CHAPTER 88
I was unable to speak for a long time, that name cutting the strings that had stopped me slumping onto the bed as Kim did. So solid, so ready to pull Kim into a cuddle, find out what her problem was, to ease her pain, and thump.

Oily. Happy, smiling, cheeky, gorgeous man Oily. Rosie and Carl’s brother.

‘Shooting’.

She must mean Paula’s shooting, that was the thought screaming at me. I struggled to form the words, and then Kim was at me, whipping round on the bed to lunge into a hug, tears pouring down her face.

“On the road, Debbie! They fucking shot him on the road, then dropped word off at one of the tat shops. It was a hit”

“How badly…”

I couldn’t finish the question, because I already knew the answer, and it could never be a happy one, not an answer that might leave me visiting a hospital to take pastries to a smiling, dark-haired man with a token sling for his arm and a dozen lovestruck nurses hovering to feed him grapes, or shit like that, and it was shit, all of it was shit, there was nothing but shit everywhere, and I wanted to drop down onto the bed beside Kim and just pull the covers over our heads,,,

“Is Kim okay, Debbie?”

Maria’s voice, from the bedroom door, and I saw how narrow my choices really were. More girls than Kim to keep safe, more girls than Debbie Petrie Wells to care for, and was I not supposed to have some bloody CLASS?

“Not really, love. Bad news. Really bad news”

“I’ve brought the hot choccie”

“Thanks, love. Could you put it on the cabinet there for us? I’ll be out in a bit. Nothing to worry about”

And so I sat with Kim, rather than lie down, because if I had lain beside her I do not believe I would have been able to rise, ever again. She slipped off to sleep, eventually, cried out, and in the end I poured her chocolate down the toilet rather than let the other girls think they had wasted their time, and then went back down to the kitchen, where Clara was looking tearful with concern. I reassured them as best I could, saving the details, and then realised Maria was holding out a small package. No stamp or address on it, just the word ‘Debbie’. It proved to contain a simple mobile phone and a piece of paper with a number on it. The indicator on the burner showed a full battery, and when I tapped in the scrawled number, it rang only three times before being answered.

“Speak”

Rosie’s voice, thank god.

“Rosie? What is going on?”

“Debbie, thank fuck! Sorry about all the secret squirrel stuff…”

Her voice trailed off, just as my ears told me her control was slipping, and then she was back.

“Burner phones, yeah? That one and the one I’m using. Don’t come near the clubhouse, don’t ring us. You know the places we have, the tat shops, that breaker’s? Stay away”

“Rosie, what the fuck is going on? Kim says… Kim told me there’d been another shooting, and it was Oily”

Another pause, and a hint of a sniff, before she was back, her voice shaky.

“Another club, Debbie, another MC, they sent a message. Oily. Shot him on the motorway, from a car, and he went under a lorry when he came off, and why can’t they let me keep ONE FUCKING BROTHER!”

“Rosie!”

All I could hear was sniffling, but I kept repeating her name down the phone as, in my own mind, I said the important word over and over again. ‘Class’.

She was back again, apologising in a stupid way, as she always did, so I simply tole her to shut the fuck up.

“Not now, sister of mine, not now and not ever. You do not apologise to me, because there has never, ever been a need for it. Got that?”

A few more sniffs, then a quiet “Yeah…”

“Just listen for a bit, sis. This phone, yeah? You doing your best to keep my girls out of things, is it?”

“Yeah. My Carling’s idea, it was. They tie the kids into us, and they might want to, you know…”

She took a few more deep breaths, then started lecturing, almost, in a way clearly meant to let her speak without breaking.

“Reapers, aye? Remember them?”

I felt my stomach churn.

“Sam’s killers, yes?”

“Yes. What was left of them, and some other shits… who’s with you? Knowing you, nobody, but need to be careful, so I am going to be a bit vague. Old friends of ours, what was left of them met some other losers, and they are trying to front for that lot up in the West Midlands in England, yeah? Oily had some business up there, and said losers wanted to make a show for their new friends. Doesn’t happen, Debbie. Not here”

A few more deep breaths audible over the phone as she gathered together the shreds of her own class once more.

“So for now, sis, you stay away from us, you and your brood, and you stay safe until we sort this out”

I had a feeling just then, a suspicion there was something unsaid, something darker, but I didn’t, couldn’t push it, not with Rosie so close to breaking.

“What can I do to help, love?”

“Stay safe, Deb. That’s it. This will blow over, or rather it will be fucking finished, finished by us”

Another pause, and then almost a wail, quickly strangled.

“I just wish you could be here with us, Debbie!”

Click, and gone, and I was left slumped against the fridge with the phone in my hand and Rosie hurting too far away to help. My emotions bounced in every direction, from anger through hatred to futility and despair, until they slowly, slowly settled on resignation.

What else could I do but shelter my girls? I made some fresh chocolate, took it up to the first I had ever taken in, and left it with her for the warmth to do its trick before ringing the student house to let Phil know that he needed to collect her.

