A Kind of Hush (7 page)

When we got back to the pub, the van was gone. I gunned the engine and we raced to Hackney.

I drove around to the back of the old Shanks factory and saw Mick’s van parked by the loading-bay doors. I stopped and we got out. Next to the doors was a large broken window, blood was on the sill and running down the wall. We heard noises coming from inside, so we climbed through. There was a light coming from a door across the loading-bay area. We walked over quietly.

Inside were the lads. Mick and Alan were talking.

‘But you could have killed him,’ said Mick.

‘Serves the shit right,’ said Alan. ‘It was a stupid thing to do.’

Lying in the corner on a pile of cardboard was my old man. He was making kind of wailing noises and muttering, ‘You didn’t need to do that, I was going to do as you said, you didn’t need to do that.’ The left leg of his trousers was torn and bloodstained.

‘What happened?’ I asked.

Mick turned to me. ‘Hello mate,’ he said, ‘how’d it go?’

‘Triffic,’ I said, ‘but what happened here?’

'Stupid bastard tried to run, so Alan threw him through the window,' said Mick.

Fucking brilliant it was,' said Pete. 'Just like Superman.'

'Has he said anything yet?' I asked.

'No,' said Mick. 'I thought we'd wait for you before we got started.'

The old man had become aware of a new voice and fell silent. His glasses were smashed so he couldn't make out any faces, but I felt that he knew who I was. There was no going back now. I moved over to him.

'You know me?' I asked.

'Yeah,' he sneered. Pete and Den tightened their grip on his arms.

'Fucking hell!' he shouted. 'That hurts.'

'That's tough,' I said. 'Now just tell me what I want to know.'

'Bollocks!' he growled.

'Naughty, naughty,' said Wivva and he lightly tapped him on the nose with a club hammer that he'd brought with him.

'Shit! Take it easy,' yelped the old man. 'You could hurt someone with that.'

'Bloody hell,' said Wivva. 'I never knew that. Did you know that, Den?'

'Live and learn, don't you,' said Den.

'You do indeed,' said Wivva. 'You do indeed.'

'Let's make him a bit more comfortable,' I said as I looped a length of rope around his right ankle and tied the other end to the bottom of a storage rack. Tony did the same with his left leg and Pete and Den with his arms to other parts of the rack.

The old man was now completely helpless. He reminded me a bit of a rat that we had pinned out at school for dissection.

'Are we gonna talk now, or are you just gonna fuck about?' I asked.

'You shouldn't talk to your old dad like that, son,' he said. 'You remember what I used to do when you got stroppy.'

'Oh, I remember all right,' I said. 'I've still got the scars and I see you've still got the belt.'

He grinned.

I undid his belt and pulled it from him.

'You couldn't do it,' he said mockingly. I folded the belt in half and whipped it hard across his face.

'All right! All right!' he yelped. 'What d'you want?'

'Straight answers to straight questions,' I said.

'Okay,' he said. 'But just keep that mad fucker away from me.'

He looked over at Wivva. Wivva laughed.

'First some information for you,' I said. 'Jenny's safe.'

'I know all about her, the whore,' he spat. 'Gus is gonna have your balls for that.'

I hit him again. I was stunned that he could still be so arrogant. He shut up.

'Like I said. Jenny is safe and Ali is being looked after and when she leaves hospital both her and Jenny will be living with me; you'll never see them again.'

'That's fine with me,' he said, 'the gutless cows never did appreciate all I did for them.'

He was making us all very angry and the stupid bastard never even saw it.

'About the baby,' I said.

'I never touched her!' he shrieked. 'It wasn't me, I didn't do it!'

I froze, my mouth stopped working, I sensed all of us tensing up.

'Who did?' asked Mick, giving the impression that he knew what the old man was talking about.

'It wasn't me!' he yelled again, then said, 'I let him take her out for the day and when he brought her back, she ... she . . .'

I looked over at Si.

'Sorry, Stu,' he said. 'There was some blood in her nappy when I changed her, I couldn't tell you. I did tell Beryl though, she's going to get her checked out.'

