The Betrayer (17 page)

Maureen buttered his bread and browned his bacon. He looked dreadfully rough, her baby, and she hoped he wasn’t going to make a habit of going out and getting shit-faced with his elder brother. Deciding not to say anything because he’d been studying so hard for his exams, she dished up his grub and took it in to him on a tray.

‘You get that down yer neck, darling. I’m popping out with your gran for a bit, she wants me to go and see poor old Glad with her.’

James squirted tomato sauce onto his plate. ‘I’m popping out meself in a bit, Mum.’

‘Where you off to?’ Maureen asked, suspiciously.

‘I’m going to meet some girl I was with last night,’ James lied.

Maureen smiled as she left the house. She was glad he was into the girls, but deep down she hoped he’d end up with Maria. She’d always liked the beautiful girl from next door and knew that one day she’d make a wonderful daughter-in-law.

James finished his breakfast, had a quick wash and got changed. He felt better for eating, so much so that he managed to run for the bus. From the top deck, he looked out at the gloomy weather and the heavy traffic. He was in no rush to get to where he was going and he needed to plan what he was going to say to his dad.

Last night had been a roaring success – until they’d gone into the Blind Beggar and come face to face with his old man. James had never really hated his father; he didn’t know him well enough to have any feelings for him at all. His brother felt differently. He was embarrassed by his dad and despised every bone in his useless body.

Paralytic, Tommy Snr had made a beeline for his two boys. ‘Gonna have a beer with yer old dad?’ he’d slurred.

‘Fuck off before I knock you out,’ Tommy Jnr told him.

James was mortified. He’d never told his school mates that his dad was the local dosser. Whenever they’d asked about him, he’d kept his answers polite but evasive. He was aware that a few of them probably knew the score through their parents, but knowing it was one thing and seeing it with their own eyes was another. He could see the shock on his friends’ faces, the pity in their eyes.

‘He’s coming back again,’ James whispered to Tommy.

Seeing his brother’s embarrassment, Tommy Jnr picked Tommy Snr up by his dirty collar, dragged him outside and gave him a dig. One little punch floored him, and James’s last memory as they’d left the pub was of his old man slumped against the wall, crying. Upset by the incident, James kept glancing back at him.

‘Shall I go back and make sure he’s all right?’ he asked Tommy.

His brother dragged him away. ‘Leave the useless cunt where he is, Jimmy boy. There’s fuck-all wrong with him, I barely fuckin’ touched him. He’ll live, trust me.’

From there they’d gone on to a nightclub and neither James nor Tommy had mentioned their father any more. It was a closed subject, but they were both deeply affected by the altercation and the pair of them got more drunk than ususal.

It was at the club that James had bumped into Ellie Phillips. Tommy had copped hold of her older sister, Kelly, and they’d gone back to her house. James could remember being in bed with Ellie, but had no idea whether he’d shagged her or not. He just prayed that he’d been too drunk and incapable. Maria discovering he’d gone home with her was bad enough – finding out he’d given her a portion of helmet pie would be totally unforgiveable.

Feeling sick again, James stood up. He was only five minutes from Whitechapel where his father lived, and he’d rather walk than chuck his guts up and make a show of himself. Praying for the doors to hurry up and open, James leaped off and vomited his breakfast up all over the pavement.

‘Dirty little bastard,’ he heard some old girl say.

Ignoring the comments and stares, he wiped his mouth and walked speedily up the road. Sod his mother and her full English – he’d only wanted beans on toast!

Knowing his dad had drunk in the Horn of Plenty in Stepney for years, but had recently got barred, James suspected that the Blind Beggar was now his new haunt. He knew from his mum and nan that his father was a creature of habit, and he guessed that he’d either be in the pub or at his nearby bedsit. James decided to poke his head around the door of the pub first. There were no more than a dozen or so blokes in there and he spotted his dad immediately. Tommy Snr was sat alone at a table, his hands clutching what looked like a pint of cider.

As James approached him, he noticed Tommy had the same clothes on that he’d been wearing the previous evening. His jumper was dirty and stained with blood and he even had dried blood still encrusted on his face. James didn’t know what to say as he sat down opposite him. He didn’t really know the man, so went for the obvious.

‘Do yer wanna drink, Dad?’

Tommy Snr smiled, showing off his rotten teeth. ‘Get me a pint of snakebite, but don’t tell ’em it’s for me. They’ve barred me from drinking it, so pretend it’s for you.’

