his crotch area. Gripping the bed sheets until his knuckles went white, Roache grimaced. The nurse was pretty, albeit a bit chubby, and on a normal day Roache would have been only too pleased to have her playing with his todger but right now he was in so much agony that all he wanted was some strong painkillers and then to get the hell out of there. He hated hospitals.

“I’m very sorry, Mr Roache; I know it must be ever so sore.” Maria tried to sympathise with the man who had been brought in with a severed penis, but holding on to it as she spoke was making her blush. Apparently he was a prison officer who had been assaulted by one of his female prisoners. Maria couldn’t imagine what sort of woman would have inflicted such a wound. She had been horrified when she had seen his injury, but now with her senior nurse standing behind her and monitoring her every move Maria was carrying out her patient’s care with the utmost professionalism, treating his injury just as she would any other.

“That’s it, Nurse Byrnes, wrap it round once more and then check his medication sheet,” the sister said, standing behind Maria and making notes on the staff nurse’s progress. Mr Roache’s injury had been the perfect opportunity to put the girl to the test and Sister Croft was pleased with the young nurse’s conduct in dealing with the delicate situation so far. Sister Croft had seen it all in her time as a nurse; the predicaments some patients got themselves into had long since stopped shocking her, but it was different for the younger ones.

“I need some more pills, the pain is too fucking much, and something to help me sleep too,” Roache groaned, his cock throbbing from all the stitches that he had received on a penis that had swollen to almost triple its normal size. Pain was an understatement.

Maria did as she was told and checked Roache’s medical notes. Scanning the numerous notes she bit the end of her pen thoughtfully.

“I’m afraid you’re not due any more painkillers for at least another two hours,” Maria said, offering a sympathetic smile as soon as she saw Mr Roache’s face redden in annoyance.

“Two fucking hours? Are you having a laugh?” Roache felt like crying; ever since that bitch Dolly had sunk her teeth into his manhood, his whole world had been turned upside down. Not only was he in a lot of pain, he had suffered the humiliation of his governor visiting him. And now Roache’s head was swirling with the news he had been given. Suspended pending investigation, the governor had said, without an ounce of compassion or commiseration. Due to the high number of complaints that he had received, the governor could no longer turn a blind eye to the allegations that had been made against him. As much as Roache had denied the misdemeanours, the governor was having none of it. So much for being friends, Roache had thought miserably to himself. Now this blithering nurse, having just tinkered with his bits and made his pecker even more sore, was refusing him any more medication.

“I’ve had enough of this shit. I’m going home.” Roache tried to swing his legs around to get off the bed, but the raw pain in his groin made him fall back. “Argh,” he spat, as he realised he wasn’t even able to stand without making the pain worse.

“I’m afraid that you can’t go home until the doctor has examined you. He is doing his rounds shortly,” Maria told him.

“For fucks sake. Unless the doctor is going to stand there and physically rub my dick better what’s can he bloody do for me? I’m in pain and I want to go home.”

“Mr Roache,” Sister Croft reprimanded.

Then after waiting for him to lie back down, Maria continued: “Get some rest and I’ll be back later with some more medication for you, and we can see how you’re getting on. Once the doctor has been, we can look into discharging you.”

Maria spoke more confidently than she felt, as she waited for yet another tirade of abuse from the man. She was so glad that Mr Roache’s bed was next to a patient that had been sent off for a morning of physio. She would have been mortified if any of the other patients could hear the despicable way he was talking to her. Most of the patients in here were fine, but this one had tested her to her limit with his attitude.

Smiling at Maria for doing such an excellent job, Nurse Croft opened the curtain to let the flustered nurse out before her.

“We’ll close this for you, Mr Roache, to give you a bit of privacy,” Nurse Croft said, as she pulled the curtain around Roache’s bed.

Winking at Maria, the senior nurse whispered: “See no gob-shite, hear no gob-shite.”

Maria giggled at her manager’s sense of humour and smiled in agreement. Mr Roache had been her most challenging patient to date.

***

Jono scanned the whiteboard behind the unattended nurse’s station, looking for Roache’s name. His informant had told him that Roache would be in here for at least two days and Trevor had reckoned a friendly little visit from Jono was just what the sly fucker needed. Finding what he was looking for, he nodded to Dolly to follow him down the corridor.

Reaching the ward, Jono saw the cubicle he was looking for was at the far end of the corridor. Walking towards it, he opened the curtains to check that Roache was alone.

“What now?” Roache asked grumpily, as he sensed someone coming into his cubicle. He was lying on his side facing the wall, hoping that the pressure around his groin would ease up so that he could finally get some sleep. And now he was being disturbed yet again. “For fuck’s sake, I’ve already had my dressing done, what does a man have to do around here to get a bit of shut eye?”

Roache turned to see who was disturbing him. However, instead of being met by the plump nurse he encountered Dolly and a man he didn’t recognise.

“Is this the piss-taking bent screw you told us about?” Jono asked Dolly, as she took in the big bandage around Roache’s penis that covered up the damage she had inflicted.

Nodding at Jono, Dolly grinned as she realised that she didn’t feel an ounce of remorse.

Before Roache knew what was happening, Jono had smashed his fist into his face. Feeling several of his teeth loosen inside his mouth, Roache went to call out for help but Jono was too quick. Clamping his hand over Roache’s mouth, Jono grabbed him by the back of his neck with his other hand and hoisted him into a sitting position. He was in no fit state to fight back; even moving on the bed hurt his groin.

Jono bent down, his voice low, sounding more menacing than if he had shouted. “See that girl there? I hear you’ve been having a few freebies with her.”

Roache shook his head, trying to protest, but the man’s hand was clamped so tightly over his mouth that all he managed to do was make muffled groans. Staring at Dolly, Roache felt sick to his stomach. He had a severed penis, no job and now this thug on his back. No girl was worth this amount of grief.

“Well, let me tell you now, nothing in this life is free, mate; you always pay the price in the end. Trevor Creevy owns that girl, and now you owe him for her. Five grand for her, another three for the fucking liberty you took.” Jono tightened his grip, as he listened to the man whimper in pain. “I’ll be seeing you, and that eight grand, again very soon.”

Jono took his hand off Roache’s mouth and put his finger to his own lips.

Roache did as he was told and didn’t speak. All he wanted was for Dolly and her psychotic companion to leave.

Leaning his head back against his pillow when they had gone, Roache could taste blood and felt a tooth under his tongue. Again, he fought the urge to cry. He wished more than anything that he had never laid eyes on Dolly.