So this takes place between chapters 38 and 39 in WCHB which are the chapters in which Allie gets attacked by Tommy. I'm not sure I'll get another chance to post before the end of the week now so make the best of this, it might be pants but its all I've got! :D Cheers to all who were kind enough to review the last chapter…you know, the one I posted YESTERDAY, that's right folks, the OCD is back in top form!
"So you think it was Hatcher who murdered that kid?"
"Talk a little louder, Matt," Pete snapped. "It's just that I don't think everyone on the other side of the Thames quite heard that,"
"Sorry," the American muttered bashfully, going back to staring down at the ground, drawing an X in the gravel with the toe of his trainer and then scuffing it out.
For the first time in a long time the entire GSE, minus Bovver obviously, were gathered together, huddled around a table right at the bottom of the beer garden in The Anchor, which given the state of the Abbey was their temporary sanctuary.
"Right, now see I get that Hatcher's fucked in the 'ead," Keith mumbled, taking one last drag of his cigarette and then stubbing it out. "But this ain't CSI and he ain't some fucking serial killer. He's the 'ead of a firm, he's got too much to lose to be pulling shit like this,"
"What've you 'eard?" Pete nodded at Dave who was staring down into his pint; he hadn't really wanted it, he'd just ordered it out of habit.
"Nothing," he shrugged. "Or if people 'ave 'eard something then they're just being very fucking clever and keeping their mouths shut over it. People were scared enough when Sean got done in, but now Lee…" he shook his head. "No one's willing to say anything just in case they upset the miserable old cunt and end up six feet under themselves."
Nodding in silent agreement, Pete sighed deeply and looked around at his mates, his chest stinging slightly with the knowledge that Bov should be there. Shaking his head, he sat up straighter and downed the remainder of his coke, eyeing up the lads' pints enviously before popping his last pain killer of the day.
"So what'd we do now then?" Swill asked, chewing loudly on a pack of ready salted crisps. "If no one knows where Hatcher is, I sure as shit ain't about to break out my Hardy Boys costume and go looking for 'im."
"I think we're all with you on that one, mate," Pete told him. "Just keep a look out alright? No one goes anywhere alone, no one mentions anything here," he glanced around and caught a few of the regular punters staring at him; they knew who he was by reputation alone but this was the first time he'd been here and people were obviously intrigued to see just what the Major of the infamous GSE looked like.
"Dave is you hear anything…." Pete trailed off as the dark haired man nodded.
"I'll call you as soon as," he told him.
"How's Allie?" Ike asked him, peeking into the bag of peanuts Dave had been eating and rolling his eyes when he found there were none left.
Looking at his mates, Pete could see the concern in their eyes and knew what they were really asking him. How was she coping having found out that the kid who begged for their help only two months ago was dead, killed by the very same man who had tried and very nearly succeeded in killing Pete, too.
"She's alright," he nodded slowly. "She didn't really say a whole lot after we got back that day," he shrugged. "She shouldn't 'ave 'ad to go through that,"
"But she's doing well," Ike smiled slightly. "You know with the…uh, the baby?"
Dave watched as something suddenly lit up behind Pete's eyes making the blue orbs shine as he fought the urge to start grinning like an idiot.
"Yeah," he nodded. "She's not throwing up so much anymore." He paused. "She's still got a thing for that fucking 'orrible coconut shit though,"
"They're actually not that bad," Ned told them evenly.
"She got to you n' all didn't she?" Pete laughed. Having been subjected to constant ridicule over having a thing for the roughest chocolate bar in the world, Allie had set out to turn people, force feeding him and Benjamin about four of the fucking things during sports day until Ben actually looked as though he was about to be sick.
"So, how soon can you tell if it's a lad or not?" Swill asked him. "I need to think of what to get it,"
"You can work out if it's a boy or girl at three months," Matt told them, sipping his orange juice. They looked at him strangely and he shrugged. "Shannon used to phone me a lot when she was pregnant,"
"So Allie's only like…what, a month and a half now?" Swill tried counting on his fingers and then swore under his breath, looking up at Pete. "When did you knock her up?"