'Bastard!' I hissed at the old man. 'Who?'

'Gus,' he said. 'It was Gus.' He then started wheezing.

'Where is he? How can I get him?' I asked.

'No chance, he'll fucking crucify me,' he said.

'Now that's a good idea,' said Wivva and produced from his pocket a handful of six-inch nails. 'Always come prepared, that's what I say,' said Wivva. 'No good 'aving an 'ammer wiv no nails is it?'

The old man's eyes widened in terror.

'Come on,' he said, his voice trembling. 'You're not serious are you, boys?'

'Right hand first,' I said. 'That's the one he wanks with.'

Pete and Den spread out his hand as Wivva moved over, placed a nail in the centre of it and raised the hammer. He slammed down hard and drove the nail through his hand deep into the floorboard underneath. The old man screamed.

'Tell me,' I said. 'Where is he?'

'Please,' he moaned. 'Please don't. . .'

I took the hammer from Wiwa and moved to the other hand. Wiwa tossed me a nail. I placed it in his palm and swung the hammer down hard, the nail bent as it bit deep through his flesh and into the floor. He passed out. I felt nothing for him. No horror, no shock, nothing but intense hate. I wanted him to wake up so that I could start on him again.

Take a break,' said Mick. Alan produced some cans, we all took one, those that smoked lit up. We sat quiet for about ten minutes. Tony flicked on his portable cassette, my music was on it this time. Chris Rea, 'Road To Hell'. It seemed just about right.

'He's gotta tell us,' I said.

'Let me try,' said Mick as he got up and went outside. He came back with a large red can and started to pour petrol over the old bastard's head and body. Coughing and spluttering he woke up.

'Please,' he wailed. 'Please let me go. I won't tell anyone, I promise.'

'What can you smell?' Mick asked him softly.

'W - W - What,' he spluttered.

'What can you smell?' Mick repeated.

He sniffed and sniffed again. Recognition hit him like a thunderbolt.

'No, no, please, you can't do that!' he screamed.

'You've got something to tell us,' said Mick, raising his eyebrow.

'Okay,' he said, 'okay. It's in a tin I've hidden. There's a diary. Everything you want's in there. Names, addresses, even how much they've paid me over the years. There's money there too. It's yours if you let me go, 
over ten grand there is, you can live good on ten grand you know. Let me go and I'll take^you there, you'll never find it without me.'

Si and me looked at each other and burst out laughing.

'What's so funny?' asked Mick.

'I've got it,' I said still laughing. 'I remembered his little hidey-hole from when I was a kid and I cleaned it out when I picked up Cheri.'

'Well, fuck my old boots,' said Mick. 'After all that. So what do we do now?' He turned to me.

'You guys go outside,' I said. 'I'll finish off in here.'

Mick looked at my eyes, nodded and said, 'Sure mate, come on fellas.'

They checked to make sure that they had left nothing behind and left me with him.

I sat cross-legged beside his head.

'Before I go,' I said, 'there's a few things that I have to say to you. You've done your best to make mine and the girls' lives as miserable as you can and all just so you can get what you want. You don't give a shit about us, you don't give a shit about anyone but you, you don't deserve to live. This is for Alison and Jenny and me. But most of all, this is for little Cheri.' I pulled out Chef's lighter, lit him and left.

‘Fourteen fire appliances fought a blaze at an abandoned factory building in Hackney during the night. The fire, thought to have been started by vandals, gutted most of the three-storey building and spread to heathland adjoining the site. Local residents’ spokesman Mr John Poole said, “It came as no surprise. We have been expecting something like this to happen for a long time.” He called for the Council and the police to increase their security patrols on sites such as this.’

Beryl turned down the telly and passed me the tin.

‘We haven’t even looked at it yet,’ she said. ‘We’ve been kept pretty busy what with Cheri and everything.’

‘How is she?’ I asked.

