Mr Nice
MR NICE
JOHN NICHOLL
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
More from John Nicholl
About the Author
About Boldwood Books
1
Megan woke with a start, opening one bleary eye and then the other, as the banging got louder, reverberating throughout the entire house, the front door shaking in its frame. She turned her head on the pillow, tired eyes narrowed to slits, glancing at the illuminated numbers on the digital clock to her left. Megan screwed up her face, swearing crudely under her breath as the clock’s face came into gradual focus. 2.03 a.m., and here he was again, pissed out of his tiny mind no doubt, hammering on the door like the place was on fire. Would he ever see sense? Would he ever grow up? It seemed that even the threat of imprisonment couldn’t control the fool’s drunken excesses.
Come on, girl, up you get. Just get rid of him. Send him on his way. He won’t sod off otherwise. The idiot never did.
Megan threw back her summer-weight quilt. She rose wearily from the bed, pulling on a cotton T-shirt and a pair of loose, knee-length, linen shorts, before approaching her young daughter’s bedroom, across the small landing at the front of the Victorian house, with a view of the little garden and street below. As the banging became even more insistent Megan entered the room, to find her daughter perched on her single bed with the curtains only slightly ajar, peering down, half-hidden, at her drunken father below. A single tear ran down the young child’s freckled cheek as she turned to Megan, her face perfectly framed by her pale-yellow hair.
Lottie smiled thinly as she met her mother’s tired eyes, but there was an unmistakable air of sadness about her that made Megan’s heart sink. It seemed the breakup and everything that went with it was taking its inevitable toll.
‘Is Daddy cross again? Have I been naughty?’
Megan reached out, pulling Lottie towards her and hugging her tight as she carried her towards the larger bedroom at the back of the house, away from the street.
‘No, sweetie, it’s not your fault. It’s never your fault. Daddy is being silly again, that’s all. I’m going to tell him to go away, and then we can get back to sleep. Try not to worry. Everything is going to be just fine. I’ll look after you. I love you very much.’
Lottie climbed into her mother’s double bed, pulling the quilt high, hiding from the world, not wanting to see Megan leave the room. ‘Can I sleep in your bed all night, Mummy?’
Megan forced an unlikely smile, nodding twice, her blue eyes flickering like a faulty bulb, tears flowing despite a determined desire to remain stoic in times of adversity. ‘Of course you can. I’ll tell Daddy to go back to his flat and then we can cuddle up together. Now, close your eyes, ignore the silly noise and think nice thoughts. We can go swimming together tomorrow, at the pool, just you and me. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? And maybe we’ll call to see Granny on our way home. You can feed the fish in the pond.’
‘And the frogs?’
Megan relaxed slightly, full of hope as the banging stopped. She stood and listened, clutching her stomach, rocking in one place. Had the fool finally given up on the hope of a response?
Megan placed the palms of her hands together in front of her at shoulder level, fingers pointed upwards. Please, God, let it be so.
But, no. Bang! There it was again. Bang! Megan swallowed hard, a twitchy feeling in her extremities. ‘Yes, Lottie, we mustn’t forget the frogs. We like the frogs. Now, close your eyes and put your hands over your ears. I’m going to send Daddy on his way. That’s it, hold them tight, as I showed you, like the last time. I’ll be back as quickly as I can.’
The little girl opened her eyes wide. ‘Where’s Teddy?’
Megan crossed the room, looking back, speaking as calmly as possible, desperately attempting to introduce a semblance of normality to a situation that had become all too familiar in recent weeks. ‘I left him in your room. That was silly of me. I’ll bring him with me when I come back, promise. Now, hold your hands over your ears like I told you and close your eyes tight shut. That’s it, perfect, what a good girl you are. I’ll be back before you know it.’
‘Will you leave the light on?’
‘Yes, I’ll leave the light on.’
