sound of a distant alarm reminded Tommy he had to be somewhere. He really needed to get back home to see his mother. To make sure she was alright. His father was on the warpath after the fight with Frankie and he didn’t want her to be in the firing line.
Thinking about his mother made Tommy smile. He loved her so much but he didn’t think she’d ever noticed, or maybe it was just him she didn’t notice. Maybe he was as invisible as he felt.
CHAPTER TEN
It was a superficial wound but the police were sniffing around like pigs sniffing on an arsehole and Frankie Taylor watched them scribble down pointless notes.
‘Mr Taylor, are you trying to tell us you didn’t see who attacked you and neither did your son, even though it was broad daylight?’
‘That’s exactly right Officer; that’s exactly what I’m telling you. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like a little time with my wife.’
The police had stayed another hour attempting to glean out any bit of information they could, but Frankie and Johnny had continued to say nothing. In the end the two officers had left somewhat exasperated at the same time as Gypsy pulled back the faded blue hospital curtains with more cups of tea.
‘The dirty rotten bleeder. Max Donaldson needs to pay for this.’
Gypsy was on a roll and Frankie loved it. When they’d moved into Berkley Square she’d decided to get elocution lessons. He’d looked at her in amazement. ‘Are you off your tits girl?’
‘No Frank, I just want to get meself talking proper.’
‘Christ almighty Gyps, this ain’t my fair lady you know.’
They’d laughed hard but she’d still insisted on taking the lessons, and over time her East End accent had turned softer until it was hardly there at all. Unless of course she was talking about two things. The only two things which brought back the East End girl back into her voice. His sister, and Max Donaldson.
Frank watched Gypsy, her mouth moving ten to the dozen. Thousands of pounds of elocution lessons out of the window. But he didn’t mind. The angrier she got about the situation, the happier Frankie felt. He loved that she cared. Loved she’d have no problem rolling up her sleeves to get into a fight to defend him. Not that she’d ever need to – he was more than man enough to look out for himself and his family, but he loved that she was strong.
It was one of the things that had attracted him to Gypsy in the first place. She was beautiful, but so were many other girls down the clubs in the East End. They were all fuckable but they were also unmemorable. Gypsy had been different; her strength had shone out from under the bleached blonde hair and false eyelashes. Her spirit for life had been intoxicating; making him a fool for her. He’d never met a woman like Gypsy. She was so unlike all the other women and so unlike his poor feeble mother.
As he continued to think, Frankie’s contentment turned into a scowl. As much as he loved her strength, the problem he had now
was her strength was starting to make its way into her overall attitude. A little bit too much for his liking. He could see her starting to want to break away, to do things on her own, when she’d previously only wanted to do things with him.
At first he’d thought she’d some other man boning her but after he’d got some of his men to follow her about for a couple of days he’d realised there
was
no other man. Gypsy’s infidelity was freedom. A whole lot harder to deal with than putting a bullet in some lover’s head.
Frankie shifted his body on the hospital trolley trying to find a more comfortable position to lie in. The painkillers were wearing off and he was starting to hurt. He’d had to have thirty stitches but the doctors had told him the wound would heal easily. What couldn’t be sewn up so easily was the other kind of wound, the one Max Donaldson had opened up. He’d opened a new hatred between them and he was going to wish he hadn’t.
He couldn’t really
Thinking about his mother made Tommy smile. He loved her so much but he didn’t think she’d ever noticed, or maybe it was just him she didn’t notice. Maybe he was as invisible as he felt.
CHAPTER TEN
It was a superficial wound but the police were sniffing around like pigs sniffing on an arsehole and Frankie Taylor watched them scribble down pointless notes.
‘Mr Taylor, are you trying to tell us you didn’t see who attacked you and neither did your son, even though it was broad daylight?’
‘That’s exactly right Officer; that’s exactly what I’m telling you. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like a little time with my wife.’
The police had stayed another hour attempting to glean out any bit of information they could, but Frankie and Johnny had continued to say nothing. In the end the two officers had left somewhat exasperated at the same time as Gypsy pulled back the faded blue hospital curtains with more cups of tea.
‘The dirty rotten bleeder. Max Donaldson needs to pay for this.’
Gypsy was on a roll and Frankie loved it. When they’d moved into Berkley Square she’d decided to get elocution lessons. He’d looked at her in amazement. ‘Are you off your tits girl?’
‘No Frank, I just want to get meself talking proper.’
‘Christ almighty Gyps, this ain’t my fair lady you know.’
They’d laughed hard but she’d still insisted on taking the lessons, and over time her East End accent had turned softer until it was hardly there at all. Unless of course she was talking about two things. The only two things which brought back the East End girl back into her voice. His sister, and Max Donaldson.
Frank watched Gypsy, her mouth moving ten to the dozen. Thousands of pounds of elocution lessons out of the window. But he didn’t mind. The angrier she got about the situation, the happier Frankie felt. He loved that she cared. Loved she’d have no problem rolling up her sleeves to get into a fight to defend him. Not that she’d ever need to – he was more than man enough to look out for himself and his family, but he loved that she was strong.
It was one of the things that had attracted him to Gypsy in the first place. She was beautiful, but so were many other girls down the clubs in the East End. They were all fuckable but they were also unmemorable. Gypsy had been different; her strength had shone out from under the bleached blonde hair and false eyelashes. Her spirit for life had been intoxicating; making him a fool for her. He’d never met a woman like Gypsy. She was so unlike all the other women and so unlike his poor feeble mother.
As he continued to think, Frankie’s contentment turned into a scowl. As much as he loved her strength, the problem he had now
was her strength was starting to make its way into her overall attitude. A little bit too much for his liking. He could see her starting to want to break away, to do things on her own, when she’d previously only wanted to do things with him.
At first he’d thought she’d some other man boning her but after he’d got some of his men to follow her about for a couple of days he’d realised there
was
no other man. Gypsy’s infidelity was freedom. A whole lot harder to deal with than putting a bullet in some lover’s head.
Frankie shifted his body on the hospital trolley trying to find a more comfortable position to lie in. The painkillers were wearing off and he was starting to hurt. He’d had to have thirty stitches but the doctors had told him the wound would heal easily. What couldn’t be sewn up so easily was the other kind of wound, the one Max Donaldson had opened up. He’d opened a new hatred between them and he was going to wish he hadn’t.
He couldn’t really
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