Vice
About the Author
Karen Woods was born and raised in Manchester, where she still lives. Karen left school without any formal qualifications and obtained her inspiration from attending an adult literacy course. Since then she’s written twenty-three novels as well as adapting some of them for the stage. Karen works in education and is passionate about introducing people of all ages to the power of storytelling.
Copyright
HarperNorth
Windmill Green,
Mount Street,
Manchester, M2 3NX
A division of
HarperCollinsPublishers
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London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk
First published by HarperNorth in 2022
1 EDITION
Copyright © Karen Woods 2022
Cover design by Sarah M Whittaker © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2022
Cover photographs © Shutterstock
Author Photo © Karen Woods
Karen Woods asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it, while at times based on historical figures, are the work of the author’s imagination.
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Source ISBN: 9780008528645
Ebook Edition © June 2022 ISBN: 9780008528652
Version 2022-05-20
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Page numbers taken from the following print edition: ISBN 9780008528645
Dedication
For Christine Price and Maureen Orman,
the Golden Girls forever.
Darren Woods, a legend always. Remembering you is easy
I do it every day and missing you is the heartache that
never goes away.
Dale, good night God bless x
Contents
Cover
About the Author
Title Page
Copyright
Note to Readers
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Acknowledgements
Book Credits
By the same Author
About the Publisher
Chapter One
Jenny Johnson sat staring at the calendar, running her fingers through her long dark hair. Dark circles shadowed her eyes. She had saggy pale skin and she looked stressed. She was away with the fairies, staring at a date circled in thick black ink. The fourth of July was only one week away. For crying out loud, she thought, she was nowhere near ready to go back to her old life. She was enjoying her freedom too much. She closed her eyes and inhaled, deep breaths, calming her speeding heartbeat. He’d be back then, back in her life, ruling it, making every day a complete misery. The punches, the kicks, the mental abuse, not a minute’s peace, always having to answer to him. It would all return along with him.
A chill passed over her body. She rubbed her arms as the small blonde hairs stood on end, fear filling her body. Should she up and leave before he came out of jail? Could she? Go and start again, find somewhere new to live where nobody knew her name, her past?
Who was she trying to kid? She would never leave him. She’d never had the guts before – why was now any different? Time after time she’d planned her escape, but still she was here. Instinctively, she looked for her cigarettes. She needed to curb her smoking. This last week or so she’d been chain-smoking, and now her chest was rattling and her purse was empty. But this was what she did when she was stressed: smoke, smoke and smoke.
‘I’ll cut down tomorrow,’ she mumbled as she stared at her fags.
Already it sounded like another failed resolution. Every time she had a minute, she would grab a smoke. It was second nature to her and, as she lit up now, for a brief moment she relaxed, pushing aside the fear coiled inside her.
The living room door swung open and her son, Danny, shot a look at her as he walked in. He could tell straight away something was wrong and came over to where she was sat. He patted her shoulder.
‘Mam, what’s up?’ he asked as he bent slightly to see her face fully. He’d towered over her since he was a teenager, and now in his twenties, his broad frame made her look smaller and more fragile than she was. He’d become a real heartbreaker – tall, dark and handsome, and a magnet for girls who liked bad boys. If only someone had warned her off those kind of men when she was young, thought Jenny. Her life could have been different – really different.
She blew out a mouthful of grey smoke with a laboured breath. The face of a thousand cuts, the look that told him she was on one.
‘Your dad’s home soon. Life will never be the same again, will it?’ She wiped her nose on her hand.
Danny perched next to her, his eyes following hers to the calendar. He gripped her knee with strong, warm fingers, trying to tell her everything was going to be OK.
‘Mam, we need him home. He’s been stuck in the slammer for over three years now. You’re just spooked, that’s all. You know once he’s home you’ll be fine. You and my dad are sorted, right?’
Danny watched her expression, checking for any signs that she was having second thoughts. He couldn’t tell. Danny had never really spoken to his mother about her marriage: he simply took it for granted his parents were fine. He had his own life to lead, and was too busy to care about what happened behind closed doors. Anyway, why wouldn’t they be fine? His old man was a top geezer, you could ask any of the lads down the boozer. Who wouldn’t want to be married to the main man round here? Charley Johnson was a local legend. He was always buying everyone drinks, laughing, joking. So Dad would have a few beers at night and maybe get a bit gobby when he was steaming drunk, but that was a man thing, wasn’t it? Nothing to end a marriage over. And yes, his dad moved in dangerous circles – but that was the price you paid for a bit of money and respect round this side of Manchester.