‘She’s going to be fine,’ said Beryl. ‘My sister gave her a full going over. She’s a bit undernourished and has a rather nasty anal fissure, that’s a tear in her bum, but she said that lots of kids get that who suffer from constipation and then strain themselves too much. She’s left us some medication for it and some vitamins and tonic. She’s also left me a diet sheet so that we can get her weight back up again.’

‘But she’s so quiet,’ I said.
 

'Not surprising, given the life the poor kid's had,' said Beryl.

'Jen tells me that your father would give her a clump if she so much as opened her mouth. She's just learned, in the nastiest way possible, to stay quiet. Give her some time and hopefully she'll be a bouncing healthy child again.'

'I hope so,' I said. 'I hope so.'

I turned the tin over and emptied the contents on to the table. I picked out the cash and passed it to Jen for counting while I went through what was left. There was the diary. It was a large leather-bound book. I quickly flicked through it then put it aside for later. What was left was an Abbey National passbook which had two thousand, four hundred and thirty-two pounds in it. Stapled to the inside cover in a little envelope was his cashpoint card complete with pin number. That was handy, I thought. There was also a bunch of keys with a label tied to them, a Rolex watch, and it was genuine, a solid gold fob-watch that looked very old, a membership card for a club called Fotojoy UK, and finally, a fucking awful picture of him with Ali and Jen taken when they were obviously a lot younger. I slipped the picture into my pocket out of Jen's sight. I was going to destroy it later.

Jen had finished counting the money and sat back stunned.

'How much?' I asked.

'I can't believe it,' she said. 'He was always so broke. There's thirteen thousand, nine hundred and sixty pounds here. Where did he get it?'

'God knows,' I said. 'But it's yours now, yours, Ali's and Cheri's.'

'I couldn't,' she said. 'What if he wants it back?'

'He won't want it back Jen. He's gone away for good, and won't ever be back. The only decent thing that he ever did, before he left, was to tell me to give you all the money.'

Beryl looked at me in that knowing way that she has, but she said nothing. Then she hugged Jen and said, 'We can do some real shopping tomorrow, sweetheart. You, me and Cheri.' Jen's face lit up, the way that a kid's face should when they get a surprise present. It was great to see her smiling.

'Are you sure?' she asked me.

'Would I lie?' I said, holding my palms up. She playfully tapped my head with a bundle of notes, and laughed.

I said my goodbyes and left, taking with me everything from the tin but the money. I went back to Mick's. 1 tried the cashcard on the way. It worked. I arrived at Mick's with my arms full of takeaways and booze.

The diary was full of names, addresses and numbers. We found it difficult to understand, but it looked very important. On one page was stuck a leaflet, the heading of which read:

DELIVERY SERVICE

Just order the type and service that you require and

we will deliver it to your door within two hours.

No reasonable request denied.

Why not live out your fantasies.

Underneath was a telephone number and a computer password with a list of compatible computers using something called a 'modem' system.

'What's all that mean?' I asked.

'Seems to me like they're delivering kids like pizzas,' said Mick. 'And what's more, it's all high-tech. That means that it's big money and big people.'

'How big, Mick?' I asked.

'Fuck knows,' he said. 'But we may get a good idea if we check out some of these addresses.'

'I'm game,' said Tony. 'But what do we do with it then?'

'We could send it to the Old Bill,' said Den.

'Not yet,' I said. I want to get this Gus geezer first.'

'Okay,' said Mick. 'But what then?'

T don't know yet,' I said, 'let's wait and see.'

'Whatever we do,' said Mick, 'it's gotta be something very, very, special.' He winked. We all got the message.

I’d just left Ali, the tube was out of her nose and she was looking slightly better. She was full of questions. I answered as many as I could, as best as I could, leaving out of course one or two of the details that, like Jen, she would be better off not knowing. Jen, Beryl and Cheri turned up while I was there. Jen was more like the way I had remembered her, jeans, T-shirt, no make-up, trainers, she’d even had all of her long hair cut off and wore it now cut short like a boy. She looked great. Cheri was chirpy but hid from me when I said hello to her. Beryl picked her up and tickled her tummy; she chuckled and much to my relief she seemed okay.

