The Know (47 page)

‘Frightened of who, love? Tell me who you’re so scared of.’

Bethany started crying again.

‘Pippy . . . he took me and Kira away in his car with him when I’d caught up with her, said he was going to show us where some children played. But I knew he wasn’t going to show us anything like that because . . .’

She was choking now, unable to get the words out.

Joanie’s head was spinning from what she had just been told.

‘Because you had already had dealings with him, is that what you’re trying to say?’

Bethany nodded, unable to answer the question outright. As Joanie absorbed what she was being told she saw the distress and guilt on the child’s face and felt an overpowering urge to kill Pippy.

‘Where did he take Kira, sweetheart?’

‘I don’t know, Joanie. I was dropped off at a house in Ilford, off Mortlake Road.’ Bethany was crying once more. ‘The man likes me, see? He gives me things.’

‘Oh, dear God, Bethany! What on earth is going on here?’

Bethany took these words as proof of her own guilt. Pulling away from Joanie, she threw herself down on the bed, burying her face in Kira’s Barbie quilt where she cried her heart out.

Finally Joanie pulled her into her arms, fighting against the child who was trying to push her away.

‘I’m sorry, Joanie, I never dreamed they would hurt her. It was because of her long hair and her lovely face that I told them about her. Pippy has parties, see. I’ve been to them. He said did I know anyone else I could bring - someone really pretty. They dress you up in makeup and let you drink and smoke. They give you tablets to make you feel funny and you can’t stop laughing . . .’

She was trying to explain as best she could just what had made her do what she had.

‘I like it. It’s nice, see? They’re nice to you most of the time, only hurt you if you try and stop them . . .’

She was crying once more. Joanie’s head was spinning. She couldn’t take this all in. Her overwhelming need was to find out about Kira.

‘So do you have any idea where he took her, sweetheart? Where she might be now?’

Bethany shook her head.

‘I never saw her again after that day. And when I asked, Pippy hit me and told me if I ever said anything to anyone they would kill me.’

‘Did this have anything to do with Tommy or his father?’

Joanie had to know the answer to that question.

Bethany was crying harder than ever now. Her whole face was swollen with tears and Joanie could see that this was just the tip of the iceberg where this child was concerned. She had been carrying all this around for so long it had broken her.

‘Please, Joanie, I don’t want to talk about it any more.’

‘You have to answer me, sweetheart. I need to know what happened to my baby.’

She was trying to keep the terror out of her voice so she didn’t frighten Bethany into silence. The thought that a child had had to deal with all this was almost mind-blowing. And when the poor girl had also been abused, sexually abused, her own mother had not been interested enough to try to find out what ailed her.

Joanie remembered the blood and the fingermarks she’d seen at the top of the girl’s arms and on her thighs. With her own experience of life she didn’t need to think too hard to realise how they had been put there.

She hugged Bethany, smelling the difference in her after only a few hours away from her mother. She knew that Bethany would stay her responsibility now and partly take Kira’s place because Joanie felt to blame for what had happened to her. She should have
seen
what was happening. She wondered at a world where a dog was removed if neglected yet a child was abandoned to her miserable life even though the school and everyone else involved could tell something was badly wrong.

‘Kira told me about the photographs Jeanette took of her. I took the film into the shop and gave it to Maurice. He works there, does some of the films for Pippy. You know, the photos and that . . . I stole it with the money and the ring.’

Joanie nodded even though she had no idea what the girl was talking about, but she knew she would find out eventually. At the moment she was just going to let her talk, get it out of her system. Only ask a question now and again. She didn’t want to bombard Bethany just yet. That would come soon enough when Jon Jon was told. Only then would any of them be able to make proper sense of what had happened to her daughter.

Bethany was absolutely terrified of what she was revealing. Joanie knew she had to let her talk herself out before she would be able to put it all into some sort of order. Before she told Jon Jon anything she needed to know as much as the child did.

‘Who introduced you to Pippy?’

‘Lorna. It was her who said that we could earn some money, easy money, and not have to go to school.’

Joanie smiled painfully at the girl.

‘Did Lorna know Tommy and his dad?’

She clammed up again.

‘Can I have a drink of water, Joanie? I feel sick.’

She nodded.

‘Wait here and I’ll get it for you.’

In the kitchen she leaned against the worktop and felt the battering of her heart in her chest.

She was finally going to find out what had happened to her daughter, and she wasn’t sure she could cope with the knowledge.

As she let the tap run she put her wrists underneath it to calm her own feeling of nausea. Her baby, her little angel, would have walked away with them like a lamb to the slaughter. That was the worst of it.

Kira would not have had the sense to see any of it for what it was, she would only have seen the smiling faces and the promise of something nice. It would never have occurred to her that anyone would want to hurt her.

Joanie filled the glass with water and went back to the bedroom with it. Bethany looked so pathetic lying there. She placed the glass on the bedside table. Sitting beside her, Joanie gently rubbed her arm and shoulder.

Bethany put up one plump hand and grasped hers.

‘I am sorry, Joanie. Promise you won’t blame me?’

‘I would never blame you, darling, you’re just a little girl. But you have to tell me all you know, OK, so I can decide what to do about it all.’

‘Will you get the police?’

Joanie didn’t answer that. It depended on just what she was told. She had a feeling she might like to exact revenge herself. Her hatred and loathing of Tommy were back in full now. The child wouldn’t say anything about him which could mean only one thing.

As she rubbed the girl’s arm and whispered words of comfort Joanie pictured Little Tommy and his father in their coffins.

Somehow that image was the only thing that made her feel better.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Big John McClellan opened the door to his flat and waved Jon Jon inside. He looked around him in utter amazement. He had never seen anything like this in his life, it was phenomenal.

