The Informant (13 page)

Kaz watched her mother as she rattled off this litany of nonsense. She’d rarely heard Ellie speak of her own mother. Their ‘nan’ had never been more than an abstract concept in
their lives. Ellie was the youngest of five in a family of dockers, who’d shown her the door when she hooked up with Terry Phelps. The ‘nan’ in question took a dim view of her
daughter’s attempts to better herself by marrying a villain, and Terry was not the sort of bloke to tolerate criticism from his mother-in-law. As a result Ellie became completely estranged
from her family and didn’t attend her mother’s funeral. Kaz had never met any of them.

Ellie took down two flowery mugs from the cupboard. ‘You still take milk and sugar? Joey still spoons it in, like when he was a little boy.’

‘Mum, I don’t want a cup of tea.’

Ellie was already pouring, but she paused mid-flow and gave Kaz a critical glance. ‘Suit yourself lovey. But I think it’d make you feel better.’

Kaz wanted to scream at her, but she reined herself in, focusing on the greenery out of the kitchen window. ‘What would make me feel better is to have a sensible conversation about the
state Natalie’s in and what we’re going to do about it.’

Ellie picked up her mug, cupped her hands round it. ‘Oopsy, bit hot! Silly me.’ She put the mug back on the counter.

Kaz crossed her arms and huffed in disbelief. ‘Mum?’

Ellie was intent on carefully lifting the hot mug by its handle. She balanced it between thumb and index finger, took a tiny sip of tea.

‘Well I don’t know what to say about it lovey. You’ll have to have a word with Doctor Iqbal yourself when he gets here.’

Kaz glared at her.

‘What? Who the fuck’s Doctor Iqbal?’

‘Oh he’s very expensive. But Joey sees to all that. He’s helped us before when Natalie’s been bad.’

‘Hang on, who’s called him? You?’

Ellie gave her a blank look, as if it should all be quite obvious.

‘No, Joey’s called him. Then sent me a text. Came just before you arrived.’

Kaz digested this. She wanted to scream at her mother. She could see what Ellie was up to. It was all a deliberate wind-up designed to put Kaz in her place. But Kaz refused to rise to the
bait.

‘What is he then, some kind of addiction specialist?’

Ellie stirred two large sugars into her tea. ‘Oh yes, he’s very specialist. Nice manners too. Speaks perfect English, you can understand every word.’

‘Why did no one mention him before?’

Ellie gave her an aggrieved look. ‘You never asked. You jump to conclusions, my girl, always did. You come home, start throwing your weight about. You think we ain’t tried to get Nat
off the drugs?’ Ellie fingered the small gold crucifix at her neck and a tear welled up in the corner of her eye. ‘We tried everything. As God is my witness, I spent nights sitting up,
crying over that child.’

This was about as much of her mother’s shtick as Kaz could take. She turned on her heel and walked out of the kitchen.

Kaz stomped through the sitting room and found refuge in the newly built conservatory. It was awash with exotic plants. She had wondered who in the Phelps clan had the patience
or the skills to nurture anything and make it grow. Then she’d learnt the secret from her mother:

‘Couple of illegals that work for Joey – Vietnamese I think. Always very polite. They pop in twice a week, do everything. Joey reckons they’re dead clever, can make any sort of
plant grow. They grow stuff for him. Suppose it’s all them rice paddies.’

Kaz found herself a chair between lush greenery, sat down and took out her mobile. Joey had bought it for her on their shopping trip and she’d nearly got the hang of it. She clicked onto
Helen’s number, chose office over mobile and let it ring. She didn’t know what the hell she was going to say. She wanted to scream help, but that wouldn’t be cool. In spite of the
panic that was tearing up her insides Helen’s good opinion still mattered.

The phone rang several times then went to voicemail. Kaz checked her new watch: Gucci, gold and platinum – another ‘essential’ picked up on the shopping trip. It was half past
six, so Helen must’ve left for the day. Kaz was about to try her mobile, when she became aware of a low snuffling whimper. She peered through the foliage, it was coming from the other side of
the conservatory and it was getting louder. It sounded like an animal, a stray dog maybe that had got shut in. But that didn’t make any sense. As Kaz got up to investigate, the whimper became
a feral whine; she looked around for some kind of stick. She didn’t fancy confronting a trapped animal empty-handed.

