Bad Boys of London: The Complete GYPSY HEROES Collection (86 page)

‘I always had a fantasy of bedding an Indian princess,’ he tells me with a grin.

I glance at the main table and see my mother. She looks stiff and uncomfortable. My father catches my eye and waves. I release my fingers from Shane’s. He looks down at me.

‘I’ll only be a minute,’ I say.

‘Hurry back,’ he says.

I walk over to my mother. She alone has refused to wear Indian attire.

My father stands. ‘You look absolutely beautiful, my darling.’

‘Thank you, Papa,’ I say and kiss his cheek.

He squeezes my hand and, leaning forward, whispers, ‘I’m so proud of you.’

I turn to my mother. She knows she is being watched so she stands and smiles at me. ‘Yes, you look very … nice,’ she says.

I know she is surprised by the wealth she has witnessed today. When Shane came in his T-shirt and jeans she assumed he was a poor gypsy boy. Now she can see how wrong she was.

‘You’ve done very well,’ she says stiffly.

‘I married Shane because I love him, Mother. I would have married him even if he had nothing.’

‘It’s good then that Shane has a bit of money, isn’t it? I was thinking of sending your brother to England. Give him a fresh start. Maybe your husband can help him find a job or set him up in a business.’

I feel a twinge of sadness then. Even now, on my big day, my mother cannot just be happy for me, but uses the occasion to try and help my brother. And then I think of Shane saying, ‘Love does not measure. It just gives.’ I love my mother, and if there is anything I can do to make her happy, I will.

‘I’ll ask Shane,’ I say softly.

And she beams happily.

The food was prepared by one of Dom’s chefs and it is fabulous. There are speeches from Jake, my father, Dom, and Layla’s husband, BJ. Then Shane stands up to make his.

He thanks the ushers, the bridesmaids, and all the people who have attended. ‘If I forgot anybody, what can I say?’ he says.

Then he turns to me. ‘There is no Romeo or Juliet that ever was, is, or ever will be, that could ever compare to what is you and me. There is no sonnet or song that has been written that comes close to describing my level of fucking smitten. You are not just the love of my life, but the fabric, the reason, and the basis for my life. And when time has passed and everyone else sees you as old and gray, I will still see you as you are this day. So I’ll finish by saying that we’ll be moving to a new home soon, so do not come around because we’ll be banging and screwing at every opportunity we get. Thank you all for coming.’

The crowd loves him. I look for Shane’s mother and she is smiling. I swivel my gaze towards my mother and she is grimacing. I meet her eyes and suddenly I don’t care that she disapproves of me, or that I would never be good enough for her. I look towards Shane and guess what? He is gazing at me with stars in his eyes.
You can’t spoil my day, Mum. Never again.

‘Are you ready for your first dance, Mrs. Elizabeth Snow Eden?’

I am just about to say yes, when Layla hits the stem of her glass to indicate that she wants the floor.

And Shane groans. ‘Oh shit.’

Layla stands and raises her hand. ‘Well, normally, the sister of the groom never speaks, but I just have to repay the favor my brother paid during my wedding when he stood up and gave some friendly advice to my husband.’

She looks sideways at her brother and then proceeds to tell everybody two of Shane’s most embarrassing alcohol-soaked stories.

One involves him getting so drunk when he was sixteen, he ended up losing his keys, climbing up the drainpipes and jumping in through his upstairs bedroom window, only to find that he was in the next door neighbor’s bedroom.

‘The widow was glowing the next day,’ she says to whistles, catcalls, and a thunderous applause of approval.

Layla then suggests that I sew our front door keys to his clothes.

The other story also involves a younger Shane getting so drunk that he falls into a patch of rosebushes and gets scratched to bits. He goes home and carefully applies plasters all over his face and falls into bed. In the morning, their mother finds about ten plasters in the shape of his face on the mirror. The crowd roars with laughter and Layla advises me to plant thornless roses in my garden.

