The Feud (9 page)

‘I’m really sorry. My car broke down and I had to get that repaired, then my fridge-freezer went wrong. I’ll pay you next week, I promise I will,’ the man pleaded.

Eddie turned to his two brothers. ‘What do you reckon lads? Should we give him another week or cut the cunt’s ear off?’

Ronny Mitchell gave a sadistic grin. ‘I don’t think we should chop off his ear. How ’bout we do his little finger instead?’

The shivering man fell onto his knees. ‘Please don’t hurt me. You know my wife is ill, she’s disabled. I had to get the car fixed to take her to the hospital. If you hurt me she’ll have no one to look after her.’

As Ronny licked his lips and pulled the knife out of his
pocket, Eddie ordered him and Paulie to wait in the car. ‘But I thought you wanted us to do him?’ Ronny argued.

‘Just get in the fucking car, will you?’ Eddie yelled.

Hearing the front door slam, Eddie helped the man up and sat him on the sofa. ‘The thing is, mate, I know that you’re lying to me. You never got no car fixed or brought no fucking fridge-freezer. You spunked my money in the pub and the bookie’s, didn’t you?’

‘No, I never. I swear I –’

Annoyed at being lied to, Eddie stopped the man in mid-sentence by grabbing him around his scrawny neck. ‘Don’t lie to me, you cunt, ’cause I’ll kill you.’

The man started to sob. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to spend it. It’s so hard looking after my Elaine, a drink and a bet is my only release.’

Eddie looked at the man with pure disgust. He knew for a fact that he fucked off out every day and left his poor disabled wife indoors to fend for herself. The grapevine was a funny old thing and there wasn’t much went on that didn’t reach his ears.

Eddie knelt down and moved his face inches away from the man. ‘Now listen to me and listen very carefully. I’ll waive the money you owe me, on one condition.’

‘What? I’ll do anything, I promise,’ the man said.

‘I want you to look after your wife properly. If I hear that you’ve left her sitting in her own piss and shit for hours while you’re larging it in the pub or betting shop, I swear I’ll come back and personally fucking cut you to shreds.’

The man started to sob. ‘Thank you Mr Mitchell. You have my word.’

Over in Upney, Joycie Smith was busy showing her friends the new machine that Eddie and Jessica had bought her for her birthday.

Rita crouched down and stared at the object in question. ‘What’s it called again? And what does it do?’

‘I’ve already told you twice. It’s called a video recorder and you can record programmes off the telly and watch them at a later date.’

‘But how can it do that?’ Rita asked, bemused.

‘You have to put a tape inside and pre-set it. I recorded
Corrie
the other night and I only watched it this morning.’

Hilda looked at her in awe. ‘It’s marvellous, ain’t it? Bleedin’ marvellous.’

Joyce went into her peacock mode. She could almost feel her feathers spreading out like a fan. ‘It’s modern technology, ain’t it? Because Jessica and Eddie are so wealthy now, they know all about these things before anybody else does. You should see their new house – like a palace, it is.’

Hilda and Rita glanced at one another. They wouldn’t upset Joycie for the world, but they’d already heard about Jessica’s new house a thousand times before. So much so, the pair of them felt that they knew every tile, carpet and room inside out.

‘Cooking a posh dinner tonight, my Jess is. All the family will be there. Me and Stan could have done without it, but Eddie adores us, insists that we come,’ Joyce lied.

Bored as arseholes, Hilda furtively nudged her friend. Rita quickly clocked on and cleverly changed the subject.

‘Where is your Stan? We haven’t seen him for ages. My Arthur said he rarely goes down the bookie’s any more.’

Joyce sighed. ‘Out the back with them bleedin’ pigeons of his. Thinks more of them birds than he does of me. Keeps talking about getting himself a new cock.’

Hilda and Rita roared with laughter. Eddie had bought Stanley his first racing pigeon a couple of years back and he’d been hooked from day one. Joyce had hated his new
hobby from the word go, but had put up with it because it was Eddie’s idea.

‘Dirty bastard things they are. Full of shit me garden is and I’m sure it’s them that’s killed me roses,’ Joyce moaned.

Rita smiled politely. ‘Well, I suppose it gives Stanley an interest. The only interest my Arthur’s got is the pub and the horses,’ she moaned.

