The Family Firm

Chapter 25

Frankie heard her son all but slam the front door and shot him a look. She was in the kitchen, a kitchen she was more than proud of and still becoming adjusted to. It was almost three times as big as the one she had on the council estate, and filled with a number of appliances she had been trying to make good use of.

She had never been any sort of Julia Child but she had really tried to learn in the past few years. It had been a bit of a hobby she'd taken up, along with the herb garden Polly had taught her how to plant. Fresh herbs made a world of difference in your food, which was just one of the many little tricks she had picked up through her various books and cooking shows.

The new house in Romford had been a gift from her brother Freddie and they'd only just finished moving in officially a few weeks prior. He had told her she needed a proper place to raise her boy, though she didn't want to admit at twenty-two the boy was already well-raised and only staying with her for her own peace of mind. Regardless, Fred had been looking after them like he always did and she was grateful for it.

She never understood why people thought so negatively of him. They never said it to her face, of course, but she wasn't born yesterday, she could tell when her brother was being slagged off. Of course she was fiercely protective of him, as much as she was Junior, and so she always put those who decided to speak out against him in their place. They were probably only jealous anyway. And who wouldn't be? In a matter of weeks he'd gone from being a lackey to the biggest Face in East End, with a number of businesses under his belt and sat on a wedge of hundreds of thousands of pounds. Anyone to cunt him off was just bothered they hadn't had the ambition to kill that bastard Archy Jackson like he had. Then again, no one was as resourceful or cunning as her Freddie, were they?

It was because of this respect for her brother that she chastised her son as he stormed in like the fucking drug squad. 'Well don't swing the door so hard, son, you'll knock it from the bleeding hinges.'

'Sorry,' was Junior's rushed apology. He spent some time slipping out of his shoes and jacket before joining his mum in the kitchen, and she kissed him.

'Lunch is almost ready. I've just made gammon, egg, and chips, thought that sounded good. Oh, and your nan gave me her treacle tart recipe, so I experimented with that a bit... We can always have what's left for tea.'

'Yeah, smells handsome, Mum.'

A woman didn't have to be too shrewd to know when her son was upset, and Frankie was no exception to the rule. Junior was rarely short with her; he was a good lad, and enjoyed conversation with his dear old mum, which was why she was watching him suspiciously as he checked on the large gammon joint crisping in the AGA.

'Did something happen?'

Junior screwed up his face in annoyance despite himself. 'Mum, let it be. No offence, but it's none of your business.'

Frankie furrowed her brow and folded her arms over her ample chest. 'Excuse me, son, but as your mother it's me job to worry about you, so I suggest you leave that door slamming along with your sour attitude outside where they belong unless you want to make it my business.'

Junior could see he was upsetting her, and his demeanour immediately softened. He loved his mum, this was no secret, and so he sighed out his frustrations and went over to wrap his arms around her in a tight embrace.

He was much taller than her then, taller than his uncle as well, at a staggering six feet even. He'd shot straight up like a bean stalk in the past few years and was broad, too; he'd really filled out handsomely and had the looks to match it. The older he got, the more of the typical Evans features he took on—thick, dark hair, striking green eyes, and a charmingly lop-sided smile filled with rows of crooked, white teeth. These were traits Frankie didn't possess herself which only increased her suspicions of his paternity, though he definitely looked like Donny in the face. In any case he was unmistakably Evans in just about every way and he fit right into the family firm like he was quite literally born to do so.

'You worry for England, Mummy,' he said quietly against her, the childish name only on his lips when he wanted to make good with her. It worked; she was dough in his hands. 'I just had a row with Katie, that's all.'

The name chilled her. She knew all about Katie, of course she had. She had lost Freddie to her, and right after getting the opportunity to have him back in her life. When she had decided to marry Donny, she thought that had certainly been the end of them, her and Fred. She had never seen him so furious in her life, but her mother had persuaded her that it was best for her and for her son. It was the Catholic way. She didn't have much of a choice, did she?

She hadn't spoken to Freddie for years after that. He'd completely disappeared off the face of the earth, he'd left home and left her. By the time Donny had gone up north and abandoned both her and Junior, she heard Freddie was shacked up with some bird named Sara, and he had a daughter, Katie.

He'd gone to prison shortly after that, for GBH and weapons charges in some incident in a corner shop. Five years, he'd done, and it was during that stretch that they'd rekindled their relationship. But they never really spoke of their pasts, certainly not about Donny or Sara or Katie. The first mention of her since had been six years ago, when Junior had befriended her. She knew it was Fred's doing, but he didn't talk about it. They were close, closer than anyone else could get to their sibling in all honesty, but there were some things Freddie was locked tight about. Katie had been one of them, and even Frankie never really understood his motivations. She rarely did those days, it seemed.

The truth was, she was jealous of Katie. Terribly jealous, actually, and she despised herself at times because of it. Katie was only a girl, and she'd met her more than a few times; she was lovely to be around, had her father's temper too, which normally Frankie would have thought endearing. It certainly wasn't the poor girl's fault that she was slowly taking Freddie away from her. He was always watching her, keeping an eye on her, and Frankie knew deep down that it would have been the same with her and Junior had he been estranged from her (even not, she always looked out for him), but that didn't stop the jealousy. It didn't matter the relation; any woman who took Freddie's attention was depriving her of what she thought was rightfully hers. Freddie Evans was Frankie's everything, and she wanted to be his, too.

It was because of all of this that she was secretly happy Junior wasn't getting along with the girl, and naively thought that if they cut ties, she wouldn't have to see her around any more. Maybe Freddie would let Katie live her own life, too, instead of always stopping by whenever she was around. Sometimes Frankie felt he didn't even come to see her at all.

Of course, there was always the possibility that it was the paranoia sneaking in. The drugs had been doing that to her lately; making her jittery and paranoid, downright delusional at times. She also knew that her obsession with her brother was unhealthy but she didn't see how either of them could change that any time soon. They had been a part of each other's life for as long as they had been living; they might as well have been Siamese twins.

'You know,' she began, her mind slowly returning to the present after its distant walk on memory lane. 'Maybe it's better that way. Katie's a nice girl but... Well, I worry about you, love. You're my son, after all, and girls like that, well...'

'I know,' responded Junior, pressing his face to the top of her head. He kissed her hair a few times before pulling back and looking into his dear old mum's eyes. 'You don't have to worry from now on, though. She won't be coming around any more.'

Frankie knew she should have been upset at the obvious pain in her son's gaze, but she was secretly elated at the revelation. She knew it was wrong, but something inside her wouldn't allow her to feel guilt over it.

'It's for the best,' was all she said, taking his face into her hands.

They watched each other for a moment, and Junior allowed his mum to squeeze his face and affectionately caress him before giving him a pat on the cheek. 'Now, then, help me set the table, love.'