The Feud (37 page)

As they ended the call, Terry Palmer couldn’t stop smiling. He had never liked that flash bastard, Eddie Mitchell. Paulie and Ronny were good lads, but Eddie was too far shoved up his own arse. Joey Mitchell, a poofta. Whoever would have thought it, eh? You just couldn’t make it up!

Punching in Ronny Mitchell’s number on his mobile, Terry Palmer could barely speak through laughing.

* * *

Southend was heaving with people and Frankie wished she had suggested somewhere else.

‘What’s up? Not bored with me already, are ya?’ Jed teased, knowing full well she wasn’t.

Frankie smiled. They had played in the amusement arcades, strolled along the beach, eaten fish and chips and Jed had even won a big teddy bear for her, which they were carrying with them. ‘Shall we go somewhere quieter, where we can be alone?’ Frankie asked him.

‘We can get some booze and I’ll book us a room, if you like,’ Jed suggested.

Desperate to get intimate with him, Frankie grinned. ‘I’d like that Jed, I really would.’

Unable to lift the large silver chest, Eddie urged Raymond to give him a hand.

‘Christ almighty! It looks like something out of
Gulliver’s Travels
– the bastard thing’s fucking heavy,’ Raymond moaned.

‘Quick, cover it over with them sacks,’ Eddie ordered, as he spotted Iris in her garden again.

Lugging it into his father’s house, Eddie noticed the nosy old cow peering over the fence. ‘Just clearing up all the branches, Iris,’ he shouted.

Once inside the house, Eddie flicked the lid of the chest open.

‘Well, fuck me,’ Raymond said, looking at Eddie in astonishment.

Lifting the guns out one by one, Eddie studied them. Hand, machine, shot: there was every gun going. He stared at the jewellery. Sovereigns, ingots, rings, chains: there were hundreds of different pieces.

Raymond picked up a black velvet bag and opened it. ‘Jesus, Ed, you’ve got a load of diamonds ’ere, mate.’

Eddie smiled. His old man was a wily old bastard and he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. ‘Pick out something for yourself, Ray, and take something nice for Polly.’

Raymond shook his head. ‘They’re yours mate, don’t be silly. I don’t want nothing.’

‘Take it, Ray. Me old man wanted you to have something, I know he did,’ Eddie insisted.

Knowing how forceful Eddie could be, Raymond picked out a pretty ring for Polly and a chunky one for himself. He put them in his pocket and turned to Eddie. ‘What you gonna do with the guns? You can’t leave ’em here.’

Eddie shrugged. ‘I’ll take the diamonds and jewellery home and put them in the safe. The guns can be hidden down the salvage yard for now. Let’s shoot straight there. We can come back here tomorrow and tidy stuff up. I’ve gotta come back anyway; I wanna ask around, see if anyone’s got any more information about Dad’s murder.’

‘What shall we do about the digger? Have you gotta take it back today?’

Looking at his watch, Eddie cursed. He had told Ronny he would meet him and Paulie at seven and it was already six o’clock. ‘The digger’s fine, it can stay here till tomorrow. I think I’m gonna ring Paulie and Ronny and meet ’em tomorrow instead. If we clean up here in the morning, it’ll give us plenty of time to talk to the neighbours, then we’ll go to the Flag after that.’

Raymond agreed.

‘I’ll tell you what. I dunno about you, but I could kill a couple of beers. Why don’t we drop the guns off, then stop at a boozer where no one knows us?’ Eddie suggested.

Raymond laughed. ‘We could walk into a boozer in Timbuktu and people would know us, Ed.’

Eddie chuckled. ‘Come on you tosser, help me get this chest in the motor.’

Frankie laughed as Jed pressed the ‘play’ button. He was such a sod. In the hotel reception, he had seen a girl carrying a tape recorder. ‘Oi, pretty lady, let me buy that off you,’ he’d said.

The girl had looked at Jed in amazement. ‘It’s only a cheap one,’ she’d replied.

‘How much do ya want for it?’ Jed had asked.

‘I don’t really want to sell it,’ the girl had said.

Jed had put his hand in his pocket and waved some money in her face. ‘’Ere you go. Take fifty quid for it.’

The girl had snatched the money, handed him the battered old tape recorder and disappeared before Jed could change his mind. Jed had then gone outside to his truck and reappeared with a selection of cassettes, which they were now playing.

‘Why did you pay all that money for this rubbish?’ Frankie asked him. She loved it really. Jed was so impulsive, and the way he was filled her with intense excitement.

‘’Cause I didn’t want you to be bored. You don’t wanna be stuck in a room all day with no music, do ya? My old tape recorder’s fucked. Dropped it on the floor, I did, and now it won’t work any more.’

