The Traitor. Kimberley Chambers

      As he cut her off, Frankie slumped onto her bed. Joey, who had followed her upstairs anyway and heard her side of the conversation, opened her bedroom door. ‘When are you going to realise that Jed’s an arsehole and he’s no good, eh?’ he said, as he held her close.

      ‘What am I gonna do if he turns up here? Raymond will kill him, I know he will,’ Frankie sobbed.

      For once, Joey was the strong one out of the two of them. ‘Listen to me. There’s Raymond, Paulie, Uncle Reg, Uncle Albert and all Dad’s mates here. Jed won’t turn up here today, trust me. He’s bluffing.’

      As he dried her eyes with his handkerchief, Frankie forced a smile. Jed had never spoken to her like that before and she was furious with him. How could he treat her like that, today of all days?

      Joey held his sister’s hand. ‘Come on, let’s go back downstairs, and you can sort things out with Jed tomorrow.’

      Having finally been enticed out of his pigeon shed by Jock, Stanley was horrified to see his wife not only inebriated, but also laughing and joking with Eddie’s aunts and uncles. Spotting Joycie’s parents, whom he had always liked immensely, Stan sidled towards them. Ivy and Bill were both well into their eighties now and neither looked the picture of health.

      ‘I’m so sorry I never got much of a chance to talk to you earlier. It was just such a difficult day and I didn’t really know if I was coming or going,’ Stan apologised.

      Ivy hugged her son-in-law. Stanley was a lovely man, but her Joycie had never truly appreciated him. That’s why she and her daughter had never really seen eye to eye. Joycie had always blamed her mother for encouraging her to marry Stanley; the silly little cow had always thought she was worth more.

      ‘I’m so sorry, Stan. Me and you knew all along what that Eddie was capable of, didn’t we? Do you remember Jessica getting married to the bastard? I told you at the reception that he had them eyes – you know, cold and calculating. I’ll never forget it, that man sent shivers down my spine and I just knew he’d ruin her bleeding life.’

      Keeping half an eye on his wife, Stanley nodded. ‘I remember that conversation, Ivy. I told you that his eyes reminded me of dead fish.’

      Hearing his old woman screech with laughter, Stanley decided enough was enough. Storming over to where she was standing, he roughly grabbed her arm and yanked her into the kitchen.

      ‘What do you think you’re doing? You senile old bastard!’ Joyce yelled at him.

      For once in his downtrodden life, Stanley had the bottle to give her what for. ‘How can you stand there laughing and joking with Eddie’s relations when we’ve just buried our daughter? What is the matter with you, eh? Your parents are disgusted by your behaviour and so am I, and I’ll tell you something else, shall I? If you think I’m living in that murdering bastard’s house one day longer than I need to, you can think again, Joycie.’

      Shocked by Stanley’s outburst, Joyce did her best not to show it. ‘Move, then, if you don’t like it. You go back to that pokey council house of ours, see if I care. I’m staying here, ’cause it makes me feel close to my Jessica.’

      Aware of Eddie’s sons, Gary and Ricky, staring at them, Stan led Joyce out on to the front drive.

      ‘You must think I’ve just stepped off the banana boat, Joycie. When we first found out Jessica had been murdered, you couldn’t agree with me enough about Eddie and his family. You soon changed your mind when you moved in ’ere though, didn’t you? All you’ve ever wanted is a nice, big house so you can show it off to your friends. I’m not as shallow as you, Joycie. I know exactly what you think of me and the home I’ve worked my bollocks off for over the years. I even bought it for you off that right-to-buy scheme ’cause you begged me to and I’ve bought you new furniture at your every whim. Well, I’ve had enough of it now, and tomorrow I’m going back home. You can do as you please. Stay ’ere on your own, for all I care.’

      Joyce was gobsmacked. Stanley had rarely raised his voice to her throughout the whole of their marriage. As he walked away, she stood open-mouthed, and for once she said nothing.

      Eddie Mitchell was agitated as he sat on the bunk in his cell. He’d known by the attitude of the two prison guards that he was in for a nasty surprise. They’d been laughing and joking as they took him down a corridor he’d never seen before. ‘Ain’t I going back to me old cell?’ Ed asked, bewildered.

      The shorter guard grinned at the taller one. ‘No, Mitchell. The guvnor decided you and Malik weren’t suited and you needed better company, so he’s found you a new home with a nice friendly English cellmate.’

      Ed had been in the cell for what seemed like four hours now and he still didn’t have a clue who he was sharing with. Apart from a few belongings, there was no sign of the geezer.

      When he heard the key slot into the lock, Eddie picked up his book and pretended to read it. Glancing out of the corner of his eye, he felt his heart leap into his chest as he recognised his new cellmate.

      After her argument with Jed, Frankie had necked at least four more vodkas. Her hormones were having a field day, and she was tired, depressed, lonely and tearful. She and Jed rarely argued. On the odd occasion when they’d had a lovers’ tiff, it had always been immediately resolved.

      Seeing Dougie and Vicki, her parents’ friends, heading her way to say goodbye, Frankie forced herself to be polite. About to get Vicki to take her mobile number so when she gave birth they could swap baby talk, Frankie heard a commotion coming from her left.

      ‘Get out of here, before I kill yer,’ she heard somebody yell.

      Looking around, Frankie dropped Vicki’s pen in shock. Jed was sitting on a nearby wall, telling her uncle Reg where to get off.

      Reg hobbled towards Jed. ‘Do yourself a favour, son, and get the fuck out of here, before you get hurt,’ he warned, his eyes bulging.

      ‘I’m going nowhere without my wife-to-be. You do whatever you have to, you senile old grunter. Frankie belongs to me and she’s coming with me right now.’

      Aware that Gary, Ricky and Raymond had all run out of the house, Frankie began to scream. ‘Don’t hurt him. Please don’t hurt Jed,’ she begged.

      Jumping off the wall, Jed showed no fear as Raymond went for him. ‘Frankie’s my woman,’ he screamed, as Raymond caught him straight on the chin.

      Watching Jed fall to the grass, Frankie intervened and chucked herself on top of him. Seeing his uncle trying to manhandle his sister, Joey also joined in the fracas.

      ‘Leave Frankie alone,’ he shouted, as his weak punches landed nowhere.

      Having been told that it was all kicking off in the garden, Joyce flew into action. ‘Oi, whaddya think you’re doing?’ she screamed, as she lost her footing and stacked it in one of the flowerbeds.

      As all hell broke loose, Frankie decided enough was enough. She needed to make a decision, and if she was ever going to leave home, that moment was definitely now.

       CHAPTER THREE

      Stanley’s alarm clock went off at eight the following morning and he immediately got out of bed.

      After the mass brawl in the garden the previous evening, he’d sodded off upstairs without saying goodnight to a single soul. Jessica’s funeral had been a catastrophe from start to finish, and Stanley would never forgive the bastards that had ruined it. Animals, that’s what the Mitchells were, and he was just glad that Jock had already left when the whole wake kicked off.

      Pulling his suitcase out from under the bed, Stanley began to pack his clothes. The quicker he got out of this cursed house with its awful memories, the better.

      Hearing her husband banging about in the room next door, Joyce lifted her head off the pillow. She felt as sick as a parrot, and as