Fallout Read online

  FALLOUT

  EDIE BAYLIS

  First published in Great Britain in 2022 by Boldwood Books Ltd.

  Copyright © Edie Baylis, 2022

  Cover Photography: Shutterstock

  The moral right of Edie Baylis to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction and, except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Every effort has been made to obtain the necessary permissions with reference to copyright material, both illustrative and quoted. We apologise for any omissions in this respect and will be pleased to make the appropriate acknowledgements in any future edition.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  Paperback ISBN 978-1-80280-166-8

  Large Print ISBN 978-1-80280-167-5

  Hardback ISBN 978-1-80280-165-1

  Ebook ISBN 978-1-80280-168-2

  Kindle ISBN 978-1-80280-169-9

  Audio CD ISBN 978-1-80280-160-6

  MP3 CD ISBN 978-1-80280-161-3

  Digital audio download ISBN 978-1-80280-163-7

  Boldwood Books Ltd

  23 Bowerdean Street

  London SW6 3TN

  www.boldwoodbooks.com

  For my dad – you'll always be my hero.

  CONTENTS

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  More from Edie Baylis

  About the Author

  Peaky Readers

  About Boldwood Books

  PROLOGUE

  10 JULY 1995

  Tom Bedworth pulled his leather jacket tighter, his face screwing up in irritation. Whatever had died in the aid of making this coat certainly hadn’t lived anywhere but a tropical climate, because it was about as warm as a fucking ice cube.

  He knew he should have had a service done on this motor before leaving, but there wasn’t the time to mess about checking if car heaters worked before putting a wide berth between him and the likes of the Reynolds and the Stokers.

  What was left of them, anyway.

  Tom grinned. It looked like he had been given a clean slate and, therefore, he intended to use it.

  Now the Stokers had offed John Maynard, and hearing nothing else to the contrary, it must mean they had no inkling that he had been involved in anything. Or that he even existed.

  Oh, yes, John Maynard had done him the world of good.

  Tom smiled. Thanks to Maynard’s connections with the Reynold family, Tom had made a nice sum for the sale of his own kid many years ago – albeit getting ripped off by the paltry price Len Reynold had paid for the prize of owning his offspring, but that would soon be rectified.

  Yeah, John Maynard had been extremely generous for taking the rap for everything else since. Oh, Maynard, you didn’t die in vain.

  The Stoker boys lifting Maynard could only mean they believed him to be the one who’d killed their little brother, Gary, and who’d helped Len Reynold face-plant into a tree. They probably even believed him to be the one behind the blackmailing of Gloria Reynold. That’s if they even knew about that bit, which was doubtful, considering they were all thick as shit.

  This was, of course, wonderful, so the only thing of any concern was to proceed with his new plan, but he couldn’t push his luck – not until he was 100 per cent sure he wasn’t under suspicion. However, the most important thing – Samantha Reynold, his daughter – was still intact and very much alive.

  Tom glanced out of the window at the coming dawn, unsure of the time. It was early, that was for sure. Okay, so it hadn’t been part of his plan to spend days sleeping in the car, but why waste dosh on one of the few flea-ridden bed and breakfast gaffs around here when he needed to save every penny in order to tide him over until his ship came in?

  And that wouldn’t be long now. Not long at all.

  Now on to Linda Matthews…

  Thanks to his expert detective work and a few chinwags in a handful of the local boozers, it hadn’t taken long to discover where the old slapper lurked.

  Even picturing Linda’s face – the way she used to fawn over him and cling like a limpet, wound him up. Getting her in the family way thirty years ago hadn’t been one of his better ideas, but even epic fails had their upsides. If he hadn’t got her knocked up, then he wouldn’t have got that initial payout, and neither would he have had the ability to capitalise on it now.

  So, yeah, he’d put up with Linda again. For a short period of time…

  Actually, she was Linda Devlin now. Hearing this had freaked Tom out somewhat. A husband on the scene meant a spanner in the works, but he needn’t have fretted. Someone had been stupid enough to marry the woman, but had seen sense and, according to what he’d been told, the marriage had been short-lived, with the bloke disappearing yonks ago.

  It also hadn’t taken much more digging to discover Linda was exactly where he’d expected her to end up. In this bloody ghetto of a dump.

  Tom glanced up at the concrete monstrosity in front of him.

  He’d also been correct in surmising her dictator of a father had long since dropped off the twig. As had his holier-than-thou wife, but Linda was still breathing.

