NINE

Michelle spent the next couple of days going through the motions. Hazel hadn't left her side and was staying with her till further notice. Suzie, Julie and numerous other well-wishers had called in to offer help and pay their respects. All in all, Chelle seemed to be coping pretty well considering the circumstances.

Billie was still staying at her friend's house, which suited Chelle down to the ground as she didn't have a clue how to comfort her. She'd never been very good at the emotional side of motherhood, and it was too late to start now. Anyway, why should Billie soak up all the sympathy? It was her husband that had died, therefore it was her people should be feeling sorry for, becoming a widow at such a young age. Chelle spent the next two days constantly drinking, sleeping, laughing, crying and reminiscing. It was on the third day that things began to go haywire.

Two coppers arrived early in the morning to inform her that the case was now closed. Apparently, Terry had been over the limit and had tested positive to traces of a class A drug found in his system. Michelle couldn't believe it. She might be a pisshead, but she'd never had any time for drugs and she certainly had never had an inkling that her husband took them. Chelle was told that Terry's body was now ready to be released and was asked if she'd like some counselling.

'Do I look like someone who needs to sit and discuss my business with a complete fucking stranger?' Chelle replied angrily. Snatching the bag of belongings that had been inside Terry's car, she ushered the Old Bill out of her house.

Chelle got straight on the phone to Davey Mullins and asked him if he could sort out all of the funeral arrangements. She was no good at anything formal and wouldn't know what she had to do or where to start. Dave agreed to see to the whole thing including registering the death, choosing the coffin, hymns, a speech, the wake and the caterers.

Truth be known, he wasn't doing it for Chelle, he was doing it for Terry and Billie. If he left Chelle to organise it, she was bound to make a cock-up and he wanted his best pal's funeral to go without a hitch. It was the least he could do, as they went back years and had been more like brothers than friends.

Chelle opened the bag that the police had left in her possession and she and Hazel began rifling through it. It contained all the usual shit that was shoved in a glove box. Sunglasses, CDs, chewing gum, a lighter, loose change and Terry's mobile phone, which looked surprisingly intact.

Hazel poured herself and Chelle a large vodka and sat down opposite her friend.

'Why don't you charge the phone up, Chelle, and see if it's working? If it is you might find out who his bit on the side was. She's bound to have contacted him if she hadn't heard from him. Or would you rather not know now and just remember the good times?'

Chelle looked at her friend and shrugged. 'I don't know, what do you reckon? Oh fuck it, I'd rather know, I think. It's not as though he can run off with her now and leave me with nothing, is it? I might as well know the truth.'

Plugging the phone into the charger, Chelle noticed the signal on the front, and felt a mixture of fear and excitement. Terry had always left his mobile in his car, either that or it was in his pocket, and it was the first time she'd ever been able to get her hands on it. Stuffing a handful of peanuts into her mouth, she turned to Hazel. 'It's charging, how long shall I give it?'

Hazel jumped up excitedly to check it was actually working. 'Let's give it half an hour or so. We'll have a good drink first to prepare ourselves for the outcome.'

Billie Jo stared at the Chinese takeaway and politely excused herself from the table. Tiffany and her family had been wonderful, but she desperately needed some time alone. There wasn't a word in the dictionary to describe just how she felt right now. Devastated, distraught, heartbroken, they barely scratched the surface.

Her father's death was all her fault. If only she'd spent Boxing Night with him, like he'd wanted her to, he'd still be alive now.

Shoulders slouched, she made her way into the living room. The silence was welcoming. The decorated tree reminded her of how Christmas used to be her favourite time of year. The trip to Lapland, visiting Santa's Grotto at Harrods. Her dad and Davey Mullins had even organised a surprise Christmas party one year, where they'd dressed up and entertained all her friends. Billie wiped her eyes. It upset her too much to think about her wonderful dad. She needed to forget, lock the past inside her broken heart. That was the only way she could even begin to cope.

A few miles away, Jade was going through the self-same motions as Billie. Returning to Romford and her memory-filled flat had made her feel giddy with pain. If it hadn't been for her unborn child, she was sure that she would have ended it all. By taking her own life, she would have been with him, been able to tell him all the little things that she was so desperate to say.

Worried about her mental state, her parents had insisted on staying with her. She hadn't wanted them to, as being alone was the only way she could even attempt to grieve.

