Born Evil (22 page)

Charlie pulled himself away from her. ‘Can I go back to my bedroom now?’

‘Of course you can,’ Debbie said, stunned by her son’s change of heart. ‘Whatever did you say to him?’ she asked Steve as soon as Charlie was out of earshot.

‘Just had a little chat. As I said before, Debs, he needs a man’s touch,’ Steve replied, unable to look her in the eye.

Over the next few days, because of Charlie’s turnaround, Debbie was able to concentrate on the wedding. Her mum was a great help and the pair of them spent hours organising the last minute bits and bobs. Debbie had refused to get married in church and opted for a quick ceremony in a Register Office, together with a handful of family and close friends.

‘I don’t want loads of fuss and there’s no way I’m floating up the aisle in a wedding dress, being stared at by all and sundry,’ she’d told Steve.

‘As long as me and you get married, I don’t care if you wear a boiler suit and we say our vows in the middle of Romford fucking Market. We’ll do whatever you wanna do, babe. Just tell me the date and the time and I’ll be there.’

June had been a bit put out at first that her daughter hadn’t opted for the works. ‘Peter and I will pay for it, Debbie. You must have a church wedding, love. It’s the biggest day of your life.’

But Debbie was adamant. ‘Mum, I’m ugly. I’ve got a wonky nose, me hair’s too short and makes me look like a lesbian, I ain’t even got me own fucking front teeth … If you think I’m parading meself about in a church, looking like I do, you can think again.’

June got ever so upset when Debbie put herself down. She was attractive, everybody said so. If only her daughter could look into the mirror and see what everybody else did. Knowing when she was beaten, though, June decided to keep her trap shut from that day onwards and abide by Debbie’s wishes. It was her big day, after all.

The hen night and stag nights were two small affairs because neither Debbie nor Steve particularly wanted them.

Steve held his in a boozer up in Bow and could have throttled Mickey and the lads when some Roly Poly stripogram turned up. Bendy Wendy, she called herself. He nearly died when she got out her massive pair of jugs and rubbed them in his face.

Debbie opted for a sit-down meal in a local Chinese and was joined by a few old school friends, two distant cousins and Susan, her friend from across the street. Her mum was unable to attend as she was the only person on earth capable of baby-sitting Charlie.

The night before the wedding, Debbie sent Steve back home and had her mum stay with her. Steve hadn’t formally moved in with her yet, though he stayed at least five or six nights a week.

On 23 December, the morning of the wedding, Debbie was overcome by nerves and couldn’t get off the toilet. ‘Drink that, darling, it’ll calm you down,’ June said, thrusting a glass of champagne at her.

Debbie’s old classmate, Alison, arrived at ten. A qualified beautician, she’d promised to do her friend’s makeup, hair and nails.

‘Oh, Debbie. I’m so proud of you! You look absolutely fantastic, darling,’ June crowed as she admired the finished results.

Instead of a wedding dress, Debbie had opted for a beige pinstripe skirt and jacket. She accompanied this with a white, wide-collared blouse, high tan suede boots, a small beige hat and a bouquet of cream-coloured flowers. Looking in the mirror, she was surprised to see how nice she looked. Temporarily, her confidence soared.

‘Are you ready to see how cute your little boy looks?’ June asked excitedly, pulling a sullen-looking Charlie into the bedroom by his clammy hand.

As Debbie looked at him in his little grey suit, white shirt and pink tie, she felt as if she was about to burst with pride. He looked so grown up, bless him.

Peter turned up at twelve o’clock and told them that the car was waiting outside. Much to June’s delight, Debbie had agreed that he should give her away. With her brother already snapped up as best man and her real dad six feet under, she hadn’t really had a lot of choice in the matter.

Insisting that Charlie should sit next to her in the car, Debbie squeezed his hand. ‘Are you all right, darling?’

He nodded without answering. His behaviour had been a little odd all this last week, she mused. He’d been polite, but only ever spoke when spoken to and answered with a complete lack of expression. He’d stopped playing up so much, which was one good thing, but spent even more time in his bedroom, talking to his make-believe friend. Concerned for him but not wanting to spoil her own big day, Debbie resolutely turned her thoughts back to her husband-to-be.

