The Traitor. Kimberley Chambers

but she could sort of remember a big fight happening. Noticing a large bruise and cut on her leg, she winced as she touched it. Surely she hadn’t fallen over in front of all the mourners? Desperate to get rid of the taste of brandy, Joyce made her way downstairs to make herself a coffee. Gagging for some fresh air and to rid the house of the smell of stale smoke, Joyce opened the conservatory door.

      ‘Christ almighty,’ she mumbled in complete astonishment.

      Jessica’s once-perfect garden looked as if a bomb had hit it. All the furniture was smashed to pieces. The wooden table was lying upside down and the chairs had no legs left on them.

      Shuffling outside, Joyce put her hand over her mouth as she noticed that all the beautiful flowerbeds had been trampled on. Seeing shards of glass by her feet, she turned to her left. The three smashed windows were the final straw for Joyce, and she ran back into the house.

      ‘Stanley! Stanley!’ she screamed.

      When Stanley marched down the stairs with a suitcase in his hand, Joyce looked at him in bewilderment. ‘What are you doing? What’s with the case? You seen the state of the garden? Everything’s smashed to smithereens.’

      Dropping his case, Stanley ran out the back. He’d locked the pigeon shed, but what if it had been smashed or the birds had died of fright? Fearful for the safety of his babies, Stanley shook as he put the key in the door.

      ‘Thank God,’ he said, as all four cooed at him. ‘Daddy’s here now and he’s taking you back home, away from this loony bin.’

      ‘What are you gonna do about cleaning this mess up, Stanley? I think I’ll ring Raymond, he’ll know a glazier. The twins can help an’ all. I mean, we don’t ask ’em to do much, do we?’

      For once in his life, Stanley felt like a man as he spoke. ‘You ask who you like, Joycie. I won’t be here. I told you yesterday, I’m moving back home.’

      Joyce remembered bits of what Stanley had said the previous day about leaving, but she thought it had been one of his little tantrums. ‘Don’t be silly, Stanley. You can’t leave me here on my own.’

      ‘Come with me then, Joycie. I told you last night, I cannot live in this house one minute longer, and I meant it. There’s too many memories, and it’s making me ill.’

      Joyce had waited all her life to live in a luxury property and she wasn’t about to walk away from it without a fight. Turning on the tears, she begged her husband to stay. ‘Please don’t go, Stanley. It makes me feel close to Jessica, living here. I can almost feel her presence at times. And what about the twins? You can’t leave them. They need both of us.’

      Stanley shook his head. It was obvious Joyce didn’t remember that Frankie had done a runner last night. ‘Cor, you must have been well gone, love. Frankie left home last night. Don’t you remember the gypsy boy turning up here for her? That’s what started the fight. I bet you don’t even recall falling arse over tit in the flowerbeds, do you, dear? No, well you wouldn’t, would you? I’m off, Joycie. Jock’s coming round in an hour with the van. He’s gonna take the pigeons back for me.’

      As he walked back out to the garden, Joyce glared at him. Stanley had always done just as she had wanted throughout their entire marriage, and she couldn’t understand what had suddenly got into him. Remembering what he’d said about Frankie, she went up the stairs and knocked on Joey’s bedroom door.

      ‘Joey, it’s Nan. Can I come in?’

      ‘Just leave me alone. Go away,’ Joey shouted.

      Desperate to know exactly what had happened the night before, Joyce tried the handle. The door was locked. After the morning she’d had, Joyce quickly lost her temper and screamed at her grandson.

      ‘Open this door now, Joey, else Raymond will kick the bastard thing down. He’s on his way over, you know. He’ll be here in five minutes,’ she lied.

      Her fib worked, and as Joey unlocked the door, Joyce stormed in. As she clocked the state of her grandson’s bruised face, Joycie’s temper melted.

      ‘Oh my God! What happened, love?’ she asked, as she sat on the edge of his bed.

      Joey just burst into tears. ‘I tried to help Frankie, and Raymond caught me with his elbow. It was an accident, he didn’t mean it. Frankie’s gone, Nan. What am I gonna do without her? We’ve never been apart before.’

      Joyce held him tightly. ‘You listen to me, Joey. That won’t last with that gypsy boy. Different breed, that mob are. Wicked bastards, I should know. One of ’em put a curse on me years ago. Frankie’s young, headstrong, but that boy’ll show his true colours, and when he does she’ll come back.’

      ‘I don’t think she will, Nan. She loves him. It’s as though he’s cast a spell on her. And what about the baby? She won’t leave him if she’s got his kid, will she? I hate him, Nan. He’s wrecked our entire family. I mean if it weren’t for Frankie getting with Jed, Mum would still be alive, wouldn’t she?’

      Desperately wanting to put a smile back on Joey’s face, Joyce thought of the dogs. Buster and Bruno, the twins’ Rottweilers, had been living at Pat Murphy’s since the night Jessica died. Joyce didn’t like dogs very much. Bleeding nuisance they were, pissing and shitting all over the place. ‘I tell you what. Why don’t you get yourself dressed and go and pick Buster and Bruno up? I’m sure they’d love to come home and they’ll be a bit of company for you, Joey.’

      Joey sighed. Buster and Bruno were no replacement for his sister, but at least they’d give him something to focus on.

      As he got out of bed, Joycie played her ace card. ‘Before you trot off to Pat Murphy’s, I need you to do me a favour. Your grandad’s having one of his funny turns, says he’s moving back into our old house. Go and talk to him, love. Don’t tell him I sent you, but beg him to stay. If he says no, start crying, Joey.’

      ‘OK,’ Joey said sadly. He really didn’t want his grandad to leave. The house would feel so empty with just him and his nan rattling about.

      Stanley was sitting on the sofa drinking a mug of tea. As Joey walked into the room, Stan put his mug on the table and stood up.

      ‘Please don’t go, Grandad. I don’t want you to leave. I love you,’ Joey begged.

      Joyce smiled as she stood earwigging in the hallway. Joey was that good an actor, he should have gone to drama school, and as for Stanley, the silly old goat, he certainly wouldn’t have the guts to walk away from his distressed grandson.

      When the doorbell rang, Joyce nigh on jumped out of her skin. ‘Oh, it’s you. I don’t think he’s leaving now,’ she confidently told Jock.

      About to tell him to go back home, Joyce was shocked to see Stanley walking towards her with his case in his hand.

      ‘Put that in the van, Jock, while I sort out the pigeons. We’ll dismantle the shed and take it at the weekend,’ he said.

      Joyce gawped at him. ‘You can’t go now, Stanley. Look how upset Joey is. You can’t leave him like that – you’ll break the boy’s heart. And how would Jessica feel? If she’s looking down, that girl would be disgusted by your behaviour.’

      Stanley had no intention of changing his mind. How dare she use their dead daughter as blackmail? ‘I’ve spent my whole life doing things to please other people, Joycie, and it’s about time I started looking out for myself. Joey can come and stop with me whenever he wants, I’ve told him that.’

      Aware that nothing and no one was going to change her husband’s mind, Joyce let rip at him. ‘You nasty, selfish old bastard. Go on then, get out and take them disease-ridden fucking birds with ya. I should have divorced you years ago, Stanley Smith. You’re nothing but a waste of space that’s dragged me down all my life and I’ll be better off without ya.’

      While Jock stood open-mouthed, Stanley went off to the shed to collect his babies. He didn’t want Joycie to see him cry;