Sinner. Jacqui Rose

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       7

      It was just past 6am and Alfie couldn’t sleep. Hadn’t slept. Though it was less about the cocaine that ran around his veins and more about the feelings that rushed around his body.

      He’d stayed awake all night watching Franny sleep fretfully, tossing and turning, and it’d taken all his willpower not to wake her up and ask her a thousand questions about the truth of where she’d actually been. More to the point, who she’d been with. Shit. Shit … He hated feeling like this. Jealousy was not something he wanted to deal with; the last time he was jealous, he’d done someone a serious injury.

      He didn’t have the headspace to cope with it, not on top of everything else. Jesus, this was the last thing he needed, and part of him was pissed off with Vaughn for making him feel like this. The man hadn’t had any solid evidence about anything, yet he’d just piled a whole heap of doubt in his head.

      Annoyed, Alfie got up and pulled on a pair of jeans and a jumper. He needed to get some fresh air. Lying in bed thinking was only making everything worse – a lot worse – and the last thing he wanted to do was have a blowout row with Franny.

      After striding outside, Alfie stood, leaning against the wall, taking long, deep drags on his cigarette before stubbing it out on the wall of Barclays bank, situated on the corner of Greek Street. He felt the chill of the early morning air as he watched a dustcart speed down the road, seeing it scrape against the wing mirror of a badly parked black cab, but it was good to get out.

      Turning away and immediately lighting another cigarette, Alfie crossed the street, heading for one of the cafés in Rathbone Place to get himself a coffee.

      He couldn’t think straight. Maybe he should get away. As much as it was good to be back in Soho, especially this particular part of it – the small square a hideaway from the bustle of the West End – it hadn’t brought him the peace of mind he’d hoped for. Everything was becoming a mess. The letters. The tension between Vaughn and Franny. And now Charlie had his dog in the fight, it was becoming one big fucking nightmare. And as much as he hated to admit it, he just wanted to run.

      Maybe it was best if he threw in the towel at the club, or maybe like Franny had suggested, he should go and speak to Charlie on his own. There was a lot of history between Charlie and him. There was even a time when he’d helped Charlie out and he’d never asked anything in return. So maybe – though it would rile him to have to – if he went and really pulled the favour card, then maybe Charlie might think again … Fuck, he didn’t know what he … A sound broke into his thoughts. He spun around. The street was now deserted but he waited for a moment, trying not to let his jumpiness overwhelm him.

      He took a deep breath to calm himself down, steadying his breathing before continuing to walk, but then he stopped again, listening intently … There it was, and it was coming from over there. He stared at the trees in the near corner of Soho Square Gardens. He could see someone hiding there.

      His heart thumped and prickles of sweat beaded on his forehead as he walked towards the black gates of the gardens, which were still locked, but he knew another way in. Alfie walked around to the south side, climbing up on the bench, which gave him easy access to vault over the railings.

      Cautiously, he walked towards the middle of the square, creeping around the back of the mock-Tudor, black and white timber building in the centre of the gardens. Feeling the cosh in his pocket, Alfie brought it out as he slunk along.

      He listened again for the sound, and making sure nobody was behind him, he followed the noise, creeping past the trees and shrubs to crouch down behind the old oak in the corner of the square as the mist of the early morning lifted.

      Still gripping the cosh tightly, Alfie craned around the corner of the large and gnarled tree trunk. Taken aback he stared, placing the club back into his pocket. ‘Jesus, are you all right?’

      Shannon Mulligan stared at the man, dried blood and crusty mucus caked onto her face. She squinted through her swollen black eye as she shivered with cold, her words slightly muffled as her torn lip made it difficult for her to speak. ‘I’m fine.’

      He moved nearer, crouching down to the girl. ‘You don’t look it, love – is there anybody you want me to call?’

      Shannon shook her head, wishing the person would just disappear. She wasn’t in the mood for chat, especially from some posh-looking geezer. Not that he sounded posh; he sounded as common as she did. Still it was obvious by the way he dressed that he had a bit of money.

      Looking worried, Alfie spoke again. ‘Please, there must be something I can do.’

      ‘Yeah, piss off!’

      Unoffended and clearly not one to be put off, he tried again. ‘Have you been here all night? Look, you can’t stay here.’

      A flash of annoyance crossed Shannon’s face. ‘I can do what I bleedin’ want, mate – who are you anyway, the park police? No, you ain’t, so now you’ve done your do-gooding, you can fuck right off and leave me alone.’

      He grinned. ‘Fiery ain’t you?’

      ‘Nosy, ain’t you?’

      ‘What’s your name?’

      Shannon curled up her face in a sneer but instantaneously regretted it as pain shot through her injured lip. ‘What’s yours?’

      ‘I’m Alfie.’

      Shannon shrugged, her voice dripping with sarcasm. ‘Well that’s very nice for you, now like I said before, Alfie, can you piss off?’

      ‘You look cold.’ And without waiting for a reply, Alfie took off his jacket and tried to wrap it round Shannon’s shoulders, but she scurried away, pushing herself back against the tree. ‘My name ain’t Oxfam, you know. I don’t need your skanky jacket.’

      Alfie laughed. The jacket in question had cost him a couple of grand. At the thought of it, he laughed again, something he couldn’t remember doing for a long time. ‘Then why don’t you just tell me your name, and after that, I can buy you a cup of tea. You’ve made me laugh, which I can’t remember doing for a long time, so it’s the least I can do for you.’

      Shannon scowled. ‘Am I some sort of fucking joke to you?’

      Lighting up yet another cigarette, Alfie shook his head. ‘No, of course not. I like you, that’s all.’

      ‘Weirdo, you don’t even know me. You going to give me one of them or what?’ Shannon gestured to Alfie’s cigarettes. He handed СКАЧАТЬ