Chapter 74

Chapter 74

‘What the hell's going on, Dave? I don't understand …'

Jackie Reynolds stared at her husband, stupefied, craving re-assurance. But there was none to be had today, David Reynolds taking a step towards her and jabbing a finger in her face.

‘Stop twittering and listen to what I'm saying. I want you to take the cash, all of it, and put it in that bag.'

Still she made no attempt to move, so Dave Reynolds snatched up the empty holdall and marched into the utility room. Once inside, he teased up the loose floor tile and reached down into the void, swiftly retrieving a thick jiffy bag full of cash. Staring down at the contents, he paused momentarily, horrified by the waste, then stuffed the full envelope into the bag. Straightening up, he marched back into the kitchen, shoving the holdall into Jackie's arms, rocking her back on her heels.

‘You'll need to throw in your gold watch, the engraved lighter and your diamond earrings too. In fact, put all your bloody jewellery in there.'

‘Why? What's happened?'

‘Then I want you go out the back way, take a bus to the docks. My car's parked down there. Pick it up, drive down to Calshot and then throw the bloody bag in the sea.'

‘You can't be serious?' Jackie protested, aghast.

‘Deadly,' her husband hit back, staring fiercely at her.

‘But that stuff must be worth a fortune.'

‘Which is why we have to get rid of it. That bitch Grace will be sniffing around here soon enough and if there's anything here we can't account for through our own funds, then we're done for.'

‘Well, I'm sorry, I'm not doing it,' Jackie replied, stepping away from him.

‘I beg your pardon,' Reynolds hissed, his tone suddenly menacing.

‘I've spent years putting that collection together, plus there's loads of sentimental stuff there, from birthdays, anniversaries …'

‘I don't give a shit. Get rid of it.'

But still Jackie made no move to comply, shaking her head angrily.

‘I said this would happen. Buying stuff with hooky money. I told you it would come back on us, didn't I?'

‘Yeah, you put up a great fight, love,' he responded witheringly. ‘You really worked hard to stop me buying you the rings, the bracelets, the earrings …'

‘You said it was safe, that nobody would know,' Jackie hissed.

‘Well now it's not, so get your coat on and get cracking, before I lose my temper.'

‘So that's it, is it? Everything we've built up, the nice life we have, gone just like that?' she replied, bitter, accusing. ‘Just because you say so?'

She stood directly in front of him now, her eyes blazing, her face flushed. For a moment, her husband appeared to regard her with incomprehension, before fury gripped his features.

‘Do you remember what you were when I found you?'

‘Don't you dare, Dave. I won't stand for it,' his wife retaliated, her voice rising sharply.

‘Well, do you?'

Taking a step forward, he shot out an arm, grabbing his wife by the throat.

‘You were a whore in the gutter. A dirty little whore.'

Jackie struggled wildly, but his grip was too tight, robbing her of breath, of defiance.

‘But I took pity on you, raised you up, didn't I? Now look at you. A big house, plenty of money, married to a pillar of the community. You've made it, girl.'

Tears were creeping down her cheeks, but he made no move to loosen his hold on her.

‘But, be careful, eh? Because I can toss you back onto the streets anytime I want. Is that what you'd like?'

Even under his tight stranglehold, Jackie managed a tiny shake of her head.

‘You bet, you don't. Because who on earth would want you now? You're a scraggy piece of old mutton, dressed up as lamb. No man in his right mind would even want to look at you, let alone fuck you. You're all washed up, Jackie …'

But now his victim's expression suddenly changed, fear and alarm in her eyes, as she darted a glance towards the front door. Turning sharply, Dave Reynolds saw Archie standing in the doorway, glaring with shock and fury at his father.

‘Take your bloody hands off her.'

The teenager was already crossing the floor towards them, determined, enraged.

‘Stay where you are, boy. This is nothing to do with you.'

‘I said, take your hands off—'

Dave Reynolds' fist crashed into Archie's chin without warning, sending him staggering backwards. For a moment, the teenager looked like he might steady himself, respond in kind. But then suddenly the boy seemed to lose his balance, crashing heavily to the floor. Now, finally, Reynolds relaxed his grip, his wife staggering across the floor, clutching her throat, before falling to her knees next to her son, pulling him to her. Livid, Reynolds crossed to them, glowering over the terrified pair. For a moment, it seemed that he might inflict more pain on them. But then, pulling himself up sharply, Reynolds turned, snatching up the holdall before heading for the stairs.

Pausing at the bottom of the stairwell, he turned to face his floored family once more, hissing at them:

‘You two deserve each other.'