The Victim. Kimberley Chambers
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glared at him. ‘Hold your fucking horses, Mitchell. This is heavy shit and I need five minutes to think.’
Jimmy knew quite a few traveller lads in Belmarsh and even if Eddie’s heavies were looking out for Ronny and Paulie, Jimmy was sure he could bribe someone to get to them for him. He turned to Eddie; he was determined to have the last laugh, even today. ‘I’ll agree to the deal on one condition.’
‘What?’
‘I know two lads who will sort out your brothers, but they ain’t gonna do it for nothing. I want thirty grand off you so I can give ’em fifteen each.’
Eddie was gobsmacked. This was getting silly now. ‘No way. It’s bad enough I know my brothers are gonna die without paying for some bastard to do it. I can’t do that, Jimmy, it’s fucking despicable.’
For the first time in weeks, Jimmy felt like really laughing out loud, but he managed to hold it back. ‘Well, that’s my terms, so take it or leave it.’
Feeling as though his head was about to burst, Eddie sat down on a bale of hay. He hadn’t told Gary, Ricky and Raymond that he was coming to see Jimmy today and now he could never tell them. With images of his kids, his grandchildren and Gina flashing through his mind, he stood up. Their safety was his priority right now.
‘OK, you’ve got a deal. But it’s between me and you, and if you blab to anyone, including any of your family, the deal’s off.’
‘Cushti. When will I have the wonga by?’ Jimmy asked.
‘Friday. I’ll meet you in the car park of the Optimist at twelve noon.’
Jimmy smirked. ‘We gonna shake on this then?’
Eddie reluctantly shook Jimmy’s hand, and then took a slow walk back to his motor. Paying for his own brothers to be killed literally made him feel like the Devil in disguise. Picking up pace, Ed broke into a jog. He knew O’Hara had made a complete mug out of him today, but he could hardly refuse his terms; his hands were tied for now.
Feeling as sick as a dog, Eddie started his motor and drove at speed towards home. When he reached his own driveway, he got out of the Range Rover, leaned against it and pictured Ronny and Paulie’s faces. He then vomited like he’d never vomited before.
Stanley Smith smiled as his lady friend, Pat, handed him a mug of steaming coffee with a big dollop of cream on top. They had only known one another for six weeks, but it felt more like six years.
Pat, or Pat the Pigeon, as she preferred to be called, had recently moved to Orsett in Essex from the East End of London. Stanley had met her in the Orsett Cock pub and there was an instant spark between them. They had since become great friends and Stanley often popped round Pat’s for a cuppa and a natter. Joyce, Stanley’s wife, had no idea of his special friendship. There was nothing untoward going on, but Joycie would probably chop his testicles off if she found out he’d been sitting in another woman’s house on a regular basis.
Unlike Joycie, Pat was a good listener. She had a caring nature, a heart of gold, and Stanley felt able to pour his problems out to her. Jessica, his daughter, had been murdered by her villainous husband Eddie Mitchell, and Pat was the only one who truly understood Stanley’s despair and heartache.
‘You’re not your usual chirpy self today, Stanley. What’s bothering you?’ Pat asked in a sympathetic tone.
Stanley stared wistfully out of Pat’s conservatory window. Unlike the house he now lived in with Joycie, Pat’s was only a two-bed semi-detached, but it was homely and it always reminded him of his and Joycie’s old property in Upney.
‘I’m OK, love. I just hate that bloody house I live in so much. I miss me old house – I was happy there.’
Pat the Pigeon nodded her head understandingly. Stanley had told her that Joycie had forced him to live in the house that had once belonged to his daughter, Jessica. Apparently, Eddie Mitchell had given the house to Joyce as some kind of compensation for accidentally shooting her and Stanley’s daughter.
‘Well, you know my views on that house, Stanley. How your Joycie can live there with everything that’s happened, I don’t know. I don’t like to speak ill of people I haven’t met, but your Joycie must be as hard as old boots. I could never have taken a gift off a man who had murdered my daughter.’
‘Well, that’s my Joycie for ya, Pat. Full of airs and graces, and I ain’t gonna change her now, she’s too long in the tooth. She loves that big house, lords it over her friends, she does, and she’ll never move, not a cat in hell’s chance. We were at it hammer and tongs arguing again this morning – drives me bleedin’ bonkers, she does. That money we’ve got left in the bank from the sale of our old house, she wants to buy a flash motor with it. Not a second-hand one, a brand bleedin’ new one. I like me old Sierra – it might not look a picture, but it drives like an angel. I mean, what do I want a poxy Mercedes at my age for? I only want a run-around to get me from A to B and to cart me pigeons about in.’
Pat smiled and nodded in agreement. She had been terribly lonely since her husband Vic had suddenly passed away, but meeting Stanley had brought some sunshine back into her life. His wife Joycie sounded like a right domineering old dragon and Pat just hoped that one day Stanley would leave Joyce, move in with her and they could live happily ever after.
‘I made a nice date and walnut cake this morning, Stanley. Shall I make us another coffee and cut you a nice big slice?’
‘Thanks, but I’d best not stuff me face, Pat. In fact, I’m gonna have to make a move in a minute. It’s Jock’s granddaughter’s twenty-first birthday and I promised him that I’d accompany him to the restaurant this evening. They’re having a little surprise do for her.’
Pat knew Jock. She had met him at the pigeon club a few times. ‘Oh, a birthday party sounds lovely. Where’s it being held, Stanley?’ she enquired, hoping for an invite.
‘Jock still lives in Barking, but his granddaughter lives in Rainham, not that far from me. They’re holding it in a poxy Chinese by the Cherry Tree somewhere. Shame it ain’t a steak-house. I don’t really like foreign food.’
When Stanley stood up, Pat stood up as well. ‘Well enjoy yourself, love. Is Joycie going with you?’
‘No, I mentioned it to her last week, but I don’t think she fancied it.’
‘Oh well, never mind. I’m sure you’ll have fun anyway. Why don’t you pop round and tell me all about it tomorrow? I can wrap the cake in foil and you can have a piece then if you like.’
Stanley smiled. Pat really seemed to enjoy his company as much as he enjoyed hers. ‘I’d like that, Pat. I’ll pop round about midday.’
Even when she was a young girl, Pat the Pigeon had always loved sex. She couldn’t help it; it was in her nature. She had been married to her husband, Vic, for many years and their sex life had never dwindled. When Vic had died, Pat never thought that she would fancy another man or ever have sex again. Then she’d met Stanley and, for her, it had been love at first sight. The problem was, she could tell that Stanley was a shy one and she didn’t want to put him off by being too forward. Pat ushered the object of her affections towards the front door and, as she usually did, gave Stanley a gentle peck on the cheek.
‘Bye, Stanley. Look forward to seeing you tomorrow, love.’
Over in Holloway, it was visiting time, and Joey had just given his twin sister a loving hug. ‘I’m really sorry I’m late,’ he said as he sat down opposite her. Because she was on remand, Frankie was allowed plenty of visits, but Joey’s hectic job meant he could only get up to visit her a couple of times a week.
‘So how’s the Stock Exchange? Still doing your head in, is it?’ Frankie asked. She liked to wind Joey up, but she was extremely proud of his high-flying career.
‘Brain