Destruction Of A Nobody

By S C Irving

When Sian met Joseph at his restaurant on New Year’s Eve, she thought he was a really nice guy on the surface, until he told her about his opprobrious past and sent her scurrying. Sian did not do criminals, but no woman had ever said no to Joseph. When he assaulted her, her world fell apart and she became a recluse. If she never saw a man again, she wouldn’t be holding her breath..

Joseph needed Sian to make him look respectable because with her on his arm he was above suspicion. He took any woman he wanted. Prestige and easy money were his gods. They were also the perfect weapons with which to bring him down.

Sian was not the first victim of Joseph’s brutal temper, nor would she be the last, and while he continued with his depraved lifestyle believing he was untouchable, the women he’d trampled on were busy with their own brand of retribution and Joseph would come to realise that revenge was indeed a dish best served cold, but in his arrogance he would not see it coming.

He would find himself on the receiving end of a chain of events he couldn’t make any sense of, that Sian had systematically stage managed and help was making itself apparent in ways she could never have dreamed of. These women would soon find their common goals bringing them together in a sting that would result in the Destruction of a Nobody and rock the world of any man who dared to push his luck.

The cunning of a scarred woman pitched against the violence of a conceited man. Only one of them would ignore the signs at their peril.

• Language: English
• Publisher: S C Irving
• Release date: Nov 2, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310791093

S C Irving

Running a thriving business as a Tailor in Spitalfields in the square mile and enjoying a lifestyle that involved travel and a good social network of friends, life was stopped in its tracks after Sian was attacked by a man she barely knew. She was a guest at a New Year's party where the owner of the restaurant had taken an interest to the young woman. When she found out that he'd acquired the restaurant through monies never recovered by the police from a previous incarceration for fraud she immediately decided that an ex-con was not on her radar. Too late, because he was hooked and she was refusing to make herself emotionally available to a criminal. To Joseph however, no was not an option, and after stalking her for three days he violently attacked her.Life would never be the same again for Sian, but she could not and would not allow this appalling behaviour to de-rail her permanently. After being diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and dealing with the problems he'd created for her as her vision was affected by the attack, she started to rebuild her life. This included sharing her story through words for other victims as this book unfolded. The fire in Sian's belly can be felt throughout its pages and her sense of humour restored will make you smile.This roller coaster was her therapy and a great adventure and she was able to come out of herself just long enough to enjoy the ride, She came through this trauma changed, a much stronger and wiser woman from the experience. By the time she'd finished this mission the healing process was all but complete and when you read it for yourself you'll understand why. Enjoy...

Book preview

Shooting at The Old Bailey

TODAY

CHAPTER 1

Dry and overcast was what the weather report had predicted the day would bring. Yet it had been raining for what seemed like an eternity so she wouldn’t take any chances. The new winter coat that she’d recently purchased was what she intended to wear and since he’d never seen it before even better. The taxi had been downstairs with the engine purring for at least ten minutes, so collecting her handbag she stood opposite the mirror to the left of the front door studying her reflection while she put her headscarf on and tied it around her neck. As disguises went it wasn’t brilliant, but the dark shades made her feel invisible enough. As she took a long look at the house she’d lived in and called home for some twenty-nine years trying to remember the happier times, and the things she might have done differently had hindsight been her friend, she let out a deepening sigh before walking to the front of the house. Opening the door she stepped out into the cold autumn morning closing it behind her and looked at the leather gloves she was wearing; the only gift he’d ever bought for her as she stepped into the taxi and the car pulled away.

At last the time had come, for today would be the last normal day for both of them. As the car made its way through the rush hour traffic she watched almost without seeing the people, shops, houses, trees and all those everyday things that you only ever noticed at times like these to remind you that at least you were still alive. She tried hard to divest herself of any thoughts of the man she was shortly to see or to think about what this day would mean for them. By the time she left the courtroom, one of them would either be in hand-cuffs --- or dead.

She hadn’t decided whom but nevertheless, before the day’s end it would be over. Thirty-five minutes later the taxi stopped all too soon as she stepped out of the car and paid the driver. She’d asked him to stop down the road, so she’d spot anyone she knew and give herself enough time to take any steps necessary to ensure she passed by unnoticed.