As the music played and the ceremony began, Steve glanced around and caught sight of his bride walking towards him. The love he felt for her choked him. Debbie looked so beautiful that he was unable to stop his tears. Seeing his friend’s emotion, Mickey patted him on the back reassuringly.

Peter felt quite honoured to be giving Debbie away. The man he was handing her over to wouldn’t have been his first choice of chap, but he could tell that Steve genuinely loved his step-daughter and that was good enough for him. Peter’s own emotions were running riot. He’d found out only yesterday, by email, that his own daughter Dolores had just got married on a secluded beach in Thailand. Apparently she’d been given away by a complete stranger. He hadn’t told June the news yet. She would be so upset for him and he didn’t want to spoil her big day.

The ceremony was short and sweet. As the happy couple made their vows, there was hardly a dry eye in the house. June, Mickey, Peter … they all shed a tear. Only Charlie showed no emotion. Head bowed, he stared at the floor.

A short photographic session in the pretty adjoining gardens was followed by a slap-up meal at a restaurant in Hornchurch town centre.

Steve gave a short but moving speech in which he thanked Debbie for making him the happiest man alive. Peter got up next and said a few polite words on behalf of June and himself. Not surprisingly, it was Mickey’s acid tongue which completely stole the show, as usual. The whole restaurant was in hysterics as he delivered his hilarious best man’s speech.

‘As you know, Marbella is full of famous people. Many a villain has left these shores to live it up there. Ronnie Biggs once lived there … Mickey Green … Freddie Foreman … the list is endless. I happened to be over there recently, conducting a bit of business, and was very surprised to find that this man here,’ Mickey paused to pat Steve on the back, ‘is as well known as anyone. No matter what bar or restaurant I went in, the name on everyone’s lips was Stephanie Arthur Roberts.’

Steve felt himself go beetroot red as the whole place erupted into laughter. Mickey carried on: ‘Now let me tell ya a little story. I hadn’t known Steph that long when he decided to take me over West Ham. Anyway, we’re queuing up at the ground and we finally gets to the turnstile. So, I’ve gone through, looked round and I can’t see Steph anywhere. I couldn’t work it out. I knew he was right behind me. Anyway, I wanders back towards the entrance to see if I can spot him, and you’ll never guess where he was … ’

Steve put his head in his hands as all the guests urged Mickey to tell them. He was such a piss-taking bastard, Steve would kill him for this.

Mickey smiled as triumphantly he finished his story. ‘Poor old Steph was that fat, he’d got stuck in the fucking turnstile! The stewards were pulling on his oversized arms, but they couldn’t dislodge him. And the funniest part of it was, the crowd who were queuing up behind, clocked what was going on and broke into song. All I could hear was half of Upton Park singing, “Who ate all the pies, who ate all the pies? You fat bastard, you fat bastard, you ate all the pies!”’

‘I’ll fucking kill you for that, you cunt,’ Steve joked as Mickey sat back down.

The evening reception had been arranged and paid for by the best man and was held at a pub in Rainham village. Another hundred or so guests joined in the celebrations there and put the finishing touch to a completely successful day.

As Debbie sat at a table next to her mum, she noticed her son staring into space. ‘You all right, Charlie? Are you gonna come and have a dance with Mummy?’

He shook his head and stared down at the floor.

‘Shall I get you something to eat from the buffet? They’ve got chicken nuggets – your favourite. Mummy ordered them especially for you.’

‘Not hungry,’ he replied, still staring at the floor.

Debbie ruffled his hair and dragged June to the Ladies. ‘I’m really worried about him, Mum. He hardly touched his food in the restaurant and he’s barely said a word all day. You don’t think he’s ill, do you?’

‘Not on your nelly,’ replied June. ‘There’s sod all wrong with him. He’s just playing up, trying different tactics. I’ll keep me eye on him. You go and find your husband and have a bloody good time, love.’

Taking her mother’s advice, Debbie let her hair down and spent the rest of the evening singing, drinking and laughing. She sat with Steve’s friends and family, and was overjoyed, but not surprised, to find out just how popular and highly thought of he was.

‘Honestly, Debbie, you’ve got yourself a good ’un there. If it weren’t for Steve, I’d have been shoved in a home as a kid. He fed me, clothed me, put me on the right track in life. If he hadn’t guided me, I’d probably be inside now, like most of me old mates are,’ insisted Steve’s little brother Lee, who’d been granted special leave by the army for his brother’s big day.

