Schemer (29 page)

‘They’re beautiful kids, both of ’em. Yous two must be really proud of yourselves,’ Barry said, looking at Stephanie rather than Wayne.

‘Oh, we are, ain’t we, babe?’ Wayne replied, sitting down next to Steph and squeezing her hand lovingly.

Stephanie was feeling more ill at ease by the second. Was Barry taking the piss? Or was he just being too nice and sickly?

‘Do you know what? I’ve really fucking enjoyed tonight. How long you in England for, Bal? I’d be over the moon if you could come to my stag night,’ Wayne said, slurping his champagne.

‘What date is it?’ Barry asked.

‘Fourth of Feb.’

‘I reckon I’ll still be about, you know. I’ve got a few loose ends in England that I need to tie up while I’m here,’ Barry said, catching Steph’s eye once again. He had thoroughly enjoyed winding her up.

‘Well, if you’re gonna be about for the stag do, surely you can prolong your trip for one more week and come to the wedding?’ Wayne asked.

Stephanie wanted to strangle her husband-to-be, but instead smiled at him falsely. ‘Don’t drive Barry mad, love. I’m sure he’s got far more important things to do than be hanging about in England for our wedding.’

‘To be honest, Steph, I haven’t. I’ve left a pal of mine in charge of my properties, so I ain’t got to worry about that, and I was gonna doss for a bit in England anyway, so I can spend a bit of time with me old man when he gets out. I’d love to come to the wedding, Jacko, thanks for inviting me, mate. Is it OK if I invite Jolene as well?’

Wayne leapt up from the sofa. ‘Yeah, course it is, and thanks so much for agreeing to come. It means a lot to us, don’t it, Steph?’

Clocking Stephanie’s horrified expression, Barry smirked and grasped Wayne’s hand. ‘How could I say no to the bloke who saved my life, eh?’ Picking up his glass of champagne, Barry raised it in the air. ‘We might not have seen one another for years, but we can never forget the good times, eh? To old pals.’

‘To old pals,’ Wayne repeated, holding his glass in the air.

As Wayne nudged her arm, Stephanie also lifted her glass into the air. She tried to say the words, but none would come out of her mouth. For the first time in her life, Steph was left totally speechless.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

‘How do I look?’ Marlene asked, as she walked into Marge’s lounge and did a little twirl.

Marge stared at the over-the-top outfit and laughed. Marlene was clad from head to foot in black, and even though the skimpy minidress, fishnet stockings, thigh-length boots, fake-fur coat, oversized hat and dark sunglasses were probably, in most people’s opinion, way too over the top for a funeral, the film-star look suited Marlene to a tee. ‘You really do look the bollocks, mate. Does this look OK, what I’ve got on?’

Even though Marge was classed as obese, she had a bubbly personality and a pretty face, therefore could get away with being fat to some extent. ‘I love the trouser suit, and that scarf really sets it off,’ Marlene replied, honestly. She was thrilled that Marge had agreed to attend Jake’s funeral with her, as she was dreading facing his family alone.

‘What time’s Barry picking us up? Is he still at your Chantelle’s?’ Marge asked.

Apart from the first night they had arrived back in England, neither Marlene nor Barry had stayed at Chantelle’s house. Marlene had once kept a frowsy home herself, but since living in Spain and having a cleaner do all the hard graft, she had got used to cleanliness. Chantelle lived in squalor, which is why she had chosen to stay with Marge instead of her daughter. ‘Barry’s staying in a hotel in Brentwood. He’s hired a car as he said he’s gonna stay in England for a few weeks. You’ll never guess where he went the other night. Do you remember that bird he was knocking off over the road in Dagenham? Used to live bang opposite me – Stephanie her name was. Her mother was the fat, stuck-up bitch that I used to call Porky the Pig.’

‘I don’t think I ever saw the girl, but I remember you mentioning her and I remember Porky. Didn’t the girl run off with one of his mates or something?’

‘Yeah, that’s the one. She got with that Wayne Jackman, he was Barry’s old pal from Bethnal Green. Horrible family they were, the Jackmans. The mother was an old bag and the father knifed her to death after catching her at it.’

Unable to stop herself, Marge burst out laughing. Over the years, her and Marge had had more pricks between them than a second-hand dartboard, yet Marlene still had the front to call other women old bags.

‘What you laughing at?’ Marlene asked, in a cross voice.

‘You! It’s the way you tell a story, mate, you do make me laugh,’ Marge said. She daren’t say what she was really thinking as, unlike Marge, who was fully aware of what she was, Marlene liked to class herself as a lady.

