The Betrayer (37 page)

Wondering if she’d gone out, he peered through the window. The curtains were closed and he could see very little other than that the lights were on. He walked back to Gazza’s car.

‘I can’t get no answer. I know she sometimes leaves the kitchen door open, so I’m gonna climb over the fence and try round the back.’

Gazza stepped out of his vehicle. ‘I’ll come with yer. You might need a leg-up.’

Johnny could feel his heart pounding as they scaled the fence. ‘It’s open,’ he said, as he tried the handle.

‘Mum!’ Johnny shouted as he walked into the kitchen.

As he stepped into the living room, he saw her legs first. They were poking out by the side of the sofa. She was lying face down. There was no sign of Taylor.

‘Mum!’ he shouted, as he turned her body over.

An empty syringe lay beside her, and her hair was covered in vomit. She was cold and as white as a sheet.

Johnny frantically shook her, ‘Mum, please wake up. Mum, Mum!’ he cried.

Gazza bent down and checked for her pulse. There wasn’t one.

He looked at his pal. ‘I’ll ring for an ambulance. I’m so sorry, Johnny, but I think she’s dead, mate.’

Johnny sobbed as he knelt down beside her. He took her lifeless hand in his.

‘I loved you so much, Mum. We had our whole lives ahead of us. Why did you have to take that shit? Why, Mum, why?’

THIRTY-SIX

Maureen turned on the lamp and glanced at the alarm clock: 4.30 a.m. and she hadn’t slept a bloody wink. Debating whether to get up, she chose not to. The day ahead was going to be the most difficult day of her life and she certainly didn’t need to lengthen it.

To bury one’s own child was the most horrendous feeling in the world. Losing parents, relations and friends was soul destroying, but life went on. Being told that your child is dead is a different ball game. No mother on earth expects to outlive their kids and Maureen was no exception. Feeling a tear roll down her cheek, Maureen turned the lamp off. She had to try to sleep. It was the only thing that could temporarily take her pain away.

Johnny lay wide awake in the room next door. He’d barely slept since he’d found his mum dead. The nightmares were the worst, as every time he shut his eyes, all he could see was his mum’s lifeless body. The police had turned up just after the ambulance. They hadn’t been very sympathetic and Gazza had had a go at them.

‘Have some respect – Johnny’s her son, you unfeeling bastard,’ he’d told one officer, when he’d referred to Susan as a junkie.

The postmortem confirmed that his mum had been dead for hours, and had died of an overdose of heroin. The tragedy was, the coroner said, that had she still been a regular user, the amount she had taken wouldn’t have killed her.

Johnny told the police that Dave Taylor had been round his mum’s earlier that day and had almost certainly supplied her with the heroin that had killed her. The police went looking for Taylor, but were told he’d left the area.

‘She probably OD’d while he was there and, instead of calling an ambulance, he panicked and did a runner. We’ll put a warrant out for his arrest,’ the copper told him.

Johnny hadn’t bothered answering. To the Old Bill, his mum and Dave Taylor were just a pair of smackheads, and even though his mother was now dead, they weren’t gonna break their necks looking for her partner in crime. In Johnny’s eyes, Taylor was a murderer, the lowest of the low. In the coppers’ eyes, he was nothing more than his mother’s supplier.

Feeling his eyes well up, Johnny got out of bed. He’d been acting like a wimp and, today of all days, he needed to be a man.

As her daughter’s body arrived at the house in a coffin, Maureen let out a loud sob and was quickly comforted by Sandra and Brenda.

‘Now, sit down for a minute next to Ethel and I’ll pour you a nice brandy to steady your nerves,’ Brenda told her.

Maureen was only too grateful for the kindness of her friends. They’d been absolute bricks and, without their help, she didn’t know how she would have managed.

Over the last week or so, she’d experienced every emotion going. The guilt was the worst. She knew that when Susan was a kid, she’d always favoured Tommy and James.

‘You never favoured the boys purposely. I’m not speaking ill of the dead, but if you remember rightly, Susan was a spiteful little toerag as a kid,’ Ethel reminded her.

Her mother-in-law’s harsh words had made her feel better, temporarily at least.