Escaping into the loneliness of her bedroom, she lay down and cried like never before. The sheets bore his DNA. His scent was apparent and she immediately vowed never to wash them again. They would be put away, stored as a keepsake of the man who had been so cruelly taken from her.

Chelle got a bottle of wine out of the fridge and poured herself and Hazel a large glass. She'd been on the vodka all day but it wasn't touching her. She needed to feel like she'd had a drink to listen to Terry's messages and wine always worked wonders for her. Part of her pondered if she was doing the right thing. Did she really want to know who her husband had been knocking off?

She'd been surprisingly calm since the news of Terry's death. Partly because she'd been permanently pissed and partly because she was relieved that he hadn't run off with his fancy bit. She would have hated being left a penniless laughing stock. His death was a tragedy, but at least she had the sympathy vote and financial security. Terry had taken out a life insurance policy years ago to take care of his family if anything were to happen to him.

Snapping herself out of her daydream, Chelle took the phone off the charger, switched it on and watched it flick into life. It frantically let out a series of bleeps, indicating the many answerphone messages that had been left. Chelle handed the phone to Hazel and topped her wine glass up. 'I can't listen to them, mate, you're going to have to do it.'

Hazel shoved the phone to her ear and pressed the appropriate button. The first few messages gave away nothing. One was from a pissed-up Dave from Maxie's pub, one from some other geezer called Joe and one from Benny Bones. It was when Hazel got to messages four, five and six that things started to liven up. Jade had left all three. She'd left them the morning after Terry had texted her outside Maxie's pub.

Number four said, 'I got your text message, Tel, and I miss you too. You can pick me up from here whenever you like. Can't wait to see you, love you lots.'

Number five was, 'Guess what, Tel, I just felt the baby moving for the first time. I'm sure I felt a tiny kick. Maybe we're having a little footballer. Ring me back and I'll tell you all about it.'

Number six was the crowning glory: 'Tel, it's me again, ring me as soon as you get my messages. I hope you won't be angry, but I've invited my brother Simon and his girlfriend Elaine to come and stay in the new house when we move in. I hope you don't mind, but I've asked Simon to be godfather. We'll have two godparents and you can pick the other one. Hurry up and ring me back, Tel, love you.'

Hazel sat in shock with her mouth wide open.

'What is it, Hazel? Tell me,' Chelle said impatiently.

Hazel handed Chelle the phone. 'I think you should listen for yourself, mate, listen to messages four, five and six.'

Michelle snatched the phone and did as Hazel said. The shock was horrendous and she felt her legs buckle beneath her. Grabbing on to the kitchen units for support, she vomited into the sink. Splashing her face with cold water, Chelle sat down at the kitchen table and burst into floods of tears. Hazel sat next to her and cuddled her. She felt terribly guilty and wished she hadn't encouraged her to go through the bastard messages in the first place. Hazel couldn't begin to imagine just how bad her friend must be feeling. She'd been distraught when her husband Stan had died. The thought of him dying alone in his prison cell was bad enough, but to have your old man snuff it and find out what Chelle had just found out had to be the ultimate betrayal.

Hazel opened up a bottle of whisky and poured two large neat ones. 'Drink that, Chelle. It'll do you good. It'll help with the shock.'

'I can't drink it, Hazel. I don't even like bloody whisky.'

'Trust me, drink it. Just hold your nose and down it in one.'

Michelle was like a zombie and did as she was told. Three glasses later, she felt her body return to normal. It was then that the hatred began to surface. 'The lying, cheating, no-good cunt. I ain't going to his fucking funeral. I hope he rots in hell and as for that slag of a secretary, I'm gonna fucking kill her and the bastard child she's carrying.'

Hazel looked at her friend, eyes brimming with sympathy. 'Look, Chelle, I know you're upset and you've every right to be, but don't do anything irrational. Sit and think about it, use your loaf. You'll have to go to the funeral, he was your old man. How's it gonna look if you don't go? You don't want nobody finding out the truth, do you? Let's just keep this between us, eh?'

'I can't face the funeral, Hazel. I hate the fucking bastard and if that slut of his turns up, which she's bound to, I'm telling you now, I'll fucking kill her. As God's my judge, I swear I'll rip her fucking head off.'

