Raven, page 6
He considered how his father would expect him to behave, soon coming to the conclusion that his dad would want him to take charge. I’m not having this, he thought, and turned back towards the house. When he got to the front door and tried to push it open, he realised it was locked. Thomas couldn’t fathom why his mother would bolt the door in the middle of the day. He hurried down a narrow alley by the side of the house, through the garden gate, past the privy and straight up to the back door. Flinging it open, he gasped at the sight that met him.
His mother was leaning over the kitchen table with her skirt hitched up to her waist and Mr Raynor was behind her. His spotty, white bum was moving back and forth rapidly as he pumped himself in and out of Thomas’s mother. Neither of them had appeared to notice that he had walked in and was gaping at the scene with disgust.
Thomas reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out the knife that he’d intended to use on Eugene. In four swift steps, he was standing directly behind Mr Raynor. He raised his arm, then promptly brought the knife down, thrusting it hard into Mr Raynor’s back. As Thomas pulled it out, blood spluttered across his face. Mr Raynor cried out and slumped forward on top of his mother. Thomas plunged the knife into the man again, noticing the squelching noise it made as it sliced through his flesh.
Mr Raynor tried to stand up and turn around but instead he fell face first to the floor with the knife protruding from his slain body.
His mother stood up and spun round. Her hands flew to her mouth as she took in the sight of Mr Raynor lying dead on the floor and Thomas covered in the man’s blood.
‘He won’t touch you again, Mam,’ Thomas said, his chest puffed out with pride.
‘Oh, son… What have you done?’
‘Stopped the filthy bastard, that’s what.’
‘But, Thomas, they’ll hang you for this!’
Thomas swallowed hard. He hadn’t thought about the consequences.
‘We’ve got to get rid of him,’ his mother said with urgency.
Blood was seeping from the knife wound and dripping onto the floor, pooling around the rent man’s chest.
‘I’ll dump him in the canal.’
‘No, Thomas, you could be seen. You can’t take his body out of this house. Christ, you stupid boy!’ his mother cried, panic in her voice.
‘It’s all right, Mam, I’ll work something out.’
‘How? How exactly are you going to do that? There’s a dead man lying on my kitchen floor with a knife in his back. The police will have the bloody pair of us for this. We’ll both be swinging on the end of a rope. And then what will happen to our Beth?’
Thomas’s mind raced but he had no answers, and instead of pride, he was now full of fear.
‘Go and get your sister from school. Don’t stop and talk to anyone. Straight there and back, do you hear me?’
‘No, Mam. We’ve got to clean this up first. Beth can’t come home to see this!’
‘Bring her home and take her up to her room. I’ll pack bags for us while you’re gone. We’ll have to go, Thomas. We’ll have to run away. We can’t stay here.’
‘But—’
‘Now, Thomas. Go. We’ve got to get away before anyone starts looking for him. The sooner we’re out of Liverpool, the better.’
‘Where are we going?’
‘I don’t know yet. But there’s no time to waste. I’m not having your neck breaking as you swing from the gallows. Get your sister. We’ll work it out as we go along.’
Thomas could see the seriousness in his mother’s eyes and knew that they had no other choice. After all, he’d killed a man in cold blood. A man who was an upstanding member of the community. Yet as Thomas watched Mr Raynor’s blood ooze from his lifeless body, he felt no remorse for his act of murder. He didn’t feel bad about taking Mr Raynor’s life. In fact, he couldn’t feel anything except for the fear of getting caught.
As he headed towards the front door, his mother called after him.
‘Thomas. Wait. What’s wrong with me, I’m not thinking straight. You can’t go out looking like that. Wash your face and leave your coat off.’
Thomas stopped and held his hands in front of him. It was then that he realised he was covered in blood. He went back to the kitchen and stepped over Mr Raynor’s body to get to the sink. As he washed his hands and wiped his face, the cold water in the bowl turned pink.
