Jacqui Rose 2 Book Bundle

Johnny looked quickly at the green neon clock on his bedroom wall. He needed to get it sorted. He’d had an idea but he wanted to run it past Saucers before he put it to Maggie. That’s if Maggie would speak to him again. He couldn’t blame her if she didn’t. First, however, he planned to give Gina a little visit to see exactly what she was doing with his money. More importantly, to see what she was doing with his daughter.

CHAPTER NINETEEN (#ulink_2b340048-53ce-5fcf-a571-72c4701330dd)

Maggie bent over the sink and washed her face. The cold water felt soothing. She’d spent the last few hours with Harley, just the two of them having fun. They’d been to Hyde Park and Harley had squealed with delight as they’d fed the ducks. Then she’d burst into tears as they’d chased after her, wanting the bread she held in her hand.

They’d gone to the children’s park where they’d swung high and low towards the tops of the trees. They’d made themselves dizzy by going on the roundabout too many times and then before all too long, it’d been over. Maggie had had to take Harley back to Gina’s so she could come to see her mother. Harley had cried. She had cried. It just wasn’t fair. Mainly though, it wasn’t fair for Harley. And the more she thought about it, the more Maggie realised that the decision she’d made was the right one.

As Maggie stood up from the sink she let out a gasp. In the mirror, staring blankly at her was Tommy.

‘Tommy … Jesus. You gave me a fright.’

‘Did I, Maggie? I thought you were the brave one.’

Maggie looked at Tommy. He looked pale and she could see sweat dripping down his forehead. He was clenching and unclenching his fist. Maggie took a step towards him but he stepped back quickly.

‘Tommy, why don’t you come downstairs, babe? Mum’s making the tea.’

Tommy sat at the kitchen table with his mother and Maggie. It was the first time he’d seen her properly since she came out. It was nice to see her but he didn’t know how to tell her that. He’d wanted to say it when they’d been upstairs in the bathroom, but instead he’d just stared at her.

He watched as his sister laughed, a dimple on her right cheek forming as she did so, her big blue eyes lighting up. All he wanted to do was hold her but all he could do was sit and stare. He could see he was making her feel uncomfortable.

‘You alright, Tommy?’

Maggie stretched out her hand and touched his arm. It was like an electric shock and she was clearly hurt as he pulled his hand away.

‘I’m fine, why shouldn’t I be?’

‘I dunno; you just don’t seem yourself, babe.’

Tommy gave Maggie a tight smile. She was trying to make things better, she’d always done that even as a kid. Fussing around him, desperate to make sure everything was alright, desperate to make him feel loved and safe when nothing ever did and nothing ever could be.

He watched his mother and Maggie gassing away, seeing their mouths moving but not hearing anything they said. Things were getting difficult; muddled. He wanted to stop it but it was like the train had started rolling and he didn’t know how to get off it.

The voice in his head was becoming deafening, the sounds getting louder until he wasn’t able to think straight. The nightmares had come back and he’d started waking up with his body sweating and his mouth parched dry.

Last night he’d found himself walking through Soho in the early hours, stumbling around as if he was drunk. He’d visited the sauna on Brewer Street where he’d had a massage and then the full works. He’d thought it would’ve made a difference, releasing some of the energy which was whirling around his body but it’d only added to the feeling. He’d been like a wild dog; he’d fucked the Tom so hard she’d cried out for him to stop and that’d only made things worse. He’d apologised profusely but all he saw was the fear in her eyes as she looked straight at him. A look he’d seen many times before. All he’d been able to do was run; but he knew already there was no running from himself as the memories came back.

He could smell the blood. Her blood. And Tommy closed his eyes for a moment. He was tired. It’d been a long night. Even though it was cold, he could feel the sweat on him. He could see it on her naked body. The room lay silent now. She’d given up screaming. She could see it was pointless. He wasn’t going to let her go. It was only going to make things worse.

‘Tommy? Tommy?’

His mother was speaking to him with a worried look on her face. He snapped at her, jarred by being brought back to the present.

‘Fuck me, where’s the bleeding fire.’

‘Ain’t no fire son, only my words falling on deaf flipping ears. Where’ve you been? Next time take me with you.’

‘Believe me, Mum; you don’t want to go where I’ve been.’

His mother grinned at him and got back up to make another brew. He turned to Maggie who was sitting back in her chair and quietly watching him. They held each other’s stare for a moment. Then Maggie spoke quietly and quickly before their mother came back to sit down.

‘Tommy, whatever it is; I’m here. It doesn’t matter what time of the day or night it is: if you need to talk, I’ll listen.’

