Mitchells And O'Haras: The Traitor Part 1

Mitch.e.l.ls and O'Haras.

The Traitor.

Kimberley Chambers.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR.

Kimberley Chambers lives in Romford and has been, at various times, a disc jockey and a street trader. She is now a full-time writer and is the author of Billie Jo, Born Evil, The Betrayer and The Feud.

In memory of Alf Roberts.

(703 legend).

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS.

As always, I would like to thank my agent Tim Bates, my editor Rosie de Courcy and my typist Sue c.o.x. I am also extremely grateful to everybody at Cornerstone for all the hard work they have put in on my behalf.

A big thank you to cousin Simon for all his help on law and order. Best I don't mention your surname, mate, as being related to me is hardly going to further your career!

And last but not least, a special mention for Harry Redknapp, his staff and all the players for their wonderful achievement of getting Spurs into the top four last season. Credit also to Daniel Levy, who in my opinion has done a fantastic job in getting the club back where it belongs. Having said all that, I am writing these acknowledgements before our Champions League draw has even taken place and knowing Spurs as well as I do, they'll probably make me look a right mug by falling flat on their faces. Oh well, whatever happens, it sure won't be the first time I've made a complete t.i.t out of myself, and I doubt it will be the last!

Farewell, ungrateful traitor!.

Farewell, my perjured swain!.

Let never injured woman.

Believe a man again.

The pleasure of possessing.

Surpa.s.ses all expressing, But 'tis too short a blessing, And love too long a pain.

John Dryden.

PROLOGUE.

1988.

Eddie Mitch.e.l.l stared at the handwriting on the envelope. He knew who it was from but, unable to take any more pain, he couldn't face opening it.

Ever since that fateful night in Tilbury, Eddie had shed enough tears to fill a swimming pool. Nothing was going to bring her back, so what was the point of crying any more?

Stuffing the letter under his mattress, Eddie lay back on his bunk and stared at the ceiling. He'd give anything to turn the clock back, f.u.c.king anything.

The bullets he had fired had been meant for somebody else, not his beautiful wife. To make matters worse, Jessica had been pregnant at the time with their third child. The unborn baby hadn't stood a chance, G.o.d rest its soul. The newspapers had had a field day writing about Eddie's faux pas, the headlines screaming Gangland boss in double slaying'.

As soon as Eddie had realised his fatal mistake, he'd immediately tried to take his own life. Unfortunately for him, Jessica's brother Raymond had lunged at him and knocked the gun away. Eddie had still managed to pull the trigger, but the bullet had whizzed through his shoulder, not his brains, as he'd intended it to.

Waking up in hospital and realising he was still alive was the worst moment of Eddie's life. Jessica was his world and he just couldn't live without her.

Consumed by grief and guilt, Eddie immediately admitted what he'd done to the filth. Seven days he'd then spent in hospital under police guard. Once well enough to leave, he'd been carted off to Wandsworth nick.

Eddie was shoved into a cell with an Indian guy who introduced himself as Raj Malik. Company was the last thing Ed needed or wanted. He couldn't even eat, let alone talk.

The screws must have read Eddie's mind when they put him on suicide watch. The pain caused by his blunder was unbearable, and if he could have found something to top himself with, he'd have done it without a second thought.

Eddie had been with Jessica for over seventeen years, and from the moment he first clapped eyes on her, he'd known she was destined to become the love of his life. She was everything a man could want in a woman. She was beautiful on the outside and had a soul to match.

Overall, their marriage was an extremely happy one. Like most contented couples, they'd had their ups and downs over the years, but their love for one another had always remained intact.

Tall, with dark hair and a rugged complexion, Eddie had looked like a scar-faced giant beside his pretty, pet.i.te wife. They'd looked good together, though. Everybody used to comment on what a striking couple they made.

Jessica had fallen pregnant within months of them meeting. Eddie married her weeks later, and even though he already had two sons from a previous relationship, he had never felt as content as the day Jess had given birth to their twins.

Frankie and Joey were sixteen now and Eddie knew that he'd lost their love and respect for ever. How could he even consider contacting them when he'd so brutally wiped out their mother's life?

Feeling a shiver go down his spine, Ed sat bolt upright, hugged his knees and laid his head against them. He was forty-eight years old, his life was all but over, and he wished he was f.u.c.king dead.

That fateful night would haunt him for ever. It was on his mind every second of every day. Even sleep didn't release him from his burden, because his nightmares replayed the tragedy over and over again.

As the screw opened the flap to check on him again, Eddie snapped out of his trance. Knowing the letter was under the mattress was doing his head in. He ripped open the envelope and began to digest the words.

Hi Ed, This is probably the hardest thing that I'll ever have to write and you'll ever have to read.

Before I begin, I just want you to know that I don't blame or hate you for what happened. If anyone knew how much you loved Jessica, that person was me.