While he dried his hands, his mother went upstairs to pack their clothes. For a moment, he gazed at Mr Raynor’s body and an idea came to him. The man would have money on him, money that they needed. He gave the bloke a light kick and then rolled his body over. As he rifled through the man’s pockets, his dad’s words came into his mind: You should never take the life of a man lightly, son. But if anyone ever hurts you or yours, kill ’em. Kill ’em and never regret it.
5
They had been living in Bristol for four weeks now. Ida was feeling more confident that the police wouldn’t catch up with them, but she still kept an eye over her shoulder. She had initially been horrified that her son had killed Mr Raynor, yet had come to realise that he’d acted instinctively to protect her. Kevin Kelly would have killed the man too and Thomas was becoming more and more like his father.
She was grateful that Thomas had taken the initiative to steal Mr Raynor’s money before they’d fled. Ida wouldn’t have thought to do that and was glad of her son’s ability to think on his feet. The cash had set them up in a couple of rooms in a large, shared house. Ida and Beth bedded down in one room, Thomas in the other. The kitchen was used by all the tenants and the outside privy was shared between two houses. It was a big step down from the substantial house that Kevin had rented for them, and the area wasn’t nearly as affluent as their old neighbourhood. In fact, Ida thought that the streets weren’t much better than the slums. But it would have to do for now.
‘I’m going out for a while, pet,’ she told Beth, knowing her daughter would never attempt to leave the room. ‘Sit tight, our baby. I’ll be back soon.’
Beth didn’t raise her head from a game with her dolls. Ida worried about her daughter. The move from Liverpool to Bristol had unsettled the girl. Beth didn’t like change and smiled even less these days. Ida had considered putting her into school but Thomas had talked her out of the idea. He’d said that it would be too much for Beth, especially as he wouldn’t be there to watch over her. Her son had grown up quickly and had a wise head on his young shoulders. He talked a lot of sense so Ida had agreed with him. Anyway, what good would schooling do for Beth? The girl could already read, write and count in a way that was well beyond her years. So, Ida kept Beth at home with her, but the situation wasn’t ideal. It meant that Ida had to take her customers into Thomas’s room but, thankfully, her son was out all day and oblivious to what she was doing. The last thing that she needed was a repeat of what had happened with Mr Raynor!
Ida pulled her coat around her thin frame. The biting December wind chilled her down to her bones. She wasn’t looking forward to being out on the streets in this weather to tout for business. With a heavy heart and cold feet, Ida hoped she’d find a customer soon. She could probably earn more touting during the hours of darkness, but there was no way she’d be able to hide what she was doing from Thomas, and she dreaded to think how he’d react if he found out.
Stopping outside a pub, Ida looked up and down the street. This seemed to be as good a place as any and she couldn’t see any competition nearby. She’d soon learned the places to avoid, where whores and pimps had threatened her.
Ida stamped her frozen feet in a bid to get some feeling back into her numb toes. Come on, she thought, her teeth chattering as she hoped for custom soon. The door of the pub opened and two men came out. They ignored Ida’s offer of a good time. So did the third man and then the fourth man gobbed on the ground in front of her feet. Ida was becoming weary and disheartened. But she wouldn’t give up yet. She couldn’t. She needed the money. Granted, Thomas was bringing in a few bob and pinching grub for them, but he didn’t earn enough to cover all the rent and bills. She knew her son was up to no good and earned his money through illicit means, but Ida didn’t ask him any questions. They needed his earnings and she’d readily accept cash from wherever it came.
The door opened again and Ida jumped forward to stand in front of the middle-aged fella. She fluttered her eyelashes and cocked her head to one side. ‘Fancy a bit of fun, mate?’ she purred.
Expecting to be declined, she was thrilled when the bloke said yes. He wasn’t much to look at, but at least he looked clean. He had a good build on him without a big beer gut. She’d picked up a lot worse in the past few weeks!
‘Yeah, all right, but not in the open,’ the man said.
‘Come back to mine then. It’ll cost you ten shillings, but I promise you, my darling, it’ll be the best ten shillings you’ve ever spent.’
The man shrugged. He didn’t look impressed. Ida grabbed his hand and pulled him along the street before he had a chance to change his mind.
‘Here we are,’ she said, opening the front door. ‘In here.’ Ida led him through to Thomas’s bedroom and gently closed the door behind them.
