Kimberley Chambers - The Victim

Eddie Mitchell was having another little bout of insomnia. He had to meet O’Hara at lunchtime to hand over the dosh and the guilt he felt at what he was about to do was eating away at him. Picturing his brothers’ faces once more, Ed turned onto his side and forced himself to think about Gina. He’d sent his fiancée away to her friend’s house while he sorted out the sorry mess his brothers had made, but she was coming back home this afternoon and Ed couldn’t wait to hold her in his arms and tell her how much he loved her.

At thirty-four years old, Gina was nineteen years younger than Ed. They’d originally met when he had found her in the Yellow Pages. Gina was a private detective and Ed had hired her to follow his son, Joey. It was through Gina that Ed had found out the truth about his son’s homosexuality and his relationship with Dominic.

Months after Ed had got arrested for murder, Gina had written to him in the nick and stood up in court as a witness at his trial. They’d sort of got together soon after that. Gina became a regular visitor to Wandsworth Prison and they’d planned their future in the odd hour they snatched together every week. It was a gamble coming straight out of the slammer and moving in with a bird he barely knew, but the gamble had paid off. They had originally rented, but had since bought the cottage in Rettendon and, until all this shit had kicked off with the O’Haras again, had been as happy as two pigs in shit.

Picturing Gina’s naked body, Eddie smiled. Facially she was a ringer for the famous Page Three girl, Linda Lusardi, everybody said so. She was tall, with long, dark hair, legs up to her armpits and a pair of tits to die for. Feeling himself getting harder, Ed lifted the quilt, looked underneath it and smiled. He might be fifty-three, but his king-sized attribute was still in fine working order. Seconds later, Ed heard an enormous crash coming from downstairs. His erection deflated like a burst balloon and he gingerly got out of bed and grabbed the baseball bat he kept underneath it. Ever since he’d been a young man, Ed had slept with a gun nearby, but recent events had made him hide it away from the cottage. Another long stretch for a firearms charge was the last thing he needed.

Eddie put on a pair of shorts and crept down the wooden stairs. He held the bat firmly in his right hand, ready to strike if need be. Daylight was just breaking, so he could easily see where he was going without falling arse over head. The front door was shut, so Ed moved cautiously towards the kitchen. He could have sworn that he’d heard the sound of breaking glass and, if that was the case, the kitchen was the easiest form of entry for an intruder. He checked the windows and door; there was nothing untoward, so he headed into the lounge. Ed’s stomach lurched as he spotted the culprit. His dad’s framed photo that hung on the wall opposite Jessica’s had, for no apparent reason, fallen onto the floor and smashed.

Eddie sat on the sofa and put his head in his hands. It must be a sign, a sign that his father disagreed with his decision-making. Well, he couldn’t go through with what he had arranged now, not after this, and if it turned out to be his own poisoned chalice, then so fucking be it.

Joey Mitchell dried himself with a towel, then looked at his watch in dismay. He liked to have a strong coffee in St Paul’s before he ventured into work, but he was running late this morning, so wouldn’t have bloody time.

Dominic had an important meeting with an investor up in Hammersmith at lunchtime and was still lying in his pit. As the phone rang, Dom answered the one in the bedroom.

‘Joey, it’s your nan,’ he shouted.

‘Tell her I’ll ring her later,’ Joey yelled back.

Stark bollock naked, Dominic ran out of the bedroom with the phone in his hand. ‘You’d better talk to her now, Joey, she sounds in a right old state.’

Silently cursing his dysfunctional family, Joey snatched the phone. ‘What’s the matter, Nan?’

‘Your grandad’s gone. He went last night.’

Feeling his legs go from beneath him, Joey sank onto the bed. ‘Oh my God! What did he die of?’ he whispered, tears forming in his eyes.

‘He ain’t bleedin’ dead, although I wish the bastard was. He’s gone, left home, wants a divorce, the silly old sod. You’re gonna have to come over, Joey. I can’t stop in this house on me own. I’ve already had a large brandy and I’m worried I’ll do something silly and end up back in that nuthouse again.’

‘I can’t come over, Nan. I’m really busy at work at the moment and I need to go in.’

Joyce was an expert at making people feel guilty – she’d practised for years on Stanley. ‘Oh well, if your job’s more important than your poor old nan, best you get off. But, if and when something bad happens to me, don’t you dare come crying round my grave. If you do, I shall come back and fuckin’ well haunt ya.’

Joey felt his conscience pricking him. ‘Can’t you ring Raymond, Nan? My boss will kill me if I don’t go in today.’

‘Already rung him. Since that tart of his has been up the spout, he’s had no time for his poor old mum whatsoever. He says he’s got an important meeting with your father. Knowing what a lying bastard Raymond is lately, I bet his important meeting is at one of them poncy antenatal clinics with that stuck-up prat he married.’

Joey sighed. The last time his grandad had left home, his nan had completely lost the plot and ended up in Warley Hospital. If that were to happen again, Joey knew he would never forgive himself for not being there when she needed him. ‘Don’t drink no more, Nan. I’ll ring work, tell ’em I’m ill and I’ll be with you within the hour.’

After he’d found his father’s photograph lying horizontal on the living-room carpet, Eddie had knocked back a large brandy to calm his fragile nerves. He had then taken it upon himself to call an emergency meeting. None of the lads were very happy at being woken at 7 a.m., but that was tough shit; he was the boss and he called the shots.

As per usual, Eddie had ordered the meeting to be held at his Auntie Joanie’s house. These days he would never chance any of their important gatherings being held anywhere but. He was too worried about the Old Bill; they weren’t so backward as they used to be. The filth had been well pissed off when the jury had found him not guilty of the murder and manslaughter charges against Jessica. He’d still done bird for unlawful possession of a firearm but knowing how desperate the rozzers were to lock him up and throw away the key, Ed would never put it past the bastards to bug his, Gary’s, Ricky’s or Raymond’s home addresses. Joanie’s house was by no means foolproof, but it was definitely the best for security purposes and also better than meeting in a café or some poxy boozer.

Ed had called the meeting for 9 a.m. He had to meet O’Hara at twelve in Upminster, so he’d had no choice but to call it on so early. Due to the decrepit state of the A13, Eddie arrived at his aunt’s at twenty to ten. Joanie answered the door and, pushed for time, Ed gave her a quick peck on the cheek and darted straight up the stairs.

‘Shall I make you a pot of tea and some sarnies?’ Joanie shouted out.

‘No thanks, Auntie. We’re fine, sweetheart,’ Eddie replied.

Raymond, Gary and Ricky were already sitting around the big mahogany table with glum expressions on their faces. Gary and Ricky had both been on the piss until the early hours and felt like crap, and Raymond had had an earful from Polly, as he’d had to tell her that something important had cropped up and he couldn’t attend the antenatal clinic with her.

‘This better be fucking important, Dad,’ Gary said, thoroughly pissed off that he’d been woken so early then his old man had had the audacity to turn up late.