Erica had chosen to sit in the same place in the crowded public gallery every day for forty-seven days. The case had been running for seventy-three. She didn’t want the family to see her since none of them had taken the time to inform her of the proceedings she felt the need to attend. She’d learnt through idle gossip overheard while out shopping one afternoon. Not even the man on trial had told her of his fate, although they shared the same house.

The room started to fill as she remained catatonic, it was best nobody recognised her. The prosecuting counsel and the defence counsel took their places as the man she came to see stood in the dock staring at whatever it was on the floor at his feet, which could only have been his shoes. She willed him to look up at her, but he wouldn’t, not even to his right or left. Had he somehow developed an attack of conscience?

The Judge walked in and took his place as the congregation rose and that old-fashioned ritual that was performed every day the court was in session was set in motion. The Judge sat so they all sat as the final act played out. All the performers took their roles very seriously and nobody was smiling as Erica placed her hand nervously on the bar in front of her peering into the area below and squeezing the bar for moral support, perhaps.

Today she’d hear the verdict and as she registered the list of charges read out against the man in the dock her blood ran cold. The humiliation of it all was too much. Where had she gone wrong? As she looked around and tried to identify some of the faces her stomach turned. She didn’t know one single person, yet they were his friends, allies and enemies all sharing a common goal. Voyeurs all watching the demise of a man she’d loved since the day he was born. He meant nothing to these people, just a topic for idle chit chat. The Foreman stood and faced the judge.

‘Have the jury reached a unanimous verdict?’

‘Yes Your Honour’

‘On the count of … do you find the defendant guilty, or not guilty?’ and so it went on as each charge was read out separately and the verdict pronounced in its own vacuum to make it seem all the worse. Erica’s eyes began to sting, and she blinked as the silent tears ran unchecked down the creases in her face. The last verdict came, and the judge set the date for sentencing banged his gavel and stood.

She’d decided who would die in that split second and taking her only opportunity, Erica rose slowly.

‘Joseph, no good deed goes unpunished!’ she shouted as her voice wavered and all heads turned as her words echoed around Courtroom Two at the Old Bailey. Joseph looked up and frowned. The Judge looked up and the shrieks of hysteria came as she pulled the revolver from her handbag. People slid along the bench trying to get away. The less chivalrous trampling anyone who didn’t move fast enough. She had to do this because things couldn’t continue as they had. He’d forgive her, he had to. She was after all, his mother. Erica removed the scarf she’d worn for a flimsy disguise as the man in the dock stared at her in disbelief with his mouth wide open. Here in this room of moral absolutes where one could be either absolved or destroyed, she raised the gun and looking neither right nor left and shaking her head she mouthed the word sorry then fired.

Home

sweet home

...Monday 22nd March 2004

Chapter 2

Monday was never a good day and today was proving to be no exception. The rain had persisted since last night and as a result dull and miserable was all he could expect. What annoyed him even more was that he’d washed the car by hand just yesterday morning.

Joseph sat at the table opposite his mother. It was two in the afternoon and he was having his breakfast while she ate her lunch. She studied him as he ploughed through the eggs, bacon, baked beans, and toast she’d prepared. He never seemed to smile anymore. He was a tall, slim, and moderately handsome man but he’d always be a boy to her even at forty-three years of age. To the untrained eye he was the veritable gentleman, but there were flaws and not all of them remained hidden. He was also her only child still living at home.

Where else could he go? After all the problems he’d created for himself, nobody was prepared to take him in. Not even one of the women he’d sired, or so he’d told her. The mothers of the children she’d never seen. She was sad that the topic could never be broached between them because to do so would result in an argument that could mean either a disappearing act on his part or the pair not speaking for days on end. She’d already been down that road and wasn’t prepared to revisit an environment fraught with such tension. The very thought that she might never see her grandchildren cut her deeply.

‘What time are you going to work today?’ she asked almost too cheerily. Joseph rolled his eyes

‘Same time I always do mum’.

‘Why did you say ‘mum’ like that, I’m just taking an interest and besides, you’ve got hours yet. D’ you want another cup of tea love?’ she said moving off quickly to the kitchen.

