The Reprisal

  Kerry Kaya

  The Reprisal

  Copyright © 2020 by Kerry Kaya

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  Kerry Kaya asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  Kerry Kaya has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party Internet Websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.

  Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book.

  First edition

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  To Shannon

  Contents

  Acknowledgement

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by Kerry Kaya

  Acknowledgement

  A special thank you to Lauren Finger, Angie Gardiner, Deryl Easton, and Sammee Hart for your continued support, and to Aaron Easton for helping me to choose the title for this novel.

  Also a huge thank you to the readers of Not Rights Book Club, and to LondonCrime, I am truly thankful for your continued support and encouragement, it really does mean the world to me.

  Finally a huge thank you to my family who are there for me throughout the journey and endless scenarios as each new book begins to take shape.

  Chapter 1

  Part One

  1990

  In a cloud of sickly-sweet cheap perfume, Angie Townsend tottered through the front door of her daughter Cathy’s maisonette in a pair of dangerously high-heeled open-toed white stilettos. Talk about mutton dressed up as lamb. Completing the look, she wore a short black leather mini-skirt, an off-the-shoulder red woolen sweater, and an ever-present Rothman cigarette dangled precariously from the corner of her scarlet painted lips. She rolled her heavily mascaraed eyes up to the ceiling.

  “He’ll be the bleedin’ death of you one day.” She squinted through the curling cigarette smoke to take a good look at her girl and clasping her daughter’s jaw, She none too gently tilted her face from side to side. “Look at the state of you. He’s battered you to within an inch of your life.”

  “Leave it out, Mum.” Cathy wrenched her face free and tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. Trust her mum to over-exaggerate. Other than a bruised cheek bone, there was barely a mark on her. “You know what he’s like when he’s had a drink,” she said referring to her husband, Terrance. “He just gets heavy handed, that’s all, doesn’t know his own strength.”

  “Doesn’t know his own strength?” Angie exclaimed. “Look at the state of this place and look at the state of your boat race. You need to take a good, long, hard look in the mirror, my girl.” She set about righting the kitchen table and chairs that had been knocked over in her daughter and son-in-law’s latest fight. “And you should be thinking about that baby you’re carrying,” she said stabbing her finger toward her daughter’s prominent bump. “You’ll end up with Social Services breathing down your neck. You mark my words, girl, they’ll end up taking that baby away from you.”

  Cathy rolled her eyes and with great difficulty, climbed up off of the sofa. Still able to fit into her skinny jeans, she pulled her baggy T-shirt down over her bump. “Just don’t start if he comes back. That’s all we bleeding well need, you two at each other’s throats again.”

  Angie opened her mouth to answer and quickly snapped it closed again. She watched her daughter’s face contort with pain. “Ere’ he hasn’t hurt the baby, has he?”

  “No.” Cathy shook her head. “He might be a lot of things, but he wouldn’t do that.” She crossed over the kitchen to switch on the kettle. “It’s this little bugger,” she laughed pointing down at her bump. “Been playing football with my bladder all day, it has.”

  “Well, you know what that means, don’t you?” Sitting down at the table, Angie took out another cigarette, and using the butt of the previous one, she puffed on the fresh cigarette greedily until it sparked to life. “It’s bound to be a boy.”

  Cathy grinned. She hoped so. She’d always wanted a son. She made her way back to the table and took a seat. “If it’s a boy, we’re going to call him Terry. You know, short for Terrance.”

  Puffing on her cigarette, Angie rolled her eyes. “Leave it out, Cath. You don’t want to name the poor little sod after that ponce?” She tilted her head to one side and studied her daughter. “I’ve heard that he’s got some little tart on the go. That no-good scrubber Donna Cassidy from across the estate. Been seeing her for a few good months, he has, by all accounts.” She screwed up her face. “It’s disgusting. The girl is barely even legal, and have you seen the bloody state of it? She looks like she could do with a good wash, right soapy looking cow, she is.” She reached out her arm to clasp her daughter’s hand and her voice became gentle. “You know as well as I do that if she’s a permanent fixture, then it’s got to be serious between them.”

  The smile slid from Cathy’s face and her heart lurched. She wasn’t stupid or deaf, come to that. She’d heard the gossip mongers whispering behind her back as she passed them by in the street. “Leave it out, Mum. They’re just rumors, that’s all. Of course he isn’t seeing someone else.” She rolled her eyes up to the ceiling. “And as for Donna Cassidy, bleeding hell, that little tart has seen more helmets than the entire army did during the war, and she isn’t even eighteen yet.”

  Angie leaned across the table. “I know it isn’t what you want to hear, Cath, but it’s been going on for a few months they reckon.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I’m only repeating back what everyone else is saying, darling, and if it is true, then it’s not like all the other times. This is different, this is serious.”

