Raven, page 17
She looked past him and saw Thomas Kelly’s car pulling up to the kerb. ‘Oh, no! I bloody knew that he’d be back. What shall I do?’
‘Stay calm. Gather the kids and go upstairs. Shut yourselves in the bedroom and don’t come out until I tell you to.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘Stop asking questions and get the kids out of the way.’
Clara ran to the back door and urged the boys inside ‘Quick as you can,’ she said and then ushered them upstairs.
In the bedroom, Greta was looking over Ginger asleep in the cot. ‘What’s going on?’ she asked when Clara burst in with Humphry, Gregory and Clark.
‘Shush. Don’t say a single word. There’s a bad man at the door but Larry is going to sort him out. Just keep quiet, all of you,’ Clara said urgently, pulling her children into a huddle around her and then she yanked the thin blanket over them. ‘You’re so good,’ she whispered. ‘Remember, not a word.’
Humphrey and Greg, her four-year-old twins seemed to think that it was a game and were both smiling. But Clark, her six-year-old, was shaking with fear. She pulled him closer towards her and Greta sat on the other side of him stroking his small hand. Clara looked over Clark’s head and locked eyes with her daughter. ‘You’re my wonderful, brave girl,’ she whispered as she was filled with guilt. How could she have considered running off to London with Larry and leaving her beautiful children behind? It had been a moment of madness and now she was glad that Larry hadn’t taken up the offer. From now on, she would always make it clear that she and the children came as a package. If a man didn’t want her kids, then they couldn’t have her either.
She tensed at the sound of heavy thudding on the front door. Thomas Kelly was back and with him came trouble!
*
Thomas was slightly taken aback when a big bloke pulled open Clara’s front door. He guessed that she’d brought the man to her house to protect her, but big or not, Thomas wasn’t worried. It was clear from the bloke’s wide stance and threatening expression, that he had no idea who he was coming up against. Well he was about to find out and Thomas growled, ‘Who the fuck are you?’
‘None of your fucking business. What are you doing on my doorstep?’
The man was bold and menacing. Thomas admired that. He was just the sort of person he’d like on his payroll. ‘I’ve no issue with you, my man. I’m here to see Clara.’
‘I ain’t your fucking man and anything you want to say to Clara goes through me.’
‘Do you know who I am?’
‘I couldn’t give a fuck.’
Thomas adjusted his jacket, deliberately flashing his gun that was tucked into his waistband. He was sure the man had seen it. ‘You’re obviously new to the area so I’ll give you a chance. But me – Thomas Kelly – I own this town so don’t go up against me or you’ll regret it. Now, I said that I want to talk to Clara, so get out of my way. I’m coming in.’
‘No you’re not. Piss off,’ the man growled and slammed the door.
Thomas couldn’t believe he’d had the audacity to shut the door in his face! The man would pay for that.
‘What now, Boss?’ Titch asked.
‘Kick it in.’
‘What, the door?’
‘Yes, you fucking idiot, the door! Kick it in and then kick the life out of that brazen bastard too.’
*
Clara had sneaked from under the thin blanket and crept to the top of the stairs, her heart hammering as she listened to every word. She jumped when the door slammed, but then Larry appeared at the bottom of the stairs and hissed, ‘Quick, get the kids and leave by the back door.’
Clara ran back into the bedroom to see four sets of terrified eyes staring at her. Greta had already picked up Ginger from the cot and was holding the sleeping baby close to her chest.
‘Out, now, through the back,’ Clara commanded.
Her children seemed to sense her panic and obeyed without argument. Clara followed behind them, but they were only about halfway down the stairs when it became clear that Kelly or one of his thugs was trying to kick in her door. She knew the old and worn wood wouldn’t hold for long and that it would only take a few good thuds for it to splinter.
‘Hurry,’ Larry urged.
As Clara passed him, their eyes met. She wanted to stop and tell him how much she adored him, but there was no time for words. As she hurried through the kitchen, she grabbed a large knife from the side. It was blunt but it was better than nothing. The children ran out into the backyard and paused, their faces pale with fear. Clara yanked open the yard door and hissed, ‘Run… keep running and don’t look back.’
