Free The Traitor by Kimberley Chambers

bench in the garden. Raymond and Stanley had worked wonders while she had been in hospital. They’d repaired the broken furniture, assembled a new pigeon shed, replaced the trampled flowers, and the house itself was absolutely spotless. As Stanley handed her a cuppa, Joyce urged him to sit down next to her.
    ‘Where’s Joey?’ she asked.
    Stanley shrugged. ‘I think he said he had an interview or something. To be honest, Joycie, the last few weeks he’s hardly been here. He’s got that mate, Dominic, ain’t he, who lives in Islington, and he’s been stopping over at his. He did pop in the other day, mind, and he seems much brighter and happier.’
    ‘Well, who exactly is this mate? I’m sure I ain’t met no Dominic,’ Joycie said suspiciously.
    ‘Joey says we have met him before. He said he came to his and Frankie’s birthday party earlier this year. You gotta remember he’s sixteen, Joycie. If Joey wants to stop at his mate’s flat, we can’t do much to stop him.’
    Joyce pursed her lips. ‘Well, good job he’s bringing this Dominic around for dinner tomorrow. At least we can check him out, make sure he comes from a good home. For all we know, he could be a druggie, Stanley.’
    Just a short distance down the road, Frankie had felt tired and depressed all day, so had taken herself off to the bedroom for a catnap. On awakening, still bleary-eyed, she stumbled into the lounge. The reek of aftershave hit her nostrils immediately, and she was shocked to see Jed spruced up in a shirt and trousers.
    ‘What’s happening? Why you all dressed up? Are we meant to be going out?’
    Jed kissed her on the forehead and laughed. ‘I’m going out, you’re staying ’ere, Frankie. I told you the other day I was going to a stag night. You know my cousin, Sammy? Well, his mate Donny’s getting married at the weekend.’
    ‘You never told me anything,’ Frankie said stubbornly.
    ‘I did. Your mind’s all over the place at the moment. It’s because you’re borey – that means “pregnant” in Romany – before you ask. Anyway, you don’t have to feel left out, ’cause I’m taking you to their wedding reception over in Kent.’
    Frankie moved away from him and flopped onto the sofa. ‘Do you have to go to his stag night, Jed? I’ve been stuck here on my own all day and I’m so bored.’
    Sitting down next to her, Jed squeezed her hand. ‘Of course I have to go. You don’t want me to look like a dinlo, do ya? Why don’t you go next door and watch telly with me mum and dad?’
    At the mention of Jed’s mother, Frankie burst into tears. ‘I want my own mum, not someone else’s,’ she sobbed.
    Making sure that her tears didn’t ruin his Ralph Lauren shirt, Jed put an arm around her. ‘Look, no one can bring your mum back, Frankie. I know what happened was rotten, but you’ve got your cuntsmouth of a father to blame for that. We’re gonna be parents ourself soon, so you gotta pull yourself together. How you gonna take care of our chavvie properly if you’re upset all the poxy time?’
    Frankie stared at him in horror. Her mum had only been dead for two months, so surely she was allowed to grieve. ‘Just go, Jed,’ she said angrily.
    Jed stood up. He was gagging for a good night out and he wasn’t going to let Frankie spoil it for him. ‘I’ll try not to be late. Why don’t you have an early night? You look ever so tired,’ he said gently.
    Frankie wanted to tell him to fuck off, but didn’t have the guts to. If she was still living back at home, she would have told him where to go, but what was the point now when she was so reliant on him?
    ‘Love you,’ Jed said, as he slammed the trailer door.
    Over in South London, Eddie Mitchell reread the letter he’d received today from Paulie. He didn’t usually receive a lot of post, but today he’d had mail from Raymond, his Uncle Reg and his eldest brother.
    Raymond’s letter was pretty brief, but he’d asked for a visiting order to be sent,