‘If they take him from me I will have nothing, Tyrell. It’s all right for you, you have other kids, your wife, family . . .’
‘You’ve got nothing now, haven’t you? Come on, Jude, what’ve you really got? A boy who can never speak to you, hug you, help you when it all falls out of bed. I loved him, Jude, he was my first-born and I never turned my back on him, or you either for that matter. So don’t give me your bullshit now, please.’
She knew he was right, but it was so hard to take it all on board. What would happen to her when Sonny was gone? Who would take care of her, make sure she ate, made sure she bathed? It was only now that she realised just how much she’d relied on him. Sonny Boy was her all. He had taken care of her since he was old enough to bring over her kit so she could have a blast while she lay on the sofa, laughing at his antics. It was why she had never let Tyrell have custody, even when he had begged for it.
Sonny had been her passport to his father’s money, and the only person who had loved her, really loved her no matter what she did.
She lost people like others lost jobs, they all got fed up with her. But not her Sonny Boy. Like most addicts she stole, lied and cheated to get what she wanted and he was the only person who always forgave her, no matter what she did. He was the only constant in her rotten life.
‘I’ve told them they can harvest his organs. Maybe some good can come out of all this, eh?’
‘You think it was his fault, don’t you, Tyrell? You think he was bad . . .’
He shook his head.
‘He was good, Jude, the kindest boy I ever knew. He had a heart as big as the world. But that Sonny Boy is gone now. He is dead. Let him rest in peace.’
‘But what about me? If he goes, what will I do?’
Tyrell sighed once more.
The selfishness of her addiction was always the overriding factor that drove Jude. No wonder Sonny had come to this.
‘But this isn’t about you, is it? For once, this isn’t about you at all. It’s about Sonny Boy and his needs now. I’ll take care of you. I always have, haven’t I?’
Jude looked at him, considering. He’d left her but it was true he’d always looked out for her. Tyrell always was a soft touch, Sonny had to have inherited it from somewhere.
’All right,’ she mumbled. ‘Do it then. But don’t expect me to stick around. He’s my baby, it’s too hard for me to watch.’
And too long since her last fix, he could tell from her anxious eyes. But at least she’d agreed. Sonny Boy could depart in peace.
Tammy heard her husband before she saw him. Lying in bed, sipping her coffee and flicking through the Daily Mail, she heard his feet thundering up the stairs and his voice bellowing. All she could make out was that he was going to murder her when he got his hands on her.
He burst through the bedroom door with the bill from the country club clutched in his hand.
‘What is this?’
He thrust the piece of paper into her face.
She moved away from him silently, carefully placing the coffee on the night table by the bed in case it stained the Jacquard bedding that had cost a small fortune and made her smile every time she looked at it.
‘I’m not joking, Tammy, me and you are going to fall out big-time over this.’
Nick was fuming, really angry. He was so angry he was actually shaking and this sight affected her more than she would have thought possible. For the first time ever Tammy was afraid of him.
He had come after her many times over her spending, it was a family joke, but this was different. Even she knew she had gone over the top this time. The fact that she secretly felt guilty made her even angrier than her husband.
She was his wife, surely she was entitled to spend his money? Anyone would think they were all on the breadline, the way Nick carried on. She would brave it out as she had in the past.
‘You can afford it, what’s the matter with you!’
She was shouting back now through sheer force of habit. As Nick drew himself up to his full height and bellowed back at her she was reminded of just how big he was.
‘Eighteen hundred fucking quid on booze for that crowd of fucking leeches you call mates?’
He was spitting with anger now, his face close enough to hers that she could smell his breath.
‘Three hundred sobs on food for that load of anorexic cunts! None of them has eaten a meal since their last pregnancy. Are you having a fucking laugh or what!’
Tammy was annoyed now and bellowed back.
‘Who the fuck do you think you are talking to, eh? I am your wife!’
Nick was staring down at her in utter disbelief.
’Ain’t I got enough on my plate without you bankrupting us at every opportunity? Is it an illness with you, an overwhelming urge to use the credit cards that you can’t fucking resist for even one day!’
She sighed to antagonise him even further. It was a bored sound, guaranteed to aggravate the life out of him. She had perfected it over the years and now she knew just how to imply someone was stupid in their relationship and it certainly wasn’t her.
It worked. He was beside himself now.
‘Two grand on one lunch! That is a car to some people, or a fucking foreign holiday. Ain’t you got no concept of the real world at all?’
Tammy was ashamed, but she wouldn’t show it. It wasn’t even as if the lunch had been a resounding success. In fact, she regretted going at all. But she wasn’t going to tell him that. Give him ammunition for the future when she next wanted a spend up.
