The Graft Read online

  But Jude, knowing his mother’s weaknesses, had played on them, had used them to make herself into what his mother had wanted.

  It was why he had never gone for custody of his son. His mother had always talked him out of it and he had tried to please her in any way he could. Tried to make up for what had happened to her, tried to assuage the hurt inside her in any way he could.

  Then Sally had come along and it had been easier to leave Sonny where he was. Now he had to live with that, and, like his mother before him, his child was dead and gone, and there was nothing he could do to change that.

  Except wish that he had done things differently, as she did.

  For the first time ever he really understood what made her tick. Understood the gaping hole inside her that no one or nothing would ever fill. Could ever fill.

  Her last-born and his first-born had died senselessly, and now he knew how hard it was to come to terms with such a tragedy. To make some kind of sense of it all, when there wasn’t any kind of sense to be made.

  He pushed these thoughts from his mind. His hangover was making his head pound, he had an upset stomach and felt he would die of grief. All in all he was completely and utterly drained.

  Everywhere he looked were young men with bright smiles and their whole lives ahead of them. All around him were young men travelling to work or school, busily going about their lives, unaware that his son was cold and dead. As he got out of his car in Tulse Hill he wondered when they would be able to bury his boy.

  Dinny White, his gofer and sidekick, was waiting patiently for him. Dinny was light-skinned with a lightning grin and long relaxed hair. He knew how good-looking he was, he didn’t need reminding. He smoked dope constantly, was always in a good mood and was an exceptionally good listener. They strolled into a nearby house together, chatting about nothing.

  Dinny loved life and it was hard seeing his friend and boss so obviously unhappy. But he kept his own counsel. If Tyrell wanted to talk, he would.

  Inside the house Johnny Marks, a large white man with thick black hair and a pristine vest, was busy making tea. This house was the hub of Tyrell’s business. It was where he interviewed his doormen and where he paid them out. It was where he kept his different cell phones and where he conducted his other businesses - the ones his wife and mother had no knowledge of.

  Johnny Marks answered the door to them both.

  ’All right, Tyrell? Sorry about Sonny Boy, but he had it coming.’

  Only from Johnny would Tyrell have taken that statement.

  He shrugged.

  ‘Let it drop, eh, Johnny?’

  The other man opened his arms wide in a gesture of helplessness.

  ‘You better get used to hearing remarks like that because it’s the general consensus, mate. He was a pain in the arse and you know he was.’

  ‘He was still my boy.’

  Johnny smiled then, a wide white-toothed smile that made him look much nicer than he actually was.

  ‘How’s poor old Judy?’

  ‘How’d you think?’

  ‘Off her nut?’

  ‘Got it in one.’

  ‘Well, understandable, ain’t it? Now, shall we get down to business? Coffee or tea?’

  He made the coffee and brought the mugs through to the lounge on a tray. Tyrell envied Johnny his easiness with the world. Nothing fazed him. It was all either black or white.

  They started the business of the day.

  Angela Leary was tired, she had not slept much the night before. As she tidied up the spacious kitchen of her son’s home she couldn’t help envying his wife the luxury that was afforded her. This was all a far cry from Nick’s home when he was growing up. He had really made something of himself and Angela was proud of him, so very proud.

  She would defend him to the death, no matter what anyone else said. Not that anyone had said anything, of course, but if they did . . . well, she would be waiting for them.

  Her daughter-in-law was the bane of her life. Tammy had everything a woman could possibly want and yet still she wasn’t happy. She was man mad that one, and then she wondered why her husband didn’t have any time for her.

  The kids had been bundled off to that posh school and no one saw them from one end of the year to the other. And even when they came home Madam, as Angela secretly referred to Tammy, was never around. The poor nanny, an insipid-looking bitch if ever there was one, did all the donkey work with the kids.

  Sometimes Angela daydreamed that Tammy was gone. She was never specific as to how but occasionally a sumptuous funeral was included in the dream. After all, she was Nick’s wife and she deserved a good send off. And then Angela saw herself ruling the roost without interference.

  As she cleaned she listened to Radio 1 and sang snippets of the songs to herself. The kitchen was her domain. Madam never came in here unless she had to and yet it was gorgeous. A large Aga heated the place so it was warm as toast all the time. There were two double ovens and a large American fridge as well as countless other gadgets. It was a dream of a kitchen but Madam hated it with a vengeance.

  Still, that suited Angela. Sometimes she sat here until the early hours of the morning, knitting and listening to her radio. Sometimes she would have a drop of something to keep the cold out. There was a TV in here but she listened to the Sky music channels on it. Radio was so much more satisfying than television. With television you had to keep looking at the thing. She just liked to listen, liked the company it afforded her.