Anyway, I thought it only right to inform you that the police have now agreed to release Jessica's body. All the funeral arrangements are now in place, and Jess will be laid to rest at 2.30 p.m. next Wednesday in Upminster Cemetery.

Dad wanted Jess to be buried next to his father over in Plaistow, but Mum didn't want her to go there. She insisted that the happiest days of Jessica's life were spent in Rainham, so her resting place should be as near to there as possible.

I know with everything that's happened, it's impossible for you to attend the service, but I want you to know that I've ordered a beautiful wreath on your behalf. I've enclosed the card, in case you wanted to write it personally. Don't worry if you're not up to it, as I can write one for you.

Mum and Dad have temporarily moved into your house. I hope this is OK with you. Let me know if it isn't. It was Mum's idea. She said that her house wasn't roomy enough for the kids and they'd had enough upheaval without moving them away from their friends. She also said that living at yours makes her feel closer to Jessica.

I've been keeping an eye on Frankie and Joey and both seem to be coping in their own way. They've barely left the house, so hopefully Frankie might be tiring of Jed.

I hope you don't think badly of me, but I really ain't up to visiting you at the moment. I know Gary and Ricky have been to see you and they're coming again next week, so I know you've got visitors. What I'll do is wait till all the press interest dies down, and then I'll pop up and see you.

I know what happened is awful for you, but you must try and be strong for Jessica's sake. My sister loved you very much, and she'd want you to hold it together for the sake of the twins, Ed.

I know it must seem impossible, but try to keep your chin up, mate.

Thinking of you, Raymondo.

As he stared at the condolence card, Ed was overcome by grief. In deepest sympathy' it said. s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g the card and the letter up, he let out a painful sob.

With visions of his wife's mutilated body firmly in his mind, he leaped off the bed and, overcome by grief, repeatedly smashed his head against the cell wall.

Jessica, Jessica' he shouted, as blood began to trickle down his forehead.

As two prison officers ran in, Eddie lashed out at them. He didn't want to be restrained, he wanted to end his misery once and for all.

Two more screws suddenly appeared out of nowhere and, finally overpowered, Eddie sank to his knees.

I don't wanna live any more. Please just let me f.u.c.king top meself,' he screamed.

CHAPTER ONE.

Joycie Smith finished off her outfit by adding the black netted hat, then studied her appearance in the full-length mirror. She was so glad she'd bought the new black dress and jacket. It looked very smart and she was determined to do her daughter proud. Moving closer, Joyce noticed how red raw and puffy her eyes looked. She'd had a good old cry this morning in private, of course. There'd be no tears in front of Stanley and the twins. She had to be brave for their sake.

Joyce put on her tinted gla.s.ses and headed downstairs. The flowers had just started to arrive, and she wanted to arrange them neatly. She had to keep herself busy, it was the only way. Not only that, she was determined that her daughter would have the best send-off ever.

Stanley sat in his newly built pigeon shed and stared at his beloved birds. He was all ready he even had his new suit on but he'd rather leave Joyce to deal with the tributes.

Putting his head in his hands, Stanley broke down for the third time that morning. The flowers arriving made everything seem so final.

Jessica's death had torn a huge hole in all of their lives. What had happened that night was nigh on impossible to understand, and living h.e.l.l were the only words Stanley could find to describe life since. There wasn't a parent in the world who imagined outliving their children, and he was no different.

Stanley had disliked Eddie Mitch.e.l.l from the word go, but now he despised him with a resentful pa.s.sion. Living in his house was a constant reminder of the murdering b.a.s.t.a.r.d, but it was Joycie's decision and he'd had very little say in the matter.

As his two favourite pigeons, Ernie and Ethel, both cooed at him, Stanley lifted his head, wiped his eyes and smiled sadly. Seconds later, he heard his wife's dulcet tones.

Stanley! Get your a.r.s.e out that shed. Raymond and Polly have just arrived.'

Taking a deep breath, Stanley stood up. He was literally dreading the day ahead and it would be a miracle if he got through it at all.

Frankie was sitting on Joey's bed. As her brother offered her a cigarette, she gratefully s.n.a.t.c.hed it out of his hand. Being a couple of months pregnant, Frankie knew she shouldn't really be smoking, but the sound of people arriving downstairs filled her with dread.

Her mother's death and the circ.u.mstances surrounding it had created the biggest underworld talking point since the Brinks Mat robbery. The press had had a ball, they'd milked it for all it was worth.

Gangland boss kills wife in jealous rage', Gangster finds wife in bed with daughter's boyfriend', Mitch.e.l.l's moment of madness' were just some of the headlines Frankie had seen.

Most of what had been written was just awful, vicious lies. A couple of the more sensible papers had got the story right, but the ones at the lower end of the scale had written absolute trash just to sell their papers.

