CRUEL SECRETS Page 6

  Relieved he was giving her clothes and not a shag, she followed him upstairs, mentally kicking herself and feeling humiliated for trying to be careful with the money entrusted to her. But perhaps she had completely misread the situation downstairs.

  Up to now, she hadn’t ventured onto the top floor. It was like a warehouse, with boxes stuffed everywhere, fake watches spilling out of holdalls, tracksuits in laundry bags, and coats, suits, trainers, and bags all over the room. As she passed each section, her eyes widened and Ditto laughed. “My curry’s gonna get cold, so you just help yourself.” With that he was gone and Kelly was left in wonder. She could hear them laughing downstairs, yet it wasn’t the same laughter being directed at her in the way she had been humiliated at school. No, this was different; it wasn’t cruel at all.

  With a beautiful tailored Chanel suit, a Rolex watch, a Louis Vuitton Bag, and Gucci shoes, she paraded in front of the mirror in the hallway and liked what she saw – in fact, she was over the moon.

  Rudy nodded when she returned to the lounge and Phoenix whistled. She had a smile on her face which refused to leave.

  “Hey, me niece looks proper grown-up now. That’s what ya s’posed to look like,” grinned Rudy.

  Kelly looked down at her outfit and chuckled. “Thanks Rudy, Ditto.” She nodded in his direction.

  With a curry-ladened spoon an inch from his mouth, Ditto stared. “I got an idea,” he said, placing his spoon back on the plate.

  “Now, what have I told you about this thinking lark? You leave that to me,” laughed Rudy. His voice and actions were so over the top, it made Kelly laugh. Most men of his age she had ever come across were reserved and controlled. Rudy was different; he would slap his leg and roll around, often with a childish giggle.

  “Nah, nah, listen, those Pakis down Commercial Road. Well, we have been trying to get them to buy the gear, yeah?” said Ditto, equally animated.

  Rudy nodded.

  “Well, they won’t have it with us, me nor Reggie, but Bluey may be our answer,” suggested Ditto, jumping from his seat. “See, up there for thinking, down there for dancing,” he laughed and gave a little two-step dance.

  “Oh, my daze, Ditz, ya finally found ya brain.” Rudy high-fived him.

  Kelly looked from one to the other in astonishment. She had no idea what they were talking about, but whatever it was, she was certainly up for it.

  Solly turned the TV on. “Don’t mind, Rudes, do ya? I wanna see what’s happening in the world.”

  “The politicians ain’t gonna change the price of me ganga, are they?” Rudy sniggered and winked at Kelly. She sat herself down next to Phoenix and lifted her plate from the floor. Observing Pat and Phoenix, Phoenix was definitely the softer-looking, and he always seemed to have a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye. Pat, though, wore a mean expression and a moody attitude to go with it. She was nervous of Pat because he possessed a sly grin and was so unlike the others, with their open expressions. His size was intimidating too: he was a huge man with dark scarred skin, and his hair was greased back with wet-look curls. She perceived he pushed Phoenix around a bit. That was her gift: she could sense people’s feelings and gauge their character, having always been the one on the outside, looking in.

  The aroma was mouth-watering and she was eager to get stuck in. The first mouthful was a shock as it was hot and spicy and a taste she had never experienced before, but once the initial burning sensation left, she savoured the aftertaste and scooped up another spoonful.

  Then the room went quiet and Kelly felt her head burning, she felt her heart begin to pump madly, and the curry becoming lodged at the back of her throat. There, on the screen, was a head and shoulders shot of herself – a school photo. Sitting rigidly, she listened along with everyone else in the room. Lippy stood in the doorway and could only gasp.

  The newsreader was describing her as missing and the body of Patrick Mahoney found dead in her bedroom. “Police are still looking for Kelly Raven and they cannot rule out murder,” reported the newscaster.

  As if a lion had stepped into the room, Kelly was gripped by terror. She had blocked the whole incident out of her head, but there, as clear as day, was her photo, and the incident being broadcasted to millions. As soon as the subject changed to world news, they all turned to face her.