‘No. Thanks’ he added as an afterthought. If he hung around for much longer, she’d only start trying to have a conversation with him, which would doubtless involve her asking about things he had no wish to share. He’d nothing to say, so putting his cutlery on the plate noisily he stood making a beeline for the kitchen. She looked round when she heard his footsteps behind her,

‘You ‘aven’t finished your breakfast’ she frowned showing concern,

‘I’ve lost my appetite’ he replied with a little more venom than intended as he turned to leave. She grimaced and couldn’t stem what came forth. She was becoming more than just a little bit fed up of his dismissive attitude towards her and she lost all her usual composure as she flew at him.

‘Don’t you use that tone with me boy, you can save that for those tarts you will not bring here if you know what’s good for you!’ He stopped in his tracks and turned.

‘Oh here we go again. Why is it you have such a problem with me bringing someone, anyone home, mother? It’s normal, that’s what men do!’

‘Normal is a grown man in his forties, married and living in his own place, and if it was someone you could hold on to for more than five minutes; not just long enough to fuck them on my clean sheets before you dump them like a take away dinner, I wouldn’t have a problem. You’re not treating my home like a whorehouse! Women coming and going like traffic lights.’

‘It couldn’t pass for a whorehouse’ he shot back ‘it’s a fuckin’ dump’.

‘Oh yes, such a fucking dump you came running back here with your limp dick between your legs when everybody turned their backs on you, you ungrateful bastard, God forgive me! If only you had some respect like your brother at least he knows how to treat his mother’ she sniffed.

Joseph realised he was heading for a place he’d rather not go. Neither could he afford to be kicked out right now. Certainly, not before he was ready. There were a few matters that had to be in place first and some serious arselicking was required, it usually worked.

‘Look mum, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lose my temper it ---

‘---Get out you little shit. You’re gonna need a lot more grovelling than that’. She turned her back, making the sign of the cross as she waddled off to the kitchen mumbling under her breath. He stared at her back and flinched just before she slammed the door. Must be her time of the month he shrugged taking the stairs two at a time to get ready for work. Going in early had to be better than this.

PHASE ONE

Chapter 3

She should have been here hours ago, but Stacey liked living on the edge; one of the very reasons she’d joined the ta. She took excitement wherever she could find it as she stood in her overalls, facing the shop window of the ‘Blue Banana’ the second but last shop along, on the south side of this seemingly endless high street. She held on to the holdall at her side and showed little concern at being spotted or being drenched by the rain that had no intention of easing. This end of the high street could never be accused of being a hive of activity at any hour. Even now at 11.30 a.m. she’d only seen two people go by. Surveying the layout, she turned and ventured to the end of the parade of low budget shops, taking a sharp left.

She stepped over the discarded pile of crushed cardboard boxes that were soaking wet from of the rain that continued non-stop and lay haphazardly by way of a makeshift and barely adequate barricade against entry to the rear of the premises. Turning to her side and sidling along the walkway leading to the back, she peered through a gap left by a broken piece of wood from the untended decaying fence and noted the overgrown weeds in the garden on the other side, She tried in vain to work out why there was any need for a garden at the rear of a minicab office as she continued to walk. Stopping at a gate she hoisted herself up to release the catch on the other side. The gate rolled open as she jumped down and taking a cursory look around she stole in and closed the gate behind her.

The vision ahead was tall and dense and very wet. She looked around with a sigh and resigned herself to scaling over the long grass like a clumsy dancer, until she reached the wall that separated the cab office on the corner from the second shop along. Although considered tall at six feet, she’d need some help getting over the wall that stood around seven feet high. Looking around she saw something peering through the long weeds, and on closer inspection, a lone wooden crate was visible. In the absence of anything more suitable to assist with the climb, she walked over retrieved the crate and placed it on the ground at the base of the wall. Testing it for strength she put one foot on and lifting the weight from the other, gently bobbed up and down concluding it might just hold. She threw her bag over the wall, steadied herself and raised her arms using the wall for support. The rain coming down in sheets continued to test her, as she heaved herself dextrously up and over its length. For no good reason she was suddenly reminded of last night when she’d met with the woman who employed her and smiled…

***

‘So, just how good are you really?’ she asked sipping from the hot chocolate placed in front of her just moments before. Marcus had said nothing about his friend being a woman, crafty devil.

