Frankie smiled to herself as she smoothed the quilt over her son's bed. She might have had a career with her brother now which kept her busy, but nothing gave her joy like having someone to mother and take care of. She loved the feeling of being needed, craved it really, and now that her little Freddie was living with her and she didn't fear him leaving any time soon, she felt as if she could finally relax.
When he had planned to move away with Niamh, Franks had been beside herself, but ever since the incident, well . . . it was as if an unspoken rule was made that she would take care of him and he would allow her to. With Katie in the picture, she wasn't quite certain what would happen in the future, but she had nursed her boy back to health and now she was just going to enjoy having him there as long as she could.
She didn't mind the little things, like tidying up his room or cooking for him. In fact, the truth was she loved it. Back in the old days, when Donny had left her and Freddie had been banged up, it had just been her and Junior, on their tod, with hardly a pot to piss in. Things were simpler then. But to think of how far they had come . . . It was a marvel, really.
Now that Donny was back, things were a bit strange. She didn't get the same enjoyment from taking care of him. In fact, as far as she was concerned he was a lazy sod who could have done it all himself. But, because she was such a bloody good wife, she would tidy his things without complaint like she always did, and hope to God no argument would come out of it. That was the state of their marriage.
It was sad, really, to see how quickly their relationship had diminished. But after she had fought with Freddie, well, she supposed she had just been lonely. Junior had been planning on moving away, and everything was happening so fast . . . There had never really been anything between her and Donny, not back in the old days and certainly not now, but he had been someone to lean on when her world started crumbling apart.
Fortunately, that was all in the past now, but she still had her ageing husband pissing away her money and complaining all the way through it. He was like a scar, always there to remind her of the past, and while she could remember the pain well, he was mainly just a nuisance. Her bothersome Donny.
Closing her son's bedroom door, she padded down the hall, passing Donny's home office on the way. Noting the state of it, she sighed and stepped inside. She might as well tidy up while he was out, because the Lord Himself knew he wouldn't give her any other chance.
The mess was embarrassing. Donny had always been that way, leaving glasses and papers about, and Frankie had half a mind to leave it as it was, let him sort it out. But, she was already in the cleaning mood, she supposed, and if she didn't take care of it now it would just linger in the back of her mind, so she sighed audibly and got to sorting things out.
As she pulled a number of papers together atop his desk, she accidentally bumped a series of pens onto the carpet and groaned. Just what she needed! Slightly annoyed, she bent over to retrieve them when she noticed the bottom drawer of his desk was slightly ajar. Furthermore, the lock on it was open. She had never noticed a lock there before, and curiously wondered what could have been so private he had to keep it under lock and key.
Glancing towards the door to superficially ensure no one was coming, she opened the drawer, revealing a large, very full folder. As it was slowly revealed to her, she noticed a name on the front, written boldly in black ink.
'Fred,' she read aloud, her mouth falling slightly agape as her fingers grazed over the letters. Blinking once, she grabbed the heavy folder and tugged it out of the drawer, setting it atop Donny's desk. Her heart was racing with anxiety as she opened it, but what was inside made her heart stop completely.
The first page was what looked to be a police report from 1976, when Fred had gone in for GBH. As she looked further into the folder, she saw tens of similar pages, long blocks of text, and even a log of dates, names, and locations. There were photos, too, of Fred with the boys, and various buildings and warehouses.
Frankie felt nauseous. This was more than enough evidence to incriminate her brother, maybe even imprison him for the rest of his life. The thought was heart-breaking. Had Donny compiled this? And furthermore, why?
The door downstairs opened, and Frankie's heart leapt into the back of her throat. Junior was with his . . . well, his father, and wasn't expected to be home for hours. That meant it must have been Donny.
Hearing footsteps on the hardwood flooring, she quickly crammed the folder back into the drawer and closed it exactly how she had found it, slipping out of his office and gently pulling the door nearly-closed behind her. She made to look as if she were just coming out of Junior's room just as Donny barrelled up the stairs past her, nearly knocking her right over.