The latter part of the evening passed in one big happy blur. The DJ called Debbie and Steve on to the dance floor and played Cliff Richard’s ‘Congratulations’. Everyone stood in a circle and surrounded the happy couple. Debbie and Steve then smooched to Elton John’s ‘Your Song’, which had been a favourite of Steve’s mum. Completely oblivious to anyone else, they gazed lovingly into one another’s eyes.

‘Do you think we’ll always be this happy, Steve?’ Debbie asked him.

‘Of course we will, babe. Nothing and no one can spoil what we’ve got,’ he insisted.

*

At the very moment that Debbie and Steve were enjoying their last dance, Billy McDaid lay wide awake in his cell, unable to sleep. He had no idea that Debbie was even with Steve, let alone that they’d got married that day. He’d been sentenced the previous week and had received five years for his crime. He no longer loved Debbie; in fact, he hated her and blamed her for everything bad that had ever happened to him. Closing his eyes, he pictured his son, his precious little Charlie boy.

‘I love you, son,’ he said softly as he kissed a photo of the child. Talking to Charlie kept him sane in this place. ‘One day me and you will be together, boy.’

‘Shut up, bloodclot,’ came the dulcet tones of his cell-mate Clinton.

Billy was frightened of the big, black six-footer he was sharing with, so quickly shut up. Smiling to himself, he pictured the day he and his son were finally together again.

Billy had heard that he’d also fathered a couple of kids up in Scotland. Obviously, he’d never met them. He had no wish to. In his mind, Charlie was the only child who truly belonged to him. One day, when he got out of this shit-hole, he’d make things right with his son. Billy had always regarded himself as a bit of a face. Surely his wean would turn out to be a chip off the old block. The child bore his surname, after all.

Once a McDaid, always a McDaid.

Like Billy himself, the kid was destined to become a legend.

REALISING THAT THE
girls were due to be picked up in less than half an hour, Debbie gobbled the last of her sandwich, picked up the keys to her latest birthday present, a BMW X5, and headed off for the drama school to collect her daughters.

As she sat in heavy traffic, she thought briefly back over her past. The Billy saga was virtually forgotten now, little more than a distant memory to her. She had a wonderful life and, truth be told, it was all thanks to Steve. Marrying him was the best decision Debbie had ever made, and she loved him more as each day passed.

Over the past ten years her life had turned around completely. When she looked into the mirror these days she could barely make out the shy, wonky-nosed individual she had once been. She was now the mother of two beautiful little girls, Gracie aged eight and Rosie who had just turned six.

Steve was a wonderful father, strict but fair, and the girls were a credit to their parents. Polite and intelligent, they excelled at dance and drama and were loved by anyone and everyone who came into contact with them. On the birth of his first daughter, Gracie, Steve had made the life-changing decision to give up crime and go legit.

‘I ain’t missing out on seeing my daughter grow up so I’m going straight,’ he’d announced. True to his word, he’d managed to badger Mickey into going halves with him to buy a pub. Debbie’s brother had been dubious at first but had stuck up half the cash, opting to be a silent partner. He was more surprised than anyone when the venture turned out to be a huge success. A bit put out that Steve had cracked it without his help, Mickey soon got involved in the running of it himself.

Mickey and Steve were still very well known and respected in certain criminal circles and it wasn’t long before the pub was packed out with their own kind. The customers who drank there felt safe. They knew Mickey and Steve were two of their own and consequently all kinds of business could be discussed freely and openly, without their having to worry. Within a year of its opening, the pub had made enough money for the boys to expand their thriving business. They were now the proud owners of four boozers in total and had just added a gentlemen’s club to their rapidly growing empire.

Neither Mickey nor Steve was involved in running the premises now. They’d hired managers for each establishment to do the actual work. Their own job was to keep an eye on the overall running of the businesses and flit from one to the other of them, turning up at unannounced times on a daily basis to make spot checks. Mickey had taken Steve’s lead and four years ago decided to go straight himself. There were two reasons for his change of heart. First, he’d had a tip off from a bent copper he knew, telling him the old bill were on to him, and the second reason was Karen.