And with that, she ends with the words, ‘Jokes aside, you’re both so incredibly lucky. At the end of this ceremony, Shane, you get to go home with a wife who is warm, caring, beguiling, and who radiates beauty and grace from every pore. And, Snow, you will go home tonight having gained a lovely dress and a gorgeous ring.’

That brings a smile even to Shane’s sour lips.

Afterwards, Robbie Williams’
She’s The One
comes on, and Shane takes me by the hand and leads me to the dance floor.

‘Do you know what I love most of you?’ he whispers.

I shake my head.

‘Your lips.’

‘So soft and delicious. I once dreamed of licking them.’

As we whirl and dip, I feel as if I am floating on air. There’ll never be another day like this. Never.

And then suddenly the disco lights come on and bangra music starts, professional dancers fill the floor, and Shane lifts his hands and starts doing the bangra! I cover my cheeks with my hands and laugh. My goodness! He really doesn’t do things by half. And then I join in as well. Layla, BJ, Jake, Lily, Liliana, Dom and Ella all hit the floor. And all of them have some ‘moves’ they have learnt.

My heart feels as if it will burst with joy at this beautiful, beautiful family I have fallen into. All those years when I yearned to be in a happy family are suddenly here. Shane catches me in a totally non-bangra move and, laughing, I realize there’ll be many days like this. Many more.

Forty-two

SNOW

Christmas Eve

I
hear the key in the door and I run to it. Standing on tiptoes, ‘I,’ I say, and kiss his forehead, ‘love’ I say, and kiss his nose, ‘you,’ I say, and I kiss his right eye, ‘Shane,’ I say, and kiss his left eye, ‘Eden,’ I say and kiss his lips. It was meant to be a peck, but he deepens it and kisses me passionately. I pull away and look at him in surprise.

‘Is that the I-want-to-take-you-to-bed kiss?’ I ask with a smile.

‘It wasn’t a bedroom kiss. I have something for you,’ he says very seriously.

My eyebrows rise. ‘What is it?’

He takes my hand and leads me to his study. He sits me down at his desk and opens his laptop screen. He turns the machine towards him and taps a few keys, then rotates it back to face me.

‘What is it?’ I ask curiously.

‘Your Christmas present,’ he says quietly, and walks out.

There is an arrow pointing to the left in the middle of the screen. I click on it and my eyes widen and my hands fly up to cover my open mouth.   

In a panic I hit the arrow, the video stops playing, and I close my eyes. My heart is pounding and my breath is coming out sharp and fast. For a few seconds I do nothing, just stare at the frozen screen.

The frame shows a man, his eyes horrified and his mouth open wide in a scream of white hot pain. He has been tied up to some kind of wooden contraption, and behind him a black man with the biggest penis I have ever seen in my life is sodomizing him. To their right there is another man standing by and watching impassively. My eyes return to the man screaming.
I recognize you.
He was not screaming then. He was laughing, taunting … lusty. ‘Give it to her, give the bitch some cock.’

To my surprise a smile comes to my lips.
Give the bitch some cock.

My hand moves seemingly of its own accord and my finger presses the arrow.

The images start moving. My smile stays, then widens cruelly.
Now you know what it feels like to be totally helpless.
 

I watch the coward slobber and scream and beg. Snot runs down into his mouth.

Tsk, tsk, even I didn’t cry like that.

When the black man is finished, the other man takes over. He doesn’t use his cock though. He uses a frighteningly big dildo. I peer closer. The dildo is studded. A mad giggle escapes my lips.

The man shakes his head and begs for mercy.
Well, well.

They untie him and make him sign a letter. I cannot see what he is putting his scribble to, but he signs it with a shaking hand.

Then they beat him so mercilessly I hear the sound of bone crunching.

Ah well, Karma. It’s a bitch.

I sit through another five little clips. Two of the faces I cannot remember, and that bothers me. Just imagine if I had been in a shop or some other public place and they had come in, I would have had no idea they were rapists. I would have spoken to the bastards normally. Why, they even looked like decent blokes. 