Frankie smiled. Christ knows where Jed got all his money from. He had plenty and chucked it about like there was no tomorrow. ‘Do you mind if I ask you something?’

‘Ask away,’ Jed replied, grabbing her hand.

‘Where do you get all your money from? Does your dad give it to you or do you sometimes go to work?’

Jed turned the music up, took Frankie in his arms and made her dance with him. ‘I never went to school. Been
working since I was eight years old. I’ll never be poor, I can turn me hand to lots of things.’

‘Like what?’

‘I sell horses, motors, caravans, diggers. You name it, I can get it and sell it. I’ll be cakeo one day, Frankie. You stick with me and you’ll be rich as well.’

Frankie tightened her grip on him. ‘What is this rubbish music? Ain’t you got any acid house?’ she asked him.

Jed tilted her chin towards his. ‘Who needs all that house music crap when you’ve got country and western? That shit’s only all right if you stick a pill down your throat, but country music is proper. You listen to the words. Every song tells a story, Frankie.’

Frankie listened and by the time Tammy Wynette had reached the chorus of ‘Stand By Your Man’, she and Jed were in bed together.

Unaware of what his daughter was up to, Eddie was on his way home. ‘I won’t be long, darling. I’ve just gotta drop Raymondo off first. I’ll be about fifteen minutes,’ he told Jess.

Jessica ended the call. Grinning, she put Eddie’s dinner in the oven. She had been doing buttons all day waiting for her husband to get home. Desperate to tell someone her news, Jessica had rang Vicki and told her. ‘Please don’t say a word to Doug. I only found out this morning and I haven’t had a chance to tell Eddie yet,’ she begged.

Vicki was thrilled for herself and her friend. She was over five months now, and it was great that she and Jess would both be mums together.

As the Guns N’ Roses song was played on the radio, Jessica turned it up full blast. She wasn’t usually a fan of
rock music, but the song was called ‘Sweet Child O’Mine’, and Jess couldn’t resist joining in with the chorus.

Back in Southend, Jed was having trouble inserting his penis inside Frankie. ‘Are you OK?’ he whispered as he finally entered her.

‘I’m fine,’ Frankie lied. She felt as if her insides were being ripped to shreds.

‘I love you, Frankie,’ Jed told her as his movements got faster and faster.

‘I love you, too,’ Frankie replied, wincing.

Suddenly he made a groaning noise and rolled off her. ‘What’s up? Have I done something wrong?’ she asked, concerned.

Propping himself up on his elbow, Jed rubbed her clit with his finger. ‘Nothing’s up. I’ve already come, you dinlo,’ he said laughing.

As Frankie’s breathing started to quicken, Jed moved his finger faster and faster. ‘Ahh, Jed,’ Frankie panted, as she grabbed his head with both hands. This felt nice, much more pleasurable than him being inside her. She reached her orgasm, yanking his head.

‘Fucking hell. You nearly broke me neck,’ Jed teased.

Frankie let out a happy sigh. She really had found the man of her dreams.

Hearing Eddie’s car pull up on the gravel, Jessica flung open the front door.

‘What’s this, a welcome committee?’ Eddie joked.

Jessica took his hand and dragged him into the lounge. She handed him the glass of champagne she’d already poured and told him to sit down and drink it.

As Buster and Bruno bounded into the room, Jessica shooed them out. This was her and Eddie’s moment.

‘What’s occurring?’Eddie asked. He had sort of already guessed, but didn’t want to spoil her plans to tell him herself.

‘You’ll never guess what I found out today,’ Jessica said excitedly.

‘I’ve no idea,’ Eddie lied. ‘I’m pregnant, Eddie. We’re having that baby,’ Jessica screamed.

Still caked in mud from earlier, Eddie stood up and lifted her into his arms. ‘I love you so much, Jessica Mitchell. I really, really do.’

At seven o’clock the following evening, Eddie and Raymond pulled up outside the Flag in Canning Town.

Eddie had asked around half the neighbourhood earlier but, apart from what he already knew, no one had any more information about the night his dad died. Frustrated by the lack of progress he’d made, Eddie wasn’t in the best of moods.

‘There must have been bangs, crashes and fucking screams. Me poor fucking dad was tortured. Some cunt must have heard something, surely,’ he said to Raymond.

Raymond shrugged. He had no answers. Poor old Harry’s death was a complete mystery to all and sundry. ‘How’s Jess?’ Raymond asked, changing the subject.