‘Well I’m sure you’ve been told what I enjoy doing. As for how good I am, I’d like to think that my reputation has preceded me, or we probably wouldn’t be having this conversation, would we?’ Stacey smiled with confidence, reminding herself to give Marcus a slap for not warning her that a dress code might be appropriate judging from the ‘woman of substance’ sitting in front of her. Stacey loved and lived in her army combat jumpsuits; they accentuated her curves, she wore these with her army issue ‘Doc Martins’ and although she was striking, she still managed to feel a little under-dressed for the occasion, or was it the woman that looked out of place in this sleepy little café. Whatever ways, she felt she should have dressed more like a girl. Sian looked long and hard at the woman whose number had been given to her by a close friend with a questionable taste in playmates.

She might be working with her for some time if things went as planned. She didn’t suffer fools gladly, and anyone who might be in danger of pissing her off would soon be dismissed. She wasn’t looking for an ego that needed constant massaging. However, since this woman at thirty-nine years of age was a member of the Territorial Army, looked extremely fit and had no criminal record – she accepted that as indication enough of how good she must be, Sian was suitably impressed.

‘You know what I want you to do don’t you?’ she said getting down to business, speaking almost in code. The woman retrieved the note from her pocket and opening it smiled as she passed it across the table.

‘I won’t need that anymore. Your instructions were pretty clear’. Sian scrunched up the piece of notepaper and popped it in her handbag at the same time she retrieved the sealed envelope containing Stacey’s down payment and held it out to her. Stacey took the envelope and examined its contents briefly and without counting it, then placed the envelope in the inside breast pocket of her bomber jacket. Sian reached for the small box in another compartment of her bag and placed it on the table.

‘That’s the mobile phone with my number already stored, you’ll use it to make contact with me and nobody else’ she stressed ‘and please, don’t give the number to a soul and there’s also a key to the flat in the box.’

‘Are you going to tell me who this man is and what he’s done to make him so popular?’

‘Well, if there are no hitches you’ll soon have the pleasure’ she smiled. Stacey raised an eyebrow, stood picking up the package and nodded as she made her way out.

‘I’ll be in touch’. She waved; her back to Sian as she closed the door.

***

Stacy smiled to herself. She was feeling a little cute this morning; because she’d already called Sian to tell her that the first part of the job she was about to start had already been done. As long as she was gone before his nibs showed up, no point in worrying her unduly. She’d get the second part sorted when she was finished here, and Sian needn’t be any the wiser. Landing with a thud, she remained in a squat pose and looked on every side. Her gaze rested on the wall that ran the length of the building to her left with the only access being through a back door that remained locked and at present suffering from neglect, not to mention in desperate need of a coat of paint. Grabbing the holdall she made her way through the mess used as a dump site, and even worse than the garden she’d just left and arrived at the door.

Dropping to her knees, she opened the bag and rummaging through pulled out the most reliable piece of any self-respecting criminal locksmith’s arsenal, a precision toolkit. It looked harmless enough, but in the right hands and with her skill, an absolute godsend. Finding the pick and tension wrench required she stood, gave it a kiss for luck and attacked the lock with ease, thankful for the lack of traffic in this neck of the woods, which would have disturbed her ability to concentrate. In moments, the door sprung open and she walked inside leaving the entry slightly ajar, allowing her eyes some assistance getting used to the dimness of the interior. The owner hadn’t anticipated a break-in from the rear, no doubt because of the absence of any windows, since she heard no alarm bells sounding.

Two doors confronted her; the one to the left slightly open revealing some toilets, while the one to the right on inspection unveiled the same disguise. The pictures on the doors gave the clue as to who went where. Closing them quietly, she continued on through to the space beyond which widened to reveal tables and chairs, and at the far-right end a bar that ran the full length of the room with a door on the other side. Her rubber soled shoes made no sound while she moved about on the carpeted floor as she set to work. There was no need for her to hurry; she’d watched the owner leave some ten minutes before entering the building and no one would be back for at least another twelve hours; she had plenty of time.

One behind the bar, one on the central ceiling rose, one in both toilets, ‘kinky’, one at the bottom of the stairs looking up, one at the top of the stairs looking down. She made her way on up the stairs and looking over at the front door to check for onlookers, the alarm went off. She walked calmly over to the control box and tapped in a series of numbers; the alarm was rendered silent in less than ten seconds. Unfazed she continued placing the state-of-the-art surveillance cameras. Nobody would spot these for what they really were, not even the owner she mused.

