The Graft (11 page)

A tall blonde with high breasts and a perma-grin walked towards them.

‘Hello, Nick, long time no see.’

She was the girlfriend of a business acquaintance but she always had her radar tuned for a better alternative. The business acquaintance was also married so she wasn’t bothered about Tammy. In fact, it was
what
she had heard about Nick’s wife that made her think she might be on to a much better thing with Nick than she had first thought. He was also a bit of all right so the sex part wouldn’t be such a trial either. Her current squeeze was short, bald and had a belly that could accommodate triplets and still leave room for a West Ham footballer.

He also had an open wallet of Olympic standards, so at least he had that going for him if nothing else.

Nick had not answered her and she tried again.

‘Hello, Nick, remember me?’

He stared at her for long seconds before shaking his head.

‘Sorry, no, I don’t.’

He sounded completely uninterested, something that rarely happened to her when men were around. She was nonplussed for a moment and Joey closed his eyes in distress. The blonde was shocked and it showed on her face.
Everyone
remembered her, she was Des Carter’s bird, that court case must have turned Nick’s mind. She would not even contemplate the thought that he could be blanking her.

‘Des’s girlfriend?’

She was still the coquette, deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt. Joey gave her points for perseverance anyway.

‘Where is Des then?’

Nick gave a good impression of a sailor looking out to sea. His hand over his eyes, he peered around the bar for a few seconds. He saw the humiliation burn in her eyes and told himself to let it go, but he couldn’t. Instead he turned his back on her and started to order himself another drink. As he owned the pub that wasn’t hard.

Joey tried to ease her embarrassment.

‘Leave it, love. Get a drink on me, OK?’

‘Des won’t like this when I tell him . . .’

Des was a local hard case, but not that hard a case he would take on Nick. But she obviously wasn’t thinking when she spoke. Nick turned round and said nastily, ‘Oh, I’m quaking in me boots, love.’

He passed her his mobile.

‘Get him on the blower and I’ll talk to him now, eh?’

Joey pushed the phone away from the stricken girl.

‘All right, Nick.’

Joey’s voice was low, annoyed, people were already looking at them. The girl’s friends were thrilled with this turn of events and she knew it.

‘He’s drunk, love . . .’

Nick poked a finger at her and said loudly, ‘Not that drunk though, eh? I wouldn’t touch you with a barge pole.’

She walked away humiliated and Joey waited a beat before he said, ‘She didn’t deserve that, Nick.’

He laughed.

‘Didn’t she? Des’s wife is a good woman. She’s given him five kids and she’s stood by him through every bit of shit he ever got himself into. And what does he do? He takes up with
that
. Even paid for her fucking tits! She sees me as an alternative pay packet, nothing more, nothing less. Well, she can fuck off. I have enough trouble trying to stop Tammy bankrupting me on a daily basis. Her and all I don’t need.’

He wiped a hand across his face, he was sweating again. Since the boy’s death he had felt like this a lot. He shook for no reason and got panic attacks. Felt sick, couldn’t sleep, eat or think properly. All he thought about was the boy.

He had enjoyed taking it out on that girl; she was a slapper as far as he was concerned. His mate’s bird. No more and no less. He knew she would be on her mobile in nano-seconds, telling him all about the insult. Well, good luck to her. Des wouldn’t say a dicky-bird to Nick, but she would find that out soon enough.

He looked at the barmaid then and shouted out, ‘What the fuck am I paying you for, Candice? Get me a bloody drink, will you!’

Candice sighed. Taking down the brandy optic, she slammed it on the bar in front of him. Pushing a clean glass towards him, she said acidly, ‘Now you can pour your own drinks, can’t you?’

Nick finally laughed then. He had always liked Candice, she was a tough little cookie.

 
The woman walked towards her car slowly. The shopping bags she held were heavy and she stopped to change hands. The plastic Tesco carrier bags were digging into her palms. Her toddler was wandering off in all directions and she called to her affectionately.

Gino watched her. She was slightly built with long dark hair. She looked exactly what she was, a nice respectable woman. He had been watching her for the last hour although she didn’t know that, being too preoccupied with her child and the shopping. She looked and acted like one of those people who always assume nothing bad can happen to them. It was a miracle but there were still people around like that in this day and age. It amazed Gino, even as young as he was. He had learned a long time ago that you trusted no one unless you knew them well, and even then you kept a sceptical eye out. She was just what he was looking for. She had pulled out money from the cash point before making her way to the car and he was pleased about that. Her cards he could sell on but there was no substitute for cash itself.

He waited until she had opened the boot and dropped in the shopping bags before he made his move.

As she opened the back door of her Renault Clio to put the child in its car seat he sneaked up behind her and pushed the blade of the knife into her side, just nicking the skin enough to make her feel it without actually hurting her.

She still had her bag over her shoulder and he whispered in her ear, ‘Drop your bag and don’t look back at me. If I see you looking I’ll come back and do you and the baby, OK?’

She nodded and dropped the bag from her shoulder immediately.

The little girl was smiling quizzically, understanding suddenly that none of this was a game.

‘Pretty baby, lady, you want to watch out for her.’

Gino picked up the bag slowly and then punched the woman in the side of the head for good measure. She fell into the car as he knew she would and he was off with the bag, sprinting out of the car park and into the warren of houses that made up his estate in seconds. He bolted to a piece of waste ground and then searched the bag eagerly. He was amazed at what people kept in their bags. The usual array of Tampax and birth control pills, headache tablets, lipsticks and baby wipes competed with letters and gas bills - all addressed to her, of course. Even a bank letter with her statement inside and a chequebook.

Would people never learn?

He had enough here to remortgage her house or open a moody bank account in her name.

