The Graft by Martina Cole

waited for the call that would tell her Sonny Boy was finally gone. She wouldn’t cry, not until she was completely alone.
     
    Verbena prided herself on her strength. If only everyone else could live their lives properly, how different the world would be.
     
     
James and Nicholas Junior were settled into school and Nick was back in Essex. He drove off a narrow country lane in Dunton, bumping slowly along an unmade track until he came to a building site.
     
    Getting out of the car, he stood for a while observing the frenetic scene around him. Nick was behind this development of six large detached executive properties containing everything from hot tubs to gyms. They were to be on a private gated estate and had all been sold off plan. They were at least a year away from completion but already the houses looked good.
     
    His ganger Joey Miles walked over to him.
     
    ‘Didn’t expect to see you.’
     
    Nick smiled.
     
    ‘Well, here I am. I had to get away for a while . . .’
     
    Two of the brickies saw him and waved. One shouted, ‘Good on yer, Mr Leary. That little bastard got all he asked for.’
     
    Nick didn’t answer.
     
    Joey saw the expression on his boss’s face and felt angry with the boy who had caused it.
     
    ‘Everyone’s on your side, Nick. I mean, you never asked him to rob you, did you? If I got up in the middle of the night and some bastard was in my house robbing me, I’d have done the same. Anyone would.’
     
    Nick looked down at the stocky balding man who had worked for him for years and said, ‘But you didn’t do it, did you? I did.’
     
    Joey patted him on the back.
     
    ‘Look, it was on the cards with him. Someone was going to aim him out of it one day, he was scum. A burglar and a creeper from a kid. It’s been all over the papers about him, little fucker, he was. No matter what his family say about him being a nice boy, he wasn’t fucking robbing them, was he? It would have been a different story if he was, I bet ya. Thieving little bastard . . .’
     
    Nick closed his eyes.
     
    ‘Leave it out, Joey, eh? Just tell me what’s going on with the houses and then I’ll get off.’
     
    Joey walked with him to his car and told him all the relevant news. As Nick was getting in his Mercedes he said, ‘I mean it, Nick, you can’t hold yourself responsible. You did what any decent man would have done. You protected your own. Get over it.’
     
    Nick nodded.
     
    As he drove away Joey watched him sadly. Nick Leary was a good bloke. Now thanks to that boy’s stupidity he was paying a terrible price for looking out for his own family.
     
    The world had gone mad.
     
     
Jude Hatcher walked into her flat and sank down on to the sofa in the living room. It was so quiet without her son.
     
    She closed her eyes and pictured Sonny Boy as he lay dying in her arms. She would have held him all day and night if the urge had not taken hold of her. She opened her bag and took out her kit.
     
    She laid it on her lap and stared at the small tin that held all she needed for oblivion. She heard Tyrell come in just after she had boiled her fix on a spoon. He watched her from the doorway as she injected it slowly into her left arm. Her veins had collapsed and the bruising was vicious.
     
    The smell of it was sweet in the air. Sighing, he went through to the chaos that passed for a kitchen and put the kettle on. He opened the window and tried to air the place before going through the lounge and down the hallway towards his son’s bedroom. This room always amazed him. It was small, but usually spotlessly clean. Today, though, the drawers had been turned out and the whole place was a mess. He guessed rightly that at some point Jude had searched it for money or valuables. Tyrell tidied it all up without thinking.
     
    As he looked into the drawers in the scratched dressing table he saw his son’s whole life and felt the urge to cry once more. Designer underwear when they rarely had any food in