"Mate," he laughed and shook his head. "I have no bloody idea, we didn't exactly mark it down,"
"You don't?" Ned shook his head. "Jesus, I practically memorize the dates I get laid on,"
"That's because there's only about three dates to remember," Keith smirked at him, frowning when Ned reached into Matt's drink, ignoring the protest from the Yank and pulled out an ice cube, hurling it at Keith's head.
"It's exciting though, innit?" Swill grinned.
The rest if the boys fought the urge not to smile seeing their mate getting so worked up.
"What?" he frowned. "None of us 'ave ever had a kid before,"
"That we know about at least," Ned laughed.
"Mate, that's not even fucking funny," Swill put his cigarette down and stared at them. "Shit, what if I've got like, seven fucking kids running about somewhere?"
"Don't be so stupid, that's impossible" Pete shook his head and paused before grinning at his mate. "You 'aven't been laid seven times for a start."
The boys laughed, even Matt who after everything that had happened with the police and then Shannon leaving was starting to feel more comfortable with the group, just like it had been before all the crap with Tommy had kicked off.
Dave picked up his pint and took a small sip, wincing when he realised not for the first time that the shit they had on tap here was no was as good as the Abbey. It was the same beer but it just tasted…different.
"Oi," he grimaced, shoving the offending drinking away from him. "You know something? I swear to God this beer is-…"
He trailed off when a familiar figure stepped through the old wooden doors and into the pub garden, his light blue-gray eyes scanning the small crowd and then landing on their table.
"This beer is what?" Pete frowned, wondering why Dave had just trailed off like that. "Oi, you alright there mate? You 'aven't gone and pissed yourself 'ave you?" he joked.
Noticing that he was staring at something over his shoulder, Pete turned as best he could without moving his knee too much and froze.
He hadn't seen Bovver in over a month now, the last memory he had of him was catching a surprising glimpse of him as he arrived at the Warf the morning of the fight…then it all seemed to blur together and all he could remember was Tommy stood above him with a brick in his hand.
Shuddering at the memory, he snapped himself out of his daydream and stared hard at the man slowly making his way towards them.
"Whoever set this up 'ad better fucking own up now," he growled, turning back to the men at the table. "Because I am not fucking impressed,"
"Pete," Dave shook his head. "None of us knew he was coming, mate,"
The rest of the boys nodded their heads in agreement, watching as Bovver got closer to the table, slowing his pace when he got to the one next to them, stopping completely and staring at them.
"Alright lads," he mumbled nervously, casting a quick glance at Pete whose gaze was focused steadily on the table.
"'Ello mate," Ned piped up, not catching the look Pete sent him. "How's it going?"
"Not bad," he shrugged. "I'm just 'ere with some of the lads from work,"
"You got a job?" Dave smiled. "That's blindin' mate, well done,"
"Yeah, its just down at the Carphone Warehouse in Waterloo," he nodded. "Its shit but it pays the bills,"
Pete gripped the edge of the splintered table top harder, his temper flaring inside of him; what the fuck did everyone think this was? Some kind of therapy session?
"Pete,"
He froze at the sound of Bovver saying his name but refused to look at him still.
"Mate, I uh, I thought I might swing round yours later, yeah?" he clicked his fingers nervously. "Just to see how you're doing," he cleared his throat. "And uh, Allie, last time I saw her she mentioned she was feeling pretty shit so-…"
"If you've got anything and I mean anything in that fucking head of yours resembling a brain, you'll shut your mouth now," Pete hissed, his teeth gritted so hard that he was waiting for them to crack.
"Pete, please mate…" Bovver tried again, stopping when the blonde turned to look at him, his blue eyes flaring wildly.
"You don't get to ask anything of me, sunshine, do you get that?" he snapped. "You don't talk about me, you don't talk about Steve and I swear to fucking God mate, you mention Allie again and crutches or not, I will kick the shit outta ya,"
He shook his head as Bovver stared at him blankly, doing the only thing he really knew how to do and switching off his emotions completely, giving no one any idea of what he was thinking.