  Hearing a key turn in the lock, Cathy stood up. “Just don’t start,” she hissed, “and don’t mention Donna bloody Cassidy to him, whatever you bleeding well do.”

  “Ain’t gonna say a word.” Watching as her daughter re-boiled the kettle, Angie held her finger to her lips, her expression the ep
itome of innocence.

  Walking through to the kitchen, Terrance Matlock lifted his eyebrows in mock annoyance. He was a tall man, well built, and with thick dark brown hair and brown eyes, he also had a rugged handsome face. “Should have known you’d be here, Ange. Next time, me and her,” he said pointing across to his wife, “have a ding-dong, we’ll give you a bell, so you can have a front-row seat.” He crouched down to speak jovially in her ear. “Wouldn’t want you to miss out, now would we?”

  “Ding-dong? Is that what you call battering the girl half to death?” Angie pursed her lips and looked up at her son-in-law through hooded eyes.

  “Yeah, like I said, a ding-dong.” He placed a paper bag filled with fish and chips and a bottle of cheap wine down on the table. “Go on, girl, get your laughing gear around that.”

  The argument forgotten about, Angie rubbed her hands together with glee. She’d already had her dinner, but wouldn’t say no, especially not when her son-in-law was buying. It was about time he put his own hands into his pockets, instead of poncing off of her all of the time.

  Rolling her eyes, Cathy grinned. Angie could so easily be bought. She’d do anything for a drop of wine, and for as far back as she could remember, her old mum had always been the same.

  “Come on, Cath.” Pulling out a chair, Terrance gestured for his wife to sit down with them. “As you keep on telling me, the baby needs nourishment.”

  “Yeah and it’d do you well to remember that,” Angie piped up. “The baby needs nourishment not punishment,” she said grinning at her own wit.

  Cathy smiled. She loved it when her man was like this, caring and attentive. Only it never seemed to last for long. She pushed the dark thoughts to the back of her mind and popped a greasy chip into her mouth. Still, once the baby arrived, he was bound to change his ways, he just had to. It was what she was counting on.

  Chapter 2

  Sitting alone at a corner table in their local public house, The Jolly Fisherman, Cathy sipped at a glass of lemonade as she watched her husband across the bar. As always, he was the life and soul of the party, and even from where she was sitting, she could hear his booming voice laughing and cracking out jokes. Pity he wasn’t always so jovial, she thought to herself bitterly.

  “You all right, Cath?”

  Cathy looked up at the woman standing beside her and nodded her head.

  “Shove over then.” Tall and slim, Stella Mooney’s voice was loud.

  Cathy shuffled along the seat. Sitting beside the other woman, she couldn’t help but feel like a frump and self-consciously, she pushed her blonde hair away from her face, then straightened out the baggy top that strained across her swollen stomach. She’d known Stella for most of her life and had always thought of her as one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen. Even as a child, Stella had been exquisite. With a heart-shaped face, poker straight deep red hair and vivid green eyes, men fell over themselves to be near her. She couldn’t help but compare herself, and not for the first time, did she wish that she had been blessed with Stella’s looks, rather than the dull wavy blonde hair and ordinary features that she had been lumbered with.

  “You know people are talking,” Stella said between mouthfuls of white wine.

  Cathy looked up; a flush of shame fell across her face and she let out a long sigh. “If you’re referring to Donna Cassidy, then it isn’t true. My Terrance might be a bit of a ladies’ man, but that’s as far as it goes.”

  Stella gave her a pitying glance. “I’m not talking about the local bike,” she said nodding toward the entrance doors that Donna had flounced through just moments earlier. “I’m talking about that baby of yours.”

  “What about my baby?” Cathy’s eyes widened, and stealing a glance toward her husband, she placed her hand protectively across her bump.

  Stella shrugged her shoulders.

  “No, come on out with it,” Cathy implored. She turned in her seat to get a better view of the woman. “What are people saying about my baby?”

  “Well,” Stella leaned in closer. “People are saying that that baby in there is my brother’s.” She nodded her red head across the pub to where her brother, Paul, was standing at the bar.

  Cathy’s mouth fell open. Not only was Paul Mooney fast on his way to becoming a known face, but he was also rich, handsome, and could have his pick of women. Why on earth would he want anything to do with her? “Don’t be ridiculous,” she laughed off Stella’s words.

  Stella raised her eyebrows. “I’m only repeating back what everyone else is saying, and well, you did have a bit of a thing for him once upon a time, didn’t you? It’s common knowledge that the two of you were as thick as thieves.”