The whole place was painted white and all there was in the reception room was an imposing stone fireplace and a huge cream leather sofa. On the wall hung one long painting, a fierce spattering of bright colour that Big John informed him was by Jackson Pollock.

‘No guff, son, a real one. Me fucking pension!’

Big John roared with laughter at his own wit.

Jon Jon was impressed despite himself, and as he looked into the open-plan kitchen with its state-of-the-art six-foot-long wine cooler and stainless steel cupboards, he felt overwhelmed. This was the home of someone with wealth, but it was far more than that. It was an almost aggressive display of confidence and power, demanding a proper show of respect from anyone but the man who owned it.

It spoke to something deep within Jon Jon. All his life he’d appreciated the way his mother did her best to make a decent home for them. It was clean, tidy, and she had her best china and glasses and silverware all lovingly stowed away, far too ‘good’ for daily use.

He had never been ashamed of Joanie and the way they lived, not in any way, but he had always known that some people lived differently, in a world that was far removed from their cramped flat on a sink estate. He had always wanted somewhere he could bring anyone, no matter who they were, and see shock and delight on their face at their surroundings, at the way he lived his life, much the same as Big John was enjoying watching him take in this place now. He almost guffawed at the boy’s incredulous expression.

‘This is where I bring me birds, son. Me actual house, where I live with the wife, is grander but it ain’t got the same sophistication, know what I mean? My old woman could blue a rollover week on the Lottery and it would still be all chintz and MFI. You’d need a pair of Ray-Bans just to walk to the downstairs toilet!’

Jon Jon knew exactly what he meant.

‘But my Kathy’s a good girl all the same. Been with her thirty-four years, I have, and we’ve seven sons. Good boys and all except for my youngest.’ Big John wasn’t smiling now. ‘I’m afraid my boy’s fell in with some bad company, including Mad Pippy Light. I’ve tipped him the wink more times than I care to remember. No one else has ever tried my patience to that extent and lived, but Kieron - his whole life’s a bowl of shit.’

He was opening two beers as he spoke and Jon Jon knew he was in for a long night. But even with all that was happening in his quest for Kira’s killer he knew he couldn’t blank Big John, that would have been dangerous and futile. Big John was in confessional mode and it was his job to keep schtumm and listen.

‘I know about your sister, son. Fucking scum of the earth on the streets these days. Can’t trust no cunt, you remember that.’ He took a long swig of his beer. ‘One of me own grand-daughters was nonced, by me daughter-in-law’s dad of all people!’

Jon Jon looked suitably shocked.

‘Fucking hell, what did you do?’

Big John laughed.

‘Let’s just say he ain’t been seen for a long time, and won’t be seen again unless Osama bin-Laden decides to blow up part of the M25.’

He finished his beer in one gulp.

‘Shame that ponce wasn’t in the Reader’s Digest two hundred and fifty thousand pound prize draw. Now
they
would have found him!’

He laughed at his own wit.

‘But those nonces . . . they’re like a cancer. Kill them, that’s what I say.’ He flipped the top off another beer. ‘It’s the only way with the bastards! You have to wipe them off the face of the earth. They’re a fucking cancer, and the only way to get rid of that is to cut it out once and for all. And if it still kills you, you nuke the bastard, get yourself cremated. Burn the fucker, burn away the disease!’

Jon Jon smiled at the man, wholly understanding his sentiments. Big John opened a cupboard and took out a mother-of-pearl box. It looked beautiful and very valuable.

‘Skin up, son, I’m sure you’re an expert. I am going to go and get this fucking suit off, OK?’

Jon Jon opened the box, resigned to the task of joint-rolling, but what he saw amazed him. It held every kind of puff imaginable and also a hefty quantity of cocaine. It even had a silver kit for cutting and snorting - no rolled-up fivers in this house! There was no denying this man knew how to live, and he was nearer sixty than twenty. That was ancient as far as Jon Jon was concerned, but John McClellan had the money to live like a king and that was all that mattered.

Jon Jon picked up a small vial of cannabis resin and opened it; he breathed in the acrid aroma and sighed. This was something he had only ever heard about, never actually experienced, but he decided on something more mellow for tonight. He was sure the coke would be out too before long so for now he chose a nice grass. He built the joint expertly, taking his time over it. For all his high opinion of himself he found he needed to impress this man.

Jon Jon was amazed to realise that he already liked and respected him. He had heard the stories about him over the years, everyone had. Big John was a legend where they lived and Paulie had been very vocal about him when he’d had a few. But those stories didn’t even scratch the surface where Big John was concerned, Jon Jon was sure of that now.

As he sparked up the joint the man himself walked back into the kitchen, wearing jeans and a T-shirt and looking younger and more intimidating somehow. Jon Jon noticed that for all his size he still had some decent muscle on him, strong arms that looked like they had seen some action over the years. He had obviously kept himself in shape as best he could. But youth would out as it always had and always would. He’d told Paulie he needed some young blood in on the Amsterdam job. Were they going to get down to business soon? Only Jon Jon had things he urgently needed to discuss with Paulie.

‘How’s your mother?’ Big John enquired.

Jon Jon sighed and shrugged helplessly.

‘In bits to be honest.’

Big John looked sympathetic.

‘Well, she would be, wouldn’t she? That child was the light of Joanie’s life according to Paulie.’ He coughed and spat phlegm into the kitchen sink. ‘Brasses are like that, I know.’

He saw the stiffening of Jon Jon’s shoulders and laughed again heartily.

‘It’s all right, son, I do know what I’m on about.
My
mother was one as well. It’s no secret - though no one would say it to me boatrace these days, of course, for fear of reprisals!’ He sighed heavily then looked out of the kitchen window, ruminating for a few moments on his previous life. The years devoid of money or kudos.