‘Oh, fuck off. We can afford it, you know we can. What am I suddenly married to - the long-lost Marx Brother fucking Cheapo! So I spent a few quid. So what? Big fucking deal.’
She dragged herself from the bed, pushing him out of her way as she went.
‘The way you carry on, Nick, anyone would think we were on our uppers. Money is for spending . . .’
He lowered his voice as he snarled, ‘Do you know what it would look like if the papers got hold of this bill, eh?’
He shoved it none too gently into her face.
‘That boy dying in hospital and his poor mother going back to her council flat, and you are dropping more on a lunch than they could spend on his funeral?’
It pulled her up short. What people said about her was always foremost in Tammy’s mind. He watched with a satisfied expression on his face as the fear gradually took hold. She was sorry now, he could see it on her face, and as usual when he had won the argument with Tammy, he felt bad. He had only said that to frighten her and he had achieved his end.
Nevertheless he pushed the point home.
‘This has got to stop, Tammy. You have to cease with the spending, love. It looks bad. I mean, by the time you had got your hair and nails done, bought new clothes and all the rest of it . . . I found the Lakeside receipts as well by the way . . . you had dropped over three grand yesterday. In a few hours you spent more than many people earn in a month.’
He was finally getting through to her and he knew it.
‘I’m sorry, Nick, but you know what I’m like, I can’t help it.’
He sighed.
‘I’ll have that credit card removed surgically if necessary. This is your last chance. One more spending spree like that, Tams, and I will cancel it. Do you hear me?’
She nodded sheepishly.
‘I’m taking the boys back to school today. I’ve arranged for them to sleep there for the next few weeks until all this blows over, OK?’
She nodded, annoyed with herself that she was pleased the boys would be gone for the rest of the term. She loved them but they drove her mad with their continual wanting when all she wanted was a bit of peace.
As Nick left the room he looked back and smiled at her.
‘I’m sorry I shouted.’
‘Me too. Nick!’
He faced her once more.
’Are you OK?’
She shrugged.
‘I’ll survive, I always do.’
r /> He left her then and she climbed back into bed and for the first time in years cried for her mother.
Her mother wasn’t actually dead, lived in Spain with her toy boy in fact, but she might as well have been for all the use she had ever been to Tammy.
Verbena was upset. She made herself a cup of tea as she listened to the radio. The house smelled of perfume. Tyrell’s wife always put on too much. Now she had gone shopping with the boys and the house still stank of her. She liked the girl, what was there not to like? She was pretty, kind, loved her sons and adored the man she was married to.
But she irritated Verbena. It was her voice. Her ways. Everything the girl did grated on her. And she knew it wasn’t Sally’s fault. It was because every time Verbena looked at her she saw Jude.
She blamed her son for the way Jude was. Believed that he should have stuck his first marriage out. God himself knew he had fought hard enough to marry the girl in the first place.
Tyrell’s father had taken one look at her and decided she was definitely not the woman for his son, and he had said as much.
Which had not gone down too well with Verbena or Tyrell.
But she had taken to Jude, she didn’t know why. That girl had been pulled from pillar to post all her life. Meeting her mother had told Verbena everything she had needed to know. That woman, or girl - she had after all only been seventeen when Jude was born - was the most selfish individual Verbena had ever clapped eyes on. And Jude had inherited that selfishness. That belief that you looked out for yourself first, even before your children.
When Verbena had phoned Jude’s mother about her grandson, she had replied that he’d got exactly what he had asked for. It seemed everyone thought like that. Even her own neighbours and friends from church thought Sonny Boy had finally got what he had been asking for. Verbena understood it. If it had not been her own grandson who had died she would have felt the same, she was honest enough about that.
But it was much easier when it was someone else’s family in the frame and not your own. It was simple to make sweeping judgements when it didn’t really affect you personally.
Sonny Boy had always ruined everything for himself and there had been nothing she could do about it. He had stolen from a young age, even from her. He had lied, cheated, taken whatever he had wanted. She knew all that, no one knew it better than she did. But there was also kindness in him, real goodness.
Her husband Solomon said Verbena had been taken in by Sonny’s big eyes and poor-little-me act, but she knew she had connected with that boy like no one else had. And Jude’s lifestyle had affected him. How could it not? He was always smoking dope, the scourge of the young people today. He had seen it all his life with his own mother. Got a problem? Pop a pill, inject some happiness into your arm, smoke yourself happy.