Lottie was entirely hidden under the quilt when Megan left the room a few seconds later, closing the door behind her. Megan wanted to stay to comfort her daughter. She so wanted to hold Lottie close and whisper sweet words of reassurance into her ear, but what would that achieve? Her idiot ex-husband was still out there, banging, banging, banging, and no doubt getting angrier and more frustrated. It was always the same. His misplaced sense of entitlement, the indignant rage that seemed to define him. Just like the last time. Just like every time. For the briefest of seconds, Megan considered running down the stairs, opening the front door and telling Dale exactly what she thought of him in unambiguous language even he couldn’t fail to understand. But she changed her mind at the very last second. What would be the point? The man was drunk and very likely beyond rational thought. Her words would be wasted.
And worse than that, he might well push her aside. Force his way in. Rush upstairs and disturb Lottie. He’d done it before. The potential pay-off just didn’t justify the risks. Keep him out. That was best. Encourage him to go.
Megan noticed that her hands were trembling as she re-entered her daughter’s bedroom seconds later, her gut twisting and her heart thumping in her throat. She clenched her jaw as she knelt on the bed, urging herself on, rather than giving in to the temptation to curl up in a ball and cry.
She threw back the curtains, opened the window wide and glared down at her ex-husband, as he turned away from the door and began kicking it mule style. Megan watched, feeling a mix of anger and grief as her ex stumbled forwards, almost falling before regaining his footing, a look of triumph on his unshaven face. She shook her head slowly to the right and left, shouting just about loud enough to ensure he heard her in the street below. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’
He peered up at her, hands held wide, palms forward. ‘So you’ve finally heard me, have you, you stuck-up bitch?’ He burped at full volume. ‘It’s about fucking time.’
Megan’s reply was immediate. ‘Oh, the entire street has heard you, Dale. It’s past two in the morning, in case you hadn’t realised. And you’ve woken Lottie. She’s five years old, for goodness’ sake. What were you thinking?’
‘What’s the problem? She wants her daddy, that’s all.’
‘Are you completely deranged? You’ve scared her! She’s lying in bed, crying her eyes out because of you. And she doesn’t want to hear her mother called a bitch. It upsets her like it upsets me. What part of that don’t you understand?’
He peered up with a drunken, supercilious smirk that Megan found infuriating. She knew exactly what was coming next. It was a tactic he used often, good guy and bad guy all rolled into one, anger followed by pleading, as predictable as night and day. ‘Just open the fucking door, there’s a good girl. Please, I’ve only had a couple of pints. I’ll soon cheer Lottie up.’ He took a bag of sweets from a jacket pocket, holding them up in clear view, shaking the packet above his head as if they were the most fabulous prize in the world. ‘I’ve bought her some sweets, jelly babies, her favourites. Come on, open up. She wants to see her daddy.’
Megan closed her tired eyes for a beat before speaking again, holding the window frame with a white-knuckle grip, digging in her nails, taking out her frustrations on the plastic. ‘You can’t be here, Dale. Have you forgotten the injunction? Do you remember what the judge said? Look around you. People are putting their lights on. Curtains are opening. I suggest you sod off home before someone calls the police. Because someone will, they definitely will. It’s just a matter of time.’
‘Interfering bastards!’
‘What else do you expect when you behave like a total prat?’
‘They can all go fuck themselves.’
‘You won’t be saying that when you’re dragged off in handcuffs.’
Dale returned the sweets to his pocket, succeeding on the second attempt. ‘Oh, come on, open the door. This was my home too, not so very long ago. I paid for half of it. Open the door. It’s not too much to ask, is it?’
‘Go away. Go while you’ve still got the chance. Do you want to be locked up? God knows you deserve it.’
He gagged once, then again, spitting vomit before looking up and smiling, a thin line of drool running down his chin. ‘Oh, come on, Meg. I want to see my girl, that’s all. She’s my daughter as well as yours. We made her together.’ He began thrusting his hips back and forth in slow rhythmic motion, his open hands positioned as if holding a lover’s hips, penetrating her from behind. ‘Surely, you must remember?’ He started moaning loudly, as if in the realms of sexual ecstasy. ‘I’m coming. I’m coming. I can’t recall you complaining at the time.’
