Jackie was looking at her eldest child but she was not seeing her. She was seeing what she had ignored over the years. Even when she was a young girl Freddie had coveted her sister. He had watched her, and he had wanted her, thought about her, desired her.
These thoughts were not registering on her face. As Kimberley looked at her mother she knew that she was in a state of shock.
Roxanna was also shocked, in fact she'd been almost at fainting point since Jackie had insisted that Maggie must have seduced her father. 'You can't believe what you are saying, Mum. Like Maggie would want him anywhere near her.' The inference being that no woman in her right mind would want her husband, this girl's own father.
Jackie's head snapped towards this beautiful daughter who at this moment she could happily strangle. The truth was screaming inside her skull, but being the personality type she was, she could never admit out loud that Freddie wanted her sister, even though she knew it was the truth. Freddie wanted anyone who came near him and was in the least bit shaggable.
Jackie had laughed about it over the years, she had been forced to. It was how she had saved face. Especially when she had found out about him with her friends, with her neighbours, when she had seen young girls looking at her in the pub, and finding her lacking. She had endured knowing that they had intimate knowledge of her man, and that some of them had produced children for him.
She had accepted so much because she could not in any way envisage her life without him somewhere in the background, no matter what he did or how he treated her. And in his own way he had stood by her. She was the only woman he had ever stood by, even though it was in a callous and often degrading way.
Jackie was going to be Freddie Jackson's wife until the day she died. It afforded her the only kudos she had ever experienced, and it also guaranteed her a level of protection that enabled her to drink and drug with impunity.
Since the turnout with Terry Baker, her confidence, which had never been in abundance, was at rock bottom. Another humiliation was more than she would be able to endure. Freddie was everything to her, he made her a valid person. From the first moment she had been with him, she had felt like she was somebody, and she was, she was Freddie Jackson's bird, his woman, eventually his wife.
The money was only a small part of it all. She loved him with every fibre of her being, and if Maggie thought she was going to change that she would find out how wrong she could be.
He had lived his life hunting out strange and she had accepted everything, but she could not in all conscience accept this.
She knew this ought to be kept quiet, she actually wanted it kept quiet because the thought of anyone knowing made her feel almost suicidal. But she also knew she could not keep this to herself. A few drinks and it would be blurted out in temper, or worse, she would throw it at Freddie and he would turn it back at her, making a terrible situation even worse.
She needed to strike first, make this common knowledge, cause trouble for Maggie. Jackie knew better than anyone how to play the wronged wife – she had had enough practice over the years after all.
Maggie, dead child or no dead child, had betrayed her. Rape be buggered, the truth would be out there in seconds. Her mind was made up.
Freddie had decided to make a short detour on his way to Jimmy's office. He pulled up to the pub, and after standing for a few moments, as if surveying his realm, he decided that Jimmy Jackson could come to him, so he sauntered inside and ordered a large Scotch.
Paul and Liselle were pleased to see him, at least as pleased as anyone who knew him could be. Paul refilled his drink as soon as it was empty and the two men smiled at each other. He could feel the usual animosity off Freddie, but today there was a new feeling, an undercurrent of menace that was not usually so evident.
'You heard anything from Ozzy?'
Paul shrugged as he always did when asked that question. 'A few lines, that's all. He doesn't confide in me, Freddie, you know that.'
This was said in a flat monotone voice, a voice that brooked no more questions and told the enquirer he was keeping his own counsel but also that he knew far more than he was letting on.
He knew it irritated Freddie, even though he never expected a different answer. Today, though, there was an added annoyance that caused Paul to keep close to the shotgun he always kept underneath the bar. It was a weapon that was there mainly for the threat factor, but he would use it if necessary.
'And you ain't got no new fucking messages for me from Jimmy, then? After all, Paul, you are normally far more aware of what's going on than I am, ain't you? Jimmy, the cunt, tells you much more than he tells me.'
This was said so as to cause the maximum aggro, but Paul smiled carefully before saying quietly, 'No one's told me anything about you, or given me any messages, but if I hear anything you'll be the first to know, OK?'
He was watching Freddie while making sure his hand hovered over the shotgun.
Freddie had been gearing himself up for a while now, and Paul guessed, rightly, that it was all about his discontent. Freddie was being mugged off big time, everyone had noticed that, but that was not Paul's problem, that was Freddie Jackson's. Freddie was like a fucking big wet balloon, and he was due to burst soon.
Even the little boy's death had not softened the edges. In fact, since then Freddie seemed to be even worse, if that was possible.
Poor Jimmy had taken it badly, but that was to be expected. He had lost a child, an only child, a loved and wanted child, but it was Freddie whom the knowledge had seemed to age. As Paul watched him drinking now, so early in the day and so heavily, even though he knew he would insist on driving, he wondered what the added aggravation was this time.
As far as Paul knew, he was still pissing about on the take, and Freddie, being Freddie, that was all he would ever be doing. He never kept anything up for any length of time and he had ideas that were good and which he talked about for days but never came to fruition.
He had seen Freddie looking for a fight before and he was suddenly glad that he was not the recipient of Freddie's obvious anger and resentment. But that could change, he knew. Freddie Jackson could turn on a coin, and that meant no one was ever really safe from him until he had left the building.
Glenford and Jimmy had lunched at the Ship and Shovel on sandwiches and a few beers, the mainstay of men in their line of work.
They were both aware of the unspoken agreement between them, Glenford was going nowhere, he was sticking it out for the duration. Jimmy was more than aware of what he was taking on but Glenford knew he had a far more intelligent outlook on the situation. Unlike Jimmy he wasn't that close to the enemy.
Jimmy, for all his hardness, was liable to relent and give Freddie, as usual, the benefit of the doubt. Freddie, however, was never going to let this affront go without a serious fight, and Freddie fought well, it was all he had ever been good at. Glenford was frightened that this friend of his was making the mistake all great men eventually made – they underestimated their enemy, or, even worse, they assumed their enemy possessed qualities that they themselves had. Were far more decent people than they actually were.
Jimmy Jackson had always played the white man, while Freddie had always talked one way and acted another. It was the very nature of the beast he was. Freddie Jackson did not have a decent bone in his large and overly strong body. Of that much, at least, Glenford was sure. He also knew that Jimmy Jackson was not intending to go back on his decision. His worry, if he was honest, was that Jimmy might relent at the last moment and leave himself wide open to attack.
'Mum, for fuck's sake…' Kimberley had just realised what she had actually caused and the knowledge was frightening her now.