  Angela made herself a cup of tea and settled herself into the easy chair her son had provided for her against his wife’s wishes. It was old, and he had rescued it from her flat when she had moved in. Much to the annoyance of Tammy. Even though it had been re-covered she still thought it was riddled with fleas from Angela’s poor dead cat.

  She had nursed her son in this very chair, bared her breast and fed him his fill. Another thing Madam did not like to be reminded about.

  So Angela made a point of reminding her. Often. It was little things like that which made life worth living.

  As if her mother-in-law’s thoughts had conjured her up, Tammy burst into the kitchen like a gale-force wind.

  ‘I’m going out. Will you see to the dinner? I might be late.’

  It was a game they played, as if she was doing them a special favour by feeding them. Like it wasn’t what she did every day of the week.

  ‘Of course.’

  Angela let her eyes stray to the vegetables already peeled and the meat already seasoned and trussed ready to be cooked later in the day. She made eye contact and Tammy was the first to look away.

  ‘See you then.’

  Her voice was cheery and Angela smiled slowly and said quietly, ‘See you then.’

  Round one to her if she wasn’t mistaken. The slamming of the front door told her she was right about that much anyway and she smiled again.

  Nick was inside his site office. He noticed that all the newspapers except for the sporting ones were missing. Usually they started the day with a discussion of the assets of the various women featured in the tabloids. Jordan was usually voted tops, though a few were die-hard natural tit men. Nick assumed, rightly, that he was still news.

  He sat at his desk and pondered the girlie pictures plastered everywhere. They did nothing to arouse him, he found them in your face and tacky. But he couldn’t say that. Not unless he wanted to come over as less than a man. His blokes’ whole lives revolved around a bit of strange and making sure the wife never found out. The wives did, of course, and then all hell would be let loose. He had seen them have stand-up fights with their men as well as the girlfriends. It was wearing at times.

  Lynn Starkey came in and he smiled at her. She was a big girl and she was fun enough. She ran the site like a military operation and he didn’t know what he would do without her.

  Round her desk were pictures of young men in various stages of undress. It was her way of getting back at her colleagues and Nick laughed at her when she pre
tended to drool over them to annoy the blokes on site. None of them was very good-looking and the women they talked so freely about would in fact give them a wide berth. But they didn’t like being reminded of their middle-aged spread and their less-than-perfect profiles.

  Lynn called the pin-ups her Himbos, and the expression always made Nick smile. It was a good office really, had a good atmosphere, and when the trouble had started they had all been behind him. They had all seen it as representing the right to retaliate of the common man.

  Now he made Lynn a cup of tea and took it over to her.

  ‘How are you, girl?’

  She gazed up into his eyes. He knew she had a crush on him but he could live with it.

  ‘OK. You?’

  Nick shrugged.

  ‘Getting there. How’s it been going anyway?’

  He changed the subject quickly because he could hear the men coming into their offices, could hear their talk and banter, and wasn’t sure if he could cope with it all today. Would his life ever be the same again?

  He doubted it.

  All he knew was, he needed a drink.

  Jude Hatcher was sipping a black coffee and listening once more to the boys telling her about Sonny. She was nodding and smiling as they recounted stories about him, stretching the tales and exaggerating them until they were complete lies, but well intentioned nonetheless. Eventually they would all believe them and Sonny would be a part of urban legend.

  The front door opened and his best friend Gino came in. He passed Jude a small bag of brown and she smiled her thanks at him.

  The other three lads sat in stunned silence as they watched her burn her fix. Even though they fancied themselves men of the world she was the only adult they knew who was a heroin addict. They had mates who used, but it was only snorting. All their parents were straight, alcohol and cigarettes being the only drugs allowed in their houses.

  Alcohol had in fact caused more than enough trouble for Gino especially as his errant father couldn’t get through the day without it. But if his mother had known he was in Jude Hatcher’s flat she would have gone ballistic. Gino saw the hypocrisy of that even if she didn’t.

  The local boys had always been impressed by Sonny’s way of life. Jude’s flat was a haven for truants, the dispossessed and runaways. She’d always had an open door. Now that her Sonny was gone she needed the youngsters more than ever.

  Gino had promised to help her out in place of Sonny and he intended to do just that. It was the least he could do in memory of his friend.

  At six Sonny had walked the estate looking for whatever dealer Jude owed less money to and then he would score and bring back her precious cargo and bask in her cuddles and kisses and her exaltations about what a big boy he was for his mummy.

  Once she had injected, though, he’d been as far from her mind as the moon. He had soon realised that as well and had taken what she offered when he could.