"What did you expect to 'appen here, Bov?" he asked, narrowing his eyes. "Did you reckon that I'd be all for forgiving and forgetting? That I'd buy you a pint, invite you to sit down and give you an update on how everything's been since you pretty much buried this firm and almost got my brother killed?"
"I didn't expect nothing," he protested. "I just…I wanted to make sure you were alright,"
"Oh, I'm just fine and dandy Bov," he laughed bitterly, catching the sad look on his face. "What's the matter? Not quite the family reunion you'd pictured is it?"
Bovver muttered something inaudible and then shook his head, wishing he'd never come over here; what the hell had he been thinking? Pete was right. Too much had gone on and he'd let every opportunity to make it right pass him by. He didn't deserve his forgiveness.
"Fuck this," Pete snapped, grabbing his crutches and shifting slightly so he could slide off of the bench, standing up and jamming his hands into them, balancing on them in a way that had become second nature to him now.
"Pete, wait up mate," Dave called as he watched him limp away from the group.
Staring at Bovver helplessly, he shook his head and reached out, gently slugging the younger man on the shoulder. "He'll come round, Bov. He's just pissed at the moment,"
"I know," he nodded. "Go after him, make sure he's alright,"
Nodding, Dave broke into a run after Pete who he noted had become a lot more agile on those crutches than he was a few weeks back. Staring at the rest of the boys, he nodded to them and then turned, making his way back to the pub, back to the blokes who he would convince himself were actually his mates just so he could get through another night without falling apart.
"Grenade,"
"What, where?"
"Right in front of you, you daft cunt!"
"Where? It's not on my radar!"
"You're talking bollocks, mate look in the bottom left hand corner of the screen, see that bright red thing that's blinking at you? That's a fucking grenade!"
"Swill, press square, mate!"
"Fuck off, I'm still trying to find this radar,"
"There, you prick! Swill, mate…aw, sod it, just run you fat bastard!"
" What's that beeping noise….aw fuck it!"
Throwing down the playstation controller, Swill turned to the lads on the various sofas and chairs behind him who were shaking their heads in disappointment.
"What?" he shouted.
"Mate, d'you think I yell, 'grenade' for a laugh or something?" Ned shook his head. "It was right in front of you."
"Piss off," he snapped. "Who's up next?"
"I am," Dave grinned, pushing himself off of the sofa.
"Are you fuck," Ike frowned. "I gave my last go to you so you can piss right off,"
"Nah," Dave shook his head, picking up the controller and flopping down in the massive bean bag. "If you remember, I traded you my slice of pizza for your next two goes. You ate the pizza, didn't you?"
"Yeah," he nodded.
"So quit being a bitch and give me your go," he grinned, pressing start and focusing on the task at hand. The front door slammed shut and Pete turned his head towards the double doors which led to the hallway, Allie's voice drifting down it and making him smile.
"You can't put it on me, my accent was way better than yours," she laughed.
"Oh screw you, blondie," Lara shot back. "They were all for my little speech until you started barging in with 'that's hot' every few seconds,"
Stepping into the living room they both stopped and dropped their shopping bags, the six men laying unceremoniously about the room surrounded by food and drink glancing behind them to smile at the two women.
"Oh my God," Lara raised her eyebrows. "Someone's filming a Budweiser commercial in our house,"
"Ooooh, Pringles," Allie practically skipped over to the coffee table, snatching the tin of sour cream and chive flavoured crisps and shoving a handful into her mouth.
"Attractive, Allie," Lara told her.
"I only work with what God gave me," the blonde answered, sticking her tongue out which had chewed up food on it and making the red head roar with laughter.
"Oi," Pete nudged her with his good foot where he was lying on the large feather sofa by the bay window. "How about a kiss?"
