Blood Secrets_A gripping crime thriller with killer twists Page 6

  Tasha growled, the glow in her eyes declaring she was having the time of her pathetic life. ‘Think you’re better than the rest of us coz you go to that snob joint, don’t ya?’

  Courtney cut her eyes at the girl she’d once shared all her secrets with and tried to step around her, but the thugs only fenced her tighter in their intimidating snare.

  Courtney had had enough. ‘Why don’t you sod off, you slag.’

  Tasha’s face turned scarlet as it twisted into an ugly expression. ‘Sod off you slag?’ Her cruel laughter was even more twisted than her face. ‘’Ere, I thought posh bitch schools charged top dollar to teach you how to speak proper? Your mum’s wasting her dosh.’

  ‘She don’t pay actually. I’m on a scholarship.’

  Tasha mimicked, ‘She don’t pay actually, I’m on a scholarship - so you’re a trampy, snob bitch? Fucking hell Courtney, you can’t catch a break can you?’

  For the first time one of Tasha’s gang chipped in, ‘when people cuss at schools like hers, they wash their mouths out with soap and water, don’t they?’

  Tasha high-fived her goon with glee. ‘Good point. Well, I ain’t got no soap, but I know where there’s plenty of water. Let’s take her down the Regent’s.’

  Courtney’s skin turned clammy as she realised these girls were taking their cruel game up a notch. Up until now, Tasha’s crew had taken liberties with a load of spiteful verbal. Courtney had bravely shrugged it off with a ‘sticks and stones’ approach. Now, the way they were closing in, told her, point blank, they were intending to royally sort her out. And, worst of all, The Regent’s Canal was only a hop, skip and jump away.

  All of a sudden a tidal wave of rage whelmed up inside her. Only one time in her life had she felt this way – watching her granddad trying to throttle the life out of her beloved Nanna Babs.

  Courtney twisted her hands into fists at her side, the way Aunty Tiff had taught her, so when she let loose she did maximum damage. Courtney lunged and lashed out, a red mist of manic anger clouding her vision. She’d teach this twat-hag some basic manners she’d never forget. But Tasha dunked neatly out of the way nearly making Courtney loss her balance.

  ‘You’re dead,’ was all the warning she got.

  She tried punching out again but her arms were grabbed and clamped tightly by her side. Courtney was boxed in.

  I’m bleedin’ done for.

  Legging it was no longer an option and screaming would make her look like a proper cry baby. But she wasn’t going to blub either, no effing way.

  They shoved, jostled and strong-armed her past the curved Mile End Green Bridge to the banks of the canal. She tried one more time to bash her way out, but it was no use. Fuck me! She couldn’t go in that water. Just couldn’t. There were rats in there. Her cold skin crawled as she imagined them nibbling on her flesh. In her hair. Razor-sharp teeth in her ear. Courtney almost screamed…

  But what was the point? Anyone looking out of the flash flats opposite would assume that it was a group of typical teens larking about.

  Tasha bent down to grab her legs. ‘Time for a dunking.’

  Courtney booted her with all the force she could muster. Aunty Tiff had taught her that move too. Roaring in pain Tasha landed on the grass. Her skirt twisted round her waist displaying a pair of knickers that looked more like your granny’s than Victoria’s Secret. If the guys on The Devil could see her now they’d be laughing their nuts off. Before Courtney could savour any satisfaction, one of the other girls pinched her hard on her breast making her sag and gasp in pain.

  Tasha scrambled to her feet, her body rocking with rage. ‘Get her in the water. Now!’

  They dragged her towards the water, Courtney kicking and fighting all of the way. They reached the edge. Defiantly she stared down at her reflection in the murky, green water awaiting her watery fate.

  ‘Push the bitch in,’ Tasha shouted with relish, clapping along.

  ‘Courtney?’ a hesitant, husky voice interrupted.

  A youth, with a Pitbull on a lead, advanced on them with a cocksure confidence. Courtney couldn’t tell if it was a boy or a girl as the face was hidden by a low slunk hoodie. The newcomer wore grunge-style, three-quarter khaki cargo pants and black Converses.

  Tasha crossed her arms with attitude as she insolently slid her withering gaze up the newcomer…and down again.

