‘Don’t piss ’ere Matty. Be a good boy and go over there by that tree.’
Cock in hand, Matty shuffled away.
Overcome by shock that he was actually a murderer, Tommy sank to his knees.
‘Move over Tommo, you’re kneeling in piss,’ Tibbsy said, laughing.
Tommy ignored his pal and put his head in his hands. Fuck the piss, that was the least of his problems. He was a killer, he’d wiped out someone’s life and he didn’t have a clue what to do about it.
Lenny put an arm around him. ‘You’ll be OK, Tommo, just stick to the story. Mine, records, beer, Bowie. Me mum and sisters weren’t about and I’ve clued Matty up on what to say.’
Tommy looked at Matty who was waddling towards him with his cock in his hand. That imbecile’s gonna be a lot of fucking use, he thought inwardly.
Dave Taylor downed the last of the cider and chucked the empty bottle. ‘I’m starving, who’s up for some chips?’
Tommy shot him a look of hatred. ‘I don’t believe you, Taylor. I’m looking at life and all you can think about is your gut.’
Taylor shrugged. ‘It was just a suggestion.’
Tommy stood up. These pricks were doing his head in and he needed to be alone. He forced himself to be polite. ‘I’m off now, lads. It’s me mum’s birthday and she’s having a party, she needs me to give her a hand with some stuff.’
The crew nodded.
‘See yer, Tommo. If we hear anything we’ll let yer know,’ Tibbsy said.
Tommy dug his hands deep into his pockets and trudged away. He couldn’t believe what had happened. He wasn’t that bothered about Smiffy – he hated the cunt, always had. It was himself he was worried about. Say the police found some evidence? Or the Bethnal Green wankers grassed him up?
Tommy’s instincts told him he was in shit street. Filled with worry, he took a slow walk home.
‘SUSAN, WHAT YER doing? Three times I’ve asked yer to help me with these sandwiches. Now move your fucking arse.’
Susan lolloped into the kitchen, picked up the knife and lunged at the bread as though she’d had an argument with it. She hated doing favours for anyone and on the odd occasion she was forced to, she made her feelings known.
Seeing the mess that her daughter was making, Maureen grabbed the knife and ordered her to go and get changed. ‘And make sure you ’ave a wash, yer dirty little cow.’
Tommy sat on the back step and lit up a fag. It was only recently that his mum had allowed him to smoke indoors. She wasn’t happy about it, but had told him he was old enough to make his own choices. ‘If you’re gonna do it behind me back, you may as well do it in front of me,’ she said.
Tommy’s ears pricked up as he heard his gran arrive. Her voice was like a foghorn and you couldn’t miss it. ‘There’s been another bloody murder down the road, Maur,’ she exclaimed. ‘You know Mary Smith, dontcha? Her lad, Terry, was found this morning. Apparently, the poor little bastard had been laying there, brown bread for hours.’
Maureen was preparing the pickles and nearly dropped the Tupperware dish in shock. She knew Mary Smith very well. She was a regular at the bingo hall and they’d often sit together and have a chinwag.
‘Gordon Bennett! I can’t believe it, Mum. It’s terrible, she’s such a nice woman, is Mary. She idolised her Terry, was forever talking about him. What must the poor woman be going through?’
Ethel shook her head. ‘Poor fucker. I dunno what this bleedin’ world’s coming to. There was none of this in my day – yer could leave your fuckin’ door open then, yer know. If yer left it open now, some bastard would rob yer and murder yer in your bed.’
Maureen agreed with her. ‘I feel so sorry for Mary. I’ll have to pop round to her house in the next couple of days and offer my condolences.’
Unable to listen to any more, Tommy felt physically sick as he jumped next door’s fence and clambered into their back alleyway. Crouching down by the bushes, he held his head in his hands. He never had a clue that his mum and Smiffy’s mum knew one another. Learning they were friends was like a smack in the face to him. What the fuck was he meant to do now? If he was rumbled, his mother would skin him alive. Wishing more than anything he could turn back the clock, he sat deep in thought. He had to force himself to go back home, get changed, and join in with the birthday party. If he didn’t, it would look odd and he didn’t want anything to look suspicious.
DC Perryman and PC Rogers had been sent to investigate a black bag that had been found by a dog walker. The bag had been spotted amongst some bushes in an alleyway that backed onto the Ocean Estate. DC Perryman had been desperate for promotion for a very long time and couldn’t hide his delight at the contents.
‘Look at this, Rogers. Bingo!’ he said, as he looked at the blood-stained windfall.
The party was in full swing by the time Tommy arrived back home.
‘Where yer been, yer crafty little bastard?’ Maureen wanted to know.
‘I’m sorry, Mum. I popped round me mate’s and …’
Cutting him dead, Maureen shoved him towards the stairs. ‘You look like a tramp and I will not have you showing me up on my birthday. There’s hot water in the immersion, get upstairs and get washed and changed.’
Maureen’s anger at her eldest diminished as James flung himself at her. ‘Uncle Kenny’s here, Mum. He’s over there with Nanny.’
Feeling flustered, Maureen dashed into the kitchen to pour herself a drink. She was having one of her funny turns again.
Kenny was her husband Tommy’s younger brother, Ethel’s other son. He and his wife, Wendy, had done well for themselves. A scrap-metal dealer, Kenny had recently brought a posh house in Essex, much to Ethel’s annoyance. ‘What’s a matter with bleedin’ Stepney? Not good enough for him any more? That’s her doing, Lady fuckin’ Penelope,’ she moaned. Wendy came from Upminster and her parents were quite well-to-do. Ethel had disliked her from day one.
‘Look what Uncle Kenny brought me,’ James said, as he ran into the kitchen and thrust a toy police car at her.
Maureen looked at his happy face. The poor little sod didn’t get many toys; they couldn’t afford them, as a rule. ‘Go and put it in your bedroom and you can play with it tomorrow. It’ll get broken if yer leave it laying around tonight.’
James did as he was told. On reaching the bedroom, he was surprised to see Tommy there. ‘Why are you lying down?’
Tommy sat up. ‘I’m fine, just tired, that’s all.’
‘Do you like my present? Uncle Kenny brought it for me. He’s brought you summink, and Susan.’
Tommy smiled. Ruffling his brother’s hair, he stood up. ‘I’ll race yer downstairs, Jimmy boy.’
The Old Bill shop was brimming with excitement. Bloodstained clothes, a murder weapon and a dead body found. Even Benny out of Crossroads could have put two and two together and come up with four for this one. The icing on the cake came five minutes later when a letter from the school was discovered in the back pocket of the trousers. Addressed to a Mrs Hutton, it was a letter asking why her son, Tommy, had not been attending school. DC Perryman picked up the envelope and danced around the station. Like a cat that had got the cream, he eagerly awaited his promotion.
Back at the party, Ethel encouraged James to stand in the middle of the circle. He was dancing to ‘Simple Simon’ and knew all the actions and words, bless him.
Ethel