CRUEL SECRETS Read online

  Meanwhile, Keffa grabbed Eddie and put him in a headlock. Tightening his grip, he marched him to the door and pushed him out. Eddie almost fell down the steps, but he regained his balance, and his pride, clutching his bloody arm and glaring back at the three of them standing there.

  “You stupid woman, you know I’m coming back. I will promise you this, Kelly, you will wish you had never been fucking born, and you, Jackson, you’re a dead man.” He straightened his jacket, and leaving a trail of blood, he walked away, as if nothing had happened.

  Still shaking, Ditto put his arm around Kelly and walked her back inside. Keffa followed, keeping his eye on the dog. Kelly saw how uncomfortable he was and took Legend to her room.

  “Are you okay, Bluey?” asked Keffa, as he took a seat in Rudy’s grandad chair.

  She nodded. “Oh, I am so glad Lippy wasn’t here. Imagine the fear on her face. Christ, she would never have got on the bloody plane.”

  Keffa and Ditto looked at each other in surprise. There was Kelly, having been attacked by her dad, watching her dog tear into him, and then there was Eddie making vile threats, and all she was worried about was Lippy. Keffa felt his heartbeat slowing down. Eddie had unnerved him, yet Kelly wasn’t the least bit bothered by her father.

  *

  Eddie couldn’t look at his arm. To see his own blood – and know the injury under his torn jacket was gruesome – was making him clammy and sick. As he gripped the steering wheel, he knew the dog had done some real damage because he felt the pain and his hand was weak. He had been in many a scrap in his time, but he had always come out on top – a few scars, here and there, but nothing compared to the injury under his clothes. It was triumphing that had always pushed his confidence. The fear in people’s eyes, and the fact he had earned his reputation, drove him on. He thought he was invincible, but to be humiliated by his own daughter was hard to stomach.

  He had to go to the hospital, the pain now unbearable. With every twinge, he imagined the damage being amplified. King’s College Hospital was the closest, and as he pulled into the car park and waited for the barrier to open, he was still unable to look at his arm. Once he was parked, he shuffled out and nearly fainted when he realised he’d lost more blood than he’d thought. Gripping the top of his car, he waited for the feeling to pass, and then he walked in a trance-like state to the accident and emergency department. Luckily, the waiting room wasn’t too packed. The receptionist at the desk took one look and asked him to sit down; she could see he was going a deathly grey colour. The tear in his jacket and the blood running down his arm, at a pace, galvanised her into taking prompt action.

  “Wait there, sir, I will get a doctor to see to you right away.” Eddie was now feeling very faint and had to lie across two chairs.

  Moments later, he was aware of being helped into a wheelchair and a porter wheeling him into a cubicle. A doctor and nurse helped to remove his jacket. Eddie couldn’t look, but even in his fuzzy state, he detected the nurse’s eyes widen.

  “Can you tell me your name?” she asked.

  “Eddie Raven. Do you think it needs stitches?”

  The doctor was trying to see if the flap of loose skin could be sewn back. It was obvious to him the muscle was visible and clearly torn. “We will need to operate right now. Was this a dog bite?”

  Eddie was semiconscious now but managed to nod his head. Within minutes, he was prepped for surgery and wheeled away.

  Once the operation was over and he was on the recovery ward, wide-awake, he demanded to be discharged. But the nurse was adamant he needed to stay for a few hours, just until the effects of the anaesthetic had worn off and the dressing reapplied. Eddie looked at his arm: the black bruising went from his shoulder down to his hands and was swollen like a tractor’s inner tube. He was seething and the throbbing pain made matters only worse. Now he hated Kelly with a passion. He would hurt her in the worst way possible – no one messed with him and got away with it. Tied by blood or not, she was going to feel his wrath and pain.

  Peter’s patient had to have a peanut surgically removed, after his efforts to try to crush the nut and extract it had failed, because the toddler had screamed too much, causing them to panic. He’d had to anaesthetize her. It was all very quick, once she was asleep, and now she was in recovery as per procedure. Just as he headed back to collect his notes, he heard a voice call him. “Hey, Doc!”

