Schemer (62 page)

Tammy had never felt so scared in all her life as she stared at the loneliness of the ocean. She was an extremely strong swimmer, had won numerous awards in the sport as a child, but Wayne had obviously chosen his moment to literally dump her. She was miles and miles away from the shore and there were no other vessels in sight. About to give up, Tammy thought about the life growing inside her. She couldn’t just admit defeat; she had to fight for the sake of her baby. Absolutely petrified, Tammy saw a dot in the distance and guessed it was probably a boat of some kind. Hope renewed, she started to swim towards it as though her life depended on it. And for the first time ever, it actually did.

Wayne Jackman felt a mixture of guilt and relief as he headed back towards the coastline. He hadn’t been in love with Tammy for some time now, but he certainly hadn’t hated her either. Ending her life hadn’t been Wayne’s preferred method of ending their relationship, but due to their unusual circumstances, it was the only answer.

Deciding to have one last reminisce before he blocked Tammy out of his mind forever, Wayne thought back to when they had first got together. He had loved Tammy back then. He must have really loved her to abandon Stephanie and his two young children in the callous way that he had. Like many relationships that begin at such a young age, Wayne had begun to get itchy feet with Steph by the time he was twenty-one. Being tied down with one kid at such a young age was bad enough, but then Steph fell pregnant with Tyler. That was roughly the time when Wayne’s wandering eye went into overdrive. First he had a few one-night stands, and then a three-month affair with an older woman who trained at his gym, but it was all just a bit of meaningless fun. Wayne’s feelings for Tammy were different, though. He had loved her company and had watched her change over the years from a plain schoolgirl into a ravishning beauty. Wayne had always looked forward to the nights that Tammy visited Steph. He loved hearing about her high-flying career and her social life up town, and he and Tammy would sit up for hours drinking champagne after Stephanie had gone to bed. It was on one of these evenings that they shared their very first kiss and from that moment it was all systems go. The sexual tension between them had been simmering for quite a long time, and when they finally made love in a hotel room up town, the magical experience almost blew Wayne’s mind.

From that day onwards, Wayne couldn’t get enough of Tammy. As their affair deepened, so did Tammy’s guilt. She hated betraying her best friend, so told Wayne he had to make his choice. Wayne chose Tammy and with the help of his father, dreamed up the plan for his disappearance. Everything from that moment on was organized meticulously. Firstly, there was the massive fall-out with his dad. That had been staged just before his father had left for Spain to find them all somewhere to live. Then, there was the build-up to the wedding. Wayne had felt extremely guilty watching Stephanie’s excitement as their wedding day neared, but his feelings for Tammy somehow outweighed his guilt. Wayne also felt incredibly bad about leaving his children, especially Dannielle. Tyler had only been a toddler at the time and, even though Wayne didn’t like to admit it, the boy’s temper tantrums and overall behaviour had driven him to the edge of destruction.

Apart from his father and his grandparents, the only other person in the know was his cousin, Billy Jackman. Wayne hadn’t known how his cousin Billy would react, as he was a father himself, but Wayne had needed to receive regular updates on his kids, so he had taken the chance and explained the situation. Billy had understood and had been brilliant over the years. He had sent photos and relayed any snippets of information he heard, and that’s how Wayne had watched and heard about his children growing up. In return for his cousin’s loyalty, Billy and his family had loads of free holidays at Wayne’s expense. They never stayed with him and Tammy, though, as Billy’s wife was kept in the dark about the set-up.

Obviously, Wayne could not use his real name when he moved abroad and it had been Wayne’s dad who had sorted out his false indentity. His dad had met a fraudster in prison who had a contact inside the passport office, and Wayne was given new documentation in the name of Warren Fisher. Tammy had hated his new surname and Wayne could remember her joking that she could never marry him now as she would hate being called Mrs Fisher. The hardest part of the actual plot itself was the build-up to his stag night. Wayne had already sold his business and transferred the money abroad; then he’d had to play the destitute pauper role, which he had hated. He’d even got sick of hearing himself ramble on to the lads at the gym and then Barry, Danno, Potter and Cooksie about how bloody skint he was. But it had had to be done; it was part of the plan. The idea was that the Old Bill would think that Wayne was so up to his eyeballs in debt that, rather than tell his beautiful bride about his financial dilemma, he had decided to end his own life instead. That had been why he had gone to see his GP. He’d even discussed his make-believe black thoughts with his doctor and got given antidepressants.

