CRUEL SECRETS Page 39

  Their conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door. There stood a woman, dressed in a white pinny. “Err, Cyril, I’m off,” she told him.

  “Hang on a minute, Maggie, I ain’t had me dinner … I would like a nice roast beef followed by apple pie and custard, and me guest would like the same.”

  The woman stood with her hands on her hips. “Now, I won’t tell you again. My name is Mary, and you, Lord Fuckwit, can do one. My shift is over. And I always have Saturdays off. At least I did for Lord Chambers, gawd rest his soul.”

  Cyril got up from his grand chair and faced the irate woman. “What did he die of, then? No fucker told me.”

  She snivelled into her apron. “Yes, Cyril, he died, not long after you stole his stately home. He missed the old place, and to be honest with ya, I miss him. It’s hard work slaving for you. Nothing is in a routine, and I can’t live like this. I mean, who has a MacDonald’s burger for breakfast? I am the housekeeper-come-cook. We have standards, ya know.”

  Cyril walked over and put his arm around her shoulder. “Now, now, ol’ girl, I didn’t steal this mansion. I won it fair and square at poker. And if I had lost, he would have had two fucking mansions, so don’t go thinking me a thief … Okay, maybe I was, years ago, but not now. So, Saturdays you have off, eh? Well, do me a favour, cook me a nice roast, and you can have tomorrow and Sunday off.”

  Mary huffed and sighed. “Well, Cyril, things are going to have to change around here, especially if you want to be a lord. You can stop swearing for a start and have some bleedin’ decorum. And stop walking around with ya bollocks on show. It’s enough to give me the screaming abdabs.”

  Cyril conceded. “Yes, Maggie, I will, as long as you stop calling me Lord Fuckwit.”

  With that, she nodded, closed the double doors, and left. Kelly was amused by it all and then she glanced up at the huge oil painting of Cyril. He was sitting on a horse with a grin, beaming from ear to ear, dressed in a hunting jacket. It was all too surreal yet somehow homely. Cyril was as mad as a box of frogs, and yet other than his villainous reputation, he was as soft as shit.

  He waddled back to his chair and tittered like a school kid. “I love that ol’ girl really. She came with this place. I wind her up something rotten. Ya know, she loves me. She looked after me when I had a stomach bug. Cor, I was proper ill an’ all.”

  Kelly laughed and jokingly replied, “She probably tried to poison ya. You ain’t left the mansion to her in your will, ’ave ya?”

  There was silence for a second. Cyril, with a twinkle in his eye, gave her a benevolent smile. “As a matter of fact, my babe, I have made a will. So, take a good butchers around ya, ’cos, Kelly, when I’m gone, this ’ere is all yours.”

  “What?” she murmured in a slow whisper.

  “Well, my babe, I should ’ave been there for ya. I can’t get over that you were taken from Naomi, the sweet child, and brought up, no dragged up, by that Maureen, tortured an’ all. I would ’ave come for ya. You see, Kelly, I loved you when you was a little ’un. Like a child I never had, if ya know what I mean. Anyway, so yep, babe, this is all left to you.”

  As the evening went on, Kelly learned a lot about the people in her family: the evil tricks her father had got up to, the wicked grief Toni caused people, and Sheila, the woman behind Patrick and Jack. Then, when the conversation turned to her birth mother, she discovered how really delightful she was. Cyril only partly allayed Kelly’s concerns about Keffa. He concluded that he had no ulterior motive other than Kelly had turned up in his life when he was maybe doing some kind of business with Sheila. After all, no way would Sheila let Keffa know about the blue diamond. It was dog eat dog, in their world.

  Mary returned to the drawing room with the hostess trolley and wheeled it over to the table under the enormous windows that overlooked the stunning gardens. Cyril never used the dining room, being as it was too formal.

  “This is me niece, Kelly.”

  Mary smiled her way and then glared back at Cyril. “Well, that does surprise me. I mean, I thought you were related to the Munsters.” She turned to Kelly and winked.

  “If you are staying tonight, love, there is the pink room, all fresh and aired.”

  Kelly smiled. “Thank you, Mary, I think I will.”