'Bloody hell,' she managed out, though her tongue wanted to stick to the roof of her mouth. 'Has someone lit a fire under your arse? Why are you rushing?'
'I've got . . . things,' came Donny's nonchalant reply from his office. 'I've got to meet someone.'
Frankie's heart was beating a hundred times a second as Donny collected things in his office. She pressed her back against the wall of the hallway, wondering if he would notice she had seen his special folder. Suddenly, she realised the gravity of the situation. Her husband was potentially looking to get her brother thrown in prison. If he wasn't before, now he was the enemy.
'Who?' she asked tentatively, swallowing the anxiety and fear that had welled up into her throat.
Donny's voice was annoyed from the other room. 'Don't worry about it,' he told her, a moment before he emerged from the door carrying a large bag. 'Don't worry about it,' he repeated himself, this time forcing a more amiable tone as he kissed her cheek.
Frankie only turned her head slightly at the faux affection, repulsed by his touch. She watched through narrow eyes as he pulled away from her just as quickly as he'd kissed her, already on his way down the stairs. Only once he was near the bottom did she push away from the wall and wander towards the top of the steps, calling after him, 'Where are you going?'
'I'm just — I'm popping 'round your mum's, that's all,' was Donny's hasty reply as he glanced over his shoulder at her. 'I'll be back later, yeah?' She hadn't even gotten another word out before he disappeared out the front door.
The second he was gone, it was as if her legs suddenly turned to jelly. A gasp-like breath escaped her body as she suddenly slumped against the railing. 'Oh, fuck,' she said, panicked, squeezing her eyes shut tightly as she began to hyperventilate.
Without thinking, she blindly stumbled towards the bathroom for her pills, forcing the cabinet open and knocking over a number of pill bottles before she located her Dexedrine. Dumping a few into her hands shakily, she crammed them into her mouth and gulped them down with water from the sink, sighing out in relief after she had swallowed. Her entire body was shaking, and at this point she wasn't certain if the pills caused it or helped it, but she couldn't be bothered with that at the moment. She had to tell Freddie. But first . . .
As the realisation hit her, she ran back down the hall and straight into Donny's office. It was a mess again, but she didn't have time to mentally chastise him. Leaning down behind the desk, she noted that the lock on the drawer was completely gone. She already knew before she pulled it open that the folder would be gone. And sure enough, there was nothing inside but a single pen cap.
'Fuck,' she sighed out dejectedly as she raised herself off the ground, her muscles suddenly aching with age. Completely spent, she sank into the chair and grabbed the desk phone, dialling the mobile number she knew by heart.
After an agonising few rings, a familiar voice garbled out on the other line. 'Yeah.'
'Fred,' she said softly. 'I need to talk to you.'
Freddie's voice was immediately concerned. 'What's wrong?'
'It's Donny,' Frankie replied, pushing back her hair exasperatedly. 'He's got a . . . a folder on you, with all sorts of things inside. Evidence against you, like. I just found it and — and he took it. He took it, just now.'
'What?!' Freddie barked. 'Where is he?'
'I—I . . . He said he was stopping at Mum's,' responded Frankie. 'I don't even know if that's true, but that's what he said. Freddie, I'm scared. This is big, this is really big.'
She chewed on her lip during the brief silence that followed, rubbing her strained eyes just as her brother finally spoke up.
'Right. Don't . . . Don't worry about it, all right? I'll take care of this. He just left, you said?'
'Yeah.'
'All right, babe. Relax, okay? I'll send Junior home to come look after you, and I'm going to sort things out with Donny. Yeah?'
Frankie nodded repeatedly despite knowing he couldn't see, her lips pressed together in a flat line. Her voice cracked when he spoke. 'Okay.'
The phone clicked a moment later, and slowly she replaced the receiver onto the cradle, wondering what the fuck had just happened. But a more pertinent question flooded her mind—what the fuck was she going to do about it?
Glancing around the mess of a room, amongst the scattered papers and her own clouded thoughts, adrenaline running through her veins, she knew she couldn't sit there and wait. Standing without thinking, she headed out of the office and down the steps to grab her jacket.