"Food first," she mumbled, diving into the tin for seconds. "Kiss later,"
"Just for that you owe me a cheeky ha…" Obviously remembering his mates were still in the room, Pete stopped and laughed at Allie's expression. "You owe me a kiss," he told her. "Why're you so hungry anyway,"
"We haven't eaten today," she told him, rummaging through the biscuit tin, hoping she hadn't eaten all the Bounty's. Shit, she had.
"Don't suppose you fancy one of these, do you?" she looked up at Swill who was holding up double Bounty bar and squealed happily, running over to him and pulling him into a huge hug.
"You cheeky fuck," Pete laughed. "When did you get your mitts on that?"
"I got it when I went into that newsagents to buy some more fags," he winked at the blonde.
"I actually love you," she told him, clutching the chocolate bar to her chest.
"All the ladies do," Swill nodded, kissing the top of her head and pushing her gently back over to where Pete was laying.
"So how come you 'aven't eaten today?" he asked her, frowning slightly. He didn't want to fuss over her, partly because he didn't put it past her to punch him in the face, but she was pregnant now, she had to eat.
"Well, Big Red over there," she pointed at Lara who was now sat next to Ned, in the process of cracking open a bottle of corona. "Told me she had reservations for lunch at the Ivy,"
"I did," Lara told her. "They just forgot to write it in the book,"
"Uh-huh," Allie rolled her eyes. "And so to try and get in, she comes up with the genius plan of trying to convince the maitre'd that we were Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan out for a late lunch,"
The boys immediately started pissing themselves, Dave even having to pause the game for a moment while he collected himself.
"Suffice it to say, we failed to get in," Allie giggled.
"He would have bought it if your boobs were smaller," Lara pointed out.
"Oh, it had nothing to do with the fact that I have no resemblance to her at all, huh?" she teased.
"Thank fuck for that," Pete chuckled. "That bird is a mutant, I swear. It looks like the head of a fucking ferret on a 12 year old boy's body,"
Laughing, Allie walked over and perched on the edge of the sofa, leaning down carefully and kissing him gently, shifting even closer when he ran his hand up her leg to rest on her thigh.
"Oi!" Swill shouted. "No PDA's while the rest of us are single, its fucking depressing,"
Pulling back from Pete reluctantly, Allie peered down at his t-shirt and narrowed her eyes.
"Where you wearing this yesterday?" she asked.
"Yeah," he nodded with a boyish smirk. "I'm running outta clothes," he pulled her back down and nipped her bottom lip with his teeth. "I might just 'ave to start not wearing any at all,"
"Spoken like a true man-whore," Allie giggled, drumming her fingers against his chest. "Is Matt still staying at yours?"
"Yeah, why?" he frowned.
"I have to go out and grab something from the office, so I can swing by on the way home and get some clothes for you," she offered. "Any books or anything you want?"
"Allie, you don't 'ave to do that," he shook his head.
"Oh it's alright," she grinned. "I'm sure you'll think of some way to pay me back," winking at him and bending down to kiss him once more, she stood up and grabbed another handful of Pringles, shoving them into her mouth and munching happily. "D'you want a lift to the office?" she patted the top of Lara's head.
"Oh, actually can I be really cheeky?" the red head smiled at her. "I'm supposed to be having dinner with Harry in an hour, can you give me a lift to the station?"
"Where's he taking you?" Allie asked, amused. It hadn't taken as long as she's thought it would to get used to the idea of her brother dating her best friend, she actually thought it was pretty cute now.
"I don't know," she smiled. "He said it was a surprise,"
"When blokes say that it usually means they've either got no money or they're trying to sound romantic just to get laid," Swill told her.
"Either way I'm happy," Lara winked.
"Oh God, I can't hear things like that," Allie covered her ears. "Come on, move your Bounty hogging arse,"
"Ugh," Dave shook his head. "Tell me you don't like 'em now?"
"No," Allie slung her bag over her shoulder. "She just licks off the chocolate and then lets me eat the coconut,"
"That was everyone wins," Lara explained with a shrug.
"The chocolate is the best bit," Allie complained.
"Ugh, whatever chunk," Lara told her playfully. "Let's have this discussion after you're done doing the nine month truffle shuffle, shall we?"
