Babs eyes were like organ stops. Her own sorry tale was just about druggies like Dennis and nonces like Peter, but Frankie’s sounded like something out of one of those gangster movies. A bit like Once Upon a Time in America.
Babs caught her breath and asked the all-important question. ‘Are you sure it was Jed that killed your grandfather?’
‘Absolutely positive. I recorded the evidence on tape, but Jed’s cousin ran off with it, so I have no proof.’
Both girls stared at one another. Neither knew what to say next, but it was Babs who broke the ice by laughing. ‘Wow, man, that is some heavy gangster crap, but Frankie, my sweet child, if we don’t laugh about the shit God threw at us, we will go mad and fucking cry.’
Pat the Pigeon was having one of her nostalgic, melancholy evenings. In the daytime she was quite a happy person. She would spend time with her family, tend to her pigeons and she had the added bonus of Stanley’s habitual visits. However, once darkness fell, Pat’s mood changed. It was only then that she realised what a lonely fifty-five-year-old woman she really was.
Flicking through the TV channels, Pat stared at BBC1 with a glum expression on her face. Waiting for God was on, a programme about people like herself who had no spouse and ended up in one of those poxy retirement homes, sitting in their own piss and shit. About to turn the depressing programme off, Pat was stunned to hear the doorbell ring. She glanced at the clock, it was just gone half-nine and nobody ever visited her at this time of the evening. Pat put on her fluffy slippers and cautiously walked towards the front door.
‘Who is it?’ she shouted nervously.
‘Pat, it’s me, Stanley.’
With her heart leaping out of her chest with excitement, Pat undid the chain-lock and opened the front door. ‘Are you OK? Whatever’s the matter, Stanley?’ she asked as she clocked the dismal expression on poor Stanley’s face.
Stanley nodded to the suitcase beside him. ‘I’m really sorry for turning up here this late, Pat, but I didn’t know where else to go. Joyce has betrayed me in the worst way possible, so I’ve left her. I’ve got the pigeons in the back of the car. I couldn’t leave ’em at home ’cause she’s such a wicked old bag. She threatened to cook ’em in a pie once. Is it OK if me and the birds stay here for a few days? We’ll be out of your way in no time, I promise.’
Pat looked into Stanley’s distressed eyes. She rubbed his arm and smiled. ‘Of course it is, my love. My home is your home, Stanley, and you’re welcome to stay here for as long as you like.’
CHAPTER SIX
Eddie Mitchell was having another little bout of insomnia. He had to meet O’Hara at lunchtime to hand over the dosh and the guilt he felt at what he was about to do was eating away at him. Picturing his brothers’ faces once more, Ed turned onto his side and forced himself to think about Gina. He’d sent his fiancée away to her friend’s house while he sorted out the sorry mess his brothers had made, but she was coming back home this afternoon and Ed couldn’t wait to hold her in his arms and tell her how much he loved her.