  ‘Mind your own, unless you fancy some of the same.’ Tasha taunted, her head swaying from side to side like she was Queen of the Regent’s castle.

  The youth flipped their hood back revealing a girl with spiked, jet-black hair and lipstick to match. Courtney’s face scrunched up. Don’t I know her? She trawled her mind. Where? Where? Nah, she couldn’t place her. Whoever she was her steadfast stare announced she wasn’t backing down from a rumble. Tasha and her gang must’ve recognised it too because Courtney’s arms were abruptly released.

  Hoodie girl tightened her grip on the dog and turned to Tasha. ‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing?’

  Tasha shrugged her shoulders but looked like she was wetting her granny panties. ‘Just having a laugh…you know….’

  ‘A laugh?’ The words were gobbed Tasha’s way. ‘Look at my lips. Am I laughing?’ The girl looked down at her dog. ‘Is my friend here laughing?’

  The dog picked up on the threatening tone and strained forward, baring his teeth. Her tormentors backed off a little. But that wasn’t enough for the dog owner. ‘Do you know who Courtney is covered by?’

  The blood drained from Tasha’s face as a quivering, ‘No,’ passed her lips.

  ‘Alright - do you know who I’m covered by?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Courtney’s tormentor could barely get the word out she was that scared.

  The dog was almost on its hind legs jerking furiously against its leash.

  ‘If I ever catch you having a go at Courtney again, I’m gonna send my little bow-wow round your gaff where he’ll grab you by your arse and drag you down the river and it won’t be for a splash around, you get me?’ When there was a shame-faced silence, the girl yelled, ‘Are you fucking deaf? I said - do you understand?’

  Even Courtney was quaking at this force of nature.

  ‘What are you waiting for?’ her saviour bellowed, ‘Bug. Right. Off.’

  Courtney almost creased up with pure joy as she watched Tasha and her lapdogs run for their lives. But she didn’t dare. This bitch girl assassin might’ve saved her bacon but she didn’t know her from Adam…or more like Eve. Aunty Tiff had warned her never to get chummy before you sussed a body out and this girl was going to take a wagonload of sussing.

  Hoodie girl cheered up. ‘Hello Courts – you don’t remember me, do ya?’

  Still not willing to let her guard down she merely shook her head. All she wanted to do was to get herself indoors.

  ‘Yeah, you do! I’m Dodgy! We were in that care home together!’

  The penny dropped and Courtney was confronted with memories she’d rather wipe from her mind forever. She’d been placed in a girl’s secure care home in Kent while a decision was made about what should be done about her after she’d confessed to delivering the killer blow that had sent her monster granddad to his rightful place in the fires of hell. That had been the lowest point of her life. Locked up and not allowed out had almost killed her. She’d sobbed her heart out most nights missing her family something terrible, especially Nanna Babs. Although she’d only been in the home for a week that had been long enough to get to know all about Dodgy. Her real name was Shannon Fraser, but even the staff called her Dodgy and for a very good reason.

  ‘You can’t let other girls treat you like that Courts,’ the other girl counselled, dragging Courtney back to the cold present. ‘You need to get some back up, especially if you’re going to walk the streets dressed like that.’ Her face scrunched up with distaste. ‘I mean, what the fuck is that you’re rigged out in?’

  ‘It’s my school uniform.’ Mortified, Courtney’s cheeks grew hot and bothered.
No wonder she’d become a target. The get-up made her stand out like a top hat and tails at a West Ham match, especially the red and black tartan blazer.

  It was Foxy, her former therapist, who had helped her mum get her into Egerton Academy. Apparently Foxy was on chummy terms with the headmistress. Mind you, it might have all come to nothing if Courtney hadn’t passed the entrance test.

  She chewed on her lip as her thoughts became darker. She knew her mum was only trying to do the best for her, make sure she got a flying start in life, but going to a school that wasn’t around here meant she’d lost touch with most of her mates. Even Rockers, the boy she’d loved since forever, didn’t really hang out with her anymore. Courtney No Mates. She felt like the loneliest soul in the world.

  ‘I go to this private school down by Tower Bridge. And my school don’t do back up. They do counselling instead.’

