She listened with rapt attention as the man said, ‘Hello, Gabby, long time no see.’
When Mary Callahan went to find out what was going on she thought she was going to pass out with the shock of seeing her grandson standing in her hallway. She knew she should tell him to go away but how could she do that to him? He must have been deemed all right, or they would not let him roam the streets surely?
‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Nana.’
He was smiling at her and she saw that whatever else had changed about him, he still had those dead eyes. The smile looked genuine enough, but it didn’t reach his eyes. They reminded her of a dead fish, no emotion there whatsoever. He was the image of his father, but bigger somehow, she felt the threat of him invade her and she moved back instinctively.
She noticed that Gabby had moved behind her with little Cherie in her arms.
It was Jack who took over. He walked into the hallway and looked the boy up and down before saying quietly, ‘What do you want?’
James grinned. ‘I don’t want nothing, Granddad. I was in the area . . .’
‘You ain’t welcome here, son. I’m sorry, but it’s best to tell you straight off.’
Mary and Gabby both breathed a sigh of relief. James was not a person to invite into your life. It was sad, it was tragic, but they knew what was best. James was on medication, but that
didn’t guarantee anything. His ‘psychotic episodes’ as they called them – even though it was apparently some time since his last one – were still not something anyone in their right mind would want to be on the receiving end of.
James wasn’t surprised at his granddad’s words, but he had to swallow down the urge to take the old fucker by the throat and teach him a lesson. Instead he shrugged nonchalantly. ‘Just as I expected, but I thought I would say a quick hello.’ He turned his gaze to his sister and, smiling at Cherie, he said, ‘She’s beautiful, Gabs. Looks just like Mother, but I won’t hold that against her. I’m thinking of visiting her next, but no one will give me her address. Don’t suppose you’ve got it, have you?’
At that Jack Callahan laughed. ‘I’ll write it down for you, son, I’m sure you two have a lot of catching up to do.’
Vincent lay in his cell and counted down the hours till he could walk out the doors of this dump and retake his place in society. It was a different lad who would be going home, and he knew that himself. He hoped that his Gabby was as excited as he was. Even though they had a child together, they had never actually spent the night in the same bed, let alone lived in the same house. It was going to take a bit of getting used to for them both.
He knew he had a lot of things to sort out. First and foremost, was that ponce Cynthia. His being banged up had been all the ammunition she needed to keep his daughter by her side. Well, she was going to get a fucking big shock once he was out from behind the door. Poor Gabby had been treated abominably, not just by that cunt, but by his own family. His dad and his brothers had skanked his dough and blown it, without even giving Gabby a few bob to tide her over. He had left her, a sixteen-year-old girl, to contend with it all and that had eaten at him like a cancer over the last four years.
He had done the right thing by keeping his mouth shut, but now he wanted compensation for that – and he intended to get it. It was true what they said in here – the last few weeks were the worst. At least when you didn’t have a release date you didn’t dwell on it too much. Once that date was set though, it was like time was crawling, every day was like a fucking month.
But
tempus fugit
and all that, it
would
eventually fly for him, and he would be on the out.
The next cunt he was going to collar would be his old man. He was going to cut him, mark him for fucking life. That drunken Irish ponce had not even given him time to get sentenced before he had taken his stash and blown it. He intended to make them understand from day one that he was
not
a man to be mugged off, and that anyone who crossed him would pay the consequences. And they would pay dearly.
He had four long fucking years to plan it, and lying in the dark making those plans had kept him sane in this shithole. He was desperate to get out and make his mark in the world. He was a grown man now and, like the Bible said, he had put away childish things. He was determined to get a garage, a legit business, and he was going to become the best driver the Smoke had ever seen.
Derek Greene had already had a message delivered about how he would help him get on his feet, and he would see that the man followed through on his promises. Not many young lads would have been as tight-lipped as he had, leaving their little girlfriend alone and pregnant and prey to the world.
It had been hard watching poor Gabby try and get it together. He had understood her going off the rails a bit – she was a young girl and young girls needed someone to keep them on track. All that was forgiven and forgotten now. Her nana and granddad had been fucking diamond, and he would reward them for their kindness and their loyalty to his little family.
But he was itching to get out and start paying back the debts he knew were his and his alone. When he had finished with the people he felt had mugged him over, his name would be a byword for fucking retribution. And he would guarantee that no one, not
one
fucking person would ever think they could have him over ever again.
Prison was a strange place – it either broke you or it made
you stronger. Well, he was stronger now both physically and mentally than he had ever been before in his life. He had read books until eventually he had understood them, he had trained daily to keep both his body and his mind from stagnating and he was ready for literally anything.
He thought of Gabby on her last visit; she was a fucking beautiful woman now, everything and more he would ever want. His feelings for her had never wavered. He would give her the earth on a plate, and he would enjoy giving it to her. Together they were capable of great things. Of that much at least he was sure.
‘I think we should have warned her.’
Jack Callahan had no such qualms and he said as much to his wife. ‘Fuck her! He’s
her
son, she sent him on the turn, so let her, for once in her life, deal with her own mess.’
‘Supposing he hurts her . . .’
Jack shrugged nonchalantly. ‘Well, we can only hope, love. Now, make me a cup of tea, and stop worrying.’
Mary went to the kitchen and put the kettle on, but she was worried. There was no telling what James Junior was going to do and, whatever Cynthia might be, she herself would not want something like that on her conscience.
In her heart she had always known that James would one day turn up at their door. It was natural that he would eventually want to seek out his kin. She had just
hoped
that he wouldn’t, if she was honest.
Many years ago someone had asked her if she thought tragedy stalked some people, and if that person asked her the same question now she would say yes. Tragedy and evil had plagued her family, and they were helpless in the face of it.
