Nula got a new christening gown for Jake from Harvey Nicks, a beautiful long creation in cream lace with pearls sewn into the bib and all around the hem. She treated herself to a lilac outfit complete with hat and after the church ceremony the christening party went ahead. It was a bright sunny day. They had a marquee in the grounds and all their mates and their wives came and had a fantastic time that went on until two in the morning, when Plod showed up at the door with complaints from the neighbours over the field.
Nula and Charlie turned off David Essex promising he was going to make someone a star, fished a few over-partied revellers out of the heated pool at the back of the big house, and the whole lot of them turned in for what remained of the night.
‘Now that,’ said Charlie at breakfast, ‘was a proper party. A real old-fashioned East End knees-up like the old folks used to have, you remember, Nules?’
‘Yeah,’ she said, thinking of her old home back in the Smoke, thinking regretfully of her sweet old-fashioned mum and dad. She felt a pang of sadness. They’d done their best for her, she knew that. Her parents, who could be dead by now for all she knew. And her brother Jimmy, who she hoped was dead, the arsehole. No happy memories there.
People were scared of her on the old manor now. No one reacted to her normally, no one passed the time of day with her when she went back there. She could see the difference, straight away. Even in the corner shop, everyone would fall silent when she stepped inside. She was ushered to the front of every queue. At first, she had enjoyed that. Now, she just wished that it didn’t happen, that life could be as simple as it once had been.
Charlie Stone’s manor covered a lot more than a few mean streets now; it covered the world, and he was its absolute ruler. She was Mrs Charlie Stone, and Charlie was such a big noise that even his wife made people nervous. She didn’t actually belong anywhere, not any more. She was shunned in the country as a common and rather dodgy interloper – and she was feared in London, on what had once been her own patch. She wrote about it, in her journal. About her deep feelings of disconnection, about her unhappiness and about what had happened to Jill at the hands of that fucker Charlie, about being trapped out here, caged in. But what could you do?
The morning after the christening party, she was picking her way through the lower floor of the house, hung-over and stumbling over bodies, people still spark out on the floor. Jesus, what a night they’d had. She looked at the enormous pile of christening presents on the end table. Everyone had brought gifts for little Jake. Of course they had. Everyone wanted to get in good with Charlie Stone.
She walked over to the half-unwrapped goodies and rummaged among the stuff there. A coral teething ring. A tiny silver bracelet. A huge snow-white stuffed polar bear wearing a purple velvet saddle trimmed with gold. Jesus, so much stuff.
Then at a tiny sound she looked around. Harlan was standing right there. Silent as a wraith, he’d often do that: pitch up and startle the shit out of you. Every time he did it, Nula jumped. Despite her banging head, she forced a smile onto her lips. The kids must have had a pretty rough night, with all the noise going on, even if they did sleep up on the top floor.
‘All right then, Harlan?’ she asked.
‘Chrissy said to fetch you,’ he said flatly.
‘Why, what is it?’ she asked him.
‘There’s something wrong with Jake.’