Kimberley Chambers - The Schemer

Stephanie Crouch was as quiet as a mouse as she sat down at a table in the Bishop Bonner pub. The knowledge that Barry and Wayne Jackman were pals had left her with a feeling of uneasiness and she didn’t quite know how to handle the situation. She was positive that if Barry found out that she had recently asked Wayne out, he would then finish with her himself.

‘You all right, babe? You’ve gone ever so quiet on me. What’s up?’ Barry asked, handing Angie half a cider and sitting down next to her.

‘Nothing. I’m just a bit tired, that’s all,’ Stephanie fibbed.

Barry could smell a lie a mile off. ‘Is it me dad? I know he comes across as a bit intimidating, but he’s such a top geezer when you get to know him, Steph. He was only winding you up when he took the piss out of your ripped jeans. He didn’t mean it nastily.’

Glancing over at the bar where Smasher Franklin was standing with his pals, Stephanie managed a weak smile. Barry’s dad had looked daunting to begin with. He was tall, had enormous muscles, a squashed nose and three scars plastered across his weather-beaten face, but he’d won Steph over immediately with his wit and charm.

‘I really liked your dad. He is so funny, Barry, and I wish I had a dad like him. Mine died when I was little and I never really knew him at all.’

Chuffed to bits that the introduction had gone so well, Barry leant towards Steph and kissed her on the cheek. ‘Now we’re together, he’ll sort of be your dad an’ all, won’t he? You’re always gonna be my girl, Steph.’

Looking at the intensity in Barry’s eyes, Stephanie’s heart was filled with happiness, but also dread. Asking Wayne Jackman out could prove to be the biggest mistake of her life, and if it ruined her relationship with Barry, she would never forgive herself for being such an idiot.

After spending most of the day entwined in a variety of sexual positions, Wayne and Angela were now sitting at the entrance to The Mall on Heathway Hill, drinking a bottle of cider.

‘This is boring sitting ’ere, I feel like a kid. Let’s go down the Princess Bowl, eh?’ Wayne suggested.

The Princess Bowl was where Angela had first met Wayne, but because so many kids from their school hung about there, now she and Wayne were actually together, Angie was worried about being seen there with him. One day, when she was older, she would tell Wayne that she had lied about her age, but she didn’t want it coming out just yet.

‘I like it when it’s just me and you, Jacko. All your mates will be down the bowling alley and I’ll be bored if you’re talking to them.’

Wayne sighed. He liked Angie, but her childishness did his head in at times. If she wasn’t such a good shag, he would have probably dumped her by now.

Over in South London, Marlene Franklin was sitting in a Chinese restaurant in Bermondsey, having a whale of a time with the gentleman she had met in the pub earlier.

‘So why do people call you Jake the Snake then?’ Marlene asked, giggling. She rarely had the opportunity to drink herself senseless on expensive champagne, so had been indulging herself in the stuff, big time.

Jake Chaplin was a short, unattractive, pointy-nosed, fifty-two-year old South London villain. He was an extremely clever fraudster and had made plenty of money over the years by selling gullible people properties and timeshares that had ceased to exist. Clicking his fingers to indicate to the waiter that he required yet another bottle of champagne, Jake grinned at Marlene.

‘People call me Jake the Snake because I’m as slippery as a boa constrictor. Slithered out of many a difficult situation over the years, I have, Marlene. I’m a very clever man, darling.’ When Jake laughed out loud and lit up yet another cigarette, Marlene ignored his awful yellow teeth, his weaselly looking face, and his spindly, nicotine-stained hands. All she saw was money and a ticket out of Dagenham.

‘Do you think Marge will be all right with your mate?’ Marlene asked, pretending to be concerned. She knew Marge would be all right if she spent the night with the entire England rugby squad.

Jake chuckled. ‘They don’t call my mate Donkey Dave for nothing, you know. I’m sure he’ll show your friend Marge a good time, if you know what I mean?’

Fluttering her eyelashes and pouting seductively at Jake, Marlene squeezed his bony hand. ‘And what about you? Do you know how to treat a lady?’

Jake the Snake licked his thin lips in pure anticipation. He’d never struggled pulling women, because of who he was, but it had been a good few years since he had pulled one as pretty and young as Marlene. Looking lovingly into her eyes, Jake grinned. ‘Tomorrow, my dear, you and I are going shopping. I will spoil you something rotten, and if you treat me kindly in return, I can guarantee that you will never want for anything ever again in your entire life.’

Leaning forward, Marlene locked lips with Jake. When his tongue entered her mouth, for a split second she felt physically sick, but instead of showing her repulsion, Marlene responded by kissing Jake passionately. Shutting her eyes, Marlene pretended she was kissing her screen idol, Mel Gibson – that’s what she always did when she got intimate with a man she didn’t fancy.

‘You are so beautiful, Marlene,’ Jake said, as their kiss came to an end.

Marlene grinned. Jake was in her clutches already and this was one snake that she was not going to let slither out of her grasp.

Back in Dagenham, Angela was trying to find out more about Wayne’s life. ‘So, what’s it like going to a football match? When are West Ham playing at home next?’ she asked, genuinely interested. Angie knew nothing about football whatsoever, but decided because Wayne was so passionate about it, if they were going to be together forever, perhaps she should start learning.

‘It’s wicked, babe. Me, Potter and Cooksie are in a firm called the ICF. We’ve had many a scrap, especially when we go to away games. Well hard, we are,’ Wayne bragged.

‘Do you fight people?’

‘Yeah, we fight the supporters of other teams. The firm’s run by some older geezers and they’re all casuals, like us. Well cool they are, and proper organized. We wanted to hang about with ’em ages ago, but I think they thought we were too young. They’ve accepted us now, though – they call us the young ICF.’

Angela was perplexed. She’d always thought football was about kicking a ball around a pitch, not brawling. ‘Can I come to the next game with you, Jacko?’

Wayne burst out laughing. In his opinion, birds and football were as unsuited as a dog shagging a cat. About to answer Angela’s awkward request as diplomatically as he could, Wayne heard someone call his name.

Spotting his two best pals jogging towards him, Wayne quickly stood up and brushed any dirt off his turquoise Lacoste tracksuit.

‘What you doin’ hanging about here, you wanker?’ Cooksie asked him, laughing.

Leaning against the wall, Wayne grabbed hold of his groin area, nodded towards Angela and chuckled. ‘She’s worn me out, lads. Had a bit of a marathon sesh earlier, and I’m shattered. Where yous two been?’

Potter showed Wayne the inside of his carrier bag. ‘Dalston, got meself a new pair of Kickers in red.’

‘Sweet,’ Wayne replied, studying the boots.

‘Do you wanna come round Danno’s with us? He’s got a free house for the weekend and is having a bit of a piss-up,’ Cooksie suggested.

‘Yeah, why not. You coming Ange? We’re going round Danno’s.’

Thrilled that Wayne had invited her, Angela stood up. ‘Who’s Danno?’ she asked, casually.

‘Danno’s in our year at school. You won’t know him, he goes Priory.’

Relieved that Danno didn’t go to Parsloes Manor, the school that she had pretended to go to, Angela grinned. She knew none of the lads in the fifth year at Priory, so knew her secret would be safe. ‘Come on then. What we waiting for?’ she said.