  And that was good.

  Linda didn’t know it yet, but she was the ticket to get him ensconced within the Reynold fold. And that would mean he got his money.

  Tom rummaged in his pocket for his lighter. Yeah, Linda would come in handy. He’d got it all planned.

  Instead of continuing to blackmail Gloria Reynold and threatening to tell the whole city that she and her cheapskate husband had paid a pittance for the child they had the cheek to call their own, Linda would get Samantha on side and explain who she really was. Once Sam had recovered from the shock, she’d fall over herself to help out her real parents and then he’d get the payout he should have received in the first place.

  Ramping up the pressure with that old bag, Gloria, could now be reassigned as backup if the plan for Linda didn’t pan out. And there were absolutely zilch reasons why it wouldn’t.

  As for Linda – well, he’d promise her whatever she liked, but in reality,
she’d get fuck all. He’d put her in the same orbit as her precious long-lost daughter, so what else could she possibly want?

  Tom winced as a freight train thundered past, its endless caravan of wagons jarring the teeth remaining in his head.

  This night just gone had been the last he’d spend in the motor. Tonight he’d be in there. He looked up at the third floor. Yep, tonight he’d make Linda’s life a thousand times better, and because of that, she’d welcome him with open arms.

  Once things were in the pipeline, he’d fuck her off and head back to the Aurora to see how much his club’s profits had increased during his absence.

  Tom’s mouth twisted into a self-satisfied smile. He’d also got an extra way of increasing his income further. It had been in his plan anyway and, although she didn’t realise it yet, Samantha would be taking on that part.

  This unplanned ‘holiday’ had given him time to set up the means of crack production. Hanging around this neck of the woods offered the handy ability to dig up more people he knew from old – many who were happy to earn a few quid and ask no questions. Purely because either they were desperate for cash, or plain fucking stupid.

  Tom reached into the passenger seat footwell for the sandwich he’d nicked last night from the Spar. He stared at the sorry-looking item within the plastic packet, wondering which half of the sandwich contained the alleged ham.

  As the sarnie had rolled around the footwell for the best part of the night, he hoped he wouldn’t get food poisoning, but having eaten worse things, he’d take the chance.

  Besides, he’d need all his strength to deal with Linda.

  He’d eat this, have a bit of his remaining crack and then pay the scabby old tart a long-overdue visit.

  1

  Gloria Reynold didn’t want to venture to the shops, but what could she do? Being completely out of bread, she had no choice but to go out to buy some.

  Len had always arranged deliveries of their food from the best butchers and greengrocers in Birmingham, but since his death, she couldn’t face returning the calls about her next orders. It was too much of a painful reminder.

  There were lots of things in their well-stocked freezer, but she’d barely touched a morsel since Len’s death and that dreadful business of Samantha finding out the truth. But there was only so long she could go on like this. At the very least, she must force a sandwich down.

  Gloria walked towards the small collection of shops Edgbaston offered, sure everyone was staring at her.

  The truth about Sam’s real parentage could already be out. It may have been spreading around the city like an out-of-control forest fire for days, yet she had no idea because she hadn’t seen anyone since the night she’d told the truth, including her daughter. Days now with no word and it was breaking her heart clean in two.

  Not only had she lost her husband forever, but it looked as if she’d lost her daughter too.

  Gloria kept her eyes fixed ahead as she continued walking, if only to keep the rising urge to break down in tears at bay. She wished more than anything that she and Len had told Sam the truth from the start. If they’d told her from an early age, then she might not be in this position of having damaged her daughter’s trust and wrecked their relationship.

  When Samantha had arrived in her life, Gloria had been so bothered about what everyone would think if they knew she’d had to adopt, but what must everyone think of her now? And Judith and Mal Stoker must hate her more than most for allowing the rumour to continue circulating that it was their youngest whose parentage was in question, rather than Samantha.

  How could she have sat on the truth? How could she have pretended she didn’t know that rumour was about her whilst allowing the suspicion between Judith’s sons to continue? She still didn’t know whether Gary Stoker had even returned to his family.

  Gloria almost tripped on the pavement, her haste to return to the safety of being behind closed doors growing. She was a coward. A pathetic, snivelling coward.

  Feeling a rising panic racing through her ribcage, her breathing became laboured, the blue sky lowered and the pavement tipped at a strange angle.

  She couldn’t continue. She needed to get away from the gaping expanse of the outdoors where there were people.