  Right then, Kelly wished she was invisible. Ill at ease and shamefaced, it was a humiliating experience for her. Placing the plate on the floor, she stood up. “Please, please, don’t turn me in. I will go. I’m so sorry about this. I would never bring trouble to your door, I swear. I didn’t mean—”

  “Hey, wait, Bluey, sit yaself back down.” Rudy’s voice was calm and his tone accommodating. No one else said a word, as they waited for Rudy’s decision. Little did she know, they were all criminals and wanted by the police for one thing or another, even Lippy, as she had murdered her husband ten years before and was still on the run.

  Life seemed so unfair to her. Reality kicked her in the teeth, and like the fifteen-year-old she was, she cried. With her hands cupping her face, she broke down and sobbed. Phoenix, not used to tears, put his arms around her and cradled her like a baby. Her longing to be a part of this new-found family, and to leave the past behind, she saw it for what it was: it was an illusion, pure and simple, and totally ridiculous. How could she ever really ignore the fatal event? Christ, she had killed a man, bludgeoned him to death.

  Rudy came and knelt by her feet and removed her hands from her face. “Hey, Bluey, don’t cry. We can work this out.”

  Eventually, Kelly stopped crying and looked up. Solly, Reggie, and Ditto were staring, but there wasn’t anger in their eyes: it was more like compassion. Pat, however, was glaring, as he hadn’t liked the fact that Rudy had held a knife to his throat over a stranger.

  “Are you all the ticket, Rudy? You have to get rid of her. The Ol’ Bill will have a party, if they find her here.”

  Rudy was on his feet so fast and in Pat’s face, he didn’t have a chance to move. Rudy grabbed him round the throat. “Ya better shut ya mouth, before I shut it for ya. If I say she stays and she is me niece, then she fucking stays, and you, ya rat, will treat her like she’s me own flesh and blood.” He pushed him aside and turned to face Kelly.

  “Please stop it!” she shouted. “I will go! You have all been so kind to me, and I would never want to cause any trouble. Honestly, it’s best I go.” She got up to leave.

  “Nah, wait!” shouted Rudy. “This is my home and I say who stays and who goes, and you, Pat, have fucked me over. I know ya did. I let you off, ’cos I give people chances, but you owe me for that lickle blind eye, and don’t get cocky. You know ya place, man, and if ya don’t like it, then you can fuck off.”

  Pat seemed to recoil into the sofa. He knew that Rudy had sussed him out. He had tried to earn a little extra out of a cocaine deal by cutting it with speed and creaming off a bigger profit. It had been only the one time, and he hadn’t planned to do it again. Rudy was small but he was fast and reckless and not many men took him on.

  “All right, fam, no trouble,” he replied. Rudy backed off and approached the frightened Kelly.

  “Finish ya curry, Bluey. Don’t worry about a thing. Ya safe here, I promise.”

  Kelly wiped her face and sat back down. She couldn’t eat the curry; she felt too sick and she was worried to let that spoon pass her lips.

  Rudy walked into the kitchen with Lippy, whilst Phoenix put his arm around Kelly, whispering, “We got ya back, Blue.”

  They were so kind, she wanted to cry again. There she was, surrounded by black hard-core gangsters, with a plate of curry, and her face plastered all over the news, and somehow, apart from Pat, it was all right, in their books.

  Rudy and Lippy returned. “So, me chil’, first thing is we is gonna change ya hair. Ya have to have a story too.” She laughed. “Being Rudy’s niece won’t work. Besides, you is white and he is chocolate,” chuckled Lippy, happily.

  CHAPTER THREE

>   Lippy took Kelly up to her room. Kelly had not been inside until now and was wide-eyed. It was so colourful. Her huge double bed had a bright pink duvet and red cushions stacked at the head. The fluffy rugs were like a 1970s psychedelic poster and hanging from her wardrobes were slinky, shiny dresses.

  “Oh, wow, it’s a lovely room, Lippy.”

  Lippy looked at the wonderment in Kelly’s eyes and a sadness crept over her. She looked posh and clean but what lay underneath, in the depths of her past, played on Lippy’s mind.

  “Oh, me chil’, it’s just trashy, is all.”

  Kelly laughed. “Well, then, I like trashy,” she remarked, as she sat on the bed.

  Not wanting to push the matter too far, Lippy cautiously remarked, “Ya don’t have to chat ya know, but I’m all ears, if ya want to.”

  The thought crossed Kelly’s mind that maybe she should be honest, for, after all, what did she have to lose? The truth would come out one day anyway.

