The Story of Me (Carnage #2)(138)

How nurse Jen and her team didn’t strangle or inject him with something that would stop his mouth from working, I will never know.

We were told in the beginning that Cam would require a two to three week hospital stay. He discharged himself on day eight and I brought him home in the hope that being at home would improve his temperament. It didn’t. Nothing was right. He wanted to drink bourbon, but I knew that would be dangerous with all the meds he was taking. He wanted sex, but the doctor had recommended abstaining for a couple of weeks. He didn’t like any of the dinners I cooked him, and he complained constantly of being bored. In the end, I shagged his brains out and he slept for a solid nine hours afterwards.

We employed a nurse to come in and change his dressing and check all of his vitals twice a day. So, two weeks after the shooting when I came home from a trip to the supermarket with Harry, after leaving Cam in the care of the nurse, and found the house empty with only a note telling me he had popped to the club to sort out some business, I finally lost it. Really lost it. I threw a chair across the room, swiped the kettle and all of my storage jars containing tea, sugar and biscuits off the bench top, and went for the fruit bowl next. I only stopped then because H, who was still strapped into his car seat, which I had sat on the kitchen table, began to cry after the big ceramic fruit bowl my mum had bought us in Portugal crashed to the tiled floor and made him jump.

I calmed myself down and marched back out to my car, strapped Harry in and headed to the club, dodging the photographers who’d been camped at my gates for the past two weeks.



*



The place was in total darkness apart from the emergency lighting when I arrived and my heart rate increased as I put Harry’s car seat down and pulled my phone out of my back pocket to call Cam. Without warning, all of the stage lights came on and I stood and stared as music started to play. My dad and all of my brothers stood in a line on the stage behind Cam. As I looked around the room, I spotted my mum and the rest of my family and a few members of the clean-up crew and daytime staff from the club.

If my mouth wasn’t hanging open previous to that moment, it certainly was when Cam started singing “Ain’t too proud to beg” by The Temptations, with my dad and brothers all joining in perfectly with their backup harmonies.

Cam has a terrible voice. I was married to one of the best singer/songwriters England had ever produced, neither of which had deterred him from getting up on that stage and letting everyone know his feelings. All of which made me love him to the point where I felt like my heart was about to burst. Instead of my heart bursting though, it was me, who burst, into tears. I stood in the middle of the club and felt totally overwhelmed and exhausted by the events of the last few weeks, and not knowing what else to do, I just stood and cried.

I felt Cam’s big strong arm wrap around me as he kissed my hair and my head, then my neck and my cheek. I tried not to squeeze him to me too tightly, in case I hurt his arm.

“I love the f*ck out of you, Kitten. I’m so sorry for being such hard work these last few weeks.” He cupped the side of my face in his big hand and wiped away my tears with his thumb. “I’ll never be able to thank you enough for what you’ve done for me and Harry.” His lips trembled as he talked. “I don’t know how you feel about this, but I’ve spoken to Eli, and if you’re up for it, I’d like you to adopt Harry as your own.” I break out into an ugly snot-bubble cry and all I can do is nod my head. A tear runs down Cam’s cheek. “As soon as I get this thing off my arm, I want us to get married, then when the babies come, I’m locking the gates and the front door and shutting the rest of the world out. I’m gonna stay home each and every day and do nothing but love the f*ck out of you and our kids.”

He then had me, my mum and my sisters-in-law all whisked away for a pamper day, later having me delivered to the Mandarin Hotel, where he was waiting to spoil me some more for the night while my mum went home and looked after H.

We didn’t actually end up getting married until June of 2003. Ash and Jimmie had insisted they be able to drink at my hens do and our wedding, which of course meant waiting until after the babies were born.



*



Determined not to be the youngest member of our family, George Francis King arrived two weeks early, on Valentine’s Day, weighing in at a healthy and eye watering eight pounds and nine ounces.

I was stunned when he was put into my arms as the doctors attended to my beautiful and selfless best friend, Jimmie. When Beau was born with his dark hair, I was absolutely positive he was the image of Sean, but looking down at George for that first time, was like looking at the image of Beau, so there must’ve been at least a little bit of me in both of my sons. I can’t begin to put into words the range of emotions that rushed through me in that moment. How conflicted I felt. How much love I felt for this new life I was holding in my arms, who was a part of me and Cam, and at the same time aching so badly for my husband and the children we had lost.

“He looks just like his big brother,” Cam said as he stroked George’s cheek with the back of his finger. I smiled through my tears.

“I think Harry’s more like you than George.”

He shook his head and took George from my arms. He kissed his forehead and looked at me. “I’m talking about Beau. The photos you have of Beau, George looks like the same baby.” All I could do was nod. He left me speechless. Cameron King, the man described in the papers as an East End bad boy, and his capacity for love left me completely speechless.