  That tickled Dodgy’s fancy as she hee-heed. ‘Private school? Bad luck babe.’ She put her arm around Courtney’s shoulder walking down the canal with her. ‘So you don’t know anyone who can help you out when you’re in a bit of bother?’

  Rockers had always been her back up, not anymore though. ‘Nah.’

  Dodgy had a think. ‘You don’t really need back up anyway, all you need is a bit of a rep and I can help you out there. Hang out with me now and then, word will soon spread that you run with Dodgy and the Dodgy Girls and then you’ll be able to wear your poncey uniform where you like. You’ll be bomb proof. No problem!’

  Dodgy and the Dodgy Girls? Courtney wasn’t sure. But then again, she was brassed off with all the ducking and diving, on her jacks, round the streets on her way home trying to avoid the likes of Tasha. Still…

  ‘I dunno Dodgy.’

  The other girl encouragingly squeezed her shoulder. ‘Come on Courts, do yourself a favour. It’s not like I’m in a gang or nuthin. We just muck about, is all.’

  She worried her bottom lip again. She wasn’t sure…but it hurt being a no mates. ‘I suppose we could hang out.’ Her words dripped out slowly.

  ‘Good girl.’ Dodgy grinned. A bounce entered her step making her dog jump around excitedly. ‘My dog’s called Mandela.’ Seeing the confusion on Courtney’s face she explained, ‘he’s like that Nelson Mandela, ain’t he? No matter how much people kick him they won’t take him down.’

  Courtney remained confused; who the heck was this Nelson Mandela character? Not wanting to appear a total div she nodded.

  The other girl’s face suddenly contorted with anger. ‘I found him roaming the street. He had all bruises up his ribs and a boot mark on his throat. I tell you what Courts, if I ever get my hands…’ Her voice shook with emotion.

  Dodgy’s lips suddenly relaxed as the rage slipped away. ‘Come down the Station Car Park in the evenings, we’re usually down there sooner or later.’

  Then Dodgy remembered something. ‘’Ere Courts, have you got a blade?’ Seeing the wide-eyed alarm on Courtney’s face she quickly added, ‘Not to stiff anyone or nuthin obviously, I mean just to brandish if trouble comes down the street.’

  When she didn’t get an answer, Dodgy went on. ‘Not to worry babe, you can borrow one of mine.’

  9

  The accusations came thick and fast as soon as Pearl walked into the care home’s dayroom the following afternoon.

  ‘This is all your fault Pearl.’

  ‘We would’ve never met that chancer Saint Aubin if it weren’t for you.’

  ‘That money was put aside for my grandkids. What am I going to leave them now – my collection of Spanish pesetas?’

  The residents who had been swindled were gathered around a couple of tables with that Daisy Evans lording it over at the head of the table in her wheelchair like she was Queen Bee of the home. Pearl didn’t like the woman. That fat body of hers and even bigger gob took up far too much space. And, as if that wasn’t bad even, she was always going on and on to anyone with an ear about how well her Darren was doing in the City as some high-flying financial whizz kid. Even had a photo of the chump taped to the arm of her motorised wheelchair. Funny thing though, she obviously thought the world of her boy but he rarely came to visit her.

  As much as she hadn’t taken to the old windbag she couldn’t fault Daisy this time – Pearl had made a right bodge up job of persuading the others to invest their money.

  Guilt squeezed in beside her as she took her seat.

  For the second time, in two days, Fred rode to her rescue. ‘It ain’t Pearl’s fault, alright? She was only trying to do all of us a kindness by cutting us in on something that would see us through our twilight years.’ He sat next to the twins with a protective arm on the back of Vi’s chair.

  ‘Bleedin’ Twilight Zone more like,’ Daisy scoffed, her tight gaze spearing Pearl like a weapon. ‘She was the one who bought that rip-off merchant here in the first place.’

  Fred was about to come to her defence again, but Pearl could stand on her own two feet and if that Daisy kept giving it some she’d be standing on hers as well.

  ‘You’re right, I did bring Saint Aubin in here, but it was only coz I’d been investing with him for some time and making money hand over fist—‘

  Vi softly cut in, her tiny, soft hands moving in her lap. ‘That isn’t strictly true. It was me who asked Pearl about where I should put my savings. She didn’t come to me, I went to her.’