The purse inside the bag now held no secrets from him. It was jam packed with the usual female paraphernalia: photos of home and the kids. Her house looked really nice with a big garden and a wide-screen TV set in the corner of the lounge, up-to-the-minute DVD player - she might as well have put an advert out to get burgled. There were also her credit cards, debit cards, her Tesco clubcard, Boots loyalty card, even her membership to Blockbuster Video. Her whole life was in that one leather shoulder bag. And now it was his to do with as he pleased.

Gino grinned as he took out the three hundred pounds in cash and removed the cards. Then he searched the side pockets of the bag. So many women slipped off their jewellery and placed it in their bag without a second’s thought. He was not disappointed. There was a small pair of gold earrings there together with a diamond tennis bracelet.

A good haul. Gino was pleased with himself.

As an afterthought he took the letters. Her address might be useful to whoever he sold the stuff to.

Whistling, Gino left the waste ground. He had achieved his objective and was one happy little bunny.

 
Tammy heard about the débâcle in the pub over a long lunch in Brentwood. They were celebrating her life getting back to normal, which meant she was picking up the bill as per usual.

She basked in the pleasure of knowing that her husband was always faithful to her. He might chat up birds, have a joke at times, but basically he had no real interest in them. All her friends - and she used the term loosely - had trouble keeping their blokes indoors; she had trouble getting hers out of the house. Nick was happy these days to come home, slip off his shoes, eat his food and watch the box. All that poke and he never left the house now unless it was to earn more money, or get drunk. Not that she was knocking him for that.

If only he would take her out occasionally. Unlike her mates whose husbands were out trumping anything with a pulse, her old man lived like a hermit. She guessed he had the occasional bat away from home, she wasn’t stupid, but in fairness to him he had never shoved her face in it like so many of his mates did with their wives.

For that much at least she was grateful.

Now he had knocked back Des’s bird Tammy was happier than she had been in ages. How people perceived her was important. Being seen to be in control was important. Her friends couldn’t understand how she kept Nick in his place because she was not a woman to be faithful herself. In fact, she spent her whole life on the chat up and everyone including Nick knew that.

No one could believe the way she got away with it. Only Tammy knew the price she had paid for her lifestyle and she would never tell anyone what that was.

She nodded to the waiter for more wine, aware that she was giving them all food for thought and basking in their utter astonishment that Nick Leary didn’t feel the urge to play away. Tammy knew that jealousy was rife around the table and enjoyed the moment while it lasted. Sipping daintily at her white wine, she winked at the good-looking young waiter and was gratified to see her friends roll their eyes at the ceiling in amazement.

They all wished Nick was theirs, while wondering if they could be woman enough to keep him as faithful as Tammy did.

And that was exactly what she wanted them to think.

In fact, Nick had not come near her in that way for years. He cuddled her, and he hugged her, and the other night they had fallen asleep together. She had felt his need for closeness and had responded to it. But the truth was, he had no sexual interest in her whatsoever. Thankfully, he had no interest in anyone else either.

Impotence he called it, and it was that very thing that kept Tammy in gold cards and Mercedes sports. Kept her kids in private school and gave her licence to do whatever she wanted.

But she would never let on to anyone.

If he managed to get it up now and again with someone else as she suspected from the occasional absence on unspecified ‘business’ then that was OK as far as she was concerned. As long as it wasn’t serious, she couldn’t give the proverbial flying fuck. At least that was what she told herself.

Tammy pushed the thoughts from her mind once more. Her biggest fear was that her husband would fall in love with someone else, one of his one-night stands. But Tammy being Tammy had already worked out a nice little earner for herself should that befall her and hers.

Nick Leary would pay, and pay big-time.

Her macho husband’s biggest fear was that his reluctance in the marital bed would be broadcast to the world, or more specifically, to their circle of friends. He had always had trouble keeping it up, as
she
so nicely put it, now he couldn’t even raise a smile as
he
so nicely put it.

But she played the game, pretended that they were at it morning, noon and night, and even though she would shag a table leg if it bought her a drink, her friends all thought Nick didn’t know about her affairs and she kept the pretence up. It was part of her street cred now and she knew that and she used it.

Even though her husband had the reputation of a womaniser, she could honestly say that even in her most jealous rages she had never been able to find out anything concrete to throw at him. But that was Nick all over, if he was using brasses again, she would never know about it and, in a way, she respected him for that, even as the thought drove her mad.

She had found a pack of condoms in his jacket pocket and it had thrown her whole world off-kilter. When she had confronted him, he had told her he was trying out brasses to see if he could sort himself out.

Her jealousy, as usual, had got the better of her. That a nameless, faceless tart could get her leg over with her husband when she could not even raise his interest made her self-esteem hit the floor once more. It had taken an affair with a young guy who cleaned their pool to get her over that one.

Yet her sensible side told her to be pleased that at least Nick wasn’t sleeping with someone he cared about, it wasn’t with an actual
bird
. Most of her friends’ husbands had birds that were an open secret. At least Nick had never humiliated her in that way. If he had a bird, she would have heard about it from one of her so-called friends. They would have
enjoyed
telling her about it.

She had often been out with Nick and seen her friends’ husbands with their birds. Younger women, far beneath their wives in the food chain, but with full breasts and firm skin that no matter how much money you acquired you couldn’t emulate. They were all too stupid to see that they would be traded-in eventually for younger versions of themselves even if they gave the men kids, which was often the mistake their wives had made. A belly full of stretch marks and a crying baby turned them from sex objects to mother figures overnight. It was how their world worked, and even when the men hit their fifties there would always be someone new to step into the girlfriend’s shoes and, in some cases, even the flat they had lived in.