Pete laughed loudly along with the boys as Allie chased Lara down the hall yelling 'you're brother shagging arse is mine!'.
There was a slight burst of giggling and shrieking from the hallway before both girls yelled their goodbyes, promising to be back later.
Pushing himself up onto his elbows, Pete watched with a smile on his face as Allie giggled at something Lara was saying, the gentle breeze blowing her honey coloured hair out of her face as she turned to the window almost as though she felt him looking at her and smiled before getting into the car.
"Oi, Dunham,"
He snapped out of his reverie to see Ike staring at him, holding out the playstation control with an expectant look on his face.
"It's your turn mate,"
"Alright then," Pete took it out of Ike's hands and pressed start, grinning when his character appeared on stage. "Let me show you lads how its done."
"I'm going out,"
Sarah Hatcher didn't bother looking up from where she was folding the bed sheet back; she could see him standing in the doorway, his large, intimidating frame taking up half the space as he stared at her stoically.
"I'll be home for dinner," Tommy told her, growing angry at her lack of response. "Am I talking to myself 'ere or what?"
"I heard you," she told him quietly, her voice clipped and controlled.
It had only taken a week for the news of Lee Esdon's death to spread through Millwall; Sarah had seen the boys mother out in the supermarket the other day, she was so pale, so thin that there was barely anything left of her. Vicki Esdon was a shell of the woman she once had been, not that Sarah had known her particularly well. Her boys had been at the same school as Dylan but they'd kept their distance from each other, more than aware of the dangers that awaited them in the forms of their respective husbands if they even dared consider becoming anything more than passing shadows at the school gate.
Now that woman, that same woman who would laugh with the other mums every morning and who would always bring cake in for the boys' birthdays was left with no children.
And Sarah Hatcher was almost certain that the man standing in her doorway, the man she had called her husband for the past two decades was responsible for it.
"I'm not bringing my phone, so if you need to call someone, call James," he told her referring to the youngster who'd been working as his apprentice at the garage. He was a good kid, Sarah had actually started to think that Tommy was using him as a replacement for Dylan, but she wouldn't dare say that to him. Unconsciously reaching up to run her finger along the scar from where he had hit her in the kitchen not long ago, she shuddered, remembering just how dangerous her husband could be.
"Tommy?" she called as he turned his back and he stopped. What was she going to say? Please don't leave the house because I'm scared of what you'll do? Biting her lip, Sarah stared down at the bed sheet again and ignored the tears stinging her eyes. "Just um, don't be late. I'm cooking roast beef and I know you hate it when it goes all soggy,"
Not giving her an answer, Tommy walked through to the front room, picking up his jacket and patting the pocket to make sure what he needed was still there. Smiling to himself, he pulled it on and strolled out of the flat noticing that the rain clouds had cleared and the once gray sky was now an almost luminous blue.
It was going to be a nice day, after all.
It took him a mere 20 minutes to reach Dunham's house, the old brick building with its large blue front door containing a stained glass window peeking out from behind a row of unkempt trees and rose bushes. Standing on the footpath just beside it, he watched intently as the door opened and closed a few times, no one he recognised going in or out. Leaning against the crumbling brick wall, he took a deep breath, the weight in his pocket doubling as he thought about what he was doing.
After ten years, he was finally getting revenge for what had been done to his boy; ten years of watching the same moment play over and over in his head.
The screams, the look of pure fear and agony in his eyes, the spray of blood which had marked the concrete as the last kick to his sons head knocked him unconscious.
Feeling almost physically ill, Tommy looked down at his hands and realised they were trembling; he didn't need to touch his forehead to know he was sweating either.
The noise of a car pulling up broke him out of his reverie and he glanced up, the young sounding, sweet voice carrying up the path as she giggled in a manner that was so carefree, it made him clench his fists.