Danny had grown up with his dad running this part of town – clubs, protection, dealers, all roads round here led back to the Johnsons. Until this latest time the law had caught up with his old man. He’d got a longer stretch than usual and it hadn’t taken long for other families to try to move in on their turf. Worst of all were the Bennets – there was bad blood between the families and Danny knew it wasn’t just for the money that they were trying to take streets of his family while Big Charley was inside. Danny and Paul had tried to keep business ticking over, even his mam had stepped in, but each day was a battle to keep their influence and reputation intact. He needed everyone to fear the Johnson name – needed his dad back visible again. So what was his mum doing wishing him longer in jail?
Jenny rubbed at her arms again – she couldn’t shift the goosebumps.
She spoke in a low voice, still staring at the calendar. ‘People change, Son. Your dad has been in and out of prison for most of our marriage so I’ve been like a single woman half the time. He’s never been here for the important things in your life, if I’m being honest. It’s me who brought you up, not him. And it was hard, let me tell you.’ She flicked her hair over her shoulder as she continued, proud to have been a solo parent much of the time. ‘I don’t know if I’m cut out for this life anymore. I’ve changed, Danny. I used to wait for him to get out, but I’ve learned waiting gets you nowhere. I have a life now when your dad is locked up. I go where I want, come in what time I want. I’m my own keeper.’
Danny was having none of this. He knew what his old man would say: she was a wife and a mother so she should be happy with her lot: what else did she want? She was a woman and her place was at home, cooking and cleaning and looking after the place. Clearly caretaking some of the family business while his father had been inside had gone to her head. He didn’t want her getting ideas – the Johnson crown was his to inherit – he wasn’t sharing power with anyone, not even his own mother.
He moved his hand away from her. ‘Mam, stop waffling. You go on like you’ve had a great time while my dad’s been in the big house, but you’ve been miserable. Go on, admit it?’
She stubbed her fag out with a sour expression. ‘Don’t make me bleeding laugh, Son. You don’t know the half of it. I’m just saying it’s going to be hard adjusting when he’s out, that’s all. How can I have him telling me where and when I can go out? The man is a control freak, and you know it. I only missed his allotted phone call the other night and you should have heard him ballooning down the phone at me, threatening to shave my hair off and put me in a body bag. I’m not putting up with all that shit anymore just because he’s paranoid. Like I said, I’ve changed. I’m not being anyone’s doormat anymore. I’m sorry I even mentioned anything now. Like you would give a shit about me having a life. You’re a chip off the old block.’
That was it, she’d said her piece. She looked around the front room at the state of it and sighed. That’s all she was to the men in this house: a bleeding slave, fetching and carrying.
Danny rolled his eyes. His mother must be on the rag or something. She was always feeling sorry for herself when it was that time. Before she could start her usual lecture about the house being a shit-tip, he changed the subject. ‘It’s not my dad I’ve come to talk about. You know who I’m after. Have you seen that shady fucker this morning, or is he on the missing list again?’
Jenny hunched her shoulders and sighed. She knew who he meant. Paul was her youngest son and there was always some kind of beef going on between the two brothers. ‘Nope, I’ve not seen sight nor sound of him. He’s probably in that bird’s bed who he’s been going on about. You know what he’s like. He’ll stick it anywhere, he will. He’s a dirty bastard.’
Danny stretched his arms above his head. ‘He’s had his hand in the till again. It’s only a few hundred quid this time, but how many times does he think he can have me over, the silly twat? He’s getting bombed on the minute I see him. I’m not asking any questions. I’m going to waste him. I know it’s him taking it, Mother, no matter what lies roll off his tongue.’
Jenny looked at Danny. She was sick to death of the arguing between her sons. It was like they were still ten years old. They always wanted whatever the other one had. But then their father had encouraged that – he always said you had to fight for anything you wanted. ‘Come on, give the lad a break. Bloody hell, every time anything goes missing, you’re all over him like a rash. Maybe he has taken money in the past, but you can’t keep knocking on his door every time the count is down.’
Danny was fuming now: she was protecting Paul again. Sonny boy, golden balls, that kid could do no wrong in her eyes. ‘Why do you always think the sun shines out of his arse, Mam? You always stick up for him. You need to see the guy for who he really is, a thieving lying bastard who has no family loyalties.’