That was another little sting, but he clearly loved her, as she did him, and there were ways he could care for her that I couldn’t manage. He arrived an hour later, and I proceeded to break all the House rules about men by simply leading hm to the room she was in and leaving them alone.

He stayed overnight, and while I had to launder the bedding the day after, I didn’t need to know who had instigated whatever they had done together to tell Death to fuck right off and keep going, and simply hugged both before they headed off to what was now so clearly her home.

That was only the start of it, and I spent the next few weeks trying to avoid the news, and failing utterly. Bodies pulled out of rivers, found in woodland, it didn’t seem to stop. Sparky kept me up to date with other events in the City, as some shops had fires, and not just the ones Rosie had called ‘ours’. Up and down, and another very short call from Rosie.

“No rallies, Deb. Not for a while. You’ll know when. Bye”

We were heading for Easter, so I bundled the girls up for a camping break over in the West once more, and spent it entirely sober, wanting to ride over to Rosie, make it better, just like we had when Sam had gone, when Carl had gone inside for five wasted years, and all I could do was muster my class, wrap it around me, and smile for my girls. It was too cold for anything stupid like swimming, but we walked the cliffs, and I pointed out all the different auks, now on their nests, as well as the chough and the seals, and the braver of the girls picked laver from the sands at Freshwater West and challenged each other to eat it raw. For those few days, I was spared from the news, but not from my worry.

The storm broke just before our return, on a Tuesday afternoon, and the word came from Rhys and Jon, after a phone call from Ruth almost as soon as I had parked up.

“Hiya, Debbie. Saw the van go past. Got a couple of friends of yours here, asking if I know when you’ll be back. Want to pop over?”

There was an edge to her voice, which ramped up my own fears, so I asked the girls to sort their own luggage and kit out as I scurried off round the corner to the Olive. Ruth nodded to the usual semi-private corner, where the couple were sitting, Jon looking nervous, while his lover simply appeared to be drained of strength. Ruth pushed a cuppa into my hands and waved away my money, and I walked over, drawing a chair out to join the men, Jon giving my hand the same sort of squeeze I had received from Ruth, and nodded to Rhys, clearly asking him to speak first. I held up my free hand.

“I’ve just got in, boys, Been away for the week with the girls. Not seen any news, and I have a feeling that that is what this is all about. Short version?”

Rhys sounded as tired as he looked.

“Diane, Debbie. She’s in trouble. Might appreciate a friendly face, one that isn’t another copper”

“What the fuck for?”

Rhys shook his head, pain in his eyes.

“One of us got shot, Debbie. One of the Fresh Meat, new chums, aye? Like Jonny here”

“Oh fuck! Not Diane, then?”

He shook his head, Jon now trembling.

“No. Girl called Lexie. She’s sort of okay, or we hope she will be. It’s Diane we are really worried about. Being interviewed later this week, our goon squad. Shitting herself, she is”

Jon chipped in.

“Don’t know why, after what she did. Debbie, we had a bit of a war. Can’t say too much, still being cleared up, but it was biker gangs. You might know some of them, so be aware, yeah? Lot of shooting, and Lexie caught one of the bullets”

I felt my spine starting to freeze, a horrible flood of dread coming over me like a breaker at Freshwater.

“Where did she get shot?”

Rhys took his man’s hand again.

“In the head, Debbie. Di is blaming herself. She was next to Lexie when it happened”

Jon looked at him.

“Yeah, she was, but she still went and sorted out the other bloke with the gun, didn’t she?”

That wave had been only the first of several, it seemed.

“How many gunmen were there?”

Rhys shrugged, looking sharply at Jon before replying to my question.

“Can’t really tell you that, Debbie. All under investigation and so on. We were just after a favour, one from your girls, aye?”

“Go on”

“Last word was that Lexie is awake now, and we wondered if some of yours might like to go and say hello. Maybe Gemma”

I couldn’t help laughing at that.

“Bloody cheek! Okay, then. I will let her know. Could you write down the ward and that where this Lexie is, and I’ll give her a shout”

I paused for a mouthful of tea, watching them squirming a little.

“There’s more, isn’t there?”

Jon nodded.

“Yes, there is. It’s Diane. She wasn’t just next to Lexie when she got hit, she was next to that big bastard---”

“Jonny”

The lad looked across at Rhys, nodding and squeezing his hand once more.

“Sorry, love. Still not really used to this, am I? Debbie, more than just some cakes, really. That bit about a friendly face. She could really, really use one just now. You, Charlie, Paula, aye?”

I was starting to crumble again, as my suspicions ramped up, and so I rose to leave, holding a few words on a scrap of paper that would let me find a poor, headshot girl. I got out of the Olive before the shakes hit me, and stumbled into my back alley, taking time to lean against the wall before I went into the House. That burner phone was in my pocket, still charged, left strictly alone during our little break, and I took it out, and as soon as it had warmed up, I dialled the number of Rosie’s own throwaway. She answered almost instantly.

“Debbie?”

Class, Petrie.

“Rosie. Not got details, but---”

“Gone, Deb. Our Carling. Fucking gone”