"I'm not bringing your speed racer boxers back," the blonde laughed. "What'd you mean why? You openly admitted to me you've had them since you were 19…oh yeah, how would you like it if I said I was wearing the same underwear I had five years ago?...my point exactly,"
He watched as she laughed again and pushed the large blue door open, having to use her whole body to do so. It closed again and her laughter ceased as she made her way upstairs. Not giving himself a moment to think, Tommy jumped over the wall and shoved the door open with one hand, glancing up the stairwell and realising she must have taken the lift. He took the steps two at a time, the sweat dripping down his back and chilling his skin.
Her voice caught his attention again and he looked up to see a door slightly ajar, the pile of letters outside it listed to a Mr. P. Dunham alerting him to the fact that this was his flat.
Tommy stood there for a moment, his eyes darting about the hallway nervously almost as though he was waiting to be found. Reaching his right hand down into his jacket pocket, he pulled the 3 inch blade out of his pocket and stared down at it, catching his warped reflection in the steel finish.
Again he heard her laughter from inside the flat, it clashed with the visions he had in his head of his son lying motionless on the ground, blood trickling out of his head and his right eye as the paramedics towered over him, trying to snag a hold of the life which Tommy knew just from looking at him was no longer there.
His stomach clenched at the memory and he walked slowly towards the front door, his fist tightening around the handle of the blade as he stepped into the flat and shut the door behind him.
Pete sat on his bed looking out at the pool as the crystal blue surface twinkled teasingly in the sunshine which had recently broken through the cloud. Allie had promised to be back in less than an hour which gave him time to look through the gift she had put together for him.
"Oi!" Steve shouted from the kitchen. "D'you want a beer or are you still on those fucked up pain killers?"
"Yeah," Pete laughed. "Better make it a coke mate,"
Whilst he had been in the coma, Allie had written a mini letter to him every day so that when he woke up he would be aware of everything he had missed. Smiling at the stupid little drawings she had left on some of the pages, his heart stopped when he came to the copy of her scan she had taped into the book.
Running his finger over the unidentifiable lines and blurs, he shook his head in amazement knowing that he was responsible for that thing. He had created it…and in nine months it would be here, looking at him, expecting him to pull his finger out of his arse and do something.
Grinning at the thought, he caught sight of the bride and groom doodle in the corner of the page, laughing when he realised that the groom was on crutches and had a football under his arm.
He was still staring at the Polaroid of Lara had taken of Allie getting measured at her first appointment with the midwife when the phone rang, causing him to jolt out of his little world.
Sighing, he leant across the bed to the nightstand and picked it up, frowning at the unknown number on the screen.
"Hello?"
"Can I please speak to Pete Dunham?" a young man's voice asked rather urgently.
"Uh, speaking," Pete sat up straighter.
"Mr Dunham, my name is Dr. Dominic Gray I'm a consultant at the London,"
"Ok," Pete felt his heart start to race. What the fuck were they ringing for? He'd been given the all clear last week, all he needed now was Physio for the next month and he'd be fine…what if something had shown up on his last x-ray, what if…
"Mr Dunham, your fiancé Alyssa Harding has been admitted and we need you to get down here as quick as you can,"
"What?" Pete felt all the air in his lungs rush out of his chest so fast he actually worried he would collapse then and there. "What happened to her, is she ok?"
Shoving himself up off of the bed, he grabbed his crutches and stumbling through the doorway into the hall where he screamed at Steve to get the car. His entire body was shaking, the coldness sweeping through him making him feel as though he was dying. Oh fuck…if something happened to her….
Watching Steve run out of the front door to get his car, he leant against the windowsill and sobbed, fighting the urge to be physically sick as he braced himself on his crutches, the doctors reply to his question still echoing around his head like an air raid siren.
"She's been attacked…there are lacerations to her stomach….we're concerned about the baby."
Limping out to the car as fast as he could without falling over, he practically threw himself into the passenger seat, shouting out in pain when his leg bent at an unexpected angle. Gripping the dashboard, he shook his head, silently telling Steve to just drive, his pain didn't matter right now.
Nothing mattered right now.
Nothing expect Allie being alive, she had to be…because if she wasn't then neither was he.
Come on then, et's have it...give me an R...give me an I...