Kimberley Chambers - The Victim

Seconds later, Terry heard an almighty scream.

‘Dad, there’s blood everywhere, I think I’m losing the baby,’ Sally cried.

Not one to drink too much when he had to drive from Orsett back to Barking, Jock had four pints and set off home. He felt sick with worry about Stanley’s unusual behaviour. Not only had his old pal looked very drunk, but he and that Pat had looked far more than just friends, and Jock didn’t have a clue what he was now going to say to Joyce.

Within seconds of walking indoors, Jock heard his phone ringing. He glanced at the clock. It was 4 p.m. and his daughter usually rang him at this time most days. He picked up the phone and was horrified to hear Joyce on the other end.

‘Well, did you find the old bastard?’

‘Aye, but I didn’t speak to him, Joycie. He’s still really angry with me, I could see it in his face.’

‘So, where is he then? Where did you see him?’

Aware of how irate Joyce sounded, Jock chose his words carefully. He didn’t want to get his old mate into too much trouble, but if he didn’t give Joycie some information, she would be sure to call the police and find out Stanley’s whereabouts anyway.

‘He was in the Orsett Cock pub. He’s staying with a friend who lives up that way, I think.’

‘Friend! What friend? Apart from you, my Stanley has never had any bleedin’ friends. What’s the bloke’s name he’s stopping with?’

‘I’ve no idea,’ Jock replied untruthfully.

Joyce instinctively knew that Jock was lying. Stanley had definitely been behaving oddly for the last couple of months. He disappeared regularly, usually at lunchtime. He’d put on weight, but ate smaller meals at home, and she could swear she’d whiffed women’s perfume on his clothes and it certainly wasn’t her Estée Lauder. It all added up now, every single, last, sordid detail.

‘What’s the old tart’s name, Jock? I know it’s a woman, so don’t you dare fucking lie to me.’

Jock felt like a rabbit caught in the headlights. ‘I swear, it’s not what you think, Joycie. Him and Pat are just friends, that’s all. Your Stanley has decent morals, love,’ he stammered.

‘Well, I’ll give him morals and I’ll give her fucking Pat. What’s the old bag’s address?’ Joyce screamed down the phone.

Jock was petrified of Joyce at the best of times. ‘I don’t know, I swear I don’t. All I know is she lives in Orsett,’ he said, his hands shaking.

‘Well, I’ll be taking a little trip to Orsett and when I find that dirty old bastard I married, I’m gonna chop his fucking bits off and feed ’em to his pigeons.’

Unaware that his old woman was on his tail and currently spitting feathers, Stanley and Pat were rather inebriated and cuddled up on the sofa. They had left the pub about an hour ago and they must have sunk at least ten or twelve drinks while they were out. At one point, Stanley had even felt his legs start to buckle.

‘Do you wanna watch a film, Stanley, or shall we have an early night?’ Pat asked him expectantly.

Not getting the gist of what she was asking, Stanley smiled at her. Unlike Joycie, Pat was a loving person and he sometimes liked it when she put her arms around him. It made him feel manly and wanted. ‘You watch a film if you like, love. I’m knackered, though, so I think I’ll have an early one.’

Desperate to get Stanley into her own bed rather than the one in the spare room, Pat edged towards his lips and placed her own there.

Feeling Pat’s tongue inside his mouth, Stanley leaped from the sofa as if he had a bullet up his arse. ‘Night, love,’ he shouted, as he ran from the room and bolted up the stairs. He was desperate for the safety of the spare room. He and Joycie hadn’t kissed for years and even when they used to, there were no tongues involved. Petrified that Pat was going to come into his room, Stanley finally stopped shaking as he heard her footsteps plod past. ‘Thank you, God,’ he mumbled gratefully.

Terry Baldwin sat in a corridor in Harold Wood Hospital. Sally had been rushed to the maternity unit and he’d been waiting ages for some news. Putting his head in his hands, Terry cursed the day his daughter had ever set eyes on Jed O’Hara. The little shit had already robbed him of one grandchild, his beloved Luke, and if Sally were to lose another because of Jed, Terry would have no choice but to top the little bastard.

Saying a silent prayer to God that all the blood Sally had lost would turn out to be no more than a false alarm, Terry heard his name being called. He stood up and looked into the doctor’s eyes.

‘I’m so sorry, Mr Baldwin, but I’m afraid we were unable to save the baby. On a positive note, your daughter is stable and we have given her something to sedate her so she can get some sleep. She was, understandably, very upset, so we would like to keep her in for observation.’

Overcome by grief for the second time in weeks, Terry let out a muffled cry and slumped back onto the chair. This would be the end of his Sally and he knew it.

Joycie Smith was still seething the following morning. Never in a million years would she have guessed that Stanley would ever leave for some old slapper. Her husband was certainly no Richard Gere and Joyce could not understand how any other woman would even like him, let alone fancy him.

Pacing up and down the living room, Joycie glanced at the clock on the wall. ‘What time did Dominic say he’d get here?’ she asked Joey. Patience had never been one of Joycie’s virtues and she was doing buttons to get to Orsett and confront her philandering husband and his bit of fluff.

Joey sighed. He’d been working late last night when his nan had rung and told him what had happened. She’d gone bananas on the phone and, worried about her sanity, Joey had come straight over from work. He and Dom had made plans themselves today and, as much as Joey loved his nan, he was getting a bit sick of her interfering in his life. Whenever there was a drama it was Joey she called and in Joey’s opinion, her own son Raymond got away very lightly indeed.

‘Where you going?’ Joyce shouted as Joey picked his mobile up and stomped out of the room.

Ignoring her question, Joey opened the back door and punched in a number. ‘Raymond, it’s me, Joey. Listen, you need to get over to your mum’s ASAP. Your dad’s run off with another woman and I don’t know what to do.’