The Family Firm

Chapter 10

'Expelled? I should have known, with that prat of an uncle leading him around.'

Frankie sighed and put her head in her hands. This was the reason she always hated visiting her mum. The woman was so judgemental, and Franks was no angel herself but dear old Beth always had a way of making her hate herself by the end of each visit. She hadn't even wanted to tell her about Junior, but she didn't have much of a choice. The old cow was going to find out anyway, and besides, she needed the support, and it wasn't like her mates were of any use at a time like this. But Beth's support seemed more like an "I told you so" the longer she prattled on and Frankie felt miserable.

'It ain't Fred's fault, Mum, it's just the way he's built,' she complained, but already her mum was shaking her head and she felt as if she was speaking to a brick wall.

'Or the way he was raised,' Beth offered from her place in the conservatory as she watered a various number of plants. 'Now, that isn't to say you didn't try your hardest, love, but with the only male figure in his life being a criminal, well...'

Frankie recoiled, feeling attacked suddenly, and like an animal backed into a corner, she lashed out. 'Charlie was a criminal. Or did you forget that, Mum?'

Beth scoffed, annoyed at her daughter. 'Was, darling, but everyone and their mum knows our Fred is still out and about being a bruiser.'

Hanging up the watering pot on a nearby hook, she brushed her hands off on her gardening apron and turned to face her daughter who was perched on the settee. 'What that boy needs is a father, a real one mind you, not an uncle, and not some gormless cock-up of a fella you decide to shack up with. He needs his daddy.'

The more her mother spoke, the more sceptical Frankie became. She knew her mum far too well to think she was only rambling—words were never just words with Beth; the woman always had some prerogative about it and right now Frankie was wondering what the bloody hell it was.

'What are you on about?'

Beth glanced at her daughter as she peeled off her apron, setting it aside temporarily before she could take her things out into the shed. 'Donny rang the other day. – More tea?'

Frankie blinked, gob-smacked, and stood off the settee, trailing after her mum who had absconded back into the kitchen a moment later. 'What do you mean, Donny rang? He rang you up? When? What did he want?'

'Keep you bleeding hair on, girl,' said Beth without looking back, already busying herself with the kettle. 'He just... popped around to say hello.'

'He came by?!'

Beth sighed. 'Only for a few minutes. He was in the area. Can you sit down and relax, for Christ's sake? You're upsetting me ulcer.'

Frankie couldn't believe it. Her ex-husband had stopped by "just to say hello"? Well she didn't believe that for a second, and she could hardly believe her mum didn't tell her about it!

She set her jaw and jabbed a finger directly at Beth's chest. 'Sod your ulcer. What did he want? What did he say? Tell me, for fuck's sake!'

Beth had a judgemental expression on her face, and looked her daughter up and down. 'Well, not when you talk to me like that, I won't. It's no wonder Little Fred's come out the way he has.'

Frankie's fists clenched, but she felt like crying. Why did her mum have to make everything so fucking difficult? Why did she have to turn everything into an insult against her personally? She should have known, she did this every time she was privy to something and Frankie wasn't; she practically made her beg to get thrown even the smallest bone just so she could get off on the power trip. Quite frankly, she was sick and tired of it! Tired of her mother's nastiness and her vindictiveness, and tired of the fact she knew she'd have to continue to deal with it.

Backing off, despite the fact she wanted to rip her mum's lovely long, brown hair straight out from the roots, she sat down at the kitchen table and forced herself to relax. 'Mum. Please, tell me what Donny was here for.'

Beth's eyes were still narrowed, but she seemed to give in, satisfied that she'd broken her daughter down enough. 'I already told you, he just come round to say hello. Said he was driving through London on business. I didn't ask what kind. He wanted to know how Junior was, I said he was in a good school, though now I suppose that's a lie, innit.'

Frankie closed her eyes a moment and let out a long, slow breath. 'Did he say anything about...coming over again or anything like that?'

Beth shook her head as she fixed up her cuppa. 'Can't say he did, babe. But you should give him a ring. He left his number, told me to give it to ya. It's tacked on the fridge.'

Frankie's eyes glanced over at the refrigerator and she stood up from her chair, looking for the scrap of paper in question. Pulling it out from underneath the magnet, she inspected the numbers, unfamiliar to her, before folding it up and taking a breath.

'I have to go, Mum,' she said, rounding the table to retrieve her purse. 'I'll come by later.'

'What about your tea?'

'No thanks, see you Mum.'

She couldn't escape out the front door fast enough. She nearly stumbled in her heels getting to her car, and as soon as she slipped inside, she began to hyperventilate, tears pricking up in her eyes almost immediately. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't think; it felt like a huge pressure was weighing on her chest, like the car interior was closing in on her. God, she couldn't take it any more!

Forcing herself not to cry, she quickly dug through her purse for the first pill bottle she could find. She didn't even care what it was, she just struggled to open the bottle with trembling hands and dumped a few into her mouth. Holding them on her tongue, she capped the bottle and dropped it back into her mess of a purse, digging around next for a flask of gin, which she quickly opened and downed the little pills with. As soon as they were down, she inhaled sharply through her nose and squeezed her eyes shut, forcing the anxiety to leave and her body to relax.

She couldn't let Donny back into her life. Not after all she'd gone through, not after those two-and-a-half years of hell she'd endured for the sake of her son. And all for what? For the boy to become a delinquent, for her to end up miserable and alone? She didn't know, and she didn't know where to go from there, but what she did know was that Donny, like her mother, didn't do anything without a reason, a reason to benefit himself. And she was going to figure out what the hell that was before she was blind-sided and it was too little too late. Before it killed her.