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

The Life ready in advance, the one due after the February Fayre, so they’d been working on it, typing it up so there was evidence, a time stamp for Francis to look at when she came round asking questions once she found out Cassie was dead—so Karen thought. They’d say they’d worked on it until three a.m., covering their antics at Sculptor’s Field. Tomorrow, Karen had said she planned to tell Sharon she hadn’t wanted to bother her with it, saying Doreen needed to earn her wage at some point so it may as well be now.

Doreen smirked. You won’t be around to tell her owt.

“I need to get a few things off my chest before we go and stab her,” Karen said.

Doreen grabbed her bag and took her work smartphone out. “Two secs. I just need to remind Harry to lock my door when he leaves—brain like a sieve, he has. He’s had his dinner, said he’d watch the telly for a bit, then go to his place, but he hasn’t messaged to let me know he’s gone.” She prodded at the screen as if typing, laid the phone on top of the things in her bag, and placed it on the floor, the zip undone. “All sorted.”

She settled back ready to listen to Karen waffling on, her anger at being ‘shoved aside’ by Lenny the opening gambit of her rant.

“So, as you know, me and Sharon, we ruled here first. I mean, we were good at it, remember? Sorted out any neighbour disputes and whatnot, had everyone scared of us, even if the threat was just a punch on the fucking nose.” Karen sighed. “Then along comes Lenny—he sat right where you are now, except it was an old chair back then—and told me he’d be taking over, a structure would be in place, and I’d soon see how running an estate went. Properly, he’d said, emphasised it, like. Got right on my nellies, I can tell you. If he hadn’t asked me to run The Life and offered payment to be a grass, I’d have fought him all the way.”

What a load of horseshit. I bet her eyes lit up at the mention of money, the greedy cow.

“Must have felt like a right old stab in the back,” Doreen said.

“It was. Of course, Sharon took it lying down. Didn’t utter a word of complaint. Always has been a pushover deep down.”

Someone easy to manipulate, you mean.

A jab of guilt thumped Doreen’s stomach at how Sharon had struggled sometimes, despite Lenny paying her wages and her getting extra from being a cashier at Kwik Save, her kids going through the money as fast as you like. She could have done with financial support from Martin, and because of Doreen, that avenue had been closed. She’d always felt bad about it, but like Francis had said, he wasn’t exactly the type to pay up anyroad. Sharon would still have struggled if the man had lived, and hadn’t Doreen herself swum in skint waters, her old man pissing off without a by your leave, and she’d managed? She’d been shocked he’d left her at first but glad after. He had the makings of a tyrant, much like Martin Barnett.

“Well,” Karen said, “stab in the back or not, I thought it best I did what he wanted. You know what he was like. If I’d said no, he’d have sent someone round to beat the crap out of me until I said yes. So I told myself, I said, ‘Karen, you bide your time, love, do what he wants, and one day you can take it back.’ I did that, then he mentioned his heart being dodgy, and I thought: Yeah, good things do come to those who wait. But he announced Cassie was taking over once he carked it and I must do whatever she said. Sorry, but taking orders from some kid? Not likely.”

“It must be difficult, having what was yours snatched away like that, and I know what you mean about Cassie. She’s a tough nut, that one. Listen, so I’ve got this straight in my head—I never did like not knowing things, it messes with my chi or whatever it’s called—will we be discussing suffocating Francis in a couple of days? I mean, we need to get that side of this sorted an’ all.”

“Yeah. We’ll get Cassie impaled then chat about her mother in a few days. Of course, we’ll visit Francis before that, offer our condolences and whatever, get her thinking we care—which we don’t, but that’s by the by.”

“Okay. How are you going to get the estate back after that, though?”

Karen grinned. “I had one of them epiphany things. Before we shove a pillow over Francis’ face, we get her to write a note saying she can’t go on, all that rubbish, and she’s leaving the estate to me and you.”

“I’m not sure I can run it.” Doreen stroked the chair arm. “It’s your baby, you should have it. I can offer advice if you want, but you’re the queen around here, always have been.” Did that sound wet?

Karen didn’t seem to think so. “Yeah, I am, aren’t I.” She puffed up her chest. “So, what do you think about the note?”

“It’s a good idea. No one will go against a Grafton’s word, even if they’re all dead.”

They cackled, Doreen’s laughter sounding fake, but again, Karen seemed unaware. Cassie had told Doreen to say whatever she needed in order to get Karen’s feelings recorded, hence Doreen messing with her phone earlier. She only hoped the device picked everything up. She’d asked Cassie why she needed the proof—didn’t she trust her?—and she’d said something telling.

“Dad messed up, going for the wrong person, and I have, too. No way am I doing that again. So I want her saying what she’s planned, and you can send it