Taken (23 page)

‘I don’t know Em, you’ve fucked me about too many times. How do I know you’re serious? I’ve moved on.’

‘I know I messed up but I’ll make it up to you, I promise.’

Jake hadn’t said anything for a few moments, feigning indecision, but he hadn’t wanted to push his luck either.

‘Okay, Friday it is.’

He’d put the phone down and celebrated with a can of Coke and a large spliff. Finally people were going to know who he was; he was going places.

‘Just tell me who the fuck you were taking grapes to, Jan.’

Janine Jennings stared at her husband holding the hospital car park ticket, and her blood ran cold. She’d no idea what to say and by the looks of his face, Alfie knew it too. She could kill Emmie. She’d told her to throw it away, but obviously she’d just dropped it on the floor of the car, and Janine knew unless she came up with a really good excuse in the next few moments, she was going to be well and truly splattered in it when the proverbial hit the fan.

‘Don’t know, Alfie love. Maybe it got stuck on my foot or Emmie’s foot and we brought it into the car without knowing.’

‘Not good enough darling, try again.’

Alfie could feel his blood boiling as he watched his wife lying through her expensive fucking veneers. Before she left the kitchen she was going to tell him the truth. Everything was fucked up; he had Oscar and Vaughn to deal with and now his cunting wife was telling him a load of porky pies.

‘You see, I was thinking about it and racking me brains and the date on the ticket is the same date as the day I couldn’t contact either of you. I don’t bleed once a month, Jan, so don’t treat me like a cunt.’

‘Alfie, I really don’t know nothing about it.’

‘Liar.’

‘Alf, please.’

Alfie wanted to smash the whole kitchen up. He hadn’t felt so enraged in his life. He’d never imagined Jan could stand looking him straight in the eye and lie her saggy tits off.

‘See, thing is Jan, I was also talking to a mate of mine and Whipps Cross hospital turns out to be the same hospital as Jake Bellingham was taken to. Funny that, ain’t it?’

Janine felt her face flush red. Without thinking she bolted for the door and was surprised to feel Alfie’s hands grab her round the back of her neck, dragging her backwards.

‘You took my fucking daughter to see that fucking prick didn’t you?’

She didn’t answer and Alfie kneed her hard in her back. The pain from being winded made it difficult for her to speak.

‘Alfie, please – she was so upset.’

‘Upset? No Jan, this here is upset. What you see now on my face is upset. Can you see the fucking difference?’

Alfie backhanded his wife across her face, splitting her lip. It was the first time he’d ever raised a hand to her and he felt as much shock from what he’d done as from seeing the horror on her face. The blood and the scream came out of her mouth at the same time.

He looked at her with a face full of rage. She had some fucking front to go behind his back and take Em to see Jake. He could just about understand his daughter; she’d been like a lovesick puppy; but Janine, she was just taking the piss.

He should’ve killed Jake when he’d had the opportunity. Bellingham would be laughing his fucking head off at him; he’d be a laughing stock. Tough guy Alfie Jennings, who can’t even control his family. He should take a leaf out of Max Donaldson’s book, he’d got the right idea; he ruled his family like he was fucking Heinrich Himmler.

This time, Alfie clenched his fist and smashed it down in Janine’s mouth.

‘You’re nothing but a stupid bitch, Janine. I’ve had to put up with your crap too long and I’m not doing it any more.’

His fist came back again and he gave a hard blow to her head. She fell forward, and the sight of his wife lying on the floor with her fat thighs showing and her face covered in blood incensed him as his guilt hit him hard. He bent down and grabbed hold of her hair as she tried to crawl away.

‘Where the fuck are you going, Janine? Off to tell some more lies eh?’

Janine’s lip was pouring with blood and she blurted out her answers through her tears.

‘Alfie, I’m sorry, it won’t happen again. I promise.’

‘Too fucking right it won’t.’

For the next five minutes, Alfie rained down blows on his wife in a sustained attack until he was exhausted. He leant on the kitchen bar and pushed away the guilt of what he’d done and the thoughts of how for a moment he’d turned into his father, by convincing himself Janine had pushed him to it.

