Frankie sighed deeply as she slipped between the covers, immediately succumbing to the warmth her body greedily welcomed. It had been a long day of trudging through the rain and handling the car transfers from the shop in Ilford to her contact in Southend-on-Sea. Tommy had come with her, but he had ended up being more of a nuisance than actually helping; he followed her around like a rescue puppy, constantly on her heels and ready to drop everything at a single command. It was really bloody suffocating at times, though she supposed she only had herself to blame. She knew her brother would see them together, and it was only a matter of time before he took matters into his own hands. So why was it taking him so fucking long?
She sighed and tried to push the thoughts from her mind. The silence of the house was deafening at times, and she was acutely aware of it now, especially since Junior was out with one of his birds. The large detached home was a beautiful place, really—a £1 million estate, in fact—decorated tastefully in golds and beige and cherry wood. It had four bedrooms, one of which was currently fitted out as an office, and a spacious and open floor plan. It was much too big for a single mother, she had told Freddie, but he had insisted, like he did with all things for her benefit.
The front door opened.
She listened, at first, remaining still in the warmth of her bed. There were footsteps on the wood flooring downstairs, heavy and slow as they crossed the threshold, familiar in a way she couldn't place. 'Junior?'
The heavy footfalls started up the stairs, which groaned under their bearer's weight, and as she heard a distinctly male sigh Frankie's heart leapt forward in her chest. She lived in Gidea Park, one of the nicest places in Romford. There wasn't an intruder in her home, was there?!
'Junior?' she asked again, this time a bit more firmly, her back straightened and stiff as she sat upright on her large bed. Clearing her throat, she tried not to sound anxious. 'Come home early, babe?'
The footsteps neared her door. She glanced towards the end table. She knew she had a Walther PPK in there, one she knew how to use, since she'd practised on Polly's farm. She could grab it in an instant if she needed it. Already her hand was raised, ready to arm herself, as the door handle turned.
'Oh, Jesus fucking Christ, Freddie.'
Frankie's heart was beating wildly in her throat as if it were trying to escape. It was only her brother, all black leather and rain-slicked hair, standing big as a fucking ox in the doorway. Though it took a while for her heart to slow back to its normal pace, Frankie relaxed at the sight, and realised she was trembling. 'You scared the shit out of me.'
He sniffed, but said nothing as he stepped forward into her room. She could see that he was distressed; it was clear as the day itself in his face and posture, the way he was slumped as he walked, his eyes glazed-over. She curled her legs up and made room for him as he sat down heavily on the duvet, her eyes never leaving him, not even for a moment.
'Freddie, what's the matter? Huh?' Reaching over, she pressed her fingers to his cheeks and forehead; his skin was clammy and cold. 'Baby. Did you take summink? ...Did you drive here yourself?'
He sniffed again, this time reaching up a hand to clasp hers and bring it downward. 'Do you remember...what I told you, when we was kids?'
Nodding quickly, she squeezed his fingers. 'Yeah, babe, I do.'
His glossy eyes finally met her gaze, but even then he seemed distant, as if operating on another plane of existence. 'Tell me, then. What'd I say?'
Taking a breath, Frankie rose slowly forward and released his fingers so she could take his head in her hands. Looking deeply into his eyes, she said softly, 'It's just us, Freddie. It's only us. We're the only people what matter. Just you and me.'
Fred sighed deeply, and his gaze became distant. 'Yeah...' he said, clicking his tongue. 'Just you and me... So where does that leave Tommy McCrory?'
Frankie's brows rose. 'What?'
Before she could react, his hand had flung upwards and captured her throat, pushing her back against the mattress in one swift movement. He was on top of her in an instant, crushing her beneath his weight. She struggled against him, but realised too late that her efforts were fruitless. He was twice her size, weighing heavily down on her, and she could smell the pungent and familiar scent of Bushmills on his breath. She could tell he was getting lost in his head again, the way his gaze was boring into her yet somehow still distant, as if he wasn't all there.
He was dangerous like this. He could seriously hurt her. And as soon as she realised this, she began to panic.
'I just wanna know why...' he said, pushing down on her throat on the emphasis. 'Why do you wanna hurt me? Huh?'
Her fingernails were digging into his wrist, desperately trying to pry his hand from her neck. She could hardly breathe, and her vision was going spotted and green. She was going to lose consciousness if he didn't let her go. 'Freddie...please...'
Tears she hadn't noticed welling up in her eyes had spilled over the sides of her cheeks and into her ears. Her grip on his arm was becoming weak. She could hear the sound of rushing water, her fear manifesting itself physically as he relentlessly squeezed her throat.
And then, without warning, he stopped.
Immediately, she rolled onto her size, coughing and heaving violently. Each time her lungs filled with much-needed oxygen it burned, seared like fire down her throat, and fat, salty tears rolled down her cheeks and soaked into the pillow. She wanted to sob, to scream and hit her brother as hard as she could, but between each gasping breath she took she could hear his soft crying, and all the anger and fear shot out of her like a wind.
She knew Freddie well, better than anyone. This wasn't about her and Tommy. This was something else.
Feeling numb, she rolled over to face him, and saw that he was sitting upright on the end of the bed, his head dipped beneath his shoulders as he cried. She could count the number of times she'd seen him so upset on one hand, and it frightened her on a much deeper, poignant level than she could have ever imagined. Though she wanted to be mad at him for taking out his anger on her, she couldn't. He was still her Freddie, take him or leave him, and by God she knew she would always be by his side, no matter what happened.
Her own concern evaporated. There was something wrong with him, and she needed to comfort him. Why else would he have come to her like this?
Carefully, she rose slightly and placed her hands on his shoulders, pressing her body against his from behind before wrapping her arms around him. 'I'm sorry, Freddie,' she said quietly, kissing his neck a few times. She could taste the salt of his sweat, smell the familiar pound store cologne he always wore. No matter how much wealth he had, he always stuck to the familiar, and that made her heart yearn for him a bit more.
'C'mere,' she said then as she slowly peeled off his jacket. Lifting herself off the bed, she threw the leather garment on a nearby settee before lowering herself ahead of him to unlace his shoes. She took some time to undress him, leaving him in only his white vest, pants, and socks before she helped him under the covers, making sure to keep him resting comfortably on his side, in case he were to get sick in the middle of the night. She had done this for him a hundred times, and for their parents as well when she had been young. It was routine by then, to console the drunkards and put them to bed, and she didn't mind. It came with the territory of being an Evans.
After making sure he was comfortable, she joined him in bed and curled up behind him, her petite form fitting against his larger frame easily. She wrapped her arms around his toned ones and nestled her nose between his shoulder blades, letting her eyes fall shut.
Before she could succumb to a very welcome sleep, she heard him softly say, 'You look so much like your mum.'
She wasn't quite sure what to suss out from that, and so she simply furrowed her brow and stroked his arm. 'Go to sleep, babe.'
She waited until she felt his body relax and heard his soft snores settle in before allowing herself to surrender to the darkness that beckoned her. For the first time in a long time, she was thankful for a dreamless sleep.