  Rapidly stopping, Gloria yelped, almost passing out from sheer fright as she smacked into someone. Her handbag dropped to the floor, the contents scattering across the pavement.

  ‘I thought it was you…’ Liam Taylor took in Gloria’s grey, terrified face. ‘Are you all right?’ Steadying her with his arm, he gathered the contents of the handbag from the floor. ‘Come and sit down. You look like you might pass out!’

  Gloria stared at Liam, wide-eyed. ‘No. I need to go home. I…’

  Liam gently lowered Gloria onto a bench at the side of the road. ‘Just sit down for a second and then I’ll walk you back. I’ll call Sam and she ca…’

  ‘No!’ Gloria cried. ‘You mustn’t.’ The tears ran freely down her cheeks. ‘Sam doesn’t want anything to do with me any more. I haven’t seen John either and I don’t know what to do.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Liam gasped. He hadn’t seen Sam or John for the last week either. The only word he’d had was days ago when Sam had called, explaining she was taking a bit of time off to get her head together and that she’d be in touch.

  Liam frowned. As their last meeting hadn’t exactly finished on good terms, he’d thought it best to give her space, but now he wished he’d bypassed that.

  He looked at the worry on Gloria’s face. ‘I don’t know what’s happened, but you should tell me so I can help you sort it out.’

  Gloria sagged with relief; the need to unburden herself from the crushing weight of her terrible decision and what it had caused was immense.

  Liam had been close to Samantha for ten years. He was almost like a son-in-law. Even Len had believed he would soon be just that, so if anyone could get through to Sam and put this right, it was Liam.

  Clutching his hand, Gloria began to speak.

  Andrew Stoker repositioned his well-built frame in the driver’s seat of his Rover SD1 and rolled his shoulders to ease the ever-building tension.

  Through the twilight, he focused on the small terraced house halfway along the street, then stole a glance at his Rolex. Most of this lot around here would be well away in the local boozer by now and wouldn’t bat an eyelid. Not that anyone would dare question him – or any of his brothers. But that might soon change if things were allowed to slide.

  His eyes fixed on the front door of the target house.

  And she was not helping matters…

  Andrew’s mouth flattened into a thin line as he ran his hand across his cleanly shaven jaw.

  Thanks to Baker, he was well aware of what had been alleged. And that would be sorted. Right now.

  He snorted in derision, the air from his nostrils creating a small, fogged patch on the side window of the car.

  It was all very well his brother, Seb, insisting on paying loads of money to keep Detective Inspector Baker onside, but what was the bloody point if he wasn’t present when the cop showed his face?

  Of course, Baker had come to speak to Seb, like everybody did. But Seb wasn’t there, so he’d dealt with it instead…

  And it was a good bloody job! All that grief he’d got from Seb about overriding his decision and killing Phil Blunt? Seb’s high horse stance had been pointless! Phil knew Seb had killed that geezer in the Aurora, so regardless of what Seb thought, offing Phil was the right thing to do. Phil might have been one of their own, but they couldn’t risk moving him out of the country, even as a temporary measure, like Seb wanted.

  Oh, Andrew had tried to reason with his brother – what happened if Phil opened his gob down the line? Or if someone tortured the info out of him? Where would that leave them?

  But Seb wasn’t having any of it and still wanted to let the man walk, so he’d been overridden. Simple as that.

  Andrew sighed. This la
test development proved he’d been right to take the initiative and get rid of the man. Just look how untrustworthy his bloody missus had turned out.

  Thought she was clever by involving the Old Bill, did she?

  Andrew’s handsome face twisted into a scowl. Luckily, he’d been around when DI Baker had shown up to tell them Tonya Blunt was flapping her gums, otherwise they’d have been unaware.

  Staring at his neat fingernails in the dim gloom of the streetlight, Andrew knew he had to act fast.

  Seb had barely set foot in the Royal Peacock for a week, finding it preferable to bark orders at him and Neil down the blower, rather than be there in person to deal with the problems they still faced.

  Well, no guesses where Seb was now… and why…

  Andrew resented Sam Reynold more with every minute that passed. But one burning question persisted: was it down to her using what was between her legs to twist Seb in her favour, or was the reticence down to Seb himself?

  After all, Seb had spent the last few days at Sam’s side rather than with them and Andrew would not have the likes of her diluting their power as a firm. For God’s sake, Seb had been against the woman at the start, but since she’d got her claws into him, his attitude had miraculously changed, which was concerning. Really concerning.