The smell of the hospital corridors made Casey lean on the walls to steady herself. She was feeling dizzy, having had nothing to eat, and she could almost smell the alcohol of the past few days coming through her pores.

The nurse on the desk had told her Lola had been moved out of the ICU and onto Cherry Ward, which was on the other side of the modernised hospital.

‘Lola!’

Casey walked into the side ward to see Lola sitting up in bed. Her head and nose were bandaged and she had the biggest black eyes Casey had ever seen.

‘Bleedin’ hell Casey love, you look worse than I do.’

Casey grinned and then burst into tears.

‘What is it lovie? I was only kidding, come and sit down here and tell me what’s wrong. You haven’t burnt down me bleedin’ cafe have you?’

‘I’m sorry, the last thing you need is me coming in here and adding to your problems.’

‘Hey, don’t you be silly. I’m better than I’ve been for a while. Look, they’ve put me on a morphine drip; I’m in me bleedin’ element. I should’ve been beaten up a long time ago. And they tell me if it wasn’t for you, they’d be dancing on my grave by now. I owe you one. And besides, if you don’t tell me what’s up, you can count yourself fired.’

Casey grinned through her tears; she’d become so fond of Lola and she felt she could trust her. Sitting down on the chair next to the bed, Casey began to talk, telling Lola about everything from her drinking to Josh and the letter and what happened in the club to the visit with Mrs Simms.

After she finished talking, Lola didn’t say anything for a while, but then she smiled.

‘Bleedin’ hell; and I thought I’d lived a life.’

Lola fell silent again and even through her battered face, Casey could see her looking thoughtful.

‘I’ve got the letter on me if you’d like to see it.’

Not waiting for a reply, Casey rummaged in her bag and handed the crumpled letter over to Lola. It was dated January 2009.

My dearest Cassandra,

I’m not sure if you will ever get to read this letter, but I am going to give it to Josh for him to look after and for him to judge when the time is right and decide what’s best for you, after all, he knows you better than I do now and I trust he will have your best interests at heart and he’ll know when you are ready. The last thing I want to do is hurt you any more than you have been already.

I have to start by saying I am sorry, though I know the word will never erase the heartache you have suffered. I never wanted your life to turn out how it did and I have had to watch from afar unable to ease your pain, which is my burden and the consequence of turning my back on you all those years ago.

I pretended to myself I was doing what was right, even though in my heart I knew it wasn’t, but it was easier to let your mother make the decisions; it was easier just to get on with my life and deny how I really felt; but not one day has gone by without me thinking about you. I now know I was wrong and should have been there for you, for your child and my grandchild. I should’ve been there to protect you, my darling.

The time you were in the hospital, I didn’t visit you – not because I didn’t want to but because I was too ashamed to. By standing back and doing nothing to help when you asked me to, I forced you to give up your child; my grandchild. Forgive me Casey.

The one thing I can do though is let you know the truth. Maybe it will help to put your mind at ease slightly; help you to find your way back from the wilderness I know you are in.

I know for all this time, Cassandra, you thought you’d given birth to a son: in fact you had a daughter; a beautiful little girl called Emmie.

I managed to track her adoptive parents down through an old friend of mine who had some useful contacts. It’s amazing what money can buy, but it was the least I could do; and each year up until four years ago, I wrote to them. Since my illness, I sadly lost touch. Apparently she is thriving and from what I gather she is very much like you when you were little; independent, feisty but also very loving.

I don’t have their address, as my letters were all sent through a third party, but I do have her full name: Emmie May Williams. A beautiful name for a beautiful girl. She lived in the East End of London but from what I understand they have moved now, although I know they had some contacts in Soho – I hope this information will help. If you do look for her, be careful, Cassandra: I don’t want you being any more hurt than you already are.

I know if the time is right Josh will have given you this but please don’t be angry with him, I didn’t tell him what was in this letter, he didn’t know about Emmie, the only thing I said was what was written might help you find your child. Of course he was worried you might not be strong enough as was I and though it will be of little compensation for you, remember I always loved you – but I was weak and I know I failed you when you needed me most, I am truly sorry. Enclosed is a photo of Emmie when she was two months old. She has your eyes.