James stood in the front garden, talking to Maria and Freddie. He’d been keeping a watchful eye on his mum through the window. Seeing her get upset again, he asked Maria to go inside and sit with her. Women were much better at that type of stuff than blokes were.

Tara and Lily were next door being looked after by Nanny Janet. Both James and Maria felt that they were far too young to experience life’s harsh realities by attending a funeral. They’d barely known Auntie Susan anyway. With her lifestyle and problems, she’d been the last person James had wanted his precious daughters spending time around.

With Maria inside the house, James turned to Freddie. ‘Well, he ain’t here yet, is he? Do you reckon he’ll come?’

Freddie shrugged his shoulders. Telling his wife, Sarah, to go inside with Maria, he turned to his pal. ‘I dunno, I thought he’d have been here by now.’

For very different reasons, both men were dreading having to spend the day in Tommy’s company. With James, it was the Maria obstacle. Since his brother’s accusations and their fisticuffs years ago, things had been incredibly difficult between them. They’d never socialised since that day and on the odd occasion they’d bumped into one another, their conversation had been stifled and stilted. Their lives had taken two completely different paths and while James’s had gone upwards, his brother’s had taken one almighty dip. The last time James had seen him was just over six months ago. He’d heard the rumours that his drinking and drug-taking had got well and truly out of hand and was worried about Alfie living with him. He had gone to see his brother at his local and got a barrage of abuse for his trouble.

‘Who do you think you are, you cunt? Coming in here, telling me how to live my life. Fuck off back to your bum-chum Freddie. Fucking Judases, the pair of yer. Go on, fuck off.’

Head bowed, James had walked away. He could understand Tommy’s bitterness, but he only had himself to blame. He’d had the world at his feet at one point and if he hadn’t self-destructed, would probably still be on top of his game.

Freddie’s concerns were very different. He knew his ex-best pal considered him a wrong ’un and, in a way, he didn’t blame him. They’d been through so much together and now they were enemies for no reason. It would have been better if they’d had a fight or a row; Freddie would have felt less guilty if that had been the case. Instead, he’d walked away on the insistence of his uncle Bobby.

‘If I find out you’ve had any more to do with that junkie scumbag, then you’re out the firm as well,’ he was told.

In a nutshell, he had had no choice but to erase Tommy from his life. James had replaced his old pal as his business partner and best friend. They worked well together and trusted one another implicitly. They were still in the import and export business with uncle Bobby. The whole set-up was extremely tight knit, which was why it was still going strong. They brought in much more now than when they’d first started years ago. The money was very good and, all in all, cannabis had provided them and their families with a very pleasant life. Obviously, there was always a chance of getting nicked, but neither Freddie nor Tommy ever spoke about the risks.

‘Do yer want another fag?’

James waved the box in front of Freddie’s face. Neither of them smoked on a regular basis, they only bought a box when they were pissed or nervous. Today they were suffering with their nerves and, with Tommy due to turn up any minute, both of them had good reason to puff like fucking dragons.

Alfie sat awkwardly at the table. His dad was knocking back one large scotch after another. They were in a pub in Leytonstone and the quick one that his old man had insisted they stop for had now turned into six.

Having lived with his father for the past year, Alfie was more than used to his dysfunctional behaviour. If he wasn’t drinking, he was snorting coke, and if he wasn’t snorting coke, he was smoking crack. Alfie didn’t mind him kicking the arse out of whatever he did, but not today, not at Auntie Susan’s funeral.

‘What time are we going, Dad? I think I should ring a cab. It’s half-eleven now and the service starts at twelve.’

Tommy nodded and went to the toilet. He needed a livener before he went anywhere. Checking his nose for telltale signs, he studied himself in the mirror. His party lifestyle had certainly ravaged his looks. He looked gaunt, old and his hair had started to thin. He doused his face in cold water. He was dreading today, and didn’t know if he’d be able to control his anger.

He wasn’t bothered about the actual funeral. He and Susan had never been close and the fact that she was now brown bread hadn’t affected him in the slightest. There was no way he couldn’t attend, though. Whether he liked her or not, she was still his bloody sister.

Anyway, Freddie, James and Maria would be ecstatic if he didn’t show his face and he wasn’t gonna give them the satisfaction. Facing his arse-licking little brother, his ex-cunting best friend and the slag with the tight fanny filled him with hatred, but he was gonna front it, he had to.