Having armed herself with a cane from one of the rubber plants, Kaz stepped forward. Then she saw the source of the noise. Tucked away in a corner between some delicate orchids and a large
yucca, Terry Phelps sat slumped in his wheelchair and an angry moan was rising up from his chest into his throat, causing saliva to bubble on his lips. Kaz stood and stared, though it was all she
could do not to turn tail and run. His glassy black eyes seemed to bore straight through her, but if there was any recognition in them she couldn’t discern it. The hairs on the back of her
neck started to prickle, maybe this tale of a stroke was all some elaborate scam of his and he was about to leap up from the chair and seize her by the throat. She could almost see him start to
rise then the fear engulfed her. She stumbled backwards, turned desperately to find the door and fell straight into the arms of Brian.

He caught her by the elbows. ‘Hey, what’s up?’

Kaz pushed him savagely away. Her heart was thumping in her chest. ‘Fuck me, Brian! You scared me half to death!’

‘Sorry, didn’t mean to creep up on you. I come for your dad. Heard him carrying on. Bit past his teatime. He gets hungry, he makes his feelings known – don’t you
Tel?’

Brian patted his arm and reached for the joystick to put the wheelchair in motion. Kaz sucked in a couple of deep breaths as she fought to appear normal. Fortunately Brian was more intent on
manoeuvring the wheelchair out of its corner. His attention was on Terry, who was still whining, but now it was more of a low grumble.

‘I know I know, teatime’s a bit late today. But we got a nice lasagne, you like that.’

Kaz glanced down at her hand, still grasping the cane, realized it was visibly shaking much like the rest of her. So she focused on returning the cane to its slot next to the rubber plant.

Brian was guiding the wheelchair out through the doorway then a thought struck him, he paused and glanced over his shoulder at Kaz. ‘Oh, I nearly forgot – your mum said to tell you
Joey’s arrived.’

Once Kaz had composed herself she entered the kitchen to find Joey cracking open a beer he’d taken from the fridge. He gave his sister a sunny smile. It was as if nothing
had happened.

‘All right babes?’ Then he turned back to Ellie and threw an arm round her shoulder. ‘But the important thing is I don’t want you to worry, Mum.’

Ellie’s expression was petulant, her cheeks were pink and tear-stained. Her fingers were busy shredding a tissue.

‘Ain’t I had enough to contend with? Your dad in a wheelchair, your sister in jail . . .’ She shot an accusing glance at Kaz. ‘Now all this trouble with Natalie. I
don’t think my nerves can take it son.’

Joey drew her into a hug. ‘It’ll be all right, I promise.’

Ellie briefly returned the hug, then edged away from him and cast a baleful look in Kaz’s direction. ‘She blames us y’know. Thinks we din’t keep a proper eye on
Natalie.’

Joey shook his head. ‘No she don’t Mum. ’Course you don’t, do you Kaz?’

Kaz took a deep breath and opened her mouth to speak, but Ellie didn’t give her the opportunity. She started to wail.

‘I know I ain’t been the best mother in the world. But I loved my babies, all three of them . . . as God is my witness Joey . . .’

Joey pulled her into his arms again, then over her shoulder he mouthed at Kaz: ‘Say something.’

Kaz snorted contemptuously. ‘Like what?’

She glanced through to the dining room where Brian was patiently shovelling liquidized lasagne into Terry Phelps’s slack mouth. It was a messy process, Terry gagged on almost every
mouthful and half the food ended up on his improvised bib. Kaz reflected on the years of bullying Brian must’ve endured at her father’s hands. Now he was his part-time nurse, yet there
was no resentment. Or there didn’t seem to be. But behind closed doors? Brian had all the power. Kaz rather hoped he abused it.

She looked back at her mother and brother, still locked in each other’s arms; she’d forgotten what a clever manipulator Ellie had always been. Terry had thumped her often enough
– that was his way, he thumped everyone – but he wasn’t an out and out wife-beater. Ellie knew how to play him, just as she was playing Joey now. And it came to Kaz in a blinding
flash that that was why she hated her mother so much. Ellie had known only too well what Terry Phelps was doing to his young daughter when he went up to tuck her in every night. But she’d
turned a blind eye. Her priority was to keep Terry sweet and stop him from bothering her all the time.

Kaz remembered those long ago desperate attempts to get her mother’s help and protection, and she remembered Ellie’s response: ‘What a lot of nonsense! Your daddy loves you, so
don’t you go making up wicked stories ’cause he gives you the odd clout now and again.’

The ‘odd clout’, Kaz thought ruefully. That she could’ve coped with.

The entry system intercom buzzed, Joey went to answer it. Kaz watched from the kitchen window as the heavy wrought-iron gates swung open and a silver Mercedes luxury people
carrier with darkened windows drew up in front of the house. A small, sharply suited man in rimless glasses climbed out, flanked by two middle-aged women. Joey already had the door open. He held
out his hand.