‘Come with us,’ Greta cried.
‘I’ll be right behind you,’ Clara told her.
Greta turned and ran, while at the same moment, Clara heard the front door crash open. She spun around and looked through the kitchen to see one of Kelly’s men pounding into Larry, both of them fists flailing, and then Larry fell to the floor. Titch, the heavier, younger man, took advantage, and with big boots, he kicked Larry’s head.
‘Stop! Please, stop!’ Clara screamed, running into the kitchen.
The man ignored her and she looked past him to see Thomas Kelly watching the scene with a wicked leer of satisfaction on his face. He was enjoying seeing Larry being repeatedly kicked, his face now a gory mess and blood pouring from his skull.
‘Please, make him stop, Mr Kelly. It’s me you want!’ she begged.
Larry’s eyes were closed, and she wondered if he was unconscious. She hoped he was and that he wasn’t feeling any more pain as the thug continued to kick him again and again.
‘I don’t think I want him to stop,’ Kelly said. ‘The man deserves a good beating.’
The thug paused, panting, with sweat running down his face, but then, as he lifted his foot again, Clara saw that Larry’s eyes had opened and he was reaching for something behind his back. His gun! Yes, Larry had a gun! A fierce kick smashed into Larry’s eye socket and another to the side of his head, yet somehow he’d managed to pull his gun and aimed it up at Titch.
Kelly had seen what was happening and acted quickly as he pulled out his own gun and fired. Clara heard a tremendous bang and, horrified, she felt as if time stopped still as she gazed at the hole in Larry’s head. He was still now, perfectly still, while Kelly stood over him looking triumphant.
She was frozen, trembling with the blunt knife held at her side, unable to believe what had happened. Larry had a bullet in his head. He was dead. She saw Thomas Kelly coming towards her, and knew that she should run. Follow her kids. But her legs wouldn’t work. All she could do was wait, shaking from head to toe, as Kelly, still holding his gun, used his other hand to pull the knife effortlessly from her grip.
‘There’s a good girl,’ he said and slipped the knife into his pocket.
Clara couldn’t stop shaking and, unable to hold herself up, she sank down onto the dirty linoleum on the kitchen floor, her hands held over her face as she sobbed.
‘Who was he?’ Kelly asked. ‘Your new pimp?’
Clara couldn’t talk. She felt as though she was drowning in her own tears. Larry was dead, and all her dreams had died with him.
‘I don’t suppose it really matters who he was. It’s you I wanted a word with.’
Clara looked up to see him standing with his gun pointed at her head. Her bladder released and she felt a warm sensation under her legs. Vomit rose, burning her throat. She turned her head to one side and was sick on the floor.
‘Look at you, a filthy whore covered in piss, snot and puke. You’d have saved yourself a lot of trouble if you’d turned up at the pub as ordered.’
Clara looked up at Kelly with no idea what he was talking about. ‘What… when…’ And unable to formulate her thoughts coherently, her words trailed off.
‘You must have got my note?’
Clara shook her head, confused, but then she remembered an envelope and the note inside that Larry had stuffed into his pocket. He’d said it was addressed to him, and she hadn’t questioned that. ‘I – I didn’t see the note.’
‘Really, that’s a shame, but never mind, I’ve finally caught up with you.’
‘Wha – what do you want?’
Kelly signalled to Titch, who pounded across the kitchen and pulled her roughly to her feet. He then yanked both arms behind her, so forcefully that she felt they were going to pop out of her shoulder sockets. ‘No… please… you’re hurting me.’
As though she hadn’t spoken, Kelly said, ‘I’ve heard that you’ve been shouting your mouth off about me and throwing your money around. I can’t have that, Clara. I can’t have my tarts thinking that they can swan off with any new pimp. I won’t have dirty slags like you slating my good name.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Clara cried, and then howled as Titch pulled tighter on her arms, causing a surge of excruciating pain.
‘Let me remind you,’ Kelly snarled.
To Clara’s horror she saw him pull a knuckle duster from his pocket and slip it onto his hand. Fear snaked through her veins. She knew that the heavily fortified metal structure was going to cause a lot of pain and if he used it on her face, a lot of damage too. ‘Please, Mr Kelly. I promise you, Larry wasn’t my pimp. I work for you, only you and I can’t earn you money if my face is smashed up.’