Moving behind the small bar, trying to work out whether her prey was sloppy or just careless, she rummaged around in the wicker basket situated next to the till, containing several loose keys for the one that opened the back door, Throwing it in the air while praising her decision to study human psychology, she caught it as she picked up her bag and went back downstairs to finish the last part of the job. The holdall amongst other things contained a selection of locks some new and some old and finding its compatible she changed the chamber on the back door. Tidying everything away, she made her way back and stopped. She looked at the closed door behind the bar deciding that perhaps a camera in there might be a good idea.

She went underneath the opening to the other side and tried the handle. It annoyed her to find it locked, now she added inconsistent to his list of failings as she went and grabbed the wrench to open the door. Having a little nose around, she tripped over a wine crate. Kicking it in anger the lid slipped, and instead of bottles she saw white plastic bags. Her curiosity aroused she crouched, pulled one of the bags out and released the cello tape at the opening and sniffed the contents. Recognizing exactly what she’d come across she determined that a camera was definitely required so she planted one in the corner, next to a dusty box of old newspapers; just high enough to be ignored and confident it wouldn’t be disturbed. Who’s a naughty boy then, she whistled as she began to understand the kind of character she was dealing with.

Venturing back upstairs she replaced the key she’d removed, with one for which she retained a copy, holding on to the replica with the certain presence of mind that she’d be asked to return at some point in the future, although the invitation had yet to be made. At least there’d be no need for her to break in again she rationalised as she looked across the road at the building she would go to next with the key that Sian had furnished her with. Resetting the alarm and without further ado, she raced down the stairs and left through the back door shutting it behind her. Phase One was now complete.

Chapter 4

She turned over and almost subconsciously, she uttered those immortal words,

‘Son-of-a-bitch’ Good as damn it, every morning for the past two years Sian had awoken with those words or ones of a similar vein on her lips. She didn’t even need an alarm clock these days, but what she hated more than anything was that she never used to swear. He had a lot to answer for. The moment those words came forth, it was time to get up. This generally meant around six forty-five, assuming of course she hadn’t stayed up all night. For some reason, last night was a particularly bad one. She’d tossed and turned fitfully throughout. Lack of sleep never troubled her as a rule she’d always managed quite happily on very little. The reason behind her restlessness however, merely served as an annoyance, until today when....

The telephone rang and Sian looked over at the clock. Six forty-eight, who the hell had the effrontery to call at this ungodly hour of the morning, picking up her mobile phone and checking the number. Oh, Stacey! The woman she’d employed just yesterday. Clearing her throat and smiling, she pressed the button to accept the call.

‘Did you have any problems?’ she asked without preamble and hiding her excitement.

‘None whatsoever, it was almost too easy’. Sian raised an eyebrow, cocky little so and so, she thought. Two can play that game.

‘Excellent. I’ll be in touch if I need you for anything else’ Turning the phone off, she slumped back on the bed grinning as she mouthed the words, ‘Rock n’ Roll’.

Sian had been deeply traumatised and hurt both emotionally and physically by what had happened to her some twenty-two months ago. But after fleeting thoughts of suicide, she’d slipped into feelings of emptiness and then anger followed sometime later by a burning and increased hunger for revenge. Apparently she was suffering with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder although had yet to have her symptoms diagnosed, by anyone competent enough to pay attention to what was staring them blindly in the face. Men! They were always fucking things up. She blamed them for everything that went wrong these days. Why not?

She felt comforted by the knowledge that although emotionally scarred, she was still level-headed and mature enough, to realise that revenge was a dish best served cold, mistakes always seemed to happen when emotions got in the way. Neither friends nor family would ever be able to understand why she couldn’t get over this awful life-changing experience, her feelings about which she no longer chose to share. As far as they were concerned, everything was fine and whenever she saw them, she never gave them cause to think otherwise. To Sian however, everything was most definitely, not fine. The legal system had dealt with the dysfunctional, intellectually inferior, mentally weak, underachieving, premature ejaculating lump of testosterone as she now indulgently referred to ‘Mr. Nobody’ in the only way they knew how, badly, very badly indeed. After all, money had always taken precedence over life and limb. A failing of the British judicial system that Sian had been made all too well aware of at his trial. He’d stolen some cash from a faceless corporation and got six years. Go figure!