‘Doctor Iqbal, thanks for coming.’

The doctor smiled politely as his small, neat hand disappeared in Joey’s paw.

‘I’m sorry you have need of my services again Mr Phelps.’

The women wore matching pale mauve nurses’ tunics and one of them carried a black medical case; they followed the doctor into the house.

In the kitchen Ellie glanced resentfully at Kaz, dabbed her eyes with a tissue and swept out into the hallway.

‘Oh Doctor Iqbal, we’ve been having such a time of it. My poor baby, I been so worried.’

Doctor Iqbal gathered both Ellie’s hands in his compact capable clasp.

‘Where is Natalie now Mrs Phelps?’

‘I’ll take you up.’

Then, as an afterthought, she glanced at Kaz, who was hovering in the kitchen doorway.

‘Oh, this is my other daughter, Karen. She’s been abroad.’

Doctor Iqbal’s keen gaze rested briefly on Kaz and he inclined his head politely. But Ellie was already dragging him towards the stairs. The nurses followed.

Kaz and Joey were left in the hallway.

Joey clapped his hands together and grinned. ‘He’s a great bloke. Lifesaver. I called him soon as I left. He’s driven down all the way from Yorkshire y’know. That’s
where his place is. Fucking amazing, looks like a stately home. He took care of Nat before, got her clean. And she would’ve stayed that way if it weren’t for that toerag Jez.’

Kaz watched her brother, he was completely hyper, pacing the hall, the nervous tension burning off him.

‘And you was dead right babes, I should’ve done something about it before. But, y’know, I was busy. I took me eye off the ball. You was right to give me a bollocking. I
should’ve sorted him out long ago, soon as Nat went back to him. None of this would’ve happened.’ He shot an appealing look at her. ‘But we’re all square now,
’n’t we? Doctor Iqbal’ll take her back to the clinic. She’ll be right as rain in no time.’

Kaz folded her arms, turned and walked into the kitchen. She took a glass from one of the cupboards and filled it with water from the tap.

Joey followed her. ‘You pissed off with me?’

Kaz drank down half the water then placed the glass on the worktop. She fixed him with a penetrating stare. ‘I dunno. What do you think?’

‘You was right to have a go, I’m not saying you wasn’t.’

‘Jesus wept Joey – you killed a man! Now you’re trying to make it look like I wanted you to do it.’

He stared at her, the little-boy-lost look, the little Joey. ‘Well how else was I gonna sort it out? She was never gonna get clean while she was with that toerag. He fed her the
stuff!’

Kaz picked up the glass and tossed the remaining water down the sink. ‘Then you drove off and left us there. What the fuck did you think we were gonna do?’

Joey looked puzzled, for all the world like a misunderstood schoolboy. ‘I knew Ash’d take care of you. And I had Yev and Tol riding shotgun. I needed to get out of there, make
arrangements. Get things properly sorted, like I shoulda done before.’

As Kaz glared at him, his chin quivered, he wiped his hand across his face. Was he doing a number on her? She couldn’t tell.

‘I wouldn’t upset you for the world babes. You know that.’

‘Upset me? I just got out on licence and you make me an accessory to murder. What d’you think’s gonna happen when my probation officer hears about that?’

A relieved smile spread over Joey’s features. ‘If it’s the old bill you’re worried about, that’s all in hand. I already talked to Neville.’

‘Who the fuck’s Neville?’

‘Neville Moore. At the lawyer’s. He’s the head honcho there now. I told him to speak to your one too. Give her the heads-up so we’re prepared if the filth come
calling.’

Kaz felt her stomach lurch, she reached out and gripped the sink to steady herself. ‘Helen knows about this?’

‘Well yeah. I also got a line on the old bill in Southend. I’m waiting for my contact to get back to me, let me know what CCTV they got on us. So you see I haven’t been pissing
about.’

He beamed at her like a kid expecting a pat on the head. Kaz felt the bile rising in her throat. She couldn’t stop it, she turned and vomited into the sink.

Neville Moore sat, elbows resting on his vast black ash desk, fingertips steepled, deep in thought. Since becoming managing partner four years ago he’d occupied the
impressive corner office with views on two sides of some of the City’s more imposing landmarks. With Fred Sheridan’s demise and the subsequent retirement of Henry Crowley he’d
added his own name to the letterhead and promoted four of his brightest associates, including Helen Warner, to full partners. Still in his early forties, his head shaved to disguise a balding pate,
Neville regarded himself as a man whose moment had come.