Barry turning up out of the blue was not part of the plan, but once Wayne learned that his old pal was back in England, he thought he would use him as another pawn in his game. That’s when Tammy had played her part. Wayne ordered her to try and convince Steph that Barry Franklin was responsible for his disappearance. Even though he was leaving, Wayne didn’t want Barry getting his feet under the table; he had hoped Steph would become suspicious of him and banish him from her life. It hadn’t quite worked out that way, though, as Barry and Steph were still as thick as thieves when Tammy followed him out to Spain six weeks later. Wayne hated that thought, but never admitted it to Tammy.

The night of his actual disappearance went without a hitch. Wayne had taken his sports bag with him to the hotel and had left it packed with vital pieces of information. The antidepressants, brochures of beauty salons, and the pawnbroker’s receipt were all left for the Old Bill to find, along with some clothes. Wayne had also gone to the club where Angela worked on purpose, as he wanted to spin her the tale about how awful he felt because he couldn’t afford to buy Steph the beauty salon he had promised her as a wedding present. He’d then left the club alone at midnight and met Tammy, who had driven him straight to the airport. From that moment on, he was no longer Wayne Jackman, he was Warren Fisher.

Wondering if Tammy was dead yet, Wayne turned the engine off and lit up a cigarette. It was time to stop thinking about the past now and concentrate on the future. Holding the cigarette between his recently bleached teeth, Wayne took his beloved photographs out of his pocket and stared at them. Stephanie looked absolutely stunning in them, and Wayne was really impressed she was now a successful businesswoman. Flicking through the photos, Wayne stared at Tyler and grinned. His son looked uncannily like he had at the same age; just the way he was standing with his hands in his pockets in his trendy Adidas tracksuit told Wayne that he was not the backward boy he’d once thought his son would turn out to be. Putting the photo to the bottom of the pile, Wayne stared at his beautiful daughter. Dannielle was a young woman now and that worried Wayne immensely. She reminded him so much of Steph when she was younger, but Danni was much more glamorous in appearance and looked striking enough to be a top model. Wayne sighed. His daughter was ripe pickings for some flash Harry, but instead of being there to protect her, like most dads would be, he’d wasted ten years of watching her grow up by sunning himself in poxy Spain. He had heard recently that Danni had been spotted out and about with some old geezer – over his dead body was he going to continue larging it in Spain while his daughter chucked her life away. The thought of some old bloke mauling his little girl made Wayne feel physically sick and he couldn’t expect Steph to deal with shit like that. It was his duty as a father to sort it.

Restarting the engine of his boat, Wayne made a pact to himself. As soon as he moored and got back to his apartment, he was going to book a flight to England. Now Tammy was out of the picture, there was nothing stopping him from sorting the mess out he’d created for himself and his family. Reuniting with them was not going to be an easy task, but he had his story well prepared. Wayne smirked. If anyone could pull such a story off, then he could. After all, he was the schemer of all schemers.

Read on for an extract from Kimberley’s next book
The Trap

Coming January 2013

If you trap the moment before it’s ripe,

The tears of repentance you certainly wipe;

But if once you let the ripe moment go,

You can never wipe off the tears of woe.

William Blake

Prologue

1965

Unable to make himself heard above Sandie Shaw belting out ‘Long Live Love’, Donald Walker made his way over to the Wurlitzer jukebox and turned the volume down.

‘Don’t do that! You know I like Sandie,’ Mary Walker said, as though she knew the singer personally.

‘There’s somebody knocking at the door,’ Donald informed his wife.

Mary walked over to the door and unbolted it. She was greeted by a sturdy-looking woman in a dark grey overcoat. Mary guessed she was probably in her mid-fifties, but it was hard to be sure because of the curlers and hairnet on her head. ‘Hello. Can I help you?’ Mary asked, politely.