James nodded. Leaving the sorry soul sitting alone, he walked to the bar.

Tommy and Freddie sat in the Leonards Arms along the A13. Freddie had wanted to meet with his uncle in East Ham, but Bobby had insisted they meet in Rainham. ‘Too many eyes and ears up there, son, everyone knows me in that neck of the woods.’

Freddie ordered two bottles of lager, picked a quiet table and urged Tommy to sit down. They were half an hour early, but it would give them chance to have a chat between themselves.

‘So how was your bruvver’s do last night?’

Tommy shrugged. ‘All right, I suppose. Jimmy boy’s mates were a bit young, but they were nice kids. We ended up in a nightclub, pulled two little birds and took ’em home. Mine was a pig, but I shagged it anyway. Jimmy boy was well pissed and I had to sling him over me shoulder to get him home. I dunno if he got his leg over – he was still comatose when I left him this morning, so I didn’t ’ave a chance to find out.’

Freddie laughed. ‘Where did yer go?’

Tommy chatted happily about the club and the pub crawl they’d been on. He couldn’t bring himself to mention the Blind Beggar or his old man. He wanted to forget all about it, pretend it had never happened. He knew he shouldn’t have clumped his father, but hadn’t been able to stop himself. He’d seen red, lost it with him, and now he felt really fucking guilty.

‘How’s my two favourite boys?’

Uncle Bobby’s arrival ended Tommy’s guilt trip. Leaping up, he hugged the man who had been so kind to him on the inside. ‘You look well – where yer been to get a tan like that?’

Bobby sent Freddie up the bar and sat down.

‘Costa del Sol. I’ve just bought a little gaff out there, hoping to retire and move there permanently in a few years time, I am. Anyway, enough about me – what you been doin’ with yourself?’

Tommy chatted happily about his family and life on the outside. Freddie returned from the bar, joined in the chit-chat and then awkwardly moved in for the kill.

‘The reason we asked you ’ere today, Uncle Bobby, is we’ve been working together, yer know, and, er, we’ve been using a replica. Last time out we had a bit of grief and we were wondering if you could sort us out with the real thing.’

Uncle Bobby stared at the boys with a serious expression on his face. ‘What sort of grief did you have, lads?’

Tommy left all the talking to his mate. As Freddie began to explain about the betting shop, uncle Bobby nearly fell off the chair.

‘Don’t tell me that was yous two silly bastards that tried to do Old MacDonald’s bookies?’

‘Who’s Old MacDonald? The one we hit was in Whitechapel.’

Bobby roared with laughter. ‘That’s it, you pair of knob-ends. The owner’s an old army sergeant. I heard about it in Marbella. His son Gary is a proper geezer, lives out there, he does. Good job yer never hurt the old boy – he’d have come home, hunted yer down and strung you both up by the bollocks.’

Freddie glanced at Tommy and shrugged. ‘We never knew, we just thought he was some old senile.’

Bobby moved closer to both boys. ‘You’ve gotta do more homework, lads. Don’t ever hit on anyone until you’ve checked out the family. Gary MacDonald would throttle yer with his bare hands if he had any idea who you was. You were on a bike weren’t yer? Whaddya do with that?’

Freddie smirked. ‘We burnt it, thank fuck, and the helmets. We got rid of the lot.’

Bobby sighed. ‘Well at least you had the brains to do that. I take it no one else knows it was yous two?’

Seeing Freddie shake his head, Tommy also shook his. He’d told James, but nobody else.

‘Look lads, I can get you what you want, but you’ve gotta up yer game. Don’t be wasting your time doing silly shops for a couple of grand. The post offices are the things to do these days. The banks are too hard now, but the post offices are a doddle, if yer know what you’re doing.’

Freddie and Tommy nodded. ‘When can yer get us a piece?’ Freddie asked.

‘I’m going back to Spain on Monday. If yer just wanna sawn-off, I can get yer one for tomorrow. If yer want anything else, you’ll have to wait a couple of weeks until I get back. I’ll go and get us another beer, have a chat and let me know what yer wanna do.’

Tommy and Freddie agreed immediately that a sawn-off would be perfect.

‘We’ll meet yer tomorrow, Bob, if that’s all right. How much is it?’

Bobby smiled. ‘Nothing to yous pair, but be fucking careful with it. Give me a ring about six o’clock and I’ll tell yer where and when. I won’t meet yer meself, I’ll send Big Phil or someone.’