  Peter turned to see Eddie Raven, as large as life, propped up on the bed. He knew right away who the patient was, having seen him in the courtroom and of course Eddie had seen him too. When Tommy had told him that Kelly was seeing a doctor, he knew straight away who Peter was. Too cute and clever to leave any stone unturned, Eddie, probed into why he had been allowed down in the holding room before the actual trial. He was informed that the man was Kelly’s doctor. When Tommy told him, Kelly was seeing a doctor, he put two and two together and bingo!

  Pretending he didn’t know who the patient was, Peter looked at him with a vacant expression. “Yes?”

  “Well, hello, you’re umm, oh, sorry, I’ve forgotten your name. You’re my daughter Kelly’s boyfriend.”

  Peter was stunned, not realising that Eddie was sussing him out. He was lost for words. Eddie then knew he needed to play a game, double or bust.

  “She speaks very highly of you, very proud she is.”

  His face softened, as he approached the bed. “Oh, yes, she is a lovely person.”

  Eddie decided to try out his gamble on this doctor.

  “You couldn’t do me a favour could you? Err, sorry, what’s your name? The tablets they gave me make me feel a bit spaced-out.”

  “It’s Peter Thomas. Yes, they do make you feel like that, I’m afraid …” he paused, anxious to know how Kelly was doing. He missed her and couldn’t get her off his mind.

  “Well, Peter, I am stuck here, and I am supposed to be organising a do for her. The caterers will be at the house shortly and my guests will be arriving this evening. It’s a surprise family get-together for Kelly. I didn’t want to do it when she first came home, I wanted to let her settle in, but now I am here, recovering from a bloody dog bite. The neighbour’s dog got out. It’s one of those guard dogs. Anyway, I am in a bit of a quandary.”

  Peter nodded. “How can I help?”

  “Well, now I have finally got to meet you, would you come along? I couldn’t invite you before because I didn’t have your number, and my Kelly will be made up if you were part of the surprise. I know how she feels about you. What d’ya say?”

  Peter was unsure. He was under the impression that Kelly disliked her father, from conversations with Sophie, yet now it seemed as though they had reconciled their differences.

  “Err, yes, well, I could, I suppose … Mr Raven, may I ask if Kelly is okay? Only, we haven’t spoken since—”

  “Since she left your house last Thursday!” interrupted Eddie, hoping that Peter would buy into his plan. He used his little nugget of information supplied by Tommy to gain Peter’s trust.

  “Oh, she told you, then?” Peter assumed that Eddie had built bridges with Kelly and now felt more at ease.

  Eddie smiled. “Of course, she did. My Kelly tells me everything. I have to admit it was frosty at first, ya know, her not seeing me for years, but I guess she told ya about that?”

  Peter was warming to him, naïvely sucked in by his puppy-dog eyes and the absence of his hard-man act. “Well, no, she didn’t really say much about her family. So how can I help you, Mr Raven?”

  Inside, Eddie was laughing; this was going to be a doddle. He could see what Kelly saw in Peter though; he was a good-looking man with class.

  “No, please, call me Eddie, only Mr Raven makes me feel old. Anyway, the surgeon reckons I need to stay here until they can fix my dressing, and I should wait until the anaesthetic wears off. The problem is, I need to get home to sort out this party.”

  Peter never went over another surgeon’s head, it wasn’t professional, and yet if Kelly’s fathe
r was organising a surprise for Kelly, and he was invited, he felt he must do something.

  “Leave it with me, Eddie, I’ll sort it out. How do you feel?”

  “Like I’ve been bitten by a dog … no, seriously, I feel okay. I am just taking up bed space.”

  After a brief look at Eddie’s notes, Peter concluded that all seemed to be in order. He smiled at Eddie and left. The toddler with the peanut was sitting up in the cot, chatting for England, so Peter signed her discharge notes, and then he went to find Dr Mayo, Eddie’s surgeon. He was scrubbing up, waiting for his next patient.

  “Hello, Peter, how’s your day going?” asked Dr Mayo.

  “Yes, good thanks, Ralph. Now, your patient Eddie Raven …”

  Ralph Mayo’s face turned serious and he frowned under his thick-rimmed glasses. “Yes, that was a feat and a half. Terrible mess that dog made of his arm. That reminds me. I need to take the details. That dog may have to be destroyed. I’m not sure if Mr Raven will have full use of his hands. Some of the nerves were severed. Sorry, Peter, what did you want to know?”