The man smirked and walked towards her. He shoved her hard and she fell backwards onto the bed. Ida’s heart sunk. She could tell that this fella liked it rough. She knew his sort. He’d slap her about, rough her up, and he’d get a kick out of hurting her.
‘I want payment in advance,’ she stated.
The man fished in his trouser pocket and threw some coins onto the windowsill. ‘There’s an extra couple of bob there but I’ll expect you to make it worth my while.’
Ida smiled at the man but was cringing inside. ‘You won’t be disappointed,’ she husked and pulled her dress up to her waist.
As the man lurched forward, his dark eyes veiled with menace, the bedroom door opened and Ida leapt to her feet. Oh God, she thought, Thomas! She jumped in front of the man, sure that her son would attack her customer. To her great relief, she saw Beth standing in the doorway and holding her favourite doll close to her chest.
‘Go back to your room, our baby. Mammy will be in soon.’
Beth nodded and ambled away. Ida closed the door behind her and leaned against it for a minute to calm her racing heart. Thank goodness it hadn’t been Thomas come home early!
The man stepped closer and shoved his hand up her dress, grabbing her roughly between the legs as he husked in her ear, ‘I’ll give you a guinea for half an hour with the girl.’
Ida was mortified and furiously shook her head. ‘She’s not for sale.’
‘Two guineas, and that’s paying well over the odds.’
‘No, sir, I’ve told you, she is not for sale,’ Ida repeated firmly. She could feel her heart pounding hard in her chest and her mouth felt so dry that her teeth stuck to her lips. She’d seen that the man was sinister but she hadn’t expected this. Fear coursed through her veins. She wanted him out of the house and, trying to keep her voice steady, she said, ‘I think you should leave now.’
The man took his hand from under her dress but Ida’s relief was short-lived when she felt him grip her throat. He pushed his body up against hers, squashing her against the door and leaving her unable to move. His large hand around her neck got tighter until she could feel herself struggling to breathe.
‘Please…’ she managed to croak as she clawed at his hand.
Ida’s pleas were ignored and the man squeezed tighter. She could feel her windpipe being crushed and her lungs ached for air. She stared into his eyes, terrified to see the sickening look of pleasure that he was taking in strangling her.
‘Can’t… breathe…’ she croaked.
The man’s fingernails were cutting into her skin as his hand crushed the life out of her. Ida could feel her eyes bulging. She tried to gasp in air. Her chest burned. The room was fading. Death was upon her and Ida’s last thought was of Beth.
*
Thomas handed over the package wrapped in brown paper in exchange for an envelope of money. He flicked through the bank notes, quickly counting them.
‘It’s all there,’ the pub landlord said.
Thomas ignored him and carried on counting. Once he was satisfied that the payment was correct, he loosely saluted his flat cap and headed back to town.
It hadn’t taken Thomas long to find his feet in Bristol and now he was running drugs for one of the hardest gangs in the area. Thomas smiled to himself. The Slashers, as they’d named themselves, weren’t the brightest of criminals and not nearly half as hard as they liked to think they were. Thomas had no respect for their small-time operations and his boss was nothing more than a jumped-up thug. The Slashers thought that they were big-time gangsters, but they were nothing compared to Kevin Kelly and the Portland Pounders. They’d chosen their gang name because of their reputation for slashing the cheeks of their adversaries. But from what Thomas had heard, only one lad had ever had his face sliced and it had been his boss, Roland, who had nicked the lad’s cheek with his penknife.
It hadn’t installed fear in Thomas. Far from it. In fact, he found it laughable. But for now, he needed the money for his mam so he was happy to work for Roland Harris. In the future, he planned to take over. To be the boss. Just like his father had been. And when that happened, he’d make sure the Slashers became bigger and better than the Pounders. For now though, Thomas would bide his time, but when that day came, he’d be giving Morris Palmer a run for his money. He’d see to it that the man suffered for belittling him and taking over his father’s business.
‘There’d better not be any money missing,’ Roland warned as he snatched the envelope from Thomas.
