Authors: Kate Kray
The Betrayed (25 page)
I
t was a typically cold November evening as Andrew drove along the M25, heading towards his destination in Essex. As the skies blackened, he switched on the windscreen wipers and fiddled with the radio, finally settling on a classical music station.
Once he was off the motorway, heading deeper and deeper into the Essex countryside, Andrew leaned forward, peering through the rain that was now drumming on the windscreen. Eventually his sat-nav announced, ‘
You have arrived at your destination
.’
After turning off the lights and engine, Andrew sat quite still for a good three minutes. His heart was racing as he stepped out of the car and headed over towards the secluded bungalow. The surrounding gardens with their adjoining fields and woodland were growing dim as the evening light faded. One solitary light shone from inside, and there were no cars parked in the drive.
Gingerly making his way up the narrow brick path, he noticed that the front door was slightly open. For a second he stood silently, listening. He could hear the slightly muffled sound of music… young music… teenage music. He smiled. After tapping gently on the door, he cautiously stepped inside.
‘Hiya,’ he called, hesitantly. ‘Anyone home?’
No reply… just the distant sound of pop music.
‘You hoo,’ he called, stepping into the hallway. He looked around… something wasn’t quite right.
‘Hello?’
At that moment, a figure stepped out in front of Andrew. In the darkness, he could only make out the silhouette… it was a man, a big man. Andrew turned and, through the half-open front door saw a car speed up to the bungalow. It skidded to a halt and another large man jumped out. Before he knew what was happening, the man in the hallway had grabbed him in a tight bear hug.
‘What is this?’ he bleated. ‘Get off me!’
Eddie rushed into the hall and slipped a black hood over Andrew’s head. They dragged him, kicking and screaming, into the bungalow’s lounge. He was dumped into a chair – his attempt to stand up swiftly foiled by a hard punch to his right eye. He heard the sound of gaffer tape being torn off its roll, and then felt rough hands binding his hands and feet to a chair. The hood was then pulled off. There in front of him stood two men who had had never seen before in his life.
‘Who are you?’ he asked, his breathing already frantic. ‘What do you want?’
‘I’ve got some bad news,’ said Eddie. “‘Hot Honey” can’t make it.’
‘What?’Andrew cried.
‘It’s a shame, because I’m sure she was
dying
to meet the young lad she’d been talking to.’
‘Please… I don’t know what you’re talking about!’ Andrew’s eyes were very wide. ‘Who are you?’
Hate-’em-all stepped forward and pinched Andrew’s cheeks.
‘Evening Corky,’ he said.
Ruby was safely out of earshot, playing with Sugar in her bedroom, and Aunt Madge led Rosie through to make some tea. Her homely little kitchen always looked exactly the same – two damp tea-towels were casually draped over the cutlery tray and, on the draining board, a haphazard jumble of pots, pans and crockery. Aunt Madge picked up Dibble’s water bowl from the kitchen floor and filled it from the tap.
‘Aunt Madge,’ Rosie said, switching on the kettle, ‘did I do the right thing?’
She didn’t reply – it was a rhetorical question and they both knew the answer. What Andrew had done to Ruby – and God knows how many other little girls – was so repugnant that Rosie’s instinctive, knee-jerk reaction was to dish out the most brutal revenge imaginable. What mother or self-respecting person wouldn’t? But, now she was thinking more rationally, she regretted going to Eddie. Of course, the very fact that she
had
told Eddie made it impossible to go through the official channels. Eddie was colder, more calculating, more rational than Johnny had ever been… that must, subconsciously, be why she went to him, she thought. But now, at the same moment that she was waiting for the kettle to boil, she knew that Andrew was driving towards certain death. And it wouldn’t be quick. Did she really want his blood on her hands?
‘I’m not going soft, am I?’ Rosie asked. ‘It’s just…’ Her words tailed off.
After some thought, Aunt Madge calmly said, ‘I know you’re not going soft, Rose.’
‘When I found out just what Andrew had done, calling Eddie seemed like the only thing to do.’
‘And now you’re beginning to wish you hadn’t?’
‘But what could I do? If I went to the law, it would be all over the papers. Then Johnny would have read it, and… well, God only knows what would have happened.’