  She fixed her gaze on Daisy. Vi could’ve given her a right, royal raking over with her stare, but that wasn’t her way.

  Her faded, grey eyes were mixed with equal parts gentleness and sadness. ‘And my money did good at first,’ she turned slowly to Pearl, ‘and I will always thank you for that. Seeing as how our investment was increasing Pearl only asked that man to come here because she wanted to help you.’

  She cast her gaze across the gathering. ‘No one strong-armed any of us to put our money into his scheme. There are people in this world that believe us older folk have lost our marbles. Is that what we’re saying here? That Pearl made us do it because our wits have deserted us?’

  An uncomfortable silence settled over the group. Vi nodded. ‘Yeah, that’s what I thought. When my dad came to England as a young lad, after fleeing those Nazis in Germany who butchered his parents in the camps, he always said to me, ‘don’t blame good people for what bad people do.’’

  The majority appeared shame-faced at her stirring words.

  Fred patted her shoulder proudly as the corners of his eyes crinkled with adoration. ‘No truer words have been spoken girl.’

  ‘Hold up Fred.’ Daisy wasn’t going down without a fight. ‘Before you hand Vi there an Oscar for best performance in a movie starring a scam merchant, I say,’ she gave it a dramatic pause as she caught each eye in the room, ‘maybe that Saint Aubin fella knew he had someone on the inside when he came in here to fleece us.’ She slapped her brazen, accusing gaze on Pearl.

  Pearl knew where she was going and wasn’t having it. ‘You saying I was in on his double-dealing act?’

  There was a collective indrawn breath. Daisy twisted her substantial lips. ‘You know what they say – if it quacks like a duck …’’

  A few years back she would’ve been bang to rights. Pearl had, in her day, been one of the most cunning con artists around. She’d used her Madam Pearl fortune-telling routine to reel her gullible punters in and once they were in her web she sucked them dry of every penny she could ponce off them. That was the problem with people, always desperate to know about their future instead of sorting out their shit in the here and now. She’d made a killing. Living it large. A life devoted to spend, spend, spend.

  Her biggest shame was instead of using her loot on her kids, she’d skipped out on them for a Flash Bay Rum smothered Harry. He’d known had to use his tally whacker between the sheets alright, but as soon as the money dried up he booted her to the kerb and high-tailed it out of town with a French stripper who really hailed from Halifax. She’d moved heaven and earth to cosy up back to her kids, but th
ey didn’t want to know. Pearl didn’t blame them really. Still, losing your babies created the type of heartache no quack could cure.

  She still touted herself as the woman with the all-seeing eye into the future, without taking anyone’s cash these days, because she couldn’t let go of it. Almost like it had come out of the womb with her when she was born into this world sixty-three years ago in her mum’s corrugated iron-roofed humble home in Jamaica. And look at the great Madam Pearl now, eh? Con artist extraordinaire who’d been almost taken for all she was worth by a con trick she should’ve seen coming a mile off.

  That’s why she felt so much guilt. Instead of protecting her friends with her insider knowledge she’d led them to the slaughter.

  But still, she wasn’t letting an ignorant, too much to say tub of lard, like Daisy Evans blatantly tell porkies about her.

  Giving them the best theatre most of them hadn’t seen in forever, she spread her arms dramatically wide, silver bangles tinkering in the air, and peered up at the heavens. ‘Spirits, I beseech you to forgive Daisy for the evil tongue she has woken up with today. May her heart be filled with peace and love, for all man, and all woman, so she can help use during this terrible—‘

  ‘Oh, gimme a break,’ Daisy snapped, snorting in disgust. ‘Why don’t you ask your friends in the spirit world where our money’s gone? Where Saint Aubin’s holed up? Do something useful for a change.’

  Many grumbled agreement, but Pearl levelled her stage act stare shutting them up. She paused for effect. Then quietly uttered, as if they were all linking hands at a séance, ‘I don’t control the spirits. I am a mere vessel for them. And when Saint Aubin’s was amongst us they chose not too appear.’ Her voice dipped low, making the few wearing hearing aids lean closer. ‘And do you know why that was? They sensed an evil presence in our midst—‘