  Peter knew Ralph well, having often shared a pint when they were juniors together.

  “Any chance he can be discharged? Only I know the man, and he has a lot he needs to do at home.”

  Ralph looked Peter up and down. “I won’t ask what, Peter, but if you feel it’s more important than staying here, then I can discharge him. Give me a few minutes. I will organise his meds and get the nurse to redress that wound. Does he seem okay to you? Only, that wound is pretty bad.”

  Peter nodded. “To be honest, you would have thought he’d only had a tooth out.”

  “Must be one hard chappie, then,” bellowed Ralph, in his haughty voice. Never had truer words been spoken.

  Peter returned with the news, to the relief of Eddie. “So, he will be along in a moment to change the dressing and give you antibiotics. The only problem is you won’t be able to drive for a few hours, so I suggest you take a taxi.”

  Eddie nodded, agreeing to all the terms. “Now, Peter, can you promise me you will not breathe a word to Kelly? It’s a surprise.” He tapped the side of his nose.

  “Of course not, mum’s the word. Oh, can you tell me the address? And what time do you want me to arrive? I get off at six tonight.”

  Eddie was elated, as he gave him his address; Peter was like putty in his hands.

  “Seven thirty.”

  Peter was excited. He longed to see Kelly again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Once Eddie reached home, he called the boys to come to his house. Cyril was the first to arrive, dressed in a smoking jacket and black slacks. As Eddie answered the door, he chuckled. “Cor, Cyril, this ain’t the fucking gentlemen’s club, mate!”

  “You ain’t wrong there, son. Fucking state of you! What’s with the arm?”

  “Come in, Cyril, we have a little job to do.”

  Cyril laughed. “Now, son, I am hanging up me tools. I’m retiring. I got meself a country manor. I’m toffing it up,” he chuckled.

  “Nah, nah, no bank jobs, nuffin like that. I need another arm. This one’s fucked for the minute. Fucking dog bite.”

  “Oh, yeah, what’s going on then, Eddie?” asked Cyril, with a worried expression.

  Eddie led him into the lounge. “Take a seat, mate. Stiffener?”

  Cyril nodded. “Scotch, two ice cubes, and a drop of water.”

  “I know, I know, Cyril, you’ve had the same drink as long as I can remember.”

  Peering around, Cyril spotted both the smashed computer and the camera. “So, what’s all this about?” he asked, as he accepted the drink.

  Eddie sat down and sighed. “I have been done over by a silly bit of a fucking kid and I want me money back, £1 million, no fucking less.”

  Cyril wiped his mouth and looked Eddie over. “I know you, Eddie, known ya since ya were a bleedin’ little fifteen-year-old fucker. Never known ya though to fuck about when it comes to money, son. So, how’s a kid managed to nick a fucking lump like that?”

  Anxiously, Eddie jumped up. “Listen, never mind all that. I just want me money back, so here’s the plan. I am up for a trade. At half past seven this evening, I will be in possession of something she wants, and I believe she will be only too happy to hand me back me fucking money.”

  Cyril didn’t like the sound of it. He had known Eddie for years. Being twenty years his senior, he had acted like a father figure, always guiding Eddie on the right path of criminal activity. He had taught Eddie his version of the art of skulduggery, and he must have been a good teacher, as Eddie had sailed through the course. So much so, he could have gone on to teach his old mentor a thing or two. Cyril was old-school, his firm going back as far as the 1960s, but as he got older, he pulled away from it. He now had enough money to retire in luxury ten times over, and yet he still returned every so often, out of boredom. Eddie had run the manor before he was locked up. On his release, the old boys, Cyril, Blakey, and Frank were back on the scene, helping him to reclaim his businesses and take back his status. It was all done within a few months. They had always respected Eddie because he was a clever man, a no-nonsense and lairy villain, hugely admired, and respected for his ruthless side. Although the other men on the firm, the younger guys, were afraid of Eddie, and for good reason, Cyril could speak freely; there had always been an unspoken code between them. Eddie may have been the boss but without Cyril, Blakey, and Frank, Eddie would have only amounted to a two-bit car thief or cocaine dealer.

  “So, Eddie, this exchange. I take it, it’s a person?”

  Eddie gave him his ugly satisfied sneer. “Yeah, you could say that, and he is gonna arrive of his own free will.”