Taking the law into her own hands may not necessarily be the best way forward however, as she saw it, the law had failed her miserably, and the only way she could find inner peace was to take control of the situation in a way that ‘Mr. Nobody’ would never ever be allowed to forget. Sian’s unwavering cynicism towards the male of the species had taught her very early on that, the man who is weak and harbours feelings of inadequacy, hides his shortcomings through desperate acts of violence or sexual deviance. Affirming that issues to a woman that may cause a slight bout of wind, to a man with the same problem it quickly turned into Armageddon because they just couldn’t cope!

She was a genuine guru when it came to organising and planning things and in a moment of clarity, had discovered a form of retribution that would prove far more satisfactory and certainly permanent. There were those who considered her impetuous. They were, however, quite wrong. Her manoeuvres were carefully planned and the fact that she chose not to share them was deliberate. The dish wasn’t quite ready for the table just yet, and ‘Phase One’ of her plan was giving her more control over her prey than he could possibly suspect. After all she was doubtless a long since forgotten episode in his chequered past and he’d surely by now, moved on to his next victim. She had made peace with her decision and the clock was ticking.

She smiled as she realised it wouldn’t be too long now before his memory would come flooding back.

Chapter 5

Erica looked at the door her son had just slammed shut. She knew he was hiding something, and this wall of silence was becoming unbearable, but if he refused to talk to her then she’d have no choice but to find out what was going on through fair means or foul. Lack of communication didn’t encourage a healthy relationship between anyone let alone mother and son and if he wouldn’t talk to her then how could she help him. Presuming any help, he might need would be legal, of course. Mothers were supposed to be inquisitive, nosy, and interfering, it was part of the job description and she only ever wanted what was best for him anyway, even if he couldn’t see that.

She could blame his father’s death as the reason her son had gone off the rails, but they’d both been fighting that streak in him for a long time. His pride may even be hurt at having to move back home she knew that was a possibility, but pride always came before a fall or some other cliché. His brother could have some answers although unfortunately, she didn’t recall them ever being particularly close, so calling Luke was only step one.

‘Luke, how are you?’

‘Hi mum, not like you to call me at work, everything alright?’

‘I’m fine love...’ he listened to the silence while she fidgeted at the other end winding the telephone cord through her fingers nervously

‘Mum, what’s wrong?’

‘How’s your brother?’ she couldn’t think of anything else to ask

‘Mum, he lives with you’ Luke laughed, ‘what’s he done now?’

‘No, don’t get me wrong Luke, he’s done nothing wrong, I don’t think, and I’m sure he’s ok but he just doesn’t talk, it’s as though he’s hiding something or something’s wrong. He was a bit tetchy at breakfast we had a silly little argument’

‘Oh dear, do you want me to do some digging?’

‘No I do not! He’s your brother don’t you know what’s going on in his life?’ she snapped

‘You’re joking aren’t you, I’ll hear from him when I christen another child’

‘Oh Luke!’

‘No mum. Doreen isn’t pregnant again’,

‘Oh, well just let me know that he’s alright, will you. I can’t seem to get through to him?’

‘I’ll see what I can do mum’

‘Thanks Luke you’re a good boy, goodbye and say hi to Doreen and the kids, God Bless’. Well that was a hiding to nowhere, but she knew Luke wouldn’t come up with anything and not for the want of trying. Talking wasn’t one of Joseph’s strong points and a trip upstairs into the danger zone was the only way she’d get any answers.

She looked up the stairs and tried to change her mind about the next step she took, but surreptitiously she continued to walk anyway. Standing in front of his bedroom and without another thought she opened the door. Peering in and stepping over the threshold, she noted how tidy the room was, almost eerily so. It felt as though no-one had been in there for some time, only his scent gave him away. She shed her nerves and set about doing what mothers excelled at, prying. Starting with the wardrobe, and conscious of the fact that her son could come through the door at any time she searched it thoroughly and discovering nothing of any real interest she continued around the room.