Both Frankie and Joey had barely left the house since their mother's death. Frankie had sneaked out a few times to meet up with Jed, but on the last occasion the press had seen her climbing over the back fence and plastered her picture all over the papers.

Picture of innocence' had been the sarcastic headline.

Frankie was mortified. All her friends had seen it and had called her on her mobile. Instead of being a victim, Frankie felt like the accused.

Things at home had been no better. Her nan and grandad had moved in to look after her and Joey. Jed wasn't allowed anywhere near the house and every time Frankie mentioned his name, everyone in the room went quiet.

Frankie missed her mother dreadfully, but what had happened was neither her nor Jed's fault. She hadn't asked her father to turn up at Tilbury with a gun, had she now?

As her brother dissolved into tears yet again, Frankie hugged him. Joey wasn't as strong as her, and he wasn't coping very well at all.

Listen, Joey, in a minute we've got to go downstairs and face everyone. You've got to be brave for Mum's sake.'

Joey threw himself on his bed. I can't go to Mum's funeral. I just can't face it. Let me stay here, Frankie. Tell Nan and Grandad I'm not well.'

Frankie stroked her brother's back. Joey had been as close to her mum as anyone had. That's why Frankie hadn't already moved in with Jed: she couldn't have lived with her guilt if she had left Joey at home with her grandparents. They were twins, had been inseparable, even in the womb; no one could look after him like she could.

Come on, Joey. Put your suit on, and we'll go downstairs. You'll never forgive yourself if you don't go. You'll regret it for the rest of your life.'

Joey sat up. It's all right for you. You've got Jed to look after you. Mum's dead, Dad's in prison and Nan and Grandad do my head in. I've got nothing and no one, Frankie, and I know you're gonna be moving out soon. What am I gonna do then, eh?'

Frankie squeezed his hand. I'll only be living down the road, Joey. And what about when I have the baby? You'll be an uncle for the first time, and I know you'll be the best uncle ever. All you have to do is stop blaming Jed for everything, then you can be part of our lives.'

As she finally persuaded Joey to get dressed, Frankie made a mental note to ring Dominic the following day. Her brother had barely spoken to his ex since their father had found out Joey was gay and threatened Dom, but now Eddie was banged up, he could ruin her brother's relationship no more. Joey was desperate for love and support and Frankie needed him to be OK before she could move on with her own life.

Downstairs, Joycie was keeping herself busy. She'd chatted to all the mourners, kept their drinks topped up, and managed to convince herself that she was over the worst. No amount of sobbing would bring her beautiful Jessica back from the dead, so she just had to get on with things.

It had been kind of her friends, Rita and Hilda, to come to the house, instead of just turning up at the service. They'd been her neighbours at her old house in Upney for over thirty years, and had known Jessica since she was knee-high.

So, what do you think of the house?' Joyce asked them brightly.

Rita and Hilda glanced at one another. Joyce liked to act as if she was as tough as old boots, but they both knew that she wasn't. Her behaviour today, considering what had befallen her, was strange, to say the least.

Gary and Ricky, Eddie's sons from his previous marriage, had just turned up and, seeing them in deep conversation with Raymond, Stanley eyed his son suspiciously. Joyce might have forgotten about Raymond's involvement on the night of Jessica's murder, but Stanley most certainly hadn't. If it wasn't for Joyce, he could have quite easily washed his hands of the boy, but his wife had given him a lecture.

Now, you listen to me, Stanley, and you listen b.l.o.o.d.y carefully. I've lost one child and if you think I'm having the other banished from our lives, you can think again. Our son had nothing to do with what happened. He wouldn't hurt a fly, that boy. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. He loved every hair on our Jessica's head, did our Raymond.'

Joycie wasn't one to argue with, and Stanley had little choice other than to agree and reluctantly forgive his son. Trouble was, deep down he hadn't it was all pretence.

As the twins appeared, there were lots of emotional condolences. Vicki, Jessica's heavily pregnant best friend, sobbed as she clung to Frankie. I loved your mum so much. She was such a wonderful woman. I've already told Dougie, if we have a little girl, I want to name her Jessica.'

Tears were streaming down her face, but Frankie forced a smile. Mum would have been honoured,' she whispered.

As more and more people arrived, Stanley became increasingly anxious. All he'd wanted was a quiet send-off for his daughter and already it was turning into a b.l.o.o.d.y circus. The driveway was packed with people he didn't know and Stan was furious that Eddie's brothers had shown their faces. It would have been bad enough if they had turned up at the church, let alone coming to the house beforehand. Surely they were aware of what Eddie had done? Didn't they have any remorse or guilt whatsoever?

By the time the hea.r.s.e arrived, the driveway was a ma.s.s of beautiful flowers.