  “I killed that Patrick. I didn’t mean to. I was so frightened that he was going to …” She stopped, as she didn’t want to say the words.

  Lippy sat beside her and placed her well-manicured hands on Kelly’s knee. “You no need to worry … I s’pose ya miss ya mum?” she asked, concerned that Kelly was so young and obviously naïve to their ways. Instead, she was met by a cold glare; it sent a chill down her back.

  “I hate her. She brought that man into our home. I didn’t even know him. She said he was my uncle. But he wasn’t, Lippy, he was just some old pervert.”

  The sudden outburst left Lippy anxious for the child. Instantly, she placed a meaty arm around her shoulder, letting her know she wasn’t alone. “Now, don’t you go worrying, you safe ’ere with us.” She paused, wanting to know more about Kelly’s mother because she had been brought up that no matter how strict your mother was, you had to respect her. “Ya mother wicked, was she?”

  Staring out of the window, Kelly gave a small thought to her mother. What did she really think about her? There’s no two ways about it, she thought: she knew she hated her. Maureen didn’t love her, had never loved her, but she was determined to control her. All of her life had been spent being totally disciplined and restrained by the one woman who should have let her grow into a person. But she wasn’t a person, she was a robot. Never allowed to think for herself, never allowed an opinion, imprisoned in a loveless home, and surrounded by crosses and open windows blowing in cold air, she had been wickedly subjugated into a life that was not hers to live. The never-ending brainwashing, of burning in hell, was relentless. Kelly was thirteen when she stopped believing in Maureen’s definition of God. She was eight when her mother had beaten her badly, cruelly scarring her back.

  It was just after her eighth birthday. She was drawing a picture on the dining table, minding her own business. Her mother was reading the Bible as usual, and the only sound was the grandfather clock ticking with its rhythmic precision. Other than this sound, the silence seemed to emanate like a loud scream that left a buzzing noise in Kelly’s ears. She hated the quiet and wished her mother would just talk to her about anything other than Jesus. So, she decided to start a conversation.

  “Mummy, when I grow up, I want to be a dancer …” No sooner had the words left her mouth, than her mother leapt from her seat like a mad woman possessed. She grabbed Kelly by her hair and dragged her off the chair. Only her toes were touching the floor and she squealed as the pain shot around her hairline. “Mummy, let go of me, please!”

  Maureen shook her like a rag doll and threw her to the floor. “Dancer, dancer!” she screamed. “You are the devil’s spawn and no daughter of mine will dance for the devil, you evil Jezebel!”

  Just this one time, Kelly shouted back and would forever regret it. “I ain’t the devil’s spawn, I ain’t evil, but you are!”

  Maureen was like an animal, foaming at the mouth, as she dragged Kelly from the floor and marched her out to the garden and into the dark and towards the shed. Inside, the shelves were made of slatted wood. Tossing Kelly to the ground, she retrieved a rope neatly curled in a ball. After tying the rope to the slatted wood, she grabbed Kelly’s arms, pulling her up from the floor and facing her to the wall. She then entwined the rope round her wrists so tightly that Kelly felt her fingers go numb. She didn’t cry or beg her mother to stop: she was too afraid of the consequences. Once Maureen had Kelly stretched out like Jesus on the cross, she seized the cotton shirt off her back. Kelly was shaking with fear. In her head, she prayed for this God, who was so kind and loving, to help her now. But God didn’t answer her prayers. The first whack was wicked. Kelly heard the whipping noise of the cane, before it tore into her skin. The pain was unbearable. She had never felt agony like it. But a scream still couldn’t leave her mouth. The second blow made her buckle, so now she was hanging by her wrists. She could feel a trickle down her back, and then, without warning, there was a barrage of blows, as her mother, in her brutality, slashed her bare back to pieces. The suffering was so immense that Kelly blacked out. She eventually came to, still hanging from the ropes, but it was dark and cold. She hated her mother at that point, more than anything. Even in those young years, she knew that the beating was wrong. Eventually, Maureen came into the shed and cut her loose, before marching her into the house and upstairs to the bathroom. Kelly couldn’t see the mess of her back, but as she stepped into the bath and was forcibly immersed in the water, the stinging gripped her and the water turned pink. That pain was now edged in her brain; nothing could ever hurt as badly as that.