  Cyril rubbed his hands together, when he looked at the beautifully presented meal. “Cor, Mags, this looks lovely. Now, you ain’t poisoned me food, ’ave ya?”

  Out of the blue, Mary ruffled Cyril’s hair and laughed. “I might have,” she giggled, and then she left. Kelly realised that Mary did have a soft spot for Cyril but was probably missing her previous employer. After all, Cyril acting the lord was such a joke.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  The next morning, Kelly got up from her four-poster bed. She had spent the evening tasting Cyril’s various ports and wines from the huge cellar. He enjoyed showing off his new-found mansion with all the trimmings. The pink bedroom was now renamed ‘Kelly’s room’. She left before breakfast, thanking Cyril for his hospitality and kissing him on the cheek. She noticed his eyes looked as though they were glistening.

  “Now, babe, you listen to ya Uncle Cyril. Any hint of trouble, you just get ya arse over ’ere. No ifs or buts. Will ya promise me?”

  Kelly nodded. “I will, I promise.” She looked up at the stately home and smiled. “I can see me here as lady of the manor.”

  Cyril chuckled. “Yeah, Lady Fuckwit, eh?”

  He was still waving, as she was driven down the long drive, and for a moment she realised that, in among all the madness, she did feel at home with Cyril. During the long drive back to the house, she thought once more about her conversations yesterday evening with him. She chuckled to herself; he was a right geezer, who clearly loved her, and she was glad she had him in her corner. And she loved Rudy and Lippy too, who were still in Jamaica, and who, by the sounds of things, would be there for another few weeks. Even her aunt Bet had agreed to stay a little longer. Yes, she knew she had people in her life now who loved her. But she was still weighed down with so much of the past, that her heart felt heavy, and her mind was whirling in circles, trying to fathom it all out.

  The traffic, when they hit London, was heavy, even though it was a Saturday. As they turned the corner to her home, she saw Keffa’s car parked outside. She felt a cold sensation and a deep sinking feeling. She was in love with him, but at this moment, she wasn’t sure if she could really trust him. Everyone in her life seemed to let her down. Once the cab pulled up, she decided to have the whole ‘Sheila thing’ out with him. But before she even reached the door, Keffa was running down the steps, his face flushed, and snatching both her arms and shaking her.

  “Where have you been? I have been worried sick that Sheila McFarlane has been sniffing around and you would suddenly go on the missing list.”

  Kelly could see the worry in his eyes; they told her he did care about her. Surely, he couldn’t fake his feelings that well? She had ignored his texts and phone calls and should have phoned him, but her mind was all over the place, twenty-four hours ago.

  “All right, Keffa, leave off. I only went to see me uncle.”

  He let her go and folded his arms. “Oh, yeah, what uncle?”

  “Cyril, if ya must know.” She waited to gauge his reaction and was surprised when he relaxed his shoulders and sighed, “Jesus, thank God for that. I thought Sheila’s boys had taken you.”

  Kelly walked past him, hoping he would follow; she had questions that needed answering.

  They both walked into the lounge and closed the door behind them. Ditto smiled at Kelly. “You okay, Kel?”

  Kelly nodded. “Listen, Ditz, d’ya mind if I have a private word with Keffa?”

  Ditz frowned, looking from Keffa and then back to Kelly. “Nah, ’course. I am off to collect me winnings from the betting shop.” He rubbed his hands together.

  Keffa was still flustered and looked uneasy. He didn’t like the expression on her face and hoped he hadn’t upset h
er. Growing to love her, he wanted nothing more than to see out his future with her.

  “What’s up, Blue?”

  Kelly paced the floor. He admired her. In many ways, she had the full package: not only was she good-looking and smart but she had that indefinable quality about her which set herself off from almost everyone he had ever known. She was almost certainly impulsive but unquestionably she was a leader in his eyes. She stopped and her stare was laser-like. “Tell me, Keffa, what business do you have with Sheila?”

  Keffa sighed and ran his hands over his head.

  “If you must know, I used to supply arms. I’m not proud of it, and she was my customer, her and Patrick.”

  Kelly plonked herself down on the sofa and stared off into space.