  “So, what do you want me to do then, son?”

  With a serious expression, Eddie pointed to the chair next to the computer table. “Tie him to that bleedin’ seat. I would meself, but as you can see, I’m pretty fucked at the moment.”

  Just as Eddie stood up to pour another drink, there was a bang at the door. Blakey and Frank arrived together. Blakey was a huge man, in his late sixties, and still as hard as nails, with rippling muscles. No one could recall him ever smiling, and he always maintained his blank look. Frank was a stocky man too and fast with his fists. His nickname, ‘the butcher’, came about because he knew every tool from mechanics to abattoirs. Anything involving extreme pain, Frank was your man.

  Blakey didn’t say a word, as he sat heavily on the sofa and waited. Frank nodded at Cyril. “So, what’s it all about, then?” he asked.

  Cyril raised his eyebrow. “Eddie wants to reclaim his lost million from some kid,” he laughed.

  “Listen, I don’t give a flying fuck that she is a kid. In fact, she ain’t a kid, she’s a woman. I ain’t gonna laugh it off. The bitch has taken a fucking liberty, and I want me money back,” spat Eddie, irritated that they saw fit to mock him.

  Frank looked at Eddie’s arm. “What ya gone an’ done there, Cako?”

  “Her fucking dog nearly took me arm off, so I am taking this theft personally, got it!” His voice rose a couple of octaves higher than perhaps was necessary, and it caused his friends’ faces to turn sour. They knew then there would be no old-school banter. Eddie was serious and his tone harsh. They all knew how unpredictable he could be when his mind was set on something – no one would get in his way.

  At the appointed time, Peter arrived dressed in a suit. Holding a bouquet of flowers, he knocked on the door. Blakey stood behind the door as Cyril opened it, and before Peter had even opened his mouth, Cyril had Peter’s arm up his back whilst Blakey placed a black hessian bag over his head. The flowers were crumpled in the assault, leaving rose petals covering the hallway. They marched him into the lounge, with him shouting and wriggling, trying to get away.

  The fear was like nothing Peter had felt before. He enjoyed watching horror films and old gangster movies, but now he was living one. He was pushed onto a seat and trussed up like a turkey for Christmas, except in this cas
e, it was duct tape binding him to the chair. “What do you want from me?” he screamed.

  Eddie could see he was shaking; his legs were bobbing up and down like a jackhammer.

  “Shut the fuck up!” Eddie screamed back in his ear. “You will do as I say, and maybe you won’t get hurt. Fuck up, and, well, you may not even live!”

  Now totally petrified, he would agree to anything. His body felt limp, yet his knees were knocking of their own accord. He felt the plastic sheet under his shoes move against the marble floor, conjuring all kinds of horrific thoughts. He was well aware of the significance of the plastic sheet, but he couldn’t fathom why Eddie had done him over.

  “So, my mate, Frank ‘the butcher’, tell me what tools did you bring?” asked Eddie, in Peter’s ear.

  Frank laughed and unravelled his rolled-up collection of knives, wrenches, and tool grips. Peter felt faint when he heard the metal instruments clanging together.

  “What do you want from me?” he cried again.

  “That’s my boy. Now, where’s ya phone?” demanded Eddie.

  Peter didn’t even think to play a game; he had no intention of hiding anything, so gripped by terror. “In my pocket.”

  Eddie felt inside Peter’s jacket pocket and pulled out the latest flash phone. He scrolled down, saw Kelly’s number, and phoned her.

  *

  Keffa had insisted he stayed that night, and so he took her room whilst Kelly slept in Lippy’s. They made plans the next day for all of them to move to Keffa’s North London pad, as he hardly used it himself. Kelly was adamant she wanted to remain at home, and she would face Eddie again, if he returned. But with Reggie, Ditto, and Keffa all on her case, she finally gave in. She was packing up her bags and loading Ditto’s car, when the phone rang. Seeing the name ‘Peter’ on her screen, she thought perhaps it was not a good time to answer. She let it ring and carried on sorting through her clothes but then it rang again. She sat on the bed and stared for a while. She had left Peter hanging over the last few days and thought it was unfair, and yet how could she bring him into her mad world? Apart from the timing, were they really compatible? And besides, she was having strong feelings for another man – Keffa. She left the phone on the bed and carried another box out to the car.