Hazel racked her brains, wondering how to handle the situation. Chelle was right. Jade was not only his lover but his secretary as well and she was bound to show her face at the funeral. 'You leave Jade to me, Chelle. Do you know where she lives?'

'No, all I know is that she lives in Romford somewhere. I've got a feeling it's near the station,' Chelle replied dejectedly.

'Listen, Chelle. You'll get through this, trust me. Davey Mullins must know where she lives, he was always with Terry. He can tell Jade that she's not welcome at the funeral, but you have got to attend. People will talk otherwise and all the gossip-mongers will know your business. Just have a good drink, try and plaster a smile on your face and pretend to grieve for the no-good bastard. Trust me, it'll be for the best.'

Chelle looked at her pal's concerned expression and felt thankful she had such a good friend. Most people would probably laugh at her misfortune but not Hazel, she was genuine. 'All right, I'll do as you say, but I need to make sure that slut doesn't turn up and I need you to stay by my side all day.'

'Of course I will, mate.'

Chelle rambled on for the next two hours about the evening's events and what she was going to do about them. Hazel was pissed and passed out. Chelle tried to wake her as she was desperate to talk, but Hazel was comatose.

Chelle switched the television on and put on her wedding video. Seeing Terry come into focus, she stood up and spat at the screen. They had been so happy when they'd first got married. She was slim and beautiful, he was handsome and sought-after and he'd looked at her in total adoration. How had it all gone so bloody wrong? She would never know. She could hardly ask him now, could she?

The Jade revelation had been a total shock to her. She'd known he had someone else, but Jade of all people. She was like something out of Emmerdale and was more suited to shearing sheep than shagging her husband. The pregnancy was the real kick in the teeth. Over her dead body would she allow Jade to stake a claim on any of Terry's assets. She had a top brief and would make damn sure that Jade didn't get a penny. Chelle just hoped that the shock of Terry dying would prompt the bitch to miscarry. That would make things easier all round. As for the house that they were supposedly moving into, well there was no way Jade would get that now. The house must have been in Terry's name, so now legally it belonged to her.

Sighing, Michelle allowed herself a wry smile. At least she was left a very rich woman, that was one relief. The bitch and his love-child could live in poverty for all she cared. Pouring the last drop of whisky into her glass, she took a deep breath. Her inner strength was in place now and she knew she was going to get through this. Hazel was right, put on a brave face and tell no one. She could just imagine all the girls' faces down the gym if they found out Terry had got his secretary pregnant. She'd be a laughing stock and her reputation would be in tatters. Chelle knew she had to bide her time and think about what she was doing.

Jade and Davey Mullins would get their comeuppance in time. Chelle was one hundred per cent sure that Dave knew all her husband's goings on. He was her husband's shadow, he had to know.

She'd thought it funny earlier on in the day when she'd rung Dave and told him the police had been and brought Terry's stuff with them. He'd asked about the phone and wanted to come and collect it. Chelle had bluffed it and said the phone was smashed to pieces. She was sure she'd heard Dave breathe a deep sigh of relief and now she knew why. The bastard was covering up Terry's sordid secrets. Well, she would bide her time all right, let muggins Dave organise the funeral and pay for it. She certainly wasn't going to do it. For all she cared, Terry could be slung in the ground in a bin liner.

The fun would really start once the funeral was over and Dave held his hand out for a big fat cheque. 'Go fuck yourself,' she would tell him. 'Go and ask Jade for the money, you cunt.' Michelle's thoughts were interrupted by the video tape that was still playing. The wedding march was the last thing she needed to watch. Ejecting it, Chelle calmly walked into the kitchen, poured herself a glass of wine and ripped the video tape to shreds.

This was a new start for her now, a new beginning. No more worrying what her no-good bastard of a husband was up to or worrying about being left penniless. Chelle felt a strange kind of calmness wash over her. She felt relief. All her worries were now over. The no-good shitcunt could hurt her no more.

Opening the patio doors in the conservatory, she wandered out into the garden. Looking up into the sky, she focused on one star in particular. It was the one that stood out from all of the rest. Holding her wine glass up in a kind of salute, Chelle thought carefully about what she wanted to say.

'Goodbye, Charlie Bigbananas, looks like your luck finally ran out. Oh and by the way, I hope you rot in hell.'