Freddie waited until Bobby had left the pub, then turned to Tommy. ‘We’re in the big boys’ league now, mate. Are yer ready for this, Tommy Hutton?’

Tommy smiled. He might be nervous, but he was also extremely excited. ‘Don’t you worry about me, Freddie Adams, I’m as ready as I’ll ever be!’

Back in Whitechapel, James looked on in horror as his father slid off the chair and fell face first onto the floor. He’d been sitting with him for over an hour and they hadn’t even managed to have a proper conversation yet. At his dad’s insistence, James had brought him five snakebites and now this had happened. Surely he couldn’t be drunk on five pints. Maybe he was ill or something? Trying to lift his dad up was impossible on his own.

‘Can yer give us a hand, mate?’ James shouted to the barman.

‘No I fucking can’t. I asked you if the snakebites were for him and you said no. He’s a fucking nuisance. You got him drunk, you bastard well deal with him.’

Charlie Venables was sitting at the next table. A sensible old boy, he had no time for Tommy Hutton, but felt sorry for the young lad with the angelic face, who was desperately trying to help him.

‘Do you know him well, son?’

James looked at him with pleading eyes. ‘I dunno what to do. He’s my dad.’

Charlie stood up. ‘Come on, lad, he only lives round the corner. You grab one arm and I’ll grab the other and we’ll drag him home in no time.’

Grateful for the help, James did exactly as he was told. The five-minute walk, lugging his dad, took twenty, but finally they got him there.

‘How we gonna get him in? I dunno where he keeps his key.’

Noticing that Tommy had pissed himself, Charlie nodded at James. ‘Best you check his trousers ’cause I ain’t bleedin’ well doing it.’

James found a key in his dad’s pissy right-hand pocket. He opened the door and gently laid his father on the filthy mattress. The room stank of a mixture of fags, beer and piss and James gagged as he shut the front door.

‘Thanks ever so much,’ he said to Charlie.

Noticing how upset the young boy looked, Charlie offered to buy him a pint.

‘No thanks, I’d best get going now,’ James replied.

Walking away, James couldn’t stop thinking of one of his nan’s favourite sayings. ‘What’s bred in the bone will come out in the flesh,’ she often said.

Tears streaming down his face, James thought of his dad. He wasn’t going to end up like him, not now, not ever.

EIGHTEEN

Once she had finished her make-up, Maureen studied her appearance in the full-length mirror. She barely recognised herself. Her new suit looked smart, proper glam, and her hair had been cut and highlighted.

It was her Tommy that had bunged her a oner, insisting she pamper herself. He’d recently been promoted again. He was manager of the building site now and went to work in a suit most days, instead of his old working clothes. Maureen was ever so proud of him. There weren’t many ex-convicts who, within six months of their release, had secured a great career and turned their lives around.

Maureen glanced at her watch. She had plenty of time, nearly an hour before the cab was picking them up. She was nervous about tonight and needed a brandy or two to settle her stomach. It had been Kenny’s idea to have a big family get-together. He was paying for the whole evening: the meal, drinks, and the cabs. It had been his fortieth birthday a few weeks back. He and Wendy had been away on a Caribbean cruise and now that they were back, he’d insisted on organising an evening with the family.

James had just received his exam results. Six O-levels, four As and two Bs the clever little sod had got, and Kenny said they were to use his good news as an excuse for a double celebration. Maureen had been overjoyed. No one in the Hutton family had ever got one O-level, let alone six. She’d told anyone and everyone who would listen. The women up the shops, the girls she sat with at bingo, she’d even stopped a couple of women in the street she barely knew.

Pleased with her new look, she wandered downstairs, and was greeted by her two sons.

‘You look really nice, Mum,’ James gushed.

‘Don’t scrub up bad for an old ’un, does she?’ Tommy said cheekily.

Maureen walloped him playfully and went into the kitchen to pour herself some Dutch courage. She wasn’t used to eating out at posh restaurants. Pie and mash or fish and chips was all she was used to, and she had never felt comfortable in Wendy’s company. The woman was so far shoved up her own arse that she was almost bent double, and Maureen knew she looked down her nose on herself and the kids. Maureen could never understand why Kenny had married her. They say when a man picks a wife he looks for a younger version of his mum, but that certainly wasn’t the case with him. She imagined Wendy out shoplifting. ‘Not on your nelly,’ Maureen giggled.