As Shannon sat opposite Charlie and his sister in the club, she felt shaken about the events of the morning, and it hadn’t helped that she hadn’t been able to find any dealers who’d been up to sell her any crack. But as was always the case, the fear she felt from Uncle Charlie and Ma – Auntie Margaret – made everything else fade into obscurity.
Chewing on her thumb, Shannon wished she hadn’t bothered calling her auntie or done what she’d done. At the time it’d seemed like the right thing to do – after all, Ma was Bree’s ex mother-in-law – but as she sat with Auntie Ma, who was staring daggers at her, the right thing to do was certainly turning out not to be the best thing to do.
Charlie sniffed. ‘So come on, Shannon, spit it out – what else do you know about Franny and Bree?’
Sullenly, Shannon said, ‘I don’t know anything else. All I know is what I told you.’
Pointing his fat finger at Shannon, Charlie snarled. ‘Listen, by rights I should give you a good hiding, but Ma here persuaded me not to, for now anyway.’
‘I only saw them together that once I called you about, Ma. That time in Woolwich, but I didn’t know who Franny was until she came into the club. I recognised her as the woman who was with Bree.’
‘And where’s Bree now?’
Shannon shrugged. ‘I dunno. I’ve told you everything.’
Ma Dwyer stood up from behind the table. She wore a green tight jumper and a pair of black leggings, which did nothing to hide her bulging waistline. She struggled to move her grossly obese body as she waddled over to where Shannon was sitting. Shannon stared down at her aunt’s oedema-swollen ankles and feet pushed tightly into stained, white canvas trainers. She clipped Shannon hard about the head. ‘Watch your cheek. You’re becoming a stuck-up little cow. If you’re hiding anything …’
‘I’m not, I’m not!’
Ma nodded, her hard, cruel demeanour oozing from her. ‘Don’t get smart!’
Shannon looked up at Ma. She remembered a time when she’d thought that all little girls had aunties like Ma. After her mother had died, she’d gone to live with Ma and her sons in Essex. And quite quickly, the problems that she’d had when she’d been with her mother seemed nothing in comparison to what happened when she was with Ma.
Not that she could really remember her mother – the woman had been in and out of mental institutions all her life – but she did know that she had loved her. There’d certainly been no love for Ma, though, and when she’d had the opportunity to go and work for Charlie, she hadn’t looked back, having very little contact with Ma and none at all with Bree. Though through the odd conversation she’d overheard Uncle Charlie having, she knew Bree had run away. She also knew that something bad had happened to Ma’s sons, but she’d been too afraid to ask. The one thing she’d learnt growing up was never to ask Ma or her uncle their business unless of course you wanted to feel the hard edge of their fist.
But even to her it’d come as a surprise, shocked her to know that Bree had left her husband to be with Alfie. Alfie! Not that she blamed her. Though how he ended up back with Franny, she didn’t know. In fact, there was a lot she didn’t know, but if she had known any of it, she certainly wouldn’t have called Ma.
Alfie had been good to her, and the more she thought about what she had done, the more miserable she felt. It was clear that Ma hated Alfie, but she’d only done what she’d done because of Franny, who’d been mean. But now she wasn’t sure how she was going to put things right.
Poking Shannon in the chest, Ma said, ‘I know what your head’s like. That crack has sent you stupid. You sure there isn’t anything else you’ve forgotten?’
Giving Ma a small smile, Shannon shook her head, knowing full well there was one thing. But she hadn’t forgotten it; it was simply that she’d never talk about it. Not to Ma. Not to Charlie. Not to anyone. She’d made a promise. And no matter what happened, she’d never breathe a word. ‘No, there isn’t anything else, I swear.’
Suitably satisfied, Ma sniffed. ‘Right, well you know what you’ve got to do, don’t you? Go on then, Shannon … Move!’