The Graft (6 page)

Even the gutter press were on his side, it seemed.

His brief had advised him to tape every interview himself, and now Nick was glad he had done just that.

He was pleased he had covered himself because some of the press had asked one question and then answered it in words he had used in response to a totally different query. He was living and learning all right.

Tammy came into the room and he smiled at her.

‘You all right, girl?’

She sat down on the sofa beside him and snuggled into his arms.

‘I’m scared, Nick.’

‘Don’t be.’

He kissed the top of her head, smelling expensive shampoo and perfumes.

‘But Fiona said they could nick you . . .’

‘Fuck Fiona, Tams. They won’t. I spoke to Peter Rudde, he said he didn’t think the CPS would pursue it.’

Nick’s mobile rang then. He didn’t answer it but instead rejected the call.

‘Who was that?’

‘No one, love.’

She sighed heavily and he kissed her once more.

‘Was it a bird?’

He laughed then but it was more of a groan.

‘Oh, Tammy, give me some credit, will you?’

She didn’t answer him but the mood between them was broken and they both knew it.

Chapter Three

‘Jude, listen to me, will you?’

She was staring at him and Tyrell knew she was high. He knew they were giving her methadone on prescription but he had a feeling she was on the real McCoy today. It was the way she looked at him. The way her eyes wouldn’t focus. The expression of sheer nothing on her face.

As he looked at her, holding his son’s hand, it occurred to him for the first time how alike they looked.

‘I ain’t turning nothing off.’

Tyrell sighed then.

‘Let him go, Jude, please. It’s terrible to see him like this . . .’

She glanced at him then. He could almost feel her pain and once more was overcome with sorrow for this woman who had given birth to his son and then set out to destroy him along with herself.

Sonny had been born an addict. Jude had tried to stay clean before the birth but it was impossible for her to go from one day to the next without some kind of chemical cosh. There was a theory about heroin addicts, that most of them were deeply troubled people, but a few like Jude seemed to grow more dependent on H the better their lives were going. A doctor had explained to Tyrell it was from fear of losing everything or everyone. They were always too frightened to be happy because in the past it had never lasted. Consequently, they destroyed everyone around them.

Well, she had certainly tried to destroy him. Eventually he had backed off because he just got sick and tired of picking up the pieces.

Now he was back in the driving seat once more. Trying to sort out another mess, only this time there was no way to resolve it happily.

If they could get Sonny buried it might make her move on with her life. He was brain dead and without any vital functions, kept barely alive by the machines they’d hooked him up to. And now they needed those machines for another patient, one with a chance of living their life again. Unlike their poor son.

‘If they take him from me I will have nothing, Tyrell. It’s all right for you, you have other kids, your wife, family . . .’

‘You’ve got nothing now, haven’t you? Come on, Jude, what’ve you really got? A boy who can never speak to you, hug you, help you when it all falls out of bed. I loved him, Jude, he was my first-born and I never turned my back on him, or you either for that matter. So don’t give me your bullshit now, please.’

She knew he was right, but it was so hard to take it all on board. What would happen to her when Sonny was gone? Who would take care of
her
, make sure she ate, made sure she bathed? It was only now that she realised just how much she’d relied on him. Sonny Boy was her all. He had taken care of her since he was old enough to bring over her kit so she could have a blast while she lay on the sofa, laughing at his antics. It was why she had never let Tyrell have custody, even when he had begged for it.

Sonny had been her passport to his father’s money, and the only person who had loved her,
really
loved her no matter what she did.

She lost people like others lost jobs, they all got fed up with her. But not her Sonny Boy. Like most addicts she stole, lied and cheated to get what she wanted and he was the only person who always forgave her, no matter what she did. He was the only constant in her rotten life.

‘I’ve told them they can harvest his organs. Maybe some good can come out of all this, eh?’

‘You think it was his fault, don’t you, Tyrell? You think he was bad . . .’

He shook his head.

‘He was good, Jude, the kindest boy I ever knew. He had a heart as big as the world. But that Sonny Boy is gone now. He is dead. Let him rest in peace.’

‘But what about
me
? If he goes, what will
I
do?’

Tyrell sighed once more.

The selfishness of her addiction was always the overriding factor that drove Jude. No wonder Sonny had come to this.

‘But this isn’t about you, is it? For once, this isn’t about you at all. It’s about Sonny Boy and his needs now. I’ll take care of you. I always have, haven’t I?’

Jude looked at him, considering. He’d left her but it was true he’d always looked out for her. Tyrell always was a soft touch, Sonny had to have inherited it from somewhere.

’All right,’ she mumbled. ‘Do it then. But don’t expect me to stick around. He’s my baby, it’s too hard for me to watch.’

And too long since her last fix, he could tell from her anxious eyes. But at least she’d agreed. Sonny Boy could depart in peace.

 
Tammy heard her husband before she saw him. Lying in bed, sipping her coffee and flicking through the
Daily Mail
, she heard his feet thundering up the stairs and his voice bellowing. All she could make out was that he was going to murder her when he got his hands on her.

He burst through the bedroom door with the bill from the country club clutched in his hand.

‘What is this?’

He thrust the piece of paper into her face.

She moved away from him silently, carefully placing the coffee on the night table by the bed in case it stained the Jacquard bedding that had cost a small fortune and made her smile every time she looked at it.

‘I’m not joking, Tammy, me and you are going to fall out big-time over this.’

Nick was fuming, really angry. He was so angry he was actually shaking and this sight affected her more than she would have thought possible. For the first time ever Tammy was afraid of him.