  “And he had a bit of a thing for me, too, if you remember rightly.” She picked up her lemonade and studied Paul. Stella was right. They had been an item once. She’d loved him and she supposed that a part of her still did. After all, what wasn’t there to love about Paul Mooney? With a mop of dark brown hair and deep blue eyes that reminded her of sapphires, she often thought of him as a lovable rogue, albeit a dangerous rogue if crossed. But still that ship had sailed a long time ago. “We’re just friends.” She lifted her wedding finger in the air. “As you can see, I’m married now,” she said nodding down at the thin gold band.

  “That’s what I told them, and the thing is, Cath, I like you and wouldn’t want there to be any bad blood between us, but,” she said nodding once more toward her brother, “if this causes us any problems, it’ll be your head that rolls.” She gave Cathy a wide smile, showing off a set of even white teeth. “Am I making myself clear?”

  “Crystal.” Hiding her face behind her glass, Cathy’s cheeks flamed bright red. For the life of her, she couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. She turned to look at her husband. The last thing she needed was for him to hear the gossip. She walked a tight rope with him as it was, and didn’t want to add fuel to the fire.

  “Well, I’m glad that we cleared that up.” Stella plastered a smile across her face, and as her brother made his way over to the table, her smile widened. It was the kind of smile that stopped men in their tracks. “Cathy here was just saying that she doesn’t have long to go,” she told her brother as she nodded her head down at Cathy’s bump.

  Paul Mooney nodded his own head thoughtfully. “How are you keeping, Cath?” There was a gentleness to his voice, a side of him that so few people saw.

  “Good, really good, actually.” Of course it was a lie, and as Cathy smiled up at him, she was more than thankful that she had had the hindsight to plaster on a thick layer of foundation to cover up the bruise across her cheekbone before coming out for the evening. Paul had a short temper at the best of times and would have gone mental if he’d known that Terrance took his fists to her. It was in his nature to look out for those he cared about.

  “Good, I’m pleased.” He tilted his head to one side to look at her. “You look well.”

  “Of course, she looks well. She’s blooming, that’s what pregnant women do.” Stella rolled her eyes at her brother’s obvious stupidity.

  “Yeah, I know,” Paul barked back. Cathy was not only blooming, she looked beautiful. Pregnancy obviously suited her.

  He heard Terrance’s booming voice come from behind him and turned his head. Personally, he’d never liked the man. Not to mention, he was one of Mad Dougie Ward’s boys, albeit he was far, far, down the pecking order. In fact, he was so far down the ladder, he doubted Dougie even knew who he was. Still to this day, he believed that Cathy could have done so much better for herself. He told himself it wasn’t jealousy. He and Cathy had had their chance when they were kids and it hadn’t worked out between them. However, still to this day, she owned a piece of his heart and he had a feeling that she always would. “Well, it was nice to see you, Cath.” He leaned forward and dropped a kiss on her cheek. “Take care of yourself, darling.”

  “I will do.” Cathy gave him a wide smile. Deliberately, she stopped her eyes from darting toward he
r husband. She could feel Terrance’s glare on them and knew that as soon as they were alone, he would question her about the interaction. “And you, you take care of yourself, too.”

  “You know me, Cath,” he grinned lifting his shoulders in a shrug, “trouble seems to follow me around.”

  Underneath her husband’s watchful eyes, Cathy squirmed in her seat. Just go, she silently begged of Paul. Couldn’t he see how much trouble he was getting her into by just talking to her? “Well, you take care,” she repeated.

  “Yeah, I will do.” Narrowing his eyes, Paul turned to look over his shoulder a second time. “Do you want me to have a word?” he asked, referring to the fact that Donna Cassidy had practically draped herself across Terrance’s lap.

  “No, of course not.” Cathy smiled to hide her blushes. Inside of her though, humiliation burned. Of all the people to witness Terrence’s indiscretion, it had to be Paul, her first love.

  Paul gritted his teeth. “Well, you know where I am if you want him sorted out.”

  “Thanks,” she mumbled.

  “Right, well,” he leaned forward and gently gripped her shoulder, “see you around then, Cath, and take care of yourself, sweetheart.”

  “Will do.” Cathy forced her voice to sound a lot chirpier than she actually felt. As Paul left the pub, her cheeks flamed bright red. She couldn’t help but wish a big hole would appear out of nowhere and swallow her up.

  * * *

  “What did that prick want with you?”

  Just as Cathy had predicted, as soon as they had closed the front door behind them, the mask Terrance put on when they were out in public slipped. “Who?” She shrugged her shoulders, pretending not to have a clue what he was talking about.

  “Paul fucking Mooney. I saw him, he was all over you like a fucking rash.”

  “Don’t be daft.” Cathy laughed off his comment. “Me and Paul are just mates, we’ve known each other for years. He was just asking about the baby, that was all.”