‘Well, that’s where Barry went the other night, round that Wayne and Stephanie’s house. I couldn’t believe it when he told me, Marge. That girl broke his fucking heart and he was in bits over her for a long time in Spain. The dirty little whore wants shooting if you ask me.’

‘Knowing your Barry, that’s probably what he’s planning to do,’ Marge joked. Marlene had once proclaimed that Barry had tried to murder her by strangulation, but knowing what a drama queen her friend was, Marge had never actually believed her.

Marlene raised her eyebrows. ‘If I tell you something, swear you won’t say a word to anyone.’

‘Go on, you know you can trust me, mate.’

‘Well, I have no proof of this, but I’ve got a gut feeling that it might have been Barry that killed Jake. They had an argument and never spoke for a few days before his death. The day before Jake got shot, I went out for a drink with Barry and told him how unhappy I was with the old cunt. I said that I’d be really elated if he keeled over one day. I also said that I was positive he’d left everything in his will to me.’

‘Christ, that’s heavy stuff, Mar. Do you think Barry actually shot Jake himself, then?’

‘No. He had a good alibi the night Jake was shot. He was in some posh restaurant with his girlfriend, Jolene, and her parents. Convenient, don’t you think?’ Marlene replied.

‘Why don’t you just ask him outright, mate?’

‘No! Barry tells me nothing. He thinks I’m fucking silly, Marge, but I ain’t. My Barry’s absolutely cakeo and I’m sure he’s involved in drugs out in Spain. He’s a little fucker, always has been.’

Hearing a car engine, Marge looked out of the window. ‘Barry’s just pulled up, mate. We’ll continue this conversation later.’

Seething that Wayne had asked Barry to their wedding without first asking her permission, Stephanie had barely spoken to her husband for the past thirty-six hours.

‘We can’t carry on like this, babe. Let’s call a truce, eh? How about I skip work today and take you out for a slap-up lunch to say I’m sorry for being such a dickhead?’ Wayne asked Stephanie.

Steph glared at her fiancé. A slap-up lunch wasn’t the answer to this particular problem. Uninviting Barry to the wedding was the only way to solve it. ‘You’re gonna have to ring Barry up and tell him he can’t come, Wayne. You’ll have to say that we rang the venue and they said that we can’t have any more guests.’

‘I can’t do that, babe. I’ll make meself look a right mug.’

‘Please, Wayne, I’m sure he was taking the piss out of us the other evening. You were too drunk to notice, but I clocked it. I don’t trust him one little bit.’

Wayne put his arms around Stephanie’s waist. ‘Bazza’s all right and I would have noticed if he was taking the piss. You’re just being paranoid because of what’s happened in the past, that’s all.’

Stephanie nuzzled her face into Wayne’s neck and took in his sweet-smelling aftershave. She loved him so much, he always seemed to get his own way with her. ‘Where you gonna take me for this posh lunch, then?’

Wayne grinned. ‘I take it that means Barry can come to the wedding then?’

‘I suppose so.’

Marlene had thought it an insult that she wasn’t invited to travel to Jake’s funeral in one of the cars behind the coffin. Jake’s family had organized everything, and she only knew the date and time of the service because one of Jake’s friends had informed her. Because of the snub, Marlene decided it best that she go straight to the crematorium in Streatham and, as she got out of the car, she felt that all eyes were on her.

‘Shit, I can see Donkey Dave staring at us. Trust my luck to spot that pervert immediately,’ Marge hissed.

Remembering her pal’s night of debauched passion with Donkey Dave, Marlene wanted to laugh, but couldn’t. She had to play the grieving, loving partner. It was what today was all about. She held Barry’s arm one side, Marge’s the other, and promptly turned on the waterworks.

‘You OK, Mum?’ Barry asked.

‘Of course I’m bloody OK. I’m acting, you idiot. Where’s the family? Can you see ’em anywhere?’ Marlene spat.

Barry shrugged. ‘None of us know what they look like, do we? I doubt his ex-old woman is here anyway, Jake always said she fucking despised him. Most people are going inside the chapel now, so we’ll have to clock the front row to work out who’s who.’

‘I should be sitting in the bloody front row. I’m the poor bastard that had to suck his sweaty little cock for years,’ Marlene whispered in Marge’s ear.

When Marge burst out laughing, Barry looked at her and his mother in horror. ‘For fuck’s sake, yous two, show some respect. You’re at a man’s funeral, not his birthday party.’