‘You don’t work for me now, Clara, and by the time I’m finished with you, you’ll never work for anyone else.’
Clara closed her eyes in terror as she saw Kelly’s fist and the metal rings of the knuckle duster coming fast towards her face. She tried to turn her head away but the first blow caught the edge of her eyebrow. Her head snapped back with the force of the blow, her brain rattled and she felt woozy, but before she could recover her wits, another punch smashed into her mouth. Intense pain was followed by the coppery taste of her own blood and she was sure that she’d swallowed a tooth or two. Her mouth fell open as blood pumped from a wide split lip, exposing raw flesh. The third punch landed on the side of her nose, and she screamed in agony as her bones crunched.
‘Look at you. You’re not so pretty now,’ Kelly said, smiling with satisfaction.
Clara could feel the room spinning around her as she began to slip into welcome oblivion. If Kelly’s thug hadn’t been gripping her arms so tightly, she would have fallen unconscious onto the floor. Something cold was thrown in her face – water – bringing her back from the brink and she opened swollen eyes to see Kelly pulling her blunt kitchen knife from his pocket.
He barked an order, ‘Keep her still.’
Her head still swimming, Clara was barely aware of him lifting her skirt. But she cried out in excruciating anguish as he sliced the knife in a criss-cross fashion across her stomach and inner thighs.
The pain tore through her and as she drifted into darkness, and the last thing that Clara heard was Kelly’s mocking voice as he crowed, ‘I’ve really fucked you up now. No man will ever pay you to stick his dick anywhere near that mess.’
17
Charlotte cleared away the dinner plates with a warm feeling inside. She was really enjoying having Molly to stay and wished that she saw more of her sister. Nothing more had been said about Edward, but Charlotte could tell that Molly was still wrestling with the idea of packing the boy off to boarding school.
The phone trilled and Charlotte’s heart skipped a beat. Every time the bloody thing rang, it caused her anxiety. It would either be the hospital with news of Tim, or Georgina with an update from Bristol.
When Charlotte put the receiver to her ear, she was surprised to hear her mother’s voice.
‘Hello… Charlotte… Is that you?’ Fanny shouted.
Charlotte pulled the receiver away from her ear and then spoke slowly and clearly into the mouthpiece. ‘Yes, Mum, it’s me. There’s no need to shout. Just talk normally – I will still hear you.’
Molly came to stand beside her and Charlotte rolled her eyes with a smile.
‘Is Molly there?’ Fanny asked.
‘Yes, she’s here. We’ve just finished our tea. Do you want to speak to her?’
‘Yes. Put her on.’
Charlotte, disappointed that her mother hadn’t called to speak to her, handed the receiver to Molly. She hadn’t even asked how Tim was. With a huff, she sat on the sofa and listened to the one-sided conversation. Her eyes widened. She could tell by Molly’s alarmed face that their mother hadn’t called with good news.
‘Oh no, Mum. Is he all right?’ Molly asked anxiously. ‘He’s had to have a plaster cast? Is he in a lot of pain…? Oh, right. Was he on his own when it happened…? No, Mum, it’s not a strange question… Right, so what did Edward say about it…? What do you mean nothing? He must have said something… All right, calm down. I’ll be home tomorrow… Yes, I’ll get an early train. Bye, Mum,’ Molly said and as she replaced the receiver, she drew in a long breath.
‘What’s happened?’ Charlotte asked.
‘It’s Stephen. He’s had a nasty crash on his pushbike. It seems that Edward took him up the big hill behind the farm. On the way back down, the brakes on Stephen’s bike didn’t work so he couldn’t slow down or stop. He rode straight into a big oak tree. He’s knocked out his front teeth, has a nasty lump on the front on his forehead, and a broken wrist.’
‘Oh, the poor boy!’
Molly shook her head. ‘I doubt this was an accident, Charlotte. I think Edward did it. I bet he tampered with the brakes and that’s why they didn’t work.’
‘How can you be sure?’
