Clifford, John and David had all received prison sentences after the botched church job. Living alone while they were all inside was the first time in her life she had found peace: no threats, no arguments, and no fear of the cops knocking on the door was bliss. Eventually, due to his injuries, David had been released early on parole and returned home where she cared for him. Having him dependent on her was not a burden: after all, he was her little boy. Without his father or brother around to influence or pick on him David was placid and they had enjoyed each other’s company.
Renee sighed, sipping her tea. She was now almost certain something was going on, and that both her boys were involved.
David washed his mug and placed it on the draining board. He then scooped up his pills, tipping them into the plastic bag before putting it back in the drawer. As he began to feel the effects of the painkillers he decided to go and lie down. He used his stick to steady himself and edged past the folded wheelchair that he hated with a passion. He could hear the TV on loud and saw his mum in the lounge fast asleep, with her eyes closed and her mouth open. On the way to his room he thought he’d see how his brother was and went into the small box room, which contained a single bed, a wardrobe, an old sewing machine and boxes of clothes and junk. John was sitting thumbing through his small black notebook.
‘Mum’s asleep,’ David said.
John looked up and stared at his brother. He realized from the dozy expression on his face he’d recently taken his medication.
‘Are you all right, Dave?’
‘Sure, just going to lie down. Get me up this afternoon when you’re ready to go to Pentonville.’
‘OK. Finances are really tight for the job. We still got a lot of stuff to store and need a good walkie-talkie set. The guy in Kent told me they got some at the Army barracks in Woolwich.’
‘What, they sellin’ off equipment?’
‘No, I’m gonna have to nick ’em unless we can bribe a squaddie.’
‘We? Are you taking me with you?’ David asked nervously.
‘No, I meant Danny Mitcham. He knows where the barracks is and being an ex-squaddie has a contact so I’ll take him with me to suss it out.’
‘Danny? So Danny’s gonna be in on it as well then?’ David frowned.
John nodded and went back to looking at his notebook.
‘Are you sure about him? I mean he was discharged because he’s a head case.’
‘Danny whacked a military copper who was asking for it. Besides, he’s reliable and as strong as an ox. He was on bomb disposals and there’s nothin’ he don’t know about electrics. Now you go an’ lie down, and sleep off your painkillers cos you know how Dad hates you lookin’ dozy.’
David shuffled to his room and awkwardly lowered himself onto the bed. He thought about what his ma had said and wished he’d kept his mouth shut about Florida, but that’s where he’d always dreamed of flying to. Not only for the sun and sea, but also the specialist treatment he’d been reading about. He had been given very little information or medical advice on his badly broken legs either in the hospital or the prison. The doctors and wardens said he deserved what he got for thieving. Whilst he was in prison the plaster cast on his right leg had been cut off and replaced twice due to the agonizing pain it caused. The doctors had attempted to straighten his leg, but it became deformed and twisted along the bone and knee joint. It had been eighteen months of torture until he could stand unaided, but his foot was permanently arched, the leg bent and he was in constant pain.
David eventually started to work out at a men-only gym, and the trainer encouraged him to concentrate on his upper-body strength. He soon became hooked on the high he got from working out hard and enjoyed the release that the physical exercise gave him from his daily stress and depression. At home, in the privacy of his bedroom mirror, he would proudly display his six pack and muscular arms to himself, but no amount of pornography lifted his flaccid member.
David remembered with humiliation the time he’d decided to pay a prostitute, but found himself unable to get an erection. His doctor told him that his inability to have an erection, and his depression, were physically and mentally linked to his accident and lame leg. He had left his local doctor’s surgery refusing to believe he was impotent. Walking home he recognized some of the slags off the estate who he knew were toms that used a squat to do their business with clients. He had foolishly tried again, paying a blonde prostitute upfront, but this time the anger at his inability to perform made him physically abusive towards her. She threatened to report him to the police but he knew she never would, never could, as she was a cheap junkie selling her body for sex.