Straightening his tie, he took a deep breath. Time to face the enemies.

Maureen sat at the front of the chapel and glanced around. It was filling up by the second and, seeing as Susan had never been the most popular person on the planet, she was surprised at just how many people had turned up.

The East End was a very special community and a lot of people had probably turned up to support her and the family. Whatever their reasons, it was better to have a full chapel than an empty one.

As the service began, Johnny, who had barely said a word all day, began to sob. Both Maureen and James, who were either side of him, did their best to cuddle him and offer whispers of comfort.

The service itself was very moving. The vicar hit the nail on the head when he said that Susan’s death was a dreadful waste of a young life. Johnny, Maureen, Maria and even Ethel all cried a few tears at the truthfulness of the eulogy.

Knowing that his mum and Johnny wouldn’t be able to, James had offered to get up and say a few words. Taking his folded-up piece of paper out of his pocket, he began.

‘My sister Susan’s life was full of ups and downs. I’m sure everybody here today is well aware of the problems that she faced. What most of you are probably not aware of is that for a year prior to her death she was totally clean and had really moved on with her life. In that time she made amends with her family and, most importantly of all, built a wonderful relationship with her son, Johnny.’

Seeing his nephew sobbing his heart out, James tried his best to carry on. Unable to see through his own tears, he handed his speech to the vicar to finish.

Susan had always insisted that she would hate to be buried and Maureen granted her her final wish. In time, Susan’s ashes would be buried with a plaque remembering her in the grounds. Seeing as her father had had a similar send-off in the same crematorium, Kenny said it would be a nice idea to put Susan near her dad.

‘I know they weren’t close, but at least she’ll have company and won’t be alone,’ he said kindly.

As the service came to an end, Led Zeppelin’s ‘Stairway to Heaven’ played while the curtains closed. Johnny had chosen the song, saying that his mum played it endlessly in the flat when he was a kid.

‘What’s this load of fuckin’ shit?’ Ethel complained.

‘It was Mum’s favourite song of all time,’ Johnny said, annoyed. He loved his nan, but she never knew when to keep her mouth shut.

Tommy and Alfie arrived just in time to see the end of the service. They’d waited ages for a cab and the traffic around Manor Park had been at a virtual standstill.

‘I told you we should have left earlier – we’ve missed it,’ Alfie complained.

‘Just shut up and stand in the corner,’ Tommy hissed at him.

As the music ended, the front row stood up to leave. Being pushed in her wheelchair by James, Ethel had no need to look straight ahead like the others. Glancing to her right, her eyes met Tommy’s and she nodded at him in acknowledgement.

As they hit the cold air and stood by the flowers, she called Maureen over. ‘Tommy’s here. He was standing in the corner at the back.’

Maureen breathed a sigh of relief. She’d been so angry thinking that he hadn’t turned up. Poor sod, he probably felt awkward because Freddie and James were sat in the front row, so he’d purposely stayed at the back.

Telling Alfie to walk on ahead of him, Tommy went in search of a toilet. He desperately needed a line to lift his mood after the scene he’d just witnessed. How dare that cunt Freddie sit alongside the family, as though he was part of it? Wasn’t it enough that he’d stolen his brother from him?

Feeling the gear hit the back of his throat, he sat on the toilet seat. He desperately needed to get his head together. None of this would be so bad if his own life wasn’t so fucking terrible.

Hearing footsteps outside, Tommy pulled the chain and walked out.

‘There you are, I’ve been looking everywhere for yer. Alfie said you’d be in the toilets.’

Tommy gave Maureen a hug. ‘Hello, Mum. Nice service weren’t it? How you bearing up, girl?’

Maureen clung to him. ‘All the better for seeing you. I’m so glad you came, Tommy. At one point I thought you weren’t going to.’

Pulling away, Tommy held both of her hands. ‘Susan was my sister, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.’

Maureen smiled. Whatever his faults, he was a good lad, deep down. ‘We’re holding her wake in The Bancroft. Kev’s mum works there now. She rang up, she did, said we should let bygones be bygones. He was devastated, Kevin. Apparently, he’s here today. Come all the way from Manchester. Ain’t that nice of him, Tom?’