‘I just know. Like I said, something always happens to Stephen when he’s with Edward. But I can’t prove it. The boy is too clever, just like his father was. But he did it, I’m sure. God, Charlotte, Stephen could have been killed! To be honest, I don’t like the thought of sending Edward away, but I don’t think there’s any other option.’
‘There isn’t, love,’ Charlotte said gently.
‘Mum won’t be happy about it.’
‘She hasn’t been happy about anything since our Ethel was killed.’
‘True. But she will fight me over this.’
‘He’s your child, Molly, not Mum’s. You have to protect Stephen and Oppo, regardless of what Mum says.’
‘I know, but I’m not very good at standing up for myself, especially against Mum. There’s no way that she’ll believe that Edward is wicked like his father. It’s going to cause ructions.’
‘It’s better to have a fall-out with Mum than for any more accidents to occur.’
Ned sniffed and then cleared his throat before saying snidely, ‘The boy should have been drowned at birth.’
Molly looked horrified at his words and close to tears, so Charlotte snapped, ‘Shut your nasty mouth! In fact, why don’t you bugger off home!’
‘I’d love to do just that, but I’ve had orders from Miss Garrett to look after you.’
‘I don’t need you to look after me. I’m more than capable of taking care of myself.’
‘I ain’t budging.’
‘In that case, flippin’ button your gob.’
Molly heaved a sigh and said, ‘See, I need to be more like you, Charlotte. I wish I had the guts to speak to Mum like that.’
‘Bloody women,’ Ned mumbled.
Charlotte chose to ignore him. She took Molly’s hand in her own and said, ‘I got my guts from Georgina. I’ve seen the way she looks after her own and won’t let anyone stand in her way. You need to take a leaf out of her book. I wish I could go to the farm with you. I don’t have a problem with speaking up to Mum. But I can’t, not right now with Tim in the hospital.’
‘I know. Don’t worry. I’ll do what I have to do.’
But Charlotte was worried. If Molly failed in having Edward packed off, Charlotte feared what might happen to her precious family. She’d never been close to her mother but she loved the woman. And though Stephen was the child of a dead prostitute, Charlotte was ever so fond of the boy. And Oppo, well, he was like a big brother to her. She hated the thought of any of them being hurt. But strangely, though she’d tried to love Edward, she’d always found that there was something about the boy that gave her an unsettled feeling. Nothing that she could put her finger on. Just something odd, almost creepy, about him. She felt awful admitting to herself that she wouldn’t miss him one little bit once he was gone.
*
Clara’s eyes opened and she quickly peered around her grimy kitchen. Relief washed over her when she realised that Thomas Kelly and his thug had gone. But with the relief came the unbearable pain. And then her eyes fell on Larry’s lifeless body lying in a pool of blood.
She managed to heave herself onto all fours and slowly crawled across the kitchen. Every movement sent shockwaves of agony through her body. The sight of Larry’s gun beside him spurred her on. She couldn’t believe that Kelly had left it behind. It must have been an oversight on his part.
Kneeling next to Larry, she took a moment to study his greying face. There was nothing peaceful in his death and it showed in his broken features. He didn’t deserve this. She had no idea how Kelly had come to the conclusion that Larry was her new pimp, but even if he had been, that was no excuse for murder.
Clara reached for the gun. It felt heavier in her quivering hands than she’d expected. She held it unsteadily and imagined pointing it at Kelly’s head and pulling the trigger. But in reality, she wouldn’t go chasing after the man to take his life. She only wanted to protect herself and her children. Her children! She had to find her children!
Clara crawled across to the sink, gasping with unbearable discomfort as she pulled herself up to her feet. After pausing for a moment, she stumbled to the back door and out into the yard. The back gate was still open, and with her jaw clenched against the agony of every movement, she staggered through it in search of her children. Thomas Kelly was a vindictive man and she was terrified that he may further punish her by hurting the children.
Halfway down the hill, two boys playing with marbles in the kerb, glanced up at Clara and then ran into their homes, screaming. She realised she must look a hideous sight, her face probably mangled beyond recognition, and her clothes covered in blood, puke and piss, but her focus was on her children. She wasn’t sure for how much longer she could carry on and bear the pain. She had to locate them before she collapsed and so she staggered on.