‘Maybe you’re right. My Stanley don’t even bother going to the pub that much any more,’ Joyce said proudly, knowing full well that Rita’s Arthur was a borderline alcoholic.

Glancing at the clock, Joyce realised the time was getting on. ‘Please don’t think I’m being rude, but I’m gonna have to start sprucing meself up in a minute. Jess’s mansion is in the country and it takes us about half-hour to get there. She’s expecting us at seven, so I’d best get me skates on.’

Rita and Hilda immediately stood up. Talk about outstaying your welcome, they both thought.

‘Thanks for the tea and cake. See you soon, Joycie,’ Hilda said.

Joyce did her queen wave at the door. ‘Don’t forget, anything you want to watch, come and see me and I’ll record it for you.’

Slamming the front door, Joyce marched into the back garden. ‘Stanley, stop cuddling your cock and get yourself bathed and changed.’

‘Just give me ten minutes, dear, and I’ll be with you,’ Stanley said.

‘No, Stanley. Put your cock away now, pronto.’

‘So when is that cheeky old cunt gonna pay up then?’ Ronny asked Eddie.

Eddie pulled into the pub car park. ‘Next week. I’ll go round and collect it myself,’ he lied.

‘Ain’t you coming in for a quickie?’ Paulie asked him.

Eddie shook his head. ‘Got the in-laws coming round for dinner. I promised Jess I’d be home early.’

Eddie sighed as his two brothers walked away. He daren’t tell Paulie and Ronny that he’d just wiped the geezer’s debt. They wouldn’t understand his reasons, they’d think he’d lost his marbles. It was only a monkey and Ed would rather ensure that the disabled wife was properly cared for than worry about a pittance.

Financially, Eddie was doing very nicely indeed and five hundred quid was no more than loose change to him. It hadn’t always been plain sailing. When his dad had first retired and handed him the reins a few years back, he’d worked his plums off to get where he was now.

Becoming a loan shark had never entered Eddie’s mind, but with the pub protection game becoming harder than ever, he’d sort of fallen into it by accident. A chance meeting with an old pal of his, who was coining it in, had put the idea in his head. Obviously, he’d consulted
his father first. Although Harry had retired by then, Eddie still looked to him as head of the family and respected his wisdom.

Within months of becoming a loan shark, business was booming. They lent to any bastard they could. Businessmen, builders, milkmen, dustmen: as long as they could afford their weekly repayments and agreed to the hefty interest charges, they could borrow.

With the Mitchells’ reputation, the majority of their clients paid up on time, and it was an easy life compared to smashing up boozers. There were the odd one or two who needed time to pay, or a couple of clever dicks who tried to knock them, but they always got their dough back eventually. A bullet lodged in the kneecap or the odd finger chopped off always seemed to do the trick and, like magic, their money would reappear within days. ‘Abrafuckingcadabra,’ Eddie would say, laughing his head off.

Both Paulie and Ronny had had their noses put out of joint when their father had retired and insisted on Eddie taking control. But their whingeing fell on deaf ears.

‘I make the decisions in this fucking family and if I decide that Eddie’s the man to take over, then that’s how it’s gonna be. If yous two don’t like it, tough shit – you know what you can do,’ their dad told them bluntly.

Eddie could sense the resentment, especially Ronny’s, at the way things had turned out. Eddie was the baby of the family and should have been bottom of the pecking order. Now a couple of years on, all was forgiven. Eddie’s loan-shark idea had turned up trumps and made him and his brothers very wealthy indeed. They still did a bit of pub protection here and there, but a lot of boozers had been bought by bigger breweries, so they just stuck with their remaining handful of privately owned ones. Uncle
Reg was still working with them but, due to health problems, was on the verge of retiring. His walking was giving him gyp, and he was waiting to see a specialist. The poor old sod could barely get about any more and he certainly didn’t need the money, as he’d earned plenty over the years.

‘Uncle Reg wants to pack it in, so I think we need to take someone else on,’ Eddie had told his brothers only yesterday.

‘We don’t need anybody else. The three of us is more than enough,’ Ronny insisted.

Eddie disagreed. They needed a bit of young blood and he had just the right person in mind. All Ronny was worried about was his wallet. He was a greedy bastard and wouldn’t want to share out any of his profits. Ronny had recently bought a house and moved in with Sharon, and all he did was brag about paying cash for it.