They were all talking at once, most of the talk being about Cheri. I felt a bit like a spare part so I thought that I’d shoot off and leave them to it. Before I could go, Jen said, ‘We’ve got something for you, Stu,’ and handed me a big parcel and four envelopes.

‘What’s this?’ I asked.

‘Open it and see,’ said Jen.

I opened the envelopes first, they were birthday cards. I had forgotten that it was my birthday.

There was one from Jen with a stupid-looking frog on 
it. One from Ali that she had obviously tried to sign herself. One from Cheri in the shape of a teddy-bear and her hand-print inside, and the last one was from Beryl. In it she had written, To Stewart with fondest love, Beryl and Chef.' I started to fill up, I had to get out of there.

'Open the present, Stu, please open the present,' said Jen jumping up and down. I tore the paper off and inside was the most brilliant leather jacket that I had ever seen, it must have cost a bomb.

'I remembered that you always wanted one when you were a kid,' Ali said. 'I hope this one's okay.'

'Are you kidding,' I said, 'it's fu . . .' Beryl scowled at me, 'it's triffic, really triffic'

I put it on, hugged them all and said, 'I must go, things to do you know.'

Beryl said that she'd walk down with me. I turned to go then spun around and said, 'Oh, by the way chaps, Daddy gave me a Rolex,' and flashed my left arm. Both of the girls collapsed into hysterics, Ali moaning 'It hurts, it hurts' between laughs. Always leave 'em laughing, that's what I say.

Beryl walked with me to the main entrance.

'We need to sit down soon and talk about the future,' she said.

'Are the girls a problem?' I asked.

'No, it's not anything like that,' she said. 'They're a joy to have and I'm happier than I've been for a long time. It's just the long term, we've got to start making plans.'

'You're right,' I said. 'Soon, Beryl, I promise.'

'Okay, love,' she said and added, 'and as for you, I don't quite know what you're up to, although I can make some shrewd guesses. Just promise me that you'll be 
careful. Those girls have had enough pain.'

'Cross my heart,' I said with an innocent look on my face.

'Now don't mess about, Stewart,' she said sternly.

'Sorry, Beryl,' I said. 'I promise that I'll be careful.'

She stuck another of her lipstick smears on my cheek, ruffled my perfect hairstyle and went back inside.

Mick had been waiting in the car. I climbed in and said, 'Okay, my son, let's go and see what that shitty old man of mine's left in his shitty old house.'

'Nice jacket, sweety,' he said.

'Fuck off, you git,' I said as we drove off laughing.

We could feel that something was wrong as soon as we opened the door. For a start, the lights were on and all of the doors were wide open.

'I definitely didn't leave it like this,' I said. We listened for any noises, but the house was quiet so we silently moved ahead and started to check the rooms. Every room had been turned over.

Downstairs, all of the furniture in the front room had been ripped out and the television smashed in, the carpets were ripped up throughout. The cooker had been pulled from the wall in the kitchen and all of the crockery from the cupboards had been smashed. Corn flakes, tomato sauce, sugar, eggs you name it, everything was spilled on to the floor.

Upstairs was no different, every room had been destroyed. The old man's room was by far the worst. His bed was in shreds. The carpet was piled in the corner on top of the completely smashed wardrobe. Cheri's cot was in pieces, the bedside cabinet unrecognisable, even the floorboards had been ripped up and were strewn all over 
the place like a kind of Chinese chopsticks. The word 'SLAG' had been spray-painted on the back wall where the bed had been and 'YOU'RE DEAD, YOU SCUM' was sprayed in a long jagged line around the rest.

'Notice something wrong?' said Mick.

'What d'you mean, course I fucking do,' I said.

'No, not the mess,' he said, 'something else.'

'What?'

'Nothing's missing. The video, telly, stereo all smashed but not taken. Even your sister's jewellery is still there. This wasn't vandals, it was made to look like vandals by someone who was looking for something.'

'The diary!' we both said together.

'Let's fuck off out of here,' said Mick. We did, quick.