The last piece of furniture was the bed and she was becoming desperate for any clues she could learn about her son. Throwing the pillows to the floor in frenzy she tossed the duvet on top. Standing still about ready to accept that there was nothing to find, she noticed the sheet didn’t make sense. It was folded over the mattress with hospital corners, just like she’d taught him when he was a young boy except for the top left-hand side and walking towards the headboard with caution she moved the bedside cabinet to get a clearer view. What would she do about any information she found? Shaking her head to dispel any unhelpful thoughts she lifted the mattress and felt the space beneath, her hand disturbed the crunch of plastic and moving along she pat a pile of papers and pulled them both free. Sitting on the mattress her pulse rate rapid she tried to defend this invasion of someone’s privacy and how she would justify this to Joseph if he ever found out. There was no reason for her to be in his room let alone going through his things. He’ll never need to know so stop stalling.

Agreeing with her conscience amid a sigh of relief, she set the papers on the bed and opened the plastic bag. Peering in, she dropped the bag almost immediately and stood, as if she’d been scalded by boiling water. Putting her hand over her mouth and holding her chest, she panted feverishly attempting to regulate her breathing then stepped away. What could he possibly be doing with that in my house? Picking up the bag and peering in again, just to confirm that what she thought she saw; was what she actually saw she shook her head in disbelief. It was indeed a gun. But it was so light, and since he was too big for toys; she had to assume it was real, not that she’d know any different. Putting it on the floor and leaving it where it was, she stepped back, deciding to deal with the paperwork first. Pulling the contents from the top envelope, it was addressed to the restaurant and detailed the purchase of a property.

Frowning, she quickly picked up the pile and flicked through them, every one of them was addressed to him at the restaurant which explained why he never received any mail at the house. Going back to the envelope on top of the pile and glancing anxiously over at the bag she’d placed on the floor, she proceeded to read the details of a purchase that had started some five weeks ago with a completion date in three weeks’ time. The second page showed a picture of a beautiful house she’d never have believed he could afford. Business was obviously far better than he’d given her reason to suppose. He worked long hours and was no doubt being rewarded for all his hard work, she could only guess.

But that’s a big secret to keep or did he just intend to move out behind my back and after all I’ve done for him? Leafing through but making sure she kept things in order, she stopped when an envelope stood out for no reason whatsoever and placed the ones in front face down. Inside the envelope was a series of scans, baby scans. Her son it would appear had six children.

Chapter 6

Harbouring thoughts of his mother’s little tantrum this afternoon, joseph made his way to work in the car. The mobile phone rang, and he looked in the rear-view mirror before he checked the display. ‘Withheld number’, two words that always made him scowl, he frowned already bored as he connected the caller,

‘Hello’

‘Joseph, long time no speak to’, another arse-kisser, he must want something whoever it was. This cheerful so soon into the conversation was suspicious as far as he was concerned. Somebody was trying to get round him.

‘Who’s this?’

‘It’s me, Brian. Brian Clarke and I think I’ve got something you’ll be well interested in’.

‘Where’d you get this number Brian Clarke?’ This wasn’t a close friend.

‘Oh, sorry mate, I popped into the restaurant the other day. You’d popped out or somink and that chef o’ yours, wha’s ‘is name? Pe’er or somink frenchified, anyway, he give me your number’. Joseph would have to have words; his mobile number was sacred as was his mother’s number, if he knew what was good for him.

‘So, what’s all the excitement about, Brian?’

‘Well I can’t talk about it over the wire, can I, we should meet up. You’ll be well up for this one, I know you will’. Desperate,

‘This one what’ Joseph asked impatiently. He’d perfected the man of few words down to a fine art. He thought it made him appear dark and mysterious to keep the boys on their toes.

‘Come to the restaurant tonight at 11.00. We’ll talk then’.

‘Ok, I’ll see ya den’. Brian ended the call. ‘Shit, I should have let him do that’.

‘Do what?’ asked Walsh.

‘Cancel the call, he’ll think I’m bein’ flash. He’s playing it cool, but e’s nibblin’.

‘When you see him tonight, let him think he’s calling the shots, and maybe he’ll nibble some more’.

‘I’m not stupid. I know ‘ow to be’ave’. Walsh looked at his snitch. Police informants had their uses from time to time and this one was sharp enough to pull it off, but he had to be put on a short leash. He could get carried away without the right guidance.