The Mitchell family still owned the salvage yard in Dagenham, but Harry had now sold off all the others. He’d made a handsome bit of dough on a couple of them. He’d flogged two to property developers and had come out with well over a million in profit.

Eddie put his foot down as he hit the A13. He’d recently treated himself to a Porsche 911 and loved the fact that its turbo engine left every other car on the road standing. He turned off at Barking and headed towards his old address. When he and Jessica had moved out, he’d allowed his ex, Beverley, and his two boys to move in. Gary and Ricky were now fourteen and twelve and had both been expelled from two schools in Canning Town, where they’d previously been living. Neither were particularly bad lads, but it had hit them hard when Eddie had left home. Without a man around they were forever getting into scrapes and fights, and trouble seemed to follow them.

Beverley had been an awkward bitch to deal with when Eddie had first remarried. She had stopped the boys going to the wedding, and many a time she had cancelled arrangements when Ed was supposed to be having them for the weekend.

Eddie had wanted to kill her with his bare hands on many occasions, but in the end he’d done the sensible thing and hit her where it hurt. ‘I’ve got a right to see my boys every weekend and take ’em away in the summer. You’ll not get another penny out of me, Bev, until you agree to my terms,’ he’d told her.

It had almost killed him knowing that his kids were going without, but he had to be cruel to be kind. Bev held out for two months, then one day turned up in the Flag begging for money and forgiveness. Eddie had had regular contact with his boys ever since. He kept to his word and always saw Bev all right. Most of the money he gave her, she spunked on alcohol and takeaways. She’d only been eight stone when he’d first met her and now she weighed eighteen.

Eddie pulled up outside his old house. He always picked the boys up on a Friday and took them back home on the Sunday. They were doing much better at school since they’d moved to Barking and they loved spending their weekends at his new house.

‘You got all your stuff? Where’s your mother?’ Eddie asked them.

‘She’s drunk. She’s been drinking cider all day and she’s asleep on the sofa,’ Ricky said, giggling.

Eddie ordered the boys to go and sit in the car. Annoyed, he marched in the house and woke Beverley up.

‘Whaddya want?’ she asked, bleary-eyed.

‘There’s your money,’ Eddie said, throwing an envelope at her. ‘Look at the state of yourself, Bev. No wonder
them boys have got problems, seeing you like this every day.’

Beverley sat up. ‘I do my best. Anyway, what do you care? All you’re bothered about is the wonderful fucking Jessica and your twins.’

Eddie shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t be letting you live here rent free if I weren’t fucking bothered. Drop the bitter act, Bev, it don’t suit you, love, and take my advice – sort yourself out before it’s too late.’

Beverley burst into tears. She knew she’d let herself go and didn’t need Ed to tell her. ‘Go on, fuck off home to your other family and leave me alone!’ she screamed.

Eddie stormed out and slammed the front door. There was no reasoning with Bev when she was pissed, so he might as well save his breath.

‘Can we go in the swimming pool when we get there, Dad?’ Gary asked.

‘Not tonight, son. We’ve got guests coming over for dinner, but you can muck about in there all day tomorrow, if you want.’

Eddie smiled as he listened to the boys gabble away in the back. Since he’d married Jess he’d turned into a proper family man. He loved nothing more than spending his weekends with his beautiful wife and children. Over seven years they’d been married now, and he’d never so much as looked at another woman in that time. Marrying Jessica was one of the best decisions Ed had ever made and he worshipped the ground that she walked on. Like any other couple, they had their rows. Eddie knew he could be a Victorian bastard at times and, overall, Jessica suffered him well.

‘Look, Dad. That house you always tell us to look at has got a sold sign up.’

Wondering if Gary had got it wrong, Ed swung the
Porsche around and drove back to be nosy. ‘Fuck me, you’re right son,’ he said mystified.

The house in question was a beauty and, unlike his own, had needed nothing doing to it at all. Eddie had tried to buy the place himself. He had viewed it, but the price was way over the top. The owner lived abroad and wanted well over a quarter of a million for it. Ed had tried to barter with him, but the geezer was having none of it. The house had much more ground than the one Eddie had bought, at least another couple of acres.

Eddie turned the car back round and sped towards home. That house had been on the market for a couple of years and he was desperate to make a few phone calls, see if he could find out who had finally landed it.

‘What are you doing, Stanley? You’ve done a left, ain’t you meant to have done a right back there?’