Megan sucked the still-warm summer air deep into her lungs, swallowing her fury, forcing it back down her throat. She steadied herself, telling herself insistently that a more conciliatory tone may help calm him down if she chose her words with care. ‘Oh, come on now, Dale, it’s the middle of the night. You know the score. You can see Lottie once a week by prior arrangement, and that’s if, and only if, you’re sober. You can’t be here now. And especially not in that state. Sort yourself out. You’re breaking the conditions of the injunction.’
‘Fuck the injunction! I can’t understand why you took me to court in the first place.’
‘Come on now. Someone will have dialled 999 by now. Go before the police arrive. Turning up here in that state in the middle of the night doesn’t achieve anything at all.’
He threw his arms out. ‘I just want to see my girl.’
This time Megan’s words spewed from her mouth in a torrent, rising in pitch and volume as she glared down at him, eyes popping. ‘No, no, no! It’s two in the damned morning. Lottie needs her sleep. How many times do I have to say it? It’s time to grow up. I’ve had enough. Just shut your stupid mouth and go away.’
‘I’m not going anywhere until I’ve seen Lottie.’
Megan shook her head. ‘Do you want to upset her? Do you want to break her heart? Because that’s what you’re doing.’
‘You’re full of shit, woman.’
‘Lottie needs a daddy she can rely on. A daddy to be proud of. Just give up the booze, and you can be that person again.’
‘What harm do a few bevvies do?’
‘If you’re trying to ruin your daughter’s life, you’re succeeding. Is alcohol really more important than her happiness? That’s what you need to ask yourself. Because it seems that way to me.’
He looked up and yelled. ‘You’re talking crap, total fucking crap. Lottie is missing me, that’s all! Open the fucking door. I’ll give her a hug and a kiss and then I’ll be on my way.’
Megan gritted her teeth, hissing her words. ‘We can arrange something in a few days, if, and only if, you leave now.’
Dale picked up a sizeable stone from the well-tended flower bed bordering the small rectangular lawn, intending to smash the glass panel in the door, to force entry. But he dropped it almost immediately on hearing a siren wail in the distance, getting gradually louder. He peered up at Megan as angry as she’d ever seen him, tense muscles changing the contours of his face. ‘You phoned the pigs. You have got to be kidding me. Why would you do that? You bitch, you total fucking bitch!’
Megan shook her head once more, feeling somewhat conflicted. A part of her was grateful to whoever had called the emergency services; a part of her bemoaned her ex’s continued decline into alcoholism. ‘No, I didn’t ring the police, not this time. But don’t think I won’t in future if you turn up here in that state again. Now go before the police get here. Sleep it off. We can talk when you’re sober. If you don’t go now, you’re going to be locked up. None of us wants that.’
Dale bowed in mock obedience. ‘Yeah, yeah, I hear you. Anything you say, your majesty.’
Megan went to close the window but pushed it wide again as he staggered towards his vehicle, keys in hand. ‘Walk, for goodness’ sake! You’re way over the limit. Do not get in that car. Now go before it’s too late.’
2
Megan crept into her spacious bedroom a short time later, both surprised and gratified to see that Lottie was asleep and lost to her dreams. Megan yawned, bent stiffly at the waist and gently kissed her daughter’s forehead before tucking her favourite chocolate-brown teddy bear next to her under the quilt. Megan looked down at her young child for a few seconds more, studying her features, her impish face, her light-blonde hair, recalling happier times in the not so distant past, before Dale’s gradual decline into alcohol addiction ravaged their previously ordinary lives. Before his selfish nature tore their relationship to pieces.
Megan brought her rumination to a sudden end, considering her thought process pointless at best. Going over it all yet again didn’t change anything, not a damned thing. She had to look forward. Megan tiptoed from the room ever so slowly, ever so quietly, a look of resigned acceptance on her face. Please don’t wake up, Lottie. Please don’t wake up.
Megan shuffled into the family kitchen on tired legs, in search of aspirin to alleviate her nagging headache. She popped a soluble tablet into her open mouth, switching on the kettle on autopilot, before picking up her mobile, seriously considering contacting her mother despite the early hour. It would be so good to talk to someone who actually cared. But in the early hours of the morning, really, was that even remotely reasonable? Most likely not; why not have a quick cuppa and give it some further thought.