‘We’ll be in the car tonight, and you’ll be wearing a wire. He’ll never suspect anything. He’s doing nothing dodgy enough in his opinion to be paranoid’.

‘Question, if ‘e’s not dodgy then why ‘ave you got it in for ‘im?’

‘If you must know Brian, he did six years behind bars and came out with a wad of cash that didn’t belong to him and walks around like he owns the place. I’m talking about a man with half a brain cell and all the charm of a dose of the clap, and he’s beginning to piss me off, so let’s just call it a bit of unfinished business’ Brian frowned nervously as he looked at Walsh who wasn’t smiling.

‘Remind me never to piss you off!’

‘That wouldn’t be wise Brian’. Walsh reminded him.

***

Brian had been trying to get in on Joseph’s crew for a while now. Most of Joseph’s par drays were older than him and a lot bigger, but so what, that didn’t mean he couldn’t be a valuable addition to his crew. He’d been to the restaurant before when they were all there, drinking all night and talking bullshit and he didn’t feel intimidated and since he could understand everything being said, they definitely weren’t better than him. He was definitely quicker with the verbal. Joseph mentioned he was getting his supplies from some small timer, ‘not big enough for his current needs’ he said, as such he was looking for a bigger supplier. On the night of this very same visit, while he was making his way home, thinking about who he might know that would fit the bill and coming up empty, the ‘old bill’ clobbered him.

They took him in for questioning, but what they really wanted was to put a proposition to him. No harm in listening, and when they told him what they wanted him to do, he couldn’t resist, that would definitely move him up the food-chain and get him noticed. They were paying him for any information he was able to acquire during any visits he made to the restaurant. And since Joseph was playing hard to get, he needed an angle, any angle, and this was as good an angle as any. As far as he was concerned, this was a dog eat dog business, and either you swam with it, or you drowned in it. He considered himself a strong swimmer.

Brian was a dreamer. He watched all the classic gangster movies over and over and couldn’t help but place himself in the position of top dog. Dillinger, Al Capone, even Lucky Luciano were all part of his make-believe world. He was harmless really, which is probably why no one ever took him too seriously. He had plans to change all that; so when the police gave him the name of one of the biggest dealers in the business, and told him to slip it to Joseph in a matter of fact way, he knew he was in.

***

On a whim, Joseph decided to make a detour before going to the restaurant. His mother’s outburst this afternoon had left him feeling a little inadequate and he needed restitution to prove her wrong. The call from Brian might put him in a better mood come 11.0’clock tonight, but he couldn’t wait that long, so he turned up on Rachel’s doorstep unannounced, uninvited and unexpected. No matter, Rachel was always eager to please him. They met shortly after his last stint in prison, desperate times by his normal standards since she was neither tall nor leggy, but she was always ready with a smile. He parked the car and walked up the path to her home and pressing the bell he waited. Her son was old enough to be left alone for half an hour.

She opened the door and her smile was radiant when she saw Joseph standing there

‘Joe, I dreamt about you last night come in then’ her excitement not quite infectious. Joseph sauntered into the lounge and looked around. He passed through to the kitchen and seeing no one, he returned, removed his jacket, and put it on the back of the dining chair closest to him.

‘Where’s the kid?’

‘Your son is at nursery, and he’s fine since you asked’ the hurt in her eyes obvious. Joseph altered his approach then, as he moved towards her and without any warning, he planted a kiss that was almost impossible to define. His tongue wandering from her lips to her neck as he clumsily pulled her over to the sofa and fell on top of her. Rachel responded to Joseph’s hands as he grappled with her skirt and tugged at his shirt while she returned his kisses.

‘Oh I do so love you Joseph, do you love me?’

‘Yeh, yeh’ He said dismissively as he unzipped his trousers to release his erection at the same time forcing his knee between her legs. His fingers found the warm area and prised the gusset of her pants aside. He let go to guide his penis to her vagina as she moaned. He felt the warm wetness of her secretions as he entered her without difficulty.

‘Say you love me Joseph’ she panted, and he opened his eyes to look at her. As she writhed with her eyes closed, he saw Sian Ingram’s image in front of him and started pumping harder, and harder and harder.

‘Oh yeah, I love you’. Shocked by this unexpected revelation Rachel opened her eyes and looked at Joseph in surprise. His eyes had closed and