‘I know,’ said Madge. ‘He would’ve gone after Andrew, then Andrew’s family… then you. Then me, I expect. He wouldn’t stop until he’d destroyed the whole world.’
‘Including himself,’ said Rosie.
‘Besides, with the police, what would happen? Andrew would be just like any other paedophile – sex offenders’ register, most probably given a three-year community order, some programme or other. He deserves worse than that, love.’
Rosie dropped two teabags into the teapot and shuddered. ‘Oh my God, what am I doing?’ She started to cry. ‘Of course I want revenge. You know, beat him up a bit, cut his ears off… don’t stop at just his ears. He deserves it for what he did. But if I don’t stop them, I’ll be responsible for a man being…’ she lowered her voice, ‘…tortured.
Murdered
. I don’t think I can live with that.’
Rosie wiped away her tears – she had to think clearly. The decisions she made over the next couple of hours would affect many people’s lives… including poor Ruby’s. If she didn’t stop Eddie and Hate-’em-all, she’d be beholden to them – which would mean beholden to Johnny, too – for ever. It would be back to trudging around the country on prison visits, year after year. She’d be made to throw away her acting career too, which meant no more financial independence for her, Aunt Madge, or Ruby. And, to top it off, she would be guilty of murder… maybe not directly, but guilty all the same.
At that moment, in Aunt Madge’s cluttered kitchen, sipping Yorkshire tea, Rosie felt like her whole life had come crashing down around her.
‘Well,’ Aunt Madge said, ‘it’s your decision.’
‘I know.’
‘Whatever you decide to do, Stevie and me will back you up, one hundred percent.’
Rosie looked over at Madge. ‘I’ve got to find a way to call them off,’ she said. ‘I’ve got to try.’
Just one look at Andrew, and Eddie knew that he hadn’t the first clue who he and Hate-’em-all were or why they were there.
‘What do you want? Money?’ When they didn’t reply, he raised his voice, adopting a superior tone… or the closest he could manage. ‘Who are you? If you’re the police, I want to see identification. I know my rights.’
Andrew watched as Hate-’em-all walked over to a desk in one corner of the room and turned off the pop music that was still playing on the stereo. It was then that he spotted his laptop. It was open and displayed on the screen was a slow slideshow of popular backgrounds – water lilies, the Grand Canyon, Stonehenge…
Taking in the rest of the room, Andrew saw that the curtains were tightly drawn and the lightbulb was dim, so his surroundings were not immediately obvious. In another corner was a single bed with a bare mattress. His heart froze when he saw the pairs of handcuffs hanging from each corner of the metal bed frame. After rocking to and fro, pulling at his binds, he let his head drop. Immediately, he wished he hadn’t – underneath his feet, surrounding the chair, the floor was covered with a thick blue plastic sheet.
There was no way that this was the police.
‘Let me go,’ he said, wriggling with frantic energy. ‘Let me go now.’
Hate-’em-all stared back at him with eyes devoid of sympathy. Realising that he was in no position to be giving out orders, Andrew tried again.
‘Please, please…’ he begged, his voice changing from one in authority to one pleading for his life. ‘I’ve got money.’
Eddie moved towards him, very slowly, causing Andrew to flinch. He slipped the black hood back over Andrew’s head, then he and Hate-’em-all left the room.
‘If it’s money you want, I’ve got plenty,’ Andrew cried. ‘Where are you going.’
‘I’ve got to make a phone call. Don’t go anywhere, all right?’ said Eddie, and left.
‘L
ook, look Mum! Ain’t she sweet?
Sit
, Sugar. Sit!’
Rosie smiled a half smile but she wasn’t really listening. Sitting on the chair in front of the gas fire she checked her mobile every minute, desperate to know what was going on in that little bungalow by Epping Forest. Now that she had made the decision to unleash Eddie and Hate-’em-all-Harry on Andrew, she was faced with a serious problem: if they did manage to grab him – and Rosie was convinced that they had done that already – what could she do to stop them? True, she still had a copy of the security tapes from the Keyhole Club, but she’d already played that card. By telling Eddie what Andrew had done, she had started an avalanche. She knew that Eddie blamed her for everything.