She made the tea and carried it through to her husband; he took the proffered mug and sipped on it without a care in the world. She admired him in many ways, nothing really fazed him. He saw everything in black and white, did her Jack. No grey spots for him.
Bertie Warner decided to have the party for young Vincent at his pub on the Bow Road. He had arranged all the food and drink himself and it promised to be a great night. He couldn’t wait to bring that young lad back into the fold.
As he looked at young Gabriella, who had come over to discuss the music for the party, he saw what had attracted the boy to her. She was exquisite, and she had waited for him – that was always a good sign in a bird as far as he was concerned. She reminded him of his old woman, sensible and calm, which were good traits in a villain’s wife. If the Filth kicked the door in at three in the morning with a search warrant in one hand and a sniffer dog in the other, it was always handy to have a wife who took it in her stride, and kept the kids away from it. Occupational hazards and all that – every job had them.
‘You must be looking forward to seeing him back on the outside, love.’
Gabby nodded happily. ‘It will be great! And I’d like to thank you, Mr Warner, for your help, it’s really appreciated.’
He felt choked, and was surprised that he could still be touched like that after all these years. Most women in her position would be complaining they couldn’t manage on what they were getting; after all, they owed the girl’s old man a huge debt of gratitude. But this little lovely was actually grateful. Wonders would never cease.
‘You’re welcome, love. It doesn’t even begin to cover it. You got a good one there in Vince.’
She beamed at the praise and said honestly, ‘You don’t need to tell me that, Mr Warner. I’ve always known my Vince was special. But I have missed him. I was only sixteen when he got banged up, we’ve never even spent the night together! And now he’s finally coming home to live in our house! How mad is that?’
Bertie Warner felt the urge to actually break down and cry. This lovely little girl had shown him that no one was ever so hard they couldn’t appreciate a real sob story when they heard one. She wasn’t even after a bit of sympathy, she was just being honest.
‘He’s a lucky man to have you, darling – I wish you both a long life of happiness.’ She was smiling with excitement and he thought again how lovely she was. He envied young Vincent coming home to her. ‘You book a DJ or whatever it is you have these days, and just bill it to the pub, all right, love?’
She nodded; this was like a dream to her, one she had been having for four very long years. And it was finally coming true.
‘Mum, listen to me. Vincent wants his daughter at home and, no matter what you tell the social workers, they are already putting in place a residential order for her to come back home full time. Now, if you push me on this, I will leave it to Vincent to sort you out.’
Cynthia knew that she was on the losing side. She had to take this well because if she kicked off now she would lose all contact with little Cherie and that must never happen. She just had to bide her time. This pair of fucking muppets would ruin it all by themselves and when that happened she would make sure she was there to pick up the pieces. So she plastered a fake smile on her face and said, ‘I know, love, and I was going to say that now you are back together, you should be a proper family. The social worker has already explained that you are on track, and that they are confident that you will be able to cope with motherhood in an adult and confident way.’
She had mimicked Miss Byrne so well that even Gabby had to laugh at her.
‘That is exactly what she said to me as well! In that exact voice!’ She was so happy that Vincent was coming home she could even be nice to her mother.
‘Look, Gabriella, it wasn’t anything personal, you know, me having Cherie here. It was for your own good. You were sixteen and alone, and I know I wasn’t the best mother in the world to you or your brother, but it was different with Cherie. I felt older
and wiser. I was ready for the responsibility of a child and, truth be told, was trying to make up to you for everything that had happened in the past. If I had left her with you, you would have fucked up big time. You were just too young, love.’
Gabby smiled at her mother even though she didn’t believe a word the woman was saying. She was backing off gracefully, and that meant she was more dangerous than ever, because she would be scheming. Well, let her scheme. Vincent would be there this time to protect her.
‘Thanks, Mum. By the way, have you seen anything of James?’
For a second, Cynthia was nonplussed. Then Gabby watched as it dawned on her who she was talking about.
‘No. Why, have you?’
Gabby enjoyed her mother’s discomfort and that saddened her, because this was, after all, her mother. ‘Yeah, he turned up at Nana’s last week. He was asking after you. I didn’t know if he’d been in touch.’
Cynthia shook her head violently, and Gabby could see she was rattled, far more than she had expected her to be.
‘How did he look?’
‘Scruffy, still strange. I think he was on something to be honest. His teeth were rotten. I was shocked at the sight of him – he looked really manic, but Granddad aimed him straight out the door. I felt a bit sorry for him.’
Cynthia didn’t answer her.
‘I tell you something, Mum, I’m glad my Vincent will be home soon. I wouldn’t want James hanging around. Though I always wrote to him, a few times a year, like. He never answered a letter, but I still felt he should have some kind of contact with us, you know?’
Cynthia’s mind was working overtime; on a couple of occasions lately she had felt as if she was being watched. Especially late at night when she parked her car, and now it seemed she might have been right to feel that way. Her son was back out on
the streets, someting she had not envisaged ever happening. After all, he was as mad as a fucking March hare. But so-called care in the community meant all sorts were let out these days. Cynthia, being Cynthia, did not see his condition as anything to do with her; as far as she was concerned, he was just born like it. And that, as she was wont to say, was that. But she knew that he had a particular dislike of her after his father’s death. The doctors had warned her of that, and the feeling was mutual. She would keep her eyes open, and take the appropriate precautions. If he came on too strong she would report him without a moment’s guilt. She had a baseball bat she kept for emergencies, and she would happily wrap it round his head if the need arose. She had known he was on the out, but it had not occurred to her he would want to see her or, more to the point, confront her. But at least she had a heads up now, thanks to this daughter of hers. The same daughter who was happily taking away from her the only person she had ever truly cared about.