He had come after her many times over her spending, it was a family joke, but this was different. Even she knew she had gone over the top this time. The fact that she secretly felt guilty made her even angrier than her husband.

She was his
wife
, surely she was
entitled
to spend his money? Anyone would think they were all on the breadline, the way Nick carried on. She would brave it out as she had in the past.

‘You can afford it, what’s the matter with you!’

She was shouting back now through sheer force of habit. As Nick drew himself up to his full height and bellowed back at her she was reminded of just how big he was.

‘Eighteen hundred fucking quid on booze for that crowd of fucking leeches you call mates?’

He was spitting with anger now, his face close enough to hers that she could smell his breath.

‘Three hundred sobs on food for that load of anorexic cunts! None of them has eaten a meal since their last pregnancy. Are you having a fucking laugh or what!’

Tammy was annoyed now and bellowed back.

‘Who the fuck do you think you are talking to, eh? I am your
wife
!’

Nick was staring down at her in utter disbelief.

’Ain’t I got enough on my plate without you bankrupting us at every opportunity? Is it an illness with you, an overwhelming urge to use the credit cards that you can’t fucking resist for even one day!’

She sighed to antagonise him even further. It was a bored sound, guaranteed to aggravate the life out of him. She had perfected it over the years and now she knew just how to imply
someone
was stupid in their relationship and it certainly wasn’t her.

It worked. He was beside himself now.

‘Two grand on one lunch! That is a car to some people, or a fucking foreign holiday. Ain’t you got no concept of the real world at all?’

Tammy was ashamed, but she wouldn’t show it. It wasn’t even as if the lunch had been a resounding success. In fact, she regretted going at all. But she wasn’t going to tell him that. Give him ammunition for the future when she next wanted a spend up.

‘Oh, fuck off. We can afford it, you know we can. What am I suddenly married to - the long-lost Marx Brother fucking Cheapo! So I spent a few quid. So what? Big fucking deal.’

She dragged herself from the bed, pushing him out of her way as she went.

‘The way you carry on, Nick, anyone would think we were on our uppers. Money is for spending . . .’

He lowered his voice as he snarled, ‘Do you know what it would look like if the papers got hold of this bill, eh?’

He shoved it none too gently into her face.

‘That boy dying in hospital and his poor mother going back to her council flat, and
you
are dropping more on a lunch than they could spend on his funeral?’

It pulled her up short. What people said about her was always foremost in Tammy’s mind. He watched with a satisfied expression on his face as the fear gradually took hold. She was sorry now, he could see it on her face, and as usual when he had won the argument with Tammy, he felt bad. He had only said that to frighten her and he had achieved his end.

Nevertheless he pushed the point home.

‘This has got to stop, Tammy. You have to cease with the spending, love. It looks bad. I mean, by the time you had got your hair and nails done, bought new clothes and all the rest of it . . . I found the Lakeside receipts as well by the way . . . you had dropped over three grand yesterday. In a few hours you spent more than many people earn in a month.’

He was finally getting through to her and he knew it.

‘I’m sorry, Nick, but you know what I’m like, I can’t help it.’

He sighed.

‘I’ll have that credit card removed surgically if necessary. This is your last chance. One more spending spree like that, Tams, and I will cancel it. Do you hear me?’

She nodded sheepishly.

‘I’m taking the boys back to school today. I’ve arranged for them to sleep there for the next few weeks until all this blows over, OK?’

She nodded, annoyed with herself that she was pleased the boys would be gone for the rest of the term. She loved them but they drove her mad with their continual wanting when all she wanted was a bit of peace.

As Nick left the room he looked back and smiled at her.

‘I’m sorry I shouted.’

‘Me too. Nick!’

He faced her once more.

’Are you OK?’

She shrugged.

‘I’ll survive, I always do.’

He left her then and she climbed back into bed and for the first time in years cried for her mother.

Her mother wasn’t actually dead, lived in Spain with her toy boy in fact, but she might as well have been for all the use she had ever been to Tammy.

 
Verbena was upset. She made herself a cup of tea as she listened to the radio. The house smelled of perfume. Tyrell’s wife always put on too much. Now she had gone shopping with the boys and the house still stank of her. She liked the girl, what was there not to like? She was pretty, kind, loved her sons and adored the man she was married to.

But she irritated Verbena. It was her voice. Her ways. Everything the girl did grated on her. And she knew it wasn’t Sally’s fault. It was because every time Verbena looked at her she saw Jude.

She blamed her son for the way Jude was. Believed that he should have stuck his first marriage out. God himself knew he had fought hard enough to marry the girl in the first place.

Tyrell’s father had taken one look at her and decided she was definitely not the woman for his son, and he had said as much.

Which had not gone down too well with Verbena or Tyrell.

But she had taken to Jude, she didn’t know why. That girl had been pulled from pillar to post all her life. Meeting her mother had told Verbena everything she had needed to know. That woman, or girl - she had after all only been seventeen when Jude was born - was the most selfish individual Verbena had ever clapped eyes on. And Jude had inherited that selfishness. That belief that you looked out for yourself first, even before your children.

When Verbena had phoned Jude’s mother about her grandson, she had replied that he’d got exactly what he had asked for. It seemed everyone thought like that. Even her own neighbours and friends from church thought Sonny Boy had finally got what he had been asking for. Verbena understood it. If it had not been her own grandson who had died she would have felt the same, she was honest enough about that.