  “When you appeared on the news for killing Patrick and suddenly this kid turns up at Rudy’s, well, I somehow guessed it was you. Then, of course, you came to my house and took me by surprise. There you were, just a bit of a kid, really, all mouth and trousers, but with a heart of gold. I probably fell in love with you then …”

  Kelly turned to face him. “Go on, Keffa, but cut out the crap.”

  Those words really stung. “Hey, listen, Blue, it’s true, I’m not lying to you.”

  “Keffa, just tell me your dealings with Sheila!” she hissed.

  “Anyway, once word got around, I was told to look out for you, if you showed your face in London. I never let on to her that you were here, though. Then I went to your trial. I saw Jordan, her son, hovering about, so I shot off. But he saw me, and the next thing is, I got a visit by her ladyship. She wanted to know everything.”

  Kelly nodded. “So, what did you tell her?”

  “I told her to fuck off and leave you alone.”

  Kelly suddenly shot up from her chair and yelled, “You liar, Keffa, I trusted you. I saw you from the lounge window, shaking hands with Jordan, having your cosy little chat.”

  Keffa’s face clouded over with disappointment. “No, Kelly, you got it wrong. I saw their car parked across the road and I waited. Then I saw them come out of the house. That’s when I approached them. I warned them that if they should go near you again, I would kill ’em.”

  “I saw you, Keffa, shake Jordan’s hand.”

  Keffa shook his head and smiled. “No, you never. You got that wrong. I was actually grabbing the gun that was in his hand to take it off him.”

  Kelly closed her eyes and tried to recall what she had seen. Maybe she was mistaken. “But you never knocked, you got in your car …”

  “Yeah, I followed them to make sure they didn’t come back. Christ, why do you think I was so worried when you didn’t come home? All those messages and calls I sent to you. Blue, I love you!”

  “Do you know what they want from me?”

  Keffa nodded. “You have something that belongs to them. I don’t know what it is, but they want it back.”

  “They think I have a blue diamond, worth millions, but I don’t have it. I sold the one I had and gave the money back to Eddie, but apparently, there is another one.”

  “Fuck me, Blue, that witch has killed people for less. Are you sure you have no idea?”

  “Yes, I am sure. If I had it, she could choke on it.”

  “Right, we need to get you to a safe place, well away from here, ’cos, my sweetheart, trust me, she will be back.”

  Kelly knew then that he was being honest, and she felt sick with remorse for even thinking he would hurt her. “I am sorry, Keffa, really I am. I should never have doubted you.”

  He laughed. “Blue, you have gone through a living hell in your young life. I ain’t surprised you don’t trust me. But you will do one day, I promise.”

  Something interrupted her thoughts. She stepped back like a bolt of lightning, her eyes widening. “Take me to my house.”

  “What, your old house? I mean, where you grew up? What happened to it?”

  Kelly pulled out her bunch of keys and smiled. “It was sorted out through probate. My solicitor made sure it was handed over to me. Not that I would ever go back there, but it’s mine.”

  Keffa drove in silence, guessing this would be a difficult time for Kelly. She felt her mouth dry up, as they turned the corner. There was the bus stop, the one she had waited at every morning for the bus. It conjured up so many negative memories imaginable. It was here where she’d stood shivering because her mother had never allowed her to wear a coat, which was warm enough, or woollen tights to cover her freezing legs. It was this bus stop where the kids had mercilessly teased and laughed at her. Slowly, they pulled over outside the house of hell. It was midday and the sun shone brightly, but the house, which previously had been meticulously maintained, showed obvious signs of neglect: the lawn was now a jungle, the pruned rose bushes were strangled with bindweed, the glossy front door looked dirty and faded, and the nets inside seemed grey. She thought about Maureen somewhere in a grave; it was a place she had never even laid flowers, but why would she?

  It was a while before she had the resolve to step out of the car.

  “Blue, you don’t have to go in there, you know.”

  Kelly gave him a wan smile, and it was as though she was that teenager again: a shy, self-conscious kid, with the fear of her mother’s wrath on her mind. Keffa could see it in her eyes, and at that moment, he so wanted to reach out and hug her.

