Toxic. Jacqui Rose
were aching now, but she continued to run, her thin trousers covered in blood. She headed towards a small, gravelled track aiming for the copse on the other side.
‘Bree! Bree!’
She glanced back, then she heard a roar. A screech. The sudden slamming of brakes.
‘Look where you’re going, you dozy mare! I could’ve killed you.’
She spun round, feeling the car on her leg as she leant her hands on the hot bonnet. Panting.
Blinking.
Staring at the driver. A moment of slight recognition passed between them before Bree began to run.
‘Hey, come back! You alright, love?’
Limping, she leant against a tree, trying to get her breath. She had no idea where she was, and even though the woods were close to where she lived, she’d never ventured into them on her own.
Setting off again along an overgrown path, Bree heard the cracking of twigs but before she had time to turn around, heavy, rough hands grabbed her. She screamed as she was pulled down into the undergrowth. Feeling Johnny’s breath against her neck.
She froze as he sat behind her, putting his hands round her waist, drawing her in between his legs. Kissing her on her neck whilst stroking her hair.
He spoke quietly. A dangerous lull in his voice. ‘What did you think you were doing, Bree?’
Her words were breathless with fear. ‘Nothing.’
‘You was going to leave me, weren’t you?’
She shook her head quickly. ‘I wasn’t, I swear, Johnny.’
Slightly too hard, he nibbled the lobe of her ear, making Bree flinch. ‘I don’t believe you, baby.’
Bree shivered, feeling like she had a thousand ants crawling underneath her skin. ‘All I wanted to do was just take the kids out. I was going to get you a surprise.’
He shrieked into her ear, causing the nesting starlings to fly out of the trees and into the sky. ‘Liar!’
‘Please, Johnny.’
‘You know what I have to do now Bree, don’t you? I have to teach you a lesson.’
Bree couldn’t control her shaking, her body went into spasms, and she didn’t know if it was just the wet earth or if she’d wet herself in fear.
‘And why do I, Bree? Why do I have to teach you a lesson?’
Bree stayed silent as her whole body trembled.
‘I said, why do I? Say it! Say it, Bree!’
Crying and gasping for air, Bree Dwyer closed her eyes, only just managing to speak.
‘Because nobody ever leaves Johnny.’
‘Wakey, wakey! Come on my handsome darlin’s, what’s all this? The day has started and you two pieces of lump are still in bed.’
Lola Harding cackled loudly as she energetically opened the curtains in the garishly decorated silver and velvet master bedroom of Janine Jennings’ large mansion just outside the straggling village of Wimbish in Essex.
‘Do me a favour! Bloody hell, Lola! Turn it in. Are you trying to kill me?’
‘No one died of a bit of sunshine, hey Janine?’
Leaning against the bedroom door, Janine Jennings sniffed as she bit into her fifth chocolate biscuit of the morning. ‘Don’t know why yer bothering, my husband has always been a lazy bastard.’
Alfie Jennings sat straight up. ‘Ex-husband.’
Janine guffawed with laughter. Her gold necklaces jangling with her. ‘You see, that’s the way to get him out of bed; remind him of our nuptials. Come on Vaughnie, take them covers off yer head. What’s wrong with you two? You asked me to wake you up.’
Alfie groaned. ‘Not this bloody early. And if I’d known me and Vaughnie had to share a bed when you said we could stay, I wouldn’t have bothered.’
Janine scowled. ‘Beggars can’t be choosers and anyway it’s only temporary, ain’t it?’ She paused before adding, ‘I thought you were supposed to be picking up Franny today.’
Alfie’s smile was tight as he tried not to let his anger overwhelm him as he thought of Franny. Franny Doyle, the woman he’d given his heart to. So strong, so beautiful, so clever, so fearless yet with a vulnerability which had made him fall in love with her, no matter how much he had tried to stop himself. But he had, and he’d fallen hard.
The daughter of one of the most notorious gangsters, he’d met Franny in Soho but after a while they’d decided to leave and go and live in Spain; there was nothing in the West End for them anymore. The place had changed beyond recognition. There was no more making money. Gangsters and faces had moved out. Tourists and foreigners, druggies and coffee shops had moved in. The council had clamped down, going into overdrive on any illegal activity, something they would’ve once turned a blind eye to or at least he could’ve paid them off. So, Spain had been their ideal.
He’d even given up the business for her after she’d become tired of seeing how many people it hurt. And he’d been happy to go semi-legitimate, or as happy as he could’ve been. But now, now was entirely different and happy certainly wasn’t a word which came to mind.
He stared at Janine and then at Vaughn. He shrugged, trying his best to sound unruffled.
‘There’s been a slight change of plan.’
Vaughn’s words shot out. ‘What the hell are you talking about?’
‘Look, calm down, nothing’s wrong. Franny’s on her way, she’s just been a bit delayed, that’s all.’
Incensed, Vaughn got out of bed, throwing the duvet in Alfie’s face. He walked across to the crushed velvet window seat and lit up a cigarette, inhaling it hard.
‘That’s all? She’s got two million quid of our money which, let me remind you, is all the money we’ve got in the world, and you expect me to be calm?’
Alfie got up from the mattress, pulling on his red sweat top over his muscular body, much to Lola’s dismay; albeit she was nearing seventy, she still had an admiring eye for a handsome man.
Then, lying through his teeth, Alfie said, ‘It’s just a little hiccup. Apparently when Franny got on the boat there were a lot of coast guards and police about at Puerto Banús and Puerto de la Bajadilla doing a routine sweep of all the private vessels, so she thought it was best to wait until everything’s quietened down before they set off. She knows what she’s doing.’
‘That’s what I’m afraid of. Franny knows exactly what she’s doing.’
Alfie stared at Vaughn, hoping the anger he felt towards Franny didn’t show on his face. Hoping he didn’t give anything away. Not yet anyway.
When they’d left for Spain, both he and Vaughn – who he’d known since he was a teenager – had invested in property. Clubs and restaurants initially, then finally a resort just south of Torremolinos, but then – and maybe it was his own fault for not keeping an eye on the legitimate businesses as he had done the illegitimate ones – the developer had gone bankrupt before the place had been finished, heading off to Mexico with their money, leaving unpaid workers and contractors as well as him and Vaughn out of pocket. The bank had closed in and they’d been left with not much change from fuck all.
But just when they’d started to worry, Reginald Reynolds, Essex kingpin, number one face and an old trusted friend of them both, had got in contact wanting to sell his bookmaker business, which not only incorporated