  It took weeks to heal, but in a small child’s mind, that must have seemed like forever. It was the summer holidays and so there was no school. Kelly lay on her bed for days with no top on; it was too excruciating to have anything touch her raw skin. Maureen never spoke to her in her time of desperate need, but when she finally did, it was to warn her that any backchat like before would find her back in the shed.

  Her thoughts returned to her present predicament. Lowering her gaze, she spoke in a slow, cold tone. “Me muvver’s a wicked, cruel woman.” Deliberately, she got to her feet, removed her jacket, and then her top, and turned to face the wall. Lippy stared in horror. The scars looked horrendous: there must have been twenty in total. Kelly didn’t need to say another word and Lippy would never question her.

  A lump lodged in Lippy’s throat. She had never had kids of her own – her husband had seen to that, by kicking the baby she was carrying out of her stomach. She would have loved a child, and there before her stood a beautiful girl, with innocent bright eyes and a smile to die for, whose mother only saw fit to torture. What that poor girl had gone through was beyond Lippy’s imagination.

  “I was only eight years old, Lippy.”

  With cupped hands, Lippy covered her mouth and bit her lip, fighting the urge to cry. She had seen some things in her time but this was beyond words. She knew then that without a doubt she would look out for this child.

  “Okay, me beauty, we have to look at changing your appearance. Now, ya probably gonna hate me, but what if we cut ya hair an’ change the colour?”

  The tension lifted, as Kelly’s smile lit up her face. “Lippy, do whatever ya want. I ain’t too fond of me hair. It’s boring, like me.”

  “Ah, me sweetness, you ain’t boring, you just haven’t found yaself yet. But that’s okay now. See, you is still a baby, and you got to give yaself time to grow.”

  Two hours after cutting, dyeing, and fussing, Kelly emerged into the lounge. Rudy was half-asleep or stoned – Kelly couldn’t tell the difference. Ditto and Reggie were playing some game on their Nintendo and Phoenix was texting his girlfriend. She noticed that Pat and Solly had left.

  They stopped what they were doing and faced Kelly. Rudy was now wide awake and raised his eyebrows. She turned around to show off her new look.

  Phoenix, a man of few words, was the first to speak. “Bluey! Ya all grown-up.”

  She had never felt that any of them looked at her in any way other than
as a child. Phoenix was about thirty-eight years old, the same as Rudy, and Ditto and Reggie were probably about eighteen; it was a comfort that they didn’t look at her with sexual intent.

  Rudy laughed. “How’s I gonna get anything done now with ya strutting around looking like a model?”

  Lippy pushed him out of the way. “She’s the baby in this house and you mind ya business.”

  Rudy winked at Kelly and smiled at Lippy. “I know that, but I bet the Ol’ Bill won’t. She ain’t the same lickle shorty. She’s a hot woman.” He watched Lippy’s expression and realised she may have the wrong idea. “I know, Lippy, I know. I ain’t looking at her like that.”

  “Thanks, Lippy.” She paused and then let the words trip off her tongue. “I wish I’d had a mum like you.”

  Kelly realised she had voiced her emotions and quickly laughed it off before heading back to the bathroom to have another look. Lippy had cut her hair into a clean-edged bob, adding plenty of highlights. She had done a first-class job and now she looked ten years older. With eye make-up, her round pools of green were smouldering. She added blusher to her cheeks, accentuating her high chiselled cheekbones. It was a far cry from the plain, insignificant schoolgirl she once was. This was who she was meant to be. She looked tougher, not a wimpy pushover, with a confidence embellished on her face. It was as if another person was staring back from the mirror: she wasn’t ‘Churchy’ Raven anymore, she was Bluey now.

  That night, in bed, she knew that Rudy must want more from her than to teach him to read. All this for just a few lessons didn’t make any sense.

  She was right, although it wasn’t planned, it just happened. The fake business was taking off and the penalty was less harsh than for pedalling drugs. The boys could offload some of the gear to the beauty salon and cafés to sell, but Rudy wanted the bigger buyers – the Indians in Commercial Road. He saw his ‘niece’ as young, but he knew she had a good head on her shoulders and probably the ability to sell. As a trusted white woman, Kelly was expected to try to win over the Indians; she looked more credible than Reggie and Ditto.