‘It’s all there. I checked.’
Roland handed Thomas his small cut and then stuffed the money into his pocket. ‘I’ve got another job for you tomorrow. A bloke owes me. I want you to do a job on his shop. Smash it up. Donny will be with you. Do you reckon you can handle it?’
Thomas knew that his boss underestimated him. Roland Harris had no idea that he had stabbed a man to death. Trashing a shop would be a walk in the park. ‘Yeah, of course I can handle it,’ he answered with confidence.
‘Good. Come tooled up. The man’s not a big bloke but his missus is the size of the fucking iceberg that sunk the Titanic. You ain’t worried about knocking out a woman, are you?’
‘I’ll do whatever it takes,’ Thomas replied. He didn’t give a shit about hitting women. He’d have liked to have kicked in Mabel’s head and would have if his mother hadn’t of stopped him. He’d seen his dad knock women about. Thomas hadn’t liked to see his mam get a hiding but his dad had told him that a woman needed a slap to keep her in line and be reminded of her place. Thomas supposed it made sense but he hadn’t hit a woman yet. Though if this fat slag in the shop got in the way of him putting the frighteners on her husband, then Thomas wouldn’t give a second thought to putting her on her flabby arse.
‘Don’t be late,’ Roland warned as Thomas sauntered off.
When he reached home, he was surprised to find the street door wide open and frowned. But with at least three families living in the house, people were always in and out. He went straight through to the shared kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. There were no pots simmering on the stove, so Thomas assumed that his mother was going to feed them jam sandwiches again.
He went to his room and pushed the door but it didn’t open fully. Something was blocking it. Thomas’s hackles rose. Someone must have been in his room, but there was nothing in there worth nicking. He wasn’t stupid enough to leave behind any money, or his knife.
He gave the door a good shove and forced his way in. What Thomas found behind the door was an image that would haunt him for the rest of his life.
He fell to his knees beside his mother’s lifeless body, then placed his ear to her face and listened for sounds of her breathing. There was nothing and his stomach churned as he looked at her chest to see if it would rise and fall. Though he didn’t want to accept it, Thomas already knew that his mother was dead. He could tell from the grey pallor of her skin and blue tinge to her lips.
Vomit rose and burned his throat. He jumped to his feet and ran to the window where he opened it just in time to throw up his guts outside. Then, as he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, he walked gingerly back to his mother. It was then that he noticed the bruising around her delicate neck. This had been no accident. His mother hadn’t just dropped dead from something like a heart attack. Someone had slaughtered her and looking at the disarray of her skirt and underwear, Thomas thought that his mother had probably been raped too.
He thought of his sister and ran to the room next door, hoping that Beth was oblivious to the horror in his room. He charged through the door but stopped dead when he saw his sister’s half-dressed and motionless body, naked from the waist down and spread-eagled on her bed.
A sob caught in Thomas’s throat. His legs felt weak and he collapsed to the floor, holding his face in his hands. An agonising ache gripped him, pain burned in his chest, his heart was breaking, but no tears fell. Thomas was a man. He wouldn’t bawl like a baby. He had to be strong. It’s what his father would have expected of him.
After giving himself some time to pull himself together, he then he rose to his feet, standing ramrod straight. He was alone now in this cold and wicked world. No powerful father. No dear mother. And no sweet sister. His eyes narrowed. He’d kill the man who had taken the lives of his beloved mother and innocent Beth, though he had to find him first. With no idea where to start, he feared that he’d never discover who was behind it and his teeth ground with frustrated anger. Unable to bring himself to look at his sister any longer, Thomas marched out of the house and vowed that he’d never look back. He wouldn’t allow his sorrow to destroy him. If anything, it would drive to make him stronger – just like his beloved dad.
A determination engulfed him. He knew that he’d be living on his wits, but he would work hard and rise up the ranks. He’d make himself a reputation, one that would be so feared that no one would ever dare to cross him. Thomas Kelly had a plan. Things were going to change. He wouldn’t allow anyone to stand in his way. Not Morris Palmer or Georgina Garrett and especially not his boss, Roland Harris.