With my deepest love and regret,

Dad xx

Lola put the letter down and stared at Casey.

‘My dad died three months after he wrote that.’

Lola nodded and put her hand out to Casey, who carried on talking. ‘I went back round to Mrs Simms, but she’d already left for Australia and there was no forwarding address. All this time I’ve been grieving for my son and all along it was a little girl. It feels as if my whole life has been a lie. I’m so angry with Josh for not telling me that he had a letter for me, I know he was probably doing what he thought was best but I can’t find it in me to forgive him. One thing he was right on though: I should’ve left well alone. It hurts more now than it ever did.’

‘Emmie May Williams. Well, well, well. Little Emmie May.’

Casey looked at Lola as if she’d gone mad as she sang her daughter’s name, cackling with laughter.

‘Oh don’t look at me like that, Casey; it’ll take more morphine than they’re pumping into me for me to lose my mind. What you need to do is put the lid back on that whisky bottle you like to keep so handy and start pulling yourself together, because I think I might just know who you’re looking for.’

Oscar parked his black Mercedes and felt excited; so much so he was managing to ignore the pulsating pain in his head. Nesha had taken the girls to Bow and the last phone call he’d taken had pleased him no end. It was all working out perfectly. Parking a few streets away from the flat, Oscar walked slowly towards the address so as not to aggravate his headache.

The block of flats was in the middle of a large housing estate on the north side of Camden Town. The neglected grey tower blocks loomed overhead blocking out the sun, which added to the sense of gloom.

As he walked through the estate, he saw junkies and winos scampering about like rats. By the looks of things, they’d taken over what was left of the children’s playground which was full of shit: syringes and used condoms.

He walked up five flights of stairs to flat number twenty-four. He hadn’t wanted to take the lift; it hadn’t only smelt of piss but it’d had a pool of it in the corner, and he had no intention of ruining his new Gucci shoes.

When he got to the front door, he didn’t bother knocking; he could see it was slightly ajar. The flat was quiet and he gently walked through each room, not wanting to make a noise. The kitchen sink was full of dishes and on the table there were overflowing ashtrays and yesterday’s newspapers. The bathroom was tiny and the bedroom was full of Aston Villa posters, piles of filthy socks and jeans strewn all over the threadbare carpet.

The one room Oscar hadn’t been in was the room directly in front of the kitchen, and the door was shut. Cautiously he stood to the side of the doorway, raised his leg and pushed the handle down with his foot, giving it a tap with his toes to help it swing open.

The body of Jake Bellingham lay on the floor. Standing over him holding a gun was Emmie Jennings, who was just realising she’d just made a bad situation even worse.

‘Vaughn, it’s Freddie. I’ve got the info you wanted. Makes for interesting reading; shall I come over?’

Vaughn hung up and threw the phone over onto the exquisite marble bedside table. He missed and it fell on the floor, waking up his Labrador dog, Sammie, who went into a frenzied barking fit.

‘Shut the fuck up Sam,’ Vaughn shouted at the golden-haired dog, but it made no difference and in the end Vaughn pulled himself up out of bed, closing the door to get a bit of peace.

Pulling on his Ralph Lauren
black robe, Vaughn looked at the two women who were naked and stoned out of their heads on his bed. He wasn’t sure what time it was but he knew it was gone lunchtime; Freddie wasn’t a morning person and if he was offering to come over it meant the one o’clock news had come and gone.

He lit a cigarette, which he’d been trying to avoid doing, but he was angry he couldn’t shake the feeling hanging over him. It would’ve been most men’s fantasy to have a threesome with two blondes and two pairs of pneumatic breasts but it hadn’t done anything for him. Of course he’d fucked them and had his dick sucked, but he might as well have been working out a page of advanced equations for all the pleasure it’d given him.

Casey was on his mind and even though he hated every inch of her, he still couldn’t stop thinking about her. Stepping into the shower, Vaughn turned the temperature to cold, hoping the freezing water would jolt him back to his senses.

Three-quarters of an hour later, Vaughn had instructed one of his men to drive the women back to wherever they wanted to go; he’d also given them eight hundred big ones each for their trouble.