  In fact, it was amazing that he’d never indulged himself. He had a puff with his mates and dropped Es of a weekend but the brown had never interested him. In a funny way she had been proud of that much; it wouldn’t have done to have two addicts in the same house. She had robbed him, stolen his birthday money and presents from his father, even sold his clothes, and he had always forgiven her, understanding her need better than she did herself.

  He had robbed for her, getting off because of his home life. That was until he hit sixteen, of course, then it wasn’t so easy to walk away from it all any more. No one listened to his pleas about his mother being unable to exist without her drugs. He had even held his hand up to stuff that had nothing to do with him over the years for a money gift, when he couldn’t be nicked on account of his age. And people had used him for that without a thought.

  Sonny would have done anything for her, yet she could not do the one thing he asked of her.

  To get herself clean.

  He had even tried locking her up in the house, but her pleas and eventually her aggression had made him score for her once more and then the whole cycle would start all over again.

  As she lay back with a glazed expression the youngsters all gradually left the flat. Jude was gone now, in her secret place. They drifted away gradually without bothering to say goodbye.

  Nick was in the pub, knocking back shorts at an alarming rate, when his mobile rang. He glanced at the display and rejected the call before turning it off altogether. It was Tammy, and he had no interest in talking to her. Joey Miles watched his friend sadly. He had taken it bad. No matter how many people told him he had done the right thing, it made no difference.

  ‘Come on, Nick, let’s go and get some food, eh?’

  He shook his head.

  Nick Leary was a big man and because he generally had such a nice way with him people forgot that he could also be a hard bastard when the fancy took him. It was this that had got him where he was in life. He had sailed close to the wind more than a few times, but hadn’t they all in pursuit of a better life?

  A tall blonde with high breasts and a perma-grin walked towards them.

  ‘Hello, Nick, long time no see.’

  She was the girlfriend of a business acquaintance but she always had her radar tuned for a better alternative. The business acquaintance was also married so she wasn’t bothered about Tammy. In fact, it was what she had heard about Nick’s wife that made her think she might be on to a much better thing with Nick than she had first thought. He was also a bit of all right so the sex part wouldn’t be such a trial either. Her current squeeze was short, bald and had a belly that could accommodate triplets and still leave room for a West Ham footballer.

  He also had an open wallet of Olympic standards, so at least he had that going for him if nothing else.

  Nick had not answered her and she tried again.

  ‘Hello, Nick, remember me?’

  He stared at her for long seconds before shaking his head.

  ‘Sorry, no, I don’t.’

  He sounded completely uninterested, something that rarely happened to her when men were around. She was nonplussed for a moment and Joey closed his eyes in distress. The blonde was shocked and it showed on her face. Everyone remembered her, she was Des Carter’s bird, that court case must have turned Nick’s mind. She would not even contemplate the thought that he could be blanking her.

  ‘Des’s girlfriend?’

  She was still the coquette, deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt. Joey gave her points for perseverance anyway.

  ‘Where is Des then?’

  Nick gave a good impression of a sailor looking out to sea. His hand over his eyes, he peered around the bar for a few seconds. He saw the humiliation burn in her eyes and told himself to let it go, but he couldn’t. Instead he turned his back on her and started to order himself another drink. As he owned the pub that wasn’t hard.

  Joey tried to ease her embarrassment.

  ‘Leave it, love. Get a drink on me, OK?’

  ‘Des won’t like this when I tell him . . .’

  Des was a local hard case, but not that hard a case he would take on Nick. But she obviously wasn’t thinking when she spoke. Nick turned round and said nastily, ‘Oh, I’m quaking in me boots, love.’

  He passed her his mobile.

  ‘Get him on the blower and I’ll talk to him now, eh?’

  Joey pushed the phone away from the stricken girl.

  ‘All right, Nick.’

  Joey’s voice was low, annoyed, people were already looking at them. The girl’s friends were thrilled with this turn of events and she knew it.

  ‘He’s drunk, love . . .’

  Nick poked a finger at her and said loudly, ‘Not that drunk though, eh? I wouldn’t touch you with a barge pole.’

  She walked away humiliated and Joey waited a beat before he said, ‘She didn’t deserve that, Nick.’

  He laughed.

  ‘Didn’t she? Des’s wife is a good woman. She’s given him five kids and she’s stood by him through every bit of
shit he ever got himself into. And what does he do? He takes up with that. Even paid for her fucking tits! She sees me as an alternative pay packet, nothing more, nothing less. Well, she can fuck off. I have enough trouble trying to stop Tammy bankrupting me on a daily basis. Her and all I don’t need.’

  He wiped a hand across his face, he was sweating again. Since the boy’s death he had felt like this a lot. He shook for no reason and got panic attacks. Felt sick, couldn’t sleep, eat or think properly. All he thought about was the boy.