Marlene let out a huge racking sob and pretended to almost faint as she walked into the packed chapel.

‘Stand up straight, Mother, everybody’s looking at us,’ Barry hissed.

Aware that she had definitely now got everybody’s attention, Marlene continued to sob loudly throughout the whole service.

‘That’s gotta be the daughters, ain’t it? Front pew on the right,’ Marge said.

Marlene nodded. She had spotted the two women scowling at her a few minutes ago. Both were skinny, plain and had great big noses just like Jake’s. They were definitely their father’s daughters, all right. ‘Do you reckon that’s his ex-wife next to ’em?’ Marlene whispered, dabbing her eyes with a hankerchief.

‘Dunno, but she looks a right old dragon, whoever she is,’ Marge replied.

As the service ended and the curtains closed, Frank Sinatra’s ‘Fly Me to the Moon’ came blaring out of the speakers. Sinatra had been Jake’s favourite singer and he used to regularly croon his songs on stage in their bar over in Spain. The senile old sod had even thought he sounded like his idol.

Marlene walked out of the chapel, acting as though she was being physically supported by Barry and Marge. Once she started a bit of role play she had always found it very difficult to switch back off. ‘I need to see if my beautiful wreath is here,’ she said loudly, in an overly dramatic voice.

‘Tone it down, Mother, you’re making yourself look a right cunt,’ Barry whispered in her ear.

‘Marlene! How wonderful to see you again, though what a shame it has to be under such awful circumstances. How are you bearing up? What happened must have been the most awful shock for you?’

Marlene squeezed the tall, thin man’s hand. Slippery Joe had been one of Jake’s lifelong friends. He had visited her and Jake out in Spain a couple of times every year, and Marlene had always found him quite charming. Unlike Jake, Joe was quite handsome and extremely charismatic and Marlene had never forgotten Jake telling her how he had earned his nickname. ‘Back in the old days, when banks were easy to get into and rob, Joe was the master of it. He was so skinny and agile he used to slip through the hole in the vaults that people would dig, then he would pass the money through and slither back out like an eel,’ Jake had explained.

‘I miss my Jakey boy so much, Joe. He was my life: I don’t know how I’m going to cope without him,’ Marlene said, her voice full of sorrow.

Unable to listen to any more of his mother’s crap, Barry lit up a cigarette and walked over to where the flowers lay.

‘Marlene’s been in a terrible state, Joe. She’s been staying with me, bless her,’ Marge said, joining in with the deceit.

‘And do you know what hurts the most, Joe? Ten wonderful years I spent with my Jake, yet I never had any say in his funeral and I only found out when and where it was because Eddie Spurling rang me up to tell me. For years I told Jake we should get married because I knew one day something like this would bloody well happen,’ Marlene wept.

Slippery Joe put a comforting arm around Marlene. Jake had never had any intention of marrying Marlene, he knew that for a fact, but it was neither the time nor place to say so. ‘Jake loved you very much, Marlene. You made him very happy,’ he assured her. The last time Joe had spoken to Jake, he had been anything but happy with Marlene, and had even spoken briefly about leaving her.

‘I take it that’s Jake’s daughters over there? Who’s that woman and man with them?’ Marlene asked, spotting the people who had been sitting in the front pew on the left.

‘That’s Jake’s ex-wife, Anne, and her brother, Thomas.’

‘What’s she doing here? I thought she hated his guts,’ Marlene spat.

‘Anne probably came to support Miranda and Isabelle.’

‘But Jake always said that his daughters hated him an’ all. Two-faced bastards,’ Marlene mumbled.

‘Some people have got no morals, mate – but to turn up here, lapping up all the attention when they haven’t spoken to the poor man for years, is beyond belief if you ask me,’ Marge said, supporting her friend.

‘I must go and say hello to a few old faces now. I take it you are both coming to the wake, girls?’

‘Wake! What wake? Eddie Spurling said that all Jake’s pals were just doing their own thing back at one another’s houses or in their local pubs.’

Realizing that he had just put his foot in it, Slippery Joe had no choice but to tell Marlene where the wake was. ‘It was a last-minute change of plan, Marlene. We were just going to have a drink at a pal’s house, but the numbers got out of hand. The wake is now being held in a pub not far from here called the Bedford Park. You must come; in fact I insist you come.’

‘Yes, we will bloody come, won’t we?’ Marge said, nudging her friend. She guessed that the drinks would be free, and missing out on a good piss-up was not in Marge’s nature.