  He followed closely behind and glanced up and down the road, as she slipped the key in the lock. She pushed the door open and held her breath – she almost expected her mother to come out of the kitchen screaming obscenities at her. It was silent; an eerie stillness prevailed which even Keffa was unnerved by. They stepped inside and closed the door. Everything was the same barring the dust. Gripped by a cold shiver, she stepped back and leaned into Keffa. He sensed her fear and put his hand on her shoulder as if to say, ‘I am right here’.

  The living room was as sparse as ever, with just the sofa, armchair, and the old television. Keffa noticed the only picture on the wall, the one of Jesus, and the odd wooden crosses dotted around. It gave him the creeps. It should have looked peaceful and calm, like a church, but somehow it seemed very unholy. At the end, by the patio doors, was a bare dining-room table. Kelly stared for a few seconds reliving sitting there, night after night in silence, drawing a picture or reading some religious book.

  They climbed the stairs and stopped at the first room, her bedroom. It was as the police had said, ransacked. But not too much mess was actually evident – after all, Kelly had hardly had anything to call her own. As Keffa stood in the doorway, his heart sank. This room was like a prison cell, with nothing but the basics. Anyone could have lived here. There was no sign of Kelly’s personality; it was all so weird and yet so sad. This was Kelly’s past; a loveless home with nothing to even dream about. No wonder she spoke from the heart and was so grateful to Rudy and Lippy.

  Kelly walked on and into her mother’s room, where she looked very carefully around the walls, in thought. Hurrying back along the landing and down the stairs, with Keffa on her heels, she unbolted the back door and headed straight for the shed. More daunting than the house was that wooden shed. She stopped at the door, almost afraid to go inside. The very centre of her angst – the one place she feared more than anywhere – was before her; it was now covered in trailing weeds. She checked behind to make sure Keffa was still there. She knew the shed held nothing sinister, except those incredibly disturbing memories, but that fear, even at twenty-one, still gripped her around the throat.

  Taking a deep breath, she pulled open the door. The smell was the same and the dark, foreboding place was smaller than she remembered, but even today, it still scared the shit out of her. Once the door was wide open, she could see more clearly. There were the slatted shelves with the ropes still attached. Even the sharply filed canes, which her mother had used to strip her back, were a visible reminder of those dark days so many years ago. She slowly ran her hands over the ropes and along the canes. She felt an overwhelming sense of p
ity for the eight-year-old child she once was. It was the height of the ropes that brought home to her how tiny she was when her mother had tied her up.

  Keffa knew then that this was the place where his Bluey had been whipped. His stomach felt empty. It was like a horror scene. Kelly felt the pain clench her again and an unexpected tear rolled down her face. He squeezed her shoulder, just to let her know he was there. Then, unexpectedly, she sat on the floor and closed her eyes. He remained quiet but puzzled. She moved her hands across the surface until she found the floorboard she wanted. She then gripped this one and pulled it up. As she opened her eyes, there it was – the cross which had hung above her mother’s bed. It was the same cross she had seen her mother carry out here, the night Patrick slept over, the night she was too scared to go to the bathroom. Years before, when her mother had locked her in the shed all night in the dark, she had sat there shivering. At some point, her hands had felt something loose and it was a floorboard. Then, she had very much hoped and prayed that tucked inside was a key to get her out, but there had been nothing, nothing except an empty box.

  But this time, however, she hoped she would not be disappointed. There was no key to unlock doors or secrets, but there was something else: there was the cross. She held it in her hands and stared at the chunky ornate instrument, and slowly, she turned it over to reveal a secret hidden compartment. She opened it with her fingernail, and, there, like the heart of Christ himself, was the blue diamond. How ironic was that?

  Keffa bent over and reached for her hand. “Come on, Bluey, let’s get out of here.”

  She took it, and as he pulled her to her feet, she fell into his arms and hugged him, whispering, “All that carnage for the sake of a stone held hidden in a cross. My mother knew all the time that there was another diamond.”

  She handed it to him and walked back to the house. This would be the test. The diamond was worth more money than either of them could imagine, and she had placed that power firmly in his hands. Now she would see the truth.