She
was the one who had deceived Johnny and taken Ruby to live with a paedophile. Eddie was an evil, threatening figure at the best of times, but now he had this terrible hold on her. With this control, she would never be free of him.
But what could she do? If Johnny found out he would most likely kill her for lying to him, for mugging him off… for putting Ruby at risk. The only option she could think of was going to Florida with Stevie. But that was just a pipedream – the Mullins brothers would find her, eventually.
The text alert from her mobile almost made her heart stop. She opened the message immediately – ‘The fish is on the hook’. No longer could she pretend that, by some miracle, Andrew had escaped from their trap. They had him.
Rosie paled and looked over at Aunt Madge, her eyes full of fear, panic, and desperation.
‘What’s wrong, Mummy?’ asked Ruby, looking up at her.
‘Nothing, sweetheart. Mummy’s okay,’ she said, rubbing her eyes and getting to her feet.
‘Come on,’ said Aunt Madge, ‘let’s put the kettle on.’
Rosie followed her into the cluttered kitchen, closing the door behind her. Ruby picked up her puppy and started to stroke her affectionately. Through the door she could hear sobbing. She couldn’t make out what they were saying – apart from a ‘No… no’ from Rosie and Aunt Madge mumbling reassuringly.
Ten minutes later Rosie emerged, dabbing her eyes and gently blowing her nose. She picked up her keys, slipped her phone into her pocket, and pulled on her coat. Then, without saying a word, she kissed Ruby on the forehead and hugged Aunt Madge, holding the embrace for a fraction longer than usual.
Closing the front door behind her, Rosie hurried along the concrete landing and into the night. Ducking her head and pulling her collar up to guard against the chill wind, she made her way to her car. She felt so nervous that, as she fumbled to unlock the door, she dropped the car keys. Picking them up, she looked up at a break in the clouds and caught a glimpse of the full moon emerging. She sighed; what she was going to do would change everything. She had to be strong… she had to be brave.
An unexpected sense of calm came over her as she drove through the dark, wet streets of East London, regularly checking the rear view mirror. She might not have planned to confront Andrew but, now that she was going to, she relished the thought of it. Keeping one eye on the road, she pulled out her mobile and scrolled down to Eddie’s name in her list of contacts.
‘Eddie, it’s me. I’ve decided, I coming over.’
‘You what?’
‘I want to see him. I won’t be long.’
As she hung up, she look back at the rear view mirror. Nothing. Were the police still following her? Could she really be sure that ‘Harris’ was a policeman anyway?
Typical
, she thought.
Rosie had experienced enough recently to know that things rarely went according to plan.
U
nder the black hood, Andrew’s eyes bulged like he’d taken an ounce of whizz. But there was no need for artificial stimulation… this high was due to shock and adrenalin, nothing else. The room had been largely silent for what seemed to him like hours. Whenever the occasional hoot of an owl or a scream of a fox penetrated the walls of the bungalow, his heart would stop… then resume its frantic, unstable rhythm. There was a tightness at the back of his throat, choking the blood to his brain. His mind was clogged with questions, but they were all eclipsed by the biggest of them… one he kept asking himself over and over again:
Am I going to die?
After several wrong turnings, Rosie finally pulled up outside the isolated bungalow. She was surprised to find the front door unlocked, and cautiously made her way inside. Eddie and Hate-’em-all were waiting in the kitchen, bent over a table snorting cocaine. It was obvious from the frenzied look in their eyes that these were not the first lines of the evening.
‘About fucking time! What did you do, walk?’ Eddie said, with a sneer. ‘Well, we’ve got your loverboy, you slag. Now we’re going to clean up your mess.’
Rosie glanced at Hate-’em-all. In a strange sort of way, she had always liked him. He might have been from the same mould as Eddie and Johnny, but he had some redeeming qualities. He’d always treated Rosie with respect, and she’d never heard him raise his voice, curse or be uncouth. But she wasn’t unfamiliar with his other side, either – the one that earned him his nickname. Maybe he had that violent streak because of something specific that had happened to him during his formative years – an underlying problem. Or maybe there was no explanation other than Hate-’em-all-Harry simply enjoyed inflicting pain. Staring at his wide, black pupils and dead smile, Rosie knew immediately that if she was looking for an ally, she wouldn’t find one in him.