Tommy stood up and moved around to his mother, placing a kiss on the top of her head.

‘I’m off out. Dad wants me to do some bag money with him.’

‘Be careful Tom, give me a call on my mobile. Let me know you’re alright.’

He smiled at his mother, then looked over at his sister and nodded before turning away with a leaden feeling in his heart.

CHAPTER TWENTY (#ulink_523a58ef-7b7e-564f-a1cc-0572b8069d33)

Gypsy Taylor stood in the hallway and cursed Frankie under her breath for not getting the maintenance guy to fix the squeaking sound on the front door. It was ridiculous, she’d twice tried to open the door to sneak out, and twice the creaking sound had echoed around the hall as if she’d set off a box of Chinese firecrackers.

What was she doing? She hadn’t acted like this since she was a teenager, hiding before sneaking out of the house, but she had somewhere to go that she couldn’t cancel. She’d an evening appointment. They hadn’t had anything else for over a month, so she’d taken it.

She was in two minds whether or not just to go and tell Frankie she needed to go out for an hour. The problem was she knew he’d want to know where she was going; hell, he might even want to drive her there himself. She couldn’t tell him and she certainly couldn’t have him taking her there.

There’d been enough rowing since Lorna had arrived and as much as Gypsy had a gob on her to rival the firing of the cannons in the Battle of Trafalgar, she hated having cross words with Frankie.

She loved her husband but she wished he could see what a stirring old cow his sister was. More than that, she wished he could see she also needed her freedom.

There wasn’t any part of her inclined to run off with the nearest fella; Frankie satisfied her in every way possible. She just needed to feel she owed her life a bit more and she wasn’t just an extension of all his business empire. There’d never been anyone else, well not really. Not anyone who counted.

The clock in the kitchen chimed out. It was eight o’clock. If she stood there any longer she’d miss her appointment and be back late.

Gypsy knew nine thirty was her safety net to be back by. Frankie was as regular as her old Nan’s bowels when it came to watching the poker championships on Sky which had already started. Nothing could budge him once he’d tuned in. He’d often joke about it telling her, ‘If there’s a fire babe, leave me till last, just let me finish watching the game.’

The poker finished at ten fifteen so it gave her plenty of room. She was only popping close to home so there was no panic about having to catch a bus or tube back. It was close enough to walk to and close enough for her hopefully not to be missed.

Bracing herself, Gypsy opened the door, trying to ignore the loud creak. She quickly looked around, making sure nobody had been disturbed within the house and once she saw the coast was clear, she hurried into the street.

After a few minutes Gypsy decided to cut through the backstreets to avoid the throng of people who seemed to be going nowhere fast. She was wearing open-toed Jimmy Choo sandals, so the last thing she wanted was to have her feet trampled on like bunches of grapes at harvest time.

It started to rain and Gypsy swore loudly. She didn’t know why because it wasn’t as if the British summer did anything besides rain. But each time the heavens opened she acted surprised as if bad weather was a new phenomenon in the country.

It began to get heavier and Gypsy ran for cover under the doorway of some newly refurbished apartments. She’d been too busy trying to sneak out without being caught to even think of bringing an umbrella. Now she had a choice of whether to get soaked or spend the rest of the short time she had stuck beneath the building.

Gypsy sighed, and as she did so she thought she heard someone cough. She looked down the deserted street, her eyes darting across the square. Even though she couldn’t see anyone, she got the distinct impression she was being watched.

Although it was early summer it was already dark from the stormy sky and she decided to brave the rain rather than stand there. Pulling up her silk jacket she began to walk down the alleyway, quickly turning around to make sure no one was following her. Halfway down she looked back again. Her heart pounded as she suddenly caught a glimpse of someone lurking in the shadows.

Automatically she went into her bag to phone Frankie. Then stopped. What was she doing? She couldn’t possibly phone Frankie or any of his men like she normally would’ve done. Usually if she needed anything, Frankie was the first person she’d call. He was always coming to her rescue if she needed him to. Whether because she’d bought too many clothes in the shops and had loads of bags to get home, or she was caught in a downpour coming back from the beauty salon, or like now, when she felt afraid; Frankie would be there. But for the first time in years Gypsy found herself alone. And she didn’t like the feeling at all.

Gypsy quickened her pace, determined not to give way to the panic which was rising within her. She was being silly, she was sure of it, but her imagination was starting to get the better of her.

She didn’t want to be conscious of her racing heart, her dry mouth and the sick feeling rising in her stomach. She wanted to run but her fear seemed to be slowing her down. She couldn’t think straight but she knew she had to keep walking; keep going towards a place where there’d be people.