The Jade Garden (The Barrington Patch Book 2) by Emmy Ellis (reading diary txt) 📗

Jason had the ability to bring them down, and she wasn’t having it. The trap would prove things one way or the other. If he failed it, she’d know she’d done the right thing.

Francis: Cassie’s got the takeaway folks handled. It wouldn’t be them. Mind you, Zhang Wei went storming round Helen’s tonight while our Cass was there, so Li Jun had told him Brett killed Jiang. The stupid man had a knife like a machete.

Lou: Suppose he wanted to use the same sort of weapon that was used on his son. I can understand that.

Francis: I know you can.

Lou: And wanting retribution, lashing out at whoever’s next on the list after Brett.

Francis: He mentioned bothering Geoff next, but Cassie held a gun on him.

Lou: [laughing emojis] I bloody love that girl. Changing the subject… Me and you need to get together soon. I’ve got a plan of my own now we’re talking retribution.

Francis: Tomorrow?

Lou: I’ll come when Joe’s mucking out the pigs, in the morning about eleven. I’ll say I’m going for a drive.

Francis: So he’s not in on this plan of yours?

Lou: Fuck off, he’d go mad if he knew I was doing owt like I have in mind.

Francis: Sounds serious.

Lou: About as serious as it gets. So is Cassie going to watch Jason now then?

Francis: Yes. We’re going to trap him.

Lou: Good. He needs taking down a peg.

Francis: Just like his mother.

Lou: That’s just what I was going to say!

Francis: [thumbs-up emoji] Night, duck.

Lou: Night xxx

Francis deleted the conversation and took her glass into the kitchen. It was so empty in there now without her husband, who at this time would usually be setting the dishwasher off if he wasn’t out working. He’d been a big man, and despite the size of the room, he’d still seemed to fill whatever portion he’d stood in. His death had left a Lenny-shaped hole inside her, one no other man could fill. She’d never see anyone else, never get back into the dating game. He was it for her, and no other bugger would do. Besides, what man would accept the shit she did behind the scenes while her daughter went out there and did the grunt work?

She’d bet they wouldn’t understand how she loved this life, the drama of it, and would need it now more than ever to keep her occupied.

Thankful Cassie had shared her thoughts and asked for advice, Francis placed her glass in the dishwasher and ignored the way the room seemed to stretch in four directions around her, creating an even bigger void. Tears stung, so she walked out and stepped into the hallway, glancing into the office. Cassie sat at the desk, her head bent, her hand moving across the page of a ledger. She had a lot of information to put in there and wouldn’t be seeing her bed anytime soon.

Francis sighed—seemed she did that a lot lately—and made her weary way up the stairs—to an empty bed, another void without Lenny, and once again the tears would come. They’d taken his place, becoming her night-time companions now, along with the wrenching sobs and an ache in her heart that would never go away.

Chapter Thirteen

Doreen Prince was on a mission. Not only did she want to find out the real story behind Jiang supposedly going to China, but also, and without being obvious about it, she still had to suss out what the hell Karen and Sharon were up to. They whispered a lot in Karen’s kitchen under the guise of making cups of tea, but Doreen wasn’t stupid, you only needed one person to do that, didn’t you, so they were gossiping.

She wasn’t vain enough to imagine it was about her, but then again, they weren’t best pleased Cassie had arranged for her to help them with The Life, so maybe they had nagged to each other regarding the new protocol, and that would have included slagging her off.

Perhaps I’m vain after all.

She thundered down her garden path, head bent, her mind on gathering as many clues as she could. Down the pavement she went, bumping into someone who couldn’t have seen her coming. She lifted her head and stared at a woman she recognised, that Jason’s mother, giving her evils because they’d clashed.

“You should walk with your head up,” Gina said, all snooty, her hair like some old-fashioned woman in the forties, brown sausage curls resting on her shoulders. Red lipstick bled into the wrinkles around her mouth.

Even Doreen knew you needed a lighter shade when you got a certain age.

Gina glared at her. “Then you wouldn’t tread on people’s toes.”

“I didn’t tread on your ruddy toes,” Doreen snapped, incensed at her cheek, “so you can piss right off on that one, madam.”

Gina tsked. “You always were a gutter mouth.”

Doreen wanted to lump her with her heavy handbag—she had a tin of Heinz chicken noodle soup in there in case her time at Karen’s ran over into lunch. Last time, they’d scoffed cheese-and-cucumber sandwiches without offering her owt, the rude baggages. “At least I stayed true to who I am. You swan about as if your shit doesn’t stink, when we all know it does.”

Gina’s plucked eyebrows danced. “What do you mean?”

“Your old man.” Doreen smiled, all smug at getting in a massive dig.

“Ex-old man.”

“Hmm. Forgotten who he was and what he got up to, have you? Half the furniture in your house was nicked, and he disappeared on you. Weren’t you good enough in the sack to keep him close?”

Gina flushed. “That’s in the past.”

Doreen tapped her temple. “It’s still in my head.” She peered over Gina’s shoulder. “’Ere, what’s going on there then?”

People came out of Brett’s little house down the way a bit, and if Doreen wasn’t