Verbena hated drugs, yet somehow she understood Jude’s reliance on them. Jude used them as a crutch and she always felt that if Jude had let herself be herself she would not have found the world such a scary place, and neither would her son.
But that was in the past, and the past was best left where it was.
She sipped her tea and waited for the call that would tell her Sonny Boy was finally gone. She wouldn’t cry, not until she was completely alone.
Verbena prided herself on her strength. If only everyone else could live their lives properly, how different the world would be.
James and Nicholas Junior were settled into school and Nick was back in Essex. He drove off a narrow country lane in Dunton, bumping slowly along an unmade track until he came to a building site.
Getting out of the car, he stood for a while observing the frenetic scene around him. Nick was behind this development of six large detached executive properties containing everything from hot tubs to gyms. They were to be on a private gated estate and had all been sold off plan. They were at least a year away from completion but already the houses looked good.
His ganger Joey Miles walked over to him.
‘Didn’t expect to see you.’
Nick smiled.
‘Well, here I am. I had to get away for a while . . .’
Two of the brickies saw him and waved. One shouted, ‘Good on yer, Mr Leary. That little bastard got all he asked for.’
Nick didn’t answer.
Joey saw the expression on his boss’s face and felt angry with the boy who had caused it.
‘Everyone’s on your side, Nick. I mean, you never asked him to rob you, did you? If I got up in the middle of the night and some bastard was in my house robbing me, I’d have done the same. Anyone would.’
Nick looked down at the stocky balding man who had worked for him for years and said, ‘But you didn’t do it, did you? I did.’
Joey patted him on the back.
‘Look, it was on the cards with him. Someone was going to aim him out of it one day, he was scum. A burglar and a creeper from a kid. It’s been all over the papers about him, little fucker, he was. No matter what his family say about him being a nice boy, he wasn’t fucking robbing them, was he? It would have been a different story if he was, I bet ya. Thieving little bastard . . .’
Nick closed his eyes.
‘Leave it out, Joey, eh? Just tell me what’s going on with the houses and then I’ll get off.’
Joey walked with him to his car and told him all the relevant news. As Nick was getting in his Mercedes he said, ‘I mean it, Nick, you can’t hold yourself responsible. You did what any decent man would have done. You protected your own. Get over it.’
Nick nodded.
As he drove away Joey watched him sadly. Nick Leary was a good bloke. Now thanks to that boy’s stupidity he was paying a terrible price for looking out for his own family.
The world had gone mad.
Jude Hatcher walked into her flat and sank down on to the sofa in the living room. It was so quiet without her son.
She closed her eyes and pictured Sonny Boy as he lay dying in her arms. She would have held him all day and night if the urge had not taken hold of her. She opened her bag and took out her kit.
She laid it on her lap and stared at the small tin that held all she needed for oblivion. She heard Tyrell come in just after she had boiled her fix on a spoon. He watched her from the doorway as she injected it slowly into her left arm. Her veins had collapsed and the bruising was vicious.
The smell of it was sweet in the air. Sighing, he went through to the chaos that passed for a kitchen and put the kettle on. He opened the window and tried to air the place before going through the lounge and down the hallway towards his son’s bedroom. This room always amazed him. It was small, but usually spotlessly clean. Today, though, the drawers had been turned out and the whole place was a mess. He guessed rightly that at some point Jude had searched it for money or valuables. Tyrell tidied it all up without thinking.
As he looked into the drawers in the scratched dressing table he saw his son’s whole life and felt the urge to cry once more. Designer underwear when they rarely had any food in the house. Expensive tops hanging in the narrow wardrobe, which told him Jude had not looked in there yet or it would have been empty except for a few wire coat hangers. She always sold off anything of value they possessed. It had hurt her son that even his clothes weren’t safe from her and her constant quest for money.
Tyrell wondered what his boy had wanted from that large house in the country, wondered when the urge to rob it had taken him over. He had thought about it so much, but still could not work out what had made his son choose that place to rob.
Sonny had always been strictly small-time; he had been a hustler, a kiter. He wasn’t into heavy-duty robbery. Unless he had progressed over the last year from a young tearaway into a hardened criminal. He was just seventeen, for fuck’s sake!
Tyrell went back to the kitchen and made the tea, scrubbing two mugs back to cleanliness before filling them. The whole place was filthy.
He went into the lounge once more with the tea, but Jude was gone from him. She was lying
back in the chair, staring into space.
‘Like old times, eh, Jude?’
The sarcasm was completely lost on her, as he knew it would be.
Tammy wandered round her house aimlessly. She saw the expensive curtains, the hand-made carpets and carefully chosen antiques.