The mention of his wife’s name lifted Eddie’s mood. Jessica had told him to keep her pregnancy quiet until she had seen her doctor and knew how far gone she was. She didn’t even want the twins or her parents to know just yet. Desperate to tell at least one person, Eddie smiled.

‘Keep it to yourself, but we’re gonna be parents again. Found out yesterday, Jess did. She’s over the bloody moon; we both are.’

Thrilled at the prospect of becoming an uncle once more, Raymond grabbed Eddie around the neck with his
right arm. ‘You’re a dark horse, you are. I’m surprised at your age you can still get it up, you cunt.’

Laughing, Eddie pushed him away. ‘Remember, not a word to anyone. Jess ain’t told your mum and dad yet, so don’t put your foot in it, for fuck’s sake.’

Paulie and Ronny were sitting at their usual table. Both had faces like smacked arses. As Eddie walked in, he heard a few sniggers. He took no notice, walked up to the bar and ordered himself and Raymond a drink.

‘What you having?’ he shouted over to his brothers.

‘Are you sure you can afford it?’ Ronny asked sarcastically.

Eddie sat down and tried to make the two of them see sense. ‘Look, I know you’re both upset, but I’ll always see you all right. If you need any money, just ask me and I’ll give it to you. Dad left me strict instructions: he wants me to look after a few people, make sure they’re comfortable. He left me the bulk, ’cause he knew he could trust me to carry out his wishes.’

‘You’re a lying cunt. Don’t take me and Paulie for mugs. You can stick your handouts where the sun don’t shine,’ Ronny spat at him.

Eddie turned to Paulie. He had always been the more sensible one out of the two. ‘Is that your opinion as well, Paulie? Is it?’

Not able to hold Eddie’s gaze, Paulie stared at his lap. ‘I want out, Ed. I want out of the business and out of your life. We’re meant to be brothers and all you’ve ever done is stitch me and Ronny up. Well, it’s gone too far now. Me and Ronny have discussed things and neither of us want any more to do with you.’

Eddie looked at Paulie in amazement. He guessed that he might have a cob on, but he had never expected this. They had always worked together; how could he even
think of walking away? ‘Don’t be so childish, Paulie. Dad wouldn’t have wanted this. We’re Mitchells, we’re meant to stick together. What do you wanna leave the firm for? It’s stupid, I knew fuck-all about Dad’s will. It was his wishes, not mine.’

Desperate to say his pre-planned speech, Ronny piped up. ‘For years we’ve lived in your shadow, Ed. You were always the old man’s favourite – you spent half your life licking his arse. Why should you dish out the orders, eh? What makes you so fucking special? Me and Paulie have had it with you. We’re setting up on our own. We’ll find our own clients and do a bit of sharking ourselves.’

Eddie looked at Ronny with contempt. As usual, his eyes were gone and his speech was slurred. Unable to stop himself, Eddie laughed in Ronny’s face. ‘Well, I wish you every success, Ronny. I’m sure people will be quaking in their boots when they’re threatened to pay up by an alcoholic cripple.’

Overcome by jealousy and hatred, Ronny picked up an empty beer bottle and aimed it at Eddie’s head. As the bottle brushed against his hair and whizzed past him, Eddie jumped up to retaliate.

‘Leave him – he ain’t worth it. Come on, Ed, let’s get out of here,’ Raymond said, holding Eddie back.

Sitting back down, Eddie looked at Paulie with pleading eyes. ‘You’re making a big mistake, bruv, you really are.’

As Paulie looked at the floor, Eddie shook his head, stood up and walked away.

Ronny called Eddie’s name. He hadn’t played his ace card yet and he was gagging to do so. ‘Oh, and by the way, big man. Your son Joey’s a fucking bum boy. Got a boyfriend, he has. Sucks cock and takes it up the arse regularly, by all accounts.’

As Eddie lunged at Ronny, the barmaid let out a
piercing scream. John, the guv’nor, was on holiday, and she didn’t know how to deal with such violence.

Picking Ronny up by the neck, Eddie lifted him out of his wheelchair and threw him as hard as he could against the wall. ‘You fucking lying cunt, I’m gonna kill you!’ he shouted.

To save Ronny’s sorry arse, Paulie and Raymond joined forces. When angry, Eddie was so strong he was almost impossible to control.

Eddie bent down and held Ronny around the throat as if to strangle him. ‘How dare you fucking bring my kids into this, you cunt!’ he screamed.

‘It’s true. Ask Terry Palmer. Ask his son. I’m not lying, Ed, I’m not,’ Ronny said, choking. He was frightened now, really frightened.

Managing to pull Eddie away, Raymond dragged him outside the pub. ‘Let’s get out of here, mate. I think the barmaid’s called the filth,’ Ray told him.