Jenny bit hard on her lip and started to clean up before she said something she regretted. She threw clothes that had been left lying about onto the back of the sofa, mumbling, ‘Like I need any more shit in my life. Don’t you think I’ve got enough on my plate without you two at loggerheads?’
Danny couldn’t make out what she was saying. She’d often talk to herself when they’d had words, snide comments under her breath. He was safest changing the subject. ‘Any brekkie, Mam? I’m starving. A few bacon butties will see me right, if you’re making any?’
Jenny’s face went beetroot. She stood facing him with her hand on her hips, ‘Piss off and make your own. I’ll have enough of being a servant when your dad gets home, so get off your backside for once. I’m not your skivvy. And, for your information, your dad will be getting told the same thing, too. You can all kiss my arse and start doing things for yourself. I’m going to start looking after me for a change. Doing things that I want to do.’
Danny chuckled to himself and reached for the TV remote. ‘I’ll take that as a no then. Bloody hell, I was only asking.’
Jenny stomped around the front room, no eye contact whatsoever. She paused as she came to a big box of trophies, a tangle of golden figures of boxers, all with small plaques mounted on the base: Awarded to Charley Johnson. She booted the box and snarled at it as if it could hear her. ‘And you lot can piss off, too. I don’t want all this crap scattered around the living room.’
She couldn’t face the thought of yet another trip down Memory Lane once Charley was home. Many a night he would sit down with his family and tell them the story of his boxing career. He could have turned professional, he could have won a world title, he would tell them. Who knew if he was telling the truth or not? Whichever it was, the shine had long since come off the trophies, just like their marriage.
Jenny sat in the quiet of the kitchen after Danny realised there was no grub coming, and no little brother either, and finally cleared off. This pine table had heard so many stories over the years. If it could have spoken, half the Johnson family would have been six feet under by now. Secrets: even if you never wanted to hear them in the first place, you were stuck with them, carrying them around, feeling them dragging you down. Jenny was running her fingers over a gouge in the wood when her friend, Gina, came in through the back door. She never knocked. Gina had bright-red hair and there was no doubt she hammered the sunbed. Laughter lines were etched deeply into her face. ‘Bleeding hell, cheer up – it might never happen. What’s up with your mush today?’
Jenny lifted her cup and sipped her coffee. ‘Nowt, just a bit pissed off, that’s all. Same shit, different day.’
Gina sat down at the table and peeled off her black leather jacket. She pulled a twenty deck of fags from her coat pocket and placed them on the table with a grey lighter perched on top of them. Just one look at her friend and she knew this was going to be a long day. She raised her eyes. ‘So, come on then, what’s up?’
Jenny shook her head. ‘You know what’s up. It’s the same as it was yesterday and the same as it was the day before. I’m counting down the days but nothing’s changing.’
Gina rolled her eyes and rested her elbows on the table. ‘So, like I said, pack up and leave him. I can’t understand why you stay, why you’ve always stayed. The guy is a bully, a wife-beater. You do my head in sometimes. You’re such a strong woman in every other way, but when it comes to Charley you let him walk all over you. He’s a wanker and you should kick his arse to the kerb.’
‘Gina, I’ve told you that I will never leave my kids.’
‘Kids?’ Gina shouted. ‘The lads are men, Jenny. Danny’s twenty-seven and Paul is twenty-five. Even “little” Rachel is nineteen now and she can look after herself, so I don’t understand your problem. Just tell him you’ve had enough and bin-bag the fucker.’
Jenny reached over for the cigarettes and picked one out of the packet. It was like banging her head against a brick wall. ‘No one will ever understand my situation. Until you’ve have walked a mile in my shoes, you can’t say anything. It’s so hard.’
Gina gritted her teeth and faced Jenny. There was no way she was listening to this bullshit again. She was sick of it, sick of seeing her friend scared and upset. ‘Right, so what’s the real reason? Tell me straight, do you still love Charley?’
Jenny was taken aback by the question and hesitated.
Gina stared at her friend. ‘Just answer the bloody question. I’m trying to help here.’
‘I do and I don’t. He’s the kids’ father. We used to have dreams, plans. A part of me still remembers that. When he’s nice he’s very nice, but when he’s drinking and he switches, he’s an evil bastard. Honest, you don’t know the half of it, nobody does. But I know it’s no use me looking back. I need to do something about the here and now. I feel trapped, suffocated.’