Jacqui Rose - Sinner

‘Got what, Alf? Sent what? For God’s sake, you aren’t making any sense.’

Retreating and feeling overwhelmed, Alfie, unable to bring himself to say what he wanted to, shook his head. ‘You know what, it doesn’t matter.’

Charlie stared at Alfie as he backed away. ‘Are you okay? You don’t look so good. In fact, mate, you look terrible.’

Feeling his heart race, Alfie shrugged. His voice was small. Tight. Strained. ‘I’m fine. Are you? Are you fine?’

‘Well I’m certainly not acting weird, if that’s what you mean.’

Almost in tears, Alfie gave the tiniest of headshakes. ‘You know it’s not, Charlie, but you know exactly what I’m talking about. You know why I’m asking if you’re okay.’

Again, another flicker of acknowledgement crossed Charlie’s face and again, it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Then matching Alfie’s small, strained voice, Charlie mimicked, ‘No, Alf, I don’t know. I have no idea what you’re talking about, and if you want my advice, I’d lay off whatever it is you’re sticking up your nose. I’ll see you around … Oh, and make sure you come to that decision soon.’

As Charlie quickly turned around, feeling a stab of anxiety, he knew exactly what Alfie Jennings had been talking about.

At the same time as Alfie Jennings was heading back to his club, Franny was on the other side of town. Panicked, she hurried along the deserted street that ran parallel to King Henry’s Dock in Woolwich, checking behind her every few yards as she made a right turn into Ruston Road.

As she crossed a small bit of wasteland, a loud rustling noise coming from near the derelict warehouse startled her. Her chest went tight, and her breathing became shallow as she nervously took a step back, crouching down behind a large discarded oil drum and feeling the chill of the wind coming from off the river Thames.

Hearing the noise again, Franny tried to slow down her breathing, desperate to stop panic overwhelming her. She pushed herself further against the rusty oil drum, not moving for fear of being seen by whoever it was. She stayed crouching for a moment, listening carefully. There it was, and it seemed like it was getting nearer.

Trembling and bracing herself, she slowly peered around the drum, still trying to keep herself as far back as she could, but suddenly she let out a long sigh of relief as a brown, mangey cat rummaged in a pile of rubbish.

Standing up, relieved but annoyed with herself at how on edge she was, Franny felt her phone vibrate. Quickly pulling it out of the pocket of her beige suede jacket, she saw it was Alfie. She ignored it, but it rang again … And again. Deciding it was better to take the call, Franny took a deep breath, answering as casually as she could.

‘Hey, Alfie! You okay? How’s it going?’

‘How many frigging times does it take for you to answer?’

Sensing the irritation in his voice, Franny held her own temper and kept her tone as light as possible. She trilled at him. ‘Sorry, babe, I didn’t hear it. Anyway, what’s up?’

‘Where are you?’

Absentmindedly, Franny spun around, staring at the small new-build block of flats in front of her. She could hear the tension coming into her own voice. ‘Me? Where am I?’

‘Well who else do you thinking I’m talking to?’

‘I’m … I’m …’

On the other end of the line, Alfie impatiently cut in. ‘Look, it don’t matter. Just get yourself down to the club straightaway. We’ve had a bit of trouble. How long will you be anyway?’

Awkwardly, Franny said, ‘The thing is, Alf, I’m a bit busy right now. I mean, do you really need me? Can’t you and Vaughn handle whatever it is?’

There was a long pause and Franny could hear Alfie’s breathing down the phone as he seethed. Eventually he spoke.

‘Listen to me, Fran, I ain’t in the mood for this, so whatever the hell it is that you’re doing at this time of night: having a bath, painting your toenails, watching a bit of Netflix … I . Don’t . Care . Because all I care about is you getting yourself down here asap. Understand? ’

‘Alfie, like I say …’

Franny frowned at her phone as Alfie cut off the call. Sighing, she glanced at the time. It was just gone one-thirty in the morning. The night-time traffic in London was almost as bad as it was during the day, so she knew it’d take her at least an hour and a half to get back to Soho, and by that time, she had no doubt Alfie would be gunning for her, and that was even before Vaughn got involved. As she saw it, it would be pointless even trying to rush back and pretend she’d just been in the bath. And okay, when she did finally get there, Alfie would have a hundred and one questions for her. Still, what else could she do? She’d just have to man up and face that when she saw him, but for now, she figured she might as well stay and do what she was here to do, because after all, she was already in trouble. Big trouble .

With her mind made up, Franny defiantly turned off her phone, shoving it back into her pocket as she headed for the row of maisonettes across the road. She tried to push the thought of Alfie, and the guilt, from her mind.

Realising she’d forgotten to bring the key, Franny pressed the silver buzzer on the black wooden door, checking over her shoulder nervously. Getting no answer and not wanting to stand there longer than she had to, Franny pressed again agitatedly, holding down the buzzer this time as she stared directly at the doorbell camera. A second later, she heard the click of the lock and she hurried into the communal entrance where another door just in front of her sprung open, taking her into a private stairwell that led up into a bright, spacious flat overlooking the Thames.

Bree Dwyer stood smiling at Franny. ‘Thank you for coming.’

Forcing down her irritation, knowing that a lot of it was caused by her own guilt, something her father had always tried to teach her not to feel, Franny smiled as she looked back at Bree. ‘No problem, it was just a bit difficult to get away. I’m not in the best of moods because Alfie …’

Bree cut in, concern etched across her face. ‘Is he okay?’

Franny nodded as she took off her jacket at the same time as noticing how much weight Bree was losing. ‘He’s fine, just under a bit of pressure, like we all are. You know how it is.’

Bree’s big blue eyes widened. ‘So, what’s wrong with him?’

With her irritation returning, Franny, not wanting to be reminded of Alfie, snapped, ‘I said he’s fine. Anyway, I’m not here to talk about him, I’m here to see you, and of course …’ Franny trailed off and turned around, walking across to the pink cot in the corner of the room. She bent over the hand-carved bar rails. ‘… And of course, this little one.’

Behind Franny, Bree ran her hand through her long blonde hair as she rolled her eyes. She spoke wearily. ‘She’s only just got to sleep, Fran. Leave her, will you?’

Ignoring Bree, Franny scooped the baby into her arms, bringing her in to her chest, stroking her silky mass of hair. ‘Don’t be stupid, she’s fine; she can sleep anytime.’

‘You don’t have to snap. I was only saying.’

Rubbing her head, knowing that she shouldn’t really take how she was feeling out on Bree, Franny tried to sound warmer. ‘Then don’t make it difficult for me to see her every time I come here, because unfortunately for me, I can only get away at certain times. You’re not looking so good by the way. I hope you’re looking after yourself. You can’t get ill. What would happen to Mia if you did?’

Bree gave a tight smile as she gathered up Mia’s cuddly toys from the floor. ‘Like I said before, I’m eating fine, but maybe if I was able to get out now and then, get some sunshine, perhaps I’d feel better. I feel like a prisoner here, Fran. It feels like I’m back in my old life.’