The Traitor. Kimberley Chambers
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stood in the corner of the O’Hara’s living room. Apart from her dad’s old friend Patrick Murphy, she didn’t know a soul and she felt as out of place as a cat in a dogs’ home.
Even though she loved Jed, Frankie wasn’t at all comfortable with the gypsy culture. In her opinion, the women were rough and common, spoke in a language of their own and there had already been one big punch-up. One youngish mum had accused another bird of stealing her gold and, seconds later, had started walloping her with her baby buggy.
As the argument between the two women started up again, Frankie’s eyes scanned the room for Jed. He was nowhere to be seen, as usual.
Suddenly all hell broke loose and, frightened for her own safety and that of her unborn baby, Frankie ducked a flying glass and ran from the room, screaming. Visibly shaken, she finally found Jed in the garden. He was talking to his cousin Sammy and two scantily dressed girls.
‘What’s up?’ he asked as she fell into his arms.
‘Everybody’s fighting in the lounge, Jed. I nearly got hit in the face by a glass.’
Winking at Sammy and the two birds, Jed led Frankie towards the trailer. ‘Let’s get you to bed, babe. I’m sorry for shouting at you earlier. This Christmas must be really difficult for you and sometimes I’m such a dinlo, as I forget what you’ve been through this year.’
Frankie put her pyjamas on and smiled as Jed handed her a cup of hot chocolate. ‘Thanks,’ she said gratefully.
Jed insisted that Frankie got into bed and then sat on the edge as he tucked her in. ‘You don’t mind if I go back to the party, do ya?’
Frankie shook her head. Just because she didn’t feel part of the gypsy way of life, it didn’t mean to say that Jed shouldn’t enjoy himself. Frankie kissed him on the lips. ‘You go and have fun,’ she told him.
As Jed shut the trailer door, he smirked. Have fun he most certainly would.
Still unable to sleep, Eddie switched on his torch again. He’d wanted to save Gary and Ricky’s letter, so he had something to look forward to on Christmas morning, but his insomnia had made him change his mind. Ripping open the envelope, Eddie grinned. Now he had banished the twins from his world, Gary and Ricky were his life.
As much as Ed had loved Jess, what Frankie and Joey had done was unforgivable in his fragile mind, and even though they were all he had left of his beloved deceased wife, he no longer cared about either of them. One had turned out to be a poof and the other had fallen in love with the gypsy son of his biggest enemy, so the pair of them were now history as far as he was concerned.
Ed chuckled as he began to read the letter. Both Ricky and Gary were fuckers for the birds and they always filled him in on their escapades.
The paragraph at the bottom was the moment Ed’s smile turned into an angry snarl:
PS You told us not to keep anything from you, so here goes. Rumour has it that Joey is gay and he has a boyfriend called Dominic. He turned up at …
Eddie’s pride wouldn’t allow him to read the last line. If the lags found out about Joey, he’d be the laughing stock of the poxy prison.
Ripping the letter into shreds, Ed turned off his torch. His son repulsed him, and as for that fucking Dominic, if he ever saw him again, he wouldn’t just threaten him, he would bastard well kill him.
Back in Rainham, Joyce had a look of disappointment etched across her face.
Polly’s parents were nothing like she had envisaged at all. Dickie was flash, loud and loved the sound of his own voice, and his wife Jenny was bordering on alcoholic, and was drinking her and Stanley out of house and home.
As Jenny stood up and started dancing around the room, holding her glass aloft, Stanley nudged Joyce.
‘I can’t believe you made us dress up like a pair of prized pricks to meet these two,’ he hissed.
‘I didn’t know they were going to behave like this, did I?’ Joyce hissed back.
‘I think it’s time for a toast to the happy couple. Have you got any champagne in the house?’ Dickie said in a loud, annoying voice. He didn’t just look like Boycie, he sounded like him as well.
Joyce scuttled out into the kitchen. She had been so desperate to impress the in-laws, that she’d spent over fifty quid yesterday on just two bottles of champagne.
‘Here we are,’ she said proudly, handing one to Dickie.
Dickie looked at the label on the bottle and laughed. ‘We can’t drink rubbish like this. I had to drink this shit at a party recently and it tasted like bloody antifreeze. Jenny, go to the car and get the champagne we brought out of the boot.’
Extremely drunk, Jenny picked up her husband’s keys, lost her balance and fell straight on top of the coffee table.
‘Are you OK, Mum?’ Polly asked in an unconcerned voice. She was used to her mother getting in these states. The falling over was nothing she hadn’t seen a hundred times before.
Raymond stood up. ‘Let me help you, Jenny,’ he said politely, as he picked her up off the table.
Joyce was mortified. She looked at Stanley. ‘I don’t fucking like ’em one little bit,’ she whispered.
Stanley squeezed his wife’s hand. ‘My sentiments exactly, dear.’
Less than a mile down the road from Joyce and Stanley, Frankie was unable to get off to sleep, due to the loudness of the music. She wasn’t that bothered she was just glad to be in the safety of the trailer, away from the brawling guests.
As Tammy Wynette’s, ‘Stand by your Man’ was played for about the tenth time, Frankie smiled. She had known very little about country and western music until she met Jed. ‘Stand by your Man’ was their favourite song and they’d agreed that when they finally got married, they would choose it as their first dance.
As the song came to an end once more, Frankie pulled the quilt over her head. She and Jed had certainly had their ups and downs, but she still couldn’t wait to become his wife. Frankie O’Hara had a certain ring to it, and with a bit of luck once they got married, they could buy their own place and get away from his parents.
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