At the end there is a template copy of the letters all the men have signed.

Dear Friends and Family,

Last summer, five other sickening perverts and I met in London to gang rape a drugged, innocent nineteen-year old girl in a hotel room.

I am sending you this letter so you know the real me.

Yours sincerely,

Then the video cuts to the impassive man saying that the letter and a copy of the recording have been hand-delivered to the men’s families, and an email sent to every single person, even takeaway addresses on their phones and email list.

I close the screen and feel a strange sense of lightness. In this unfair, cruel world where the poor and the helpless always get trodden on, Shane found my justice for me. With a sigh of contentment I get up and go into the kitchen.

Shane is standing by the kitchen sink looking out of the window. When he hears me, he turns and looks at me. For a moment I do not recognize him. It is shocking that someone as beautiful as he is could ever be so cruel. I feel the same way I felt when I saw a lion killing a poor impala. How could such a beautiful beast do that? And then he smiles at me and I recognize him. He is
my
beautiful beast.

‘Are you OK?’ he asks.

I nod. ‘Thank you for the black roses,’ I say quietly.

‘It was a pleasure.’

I walk up to him. We are accomplices. We are now bonded by revenge and blood. ‘How did you find them?’

‘Lenny had the surveillance tapes the whole time.’

I gasp with the stab of pain. ‘I trusted him,’ I whisper.

‘I know, but you were so traumatized you would have believed anything.’

‘I’m a fucking bad judge of character, aren’t I? Again and again I trust scum,’ I say bitterly.

‘No, you’re not. You’re beautiful. If only the whole world would be as innocent and trusting as you, then it would be an unrecognizable, beautiful place.’

I look up at him. Sometimes I still can’t believe he is really mine. ‘Oh, Shane. You did all that for me. Have I ever told you you’re my hero?’

He grins. ‘A gypsy hero? Does such a beast even exist?’

‘Yes, it does. I caught one.’

He laughs. ‘Let’s have a drink. Let’s drink to those men’s poor wives and children.’

So we drink ourselves silly and then I say in a slurred, slutty voice, ‘I have a present for you too.’

And he grins. ‘Oh yeah?’

‘It’s in the bedroom. I’ll just go and get it.’

‘I’ll be waiting right here,’ he says, plumping the cushions behind him and settling down.

I go into the bedroom and quickly undress. Naked, I get into high heels and wrap a big red ribbon around myself and tie a huge bow at my waist. Then I walk out to the living room.

‘Here’s your present,’ I say.

And I swear I see forever in his eyes.

SHANE

Christmas Day

Liliana is sitting on my lap and telling me tales tall enough to make any full-blooded gypsy proud.

‘Santa came to my house, you know,’ she says importantly, ‘because I’ve been a very, very, very good girl.’ She drops her voice to a hoarse whisper. ‘I saw him.’

I keep my face straight. ‘You saw him?’

‘Yup.’ Her eyes are huge.

‘When?’

She fingers a bow on her dress. ‘Last night. I saw him eat two cookies and drink half of the milk that I put out for him.’

‘Wow,’ I say in an impressed voice. ‘Did he say anything to you?’

‘No,’ she says shaking her head vigorously. ‘I was hiding behind the door.’

‘Why didn’t you show yourself?’

‘I didn’t want to frighten him, Uncle Shane,’ she says as if that is the most obvious thing in the world.

‘Anyway,’ she carries on, ‘he left three presents. Two for me because I’ve been so good, and one for Laura because she’s just a little baby and babies just need milk.’

‘Right.’

She cups her hand over my ear and whispers, ‘Don’t tell anyone, Uncle Shane, but I woke up early and sneaked downstairs when everybody was still sleeping, and opened all my presents.’ She claps her hands. ‘And then I closed them all back.’

‘So you know exactly what you’ve got for Christmas?’ I ask, amazed that she actually did that. Even I never did something like that at her age.