‘No, but I can help you,’ the woman replied, barging her way past Mary and into the premises.

Donald and Mary knew very little about the East End or its natives. They were North Londoners and had lived in Stoke Newington for many years, but this café in Whitechapel had been far too cheap to turn down, which is why they had decided to up sticks and move.

‘Hello, I’m Donald and this is my wife, Mary. As you have probably already realized, we are the new owners of the café. We officially open for business tomorrow but, would you like a cup of tea or coffee?’ Donald asked, politely.

Shaking her head, the woman held out her right hand. ‘I’m Freda. Freda Smith. I live just around the corner.’

‘And how can you help us?’ Mary enquired. She had a feeling that Freda was about to ask for a job, but there was no chance of that, as her and Donald had spent every penny they had refurbishing the rundown café and were in no position to employ staff just yet.

‘I can help you by telling you why this café has been empty for eighteen long months before you bought it, and why you probably got it for peanuts,’ Freda spat.

Mary gave her husband a worried glance. This café had been half the price of any others they had looked at, and the only one within their meagre price range. But this woman seemed unhinged, somehow, and Mary wondered if she held a grudge against the previous owner.

‘Would you like a glass of water?’ Donald asked. He had noticed that beads of sweat were forming on the woman’s forehead and had now started to drip onto one of his brand new melamine tables.

‘No, don’t want nuffink. Just come to let you know the score. No one else round ’ere will tell you. They’re all too bleedin’ well frightened of ’em, but I ain’t.’

‘Frightened of who?’ Mary asked, perplexed.

‘Frightened of the Butlers. They own that snooker club just around the corner. Old Jack who used to own this café, they killed his son, Peter. Broke his wife Ethel’s heart it did, and if you don’t abide by their rules, they’ll rip the heart out of your family too. I saw you move in. You got two little kids, ain’t ya? Well, if you just do as I say, you’ll be okay. Albie’s the dad. He’s a pisshead, a proper waster. The mother is the brains of the family. Hard-looking old cow called Queenie. Her sister is Vivvy, she has a mongol son, and Queenie’s kids are Vinny, who is the worst out the bunch, Roy, Michael and young Brenda. When they come in here, look after ’em. Serve ’em before any other customers and don’t charge ’em for food or drinks, you get me?’

Seeing the distressed look on his wife’s face, Donald was extremely annoyed. Opening their café tomorrow was meant to be one of the best days of their lives, and yet this mad woman was here, upsetting his Mary and threatening to spoil such a joyous occasion. ‘I can assure you, Freda, that Mary and I will not be giving free drinks or food to anybody and our customers will be served in the order they arrive in. Now, if you don’t mind, could I please ask you to leave? Mary and I still have lots of work to do before we open tomorrow and we have very little time left to accomplish that task.’

Absolutely furious that her sound advice hadn’t been listened to, Freda stood up, stomped towards Donald and poked him in the chest. ‘Dig your own grave, what do I care? But, don’t say I didn’t warn you. The Butlers, remember the name,’ she yelled, as Donald escorted her out of the cafe.

‘Oh my God! What have we done, Donald? And who the hell are the Butlers?’ Mary said, when her husband locked the door.

Donald took his wife in his arms. At six foot, he towered over Mary’s five-foot frame. He was the man of the family and protect her he would. ‘Do not worry yourself, my darling. Freda is obviously the mad local scaremonger. And even if that Butler family do come in here, we won’t have any problems with them, I can absolutely assure you of that.’

Nestling herself against Donald’s broad chest, Mary breathed a sigh of relief. Her husband’s instincts were never wrong.

Five minutes later the jukebox was back on and Mary and Donald were working happily side by side, singing in unison to the Beatles’ ‘Help!’. What they didn’t realize was that, in the not too distant future, they would be needing help themselves. Every word that Freda Smart had spoken happened to be the truth. She wasn’t mad, nor was she a scaremonger. She was just a realist who had done her utmost to warn a decent family of the perils of moving to Whitechapel.