“That’s just it. They won’t know anything about it. There’s a public car park directly behind the street so punters would come in the back way. It’s secluded with a high-walled yard and a solid wooden gate. Trust me, mate, it’s perfect.”
“The rent must be high, a lot more than Broughton Street.”
“I know the bloke who owns it. Let’s just say we came to an arrangement about the rent.”
“What about staffing it? We can’t have the street girls working in that house.”
“No, of course we can’t. You’re going to have to recruit some high quality girls.”
“Me? What do I know about recruiting high quality girls?”
“What about this Marion woman you were talking about? Does she have contacts?”
“I’ve no idea. I’ve arranged to meet her tomorrow with Aggie, I can ask her then. We’re going to need someone to run the house too, don’t forget. Have you got anyone in mind?”
“No, but that’s your job. That’s what I pay you for, to sort out personnel.”
“You make it sound like a proper job. We’ll be having board meetings next.”
Karl laughed, despite his irritation.
“So that’s settled,” Karl said a little more sternly. “You’re in charge of all recruiting and staffing. I’m concentrating on getting Danny’s shitty Pool Hall into shape.”
“It’s going to be stretching the finances a bit, isn’t it, boss? Danny’s place is going to need a complete overhaul, and Percival Terrace will probably need a refurb.”
“Don’t worry about that. It’ll be tight at first but nothing I can’t handle.”
“When does Danny move out?”
“He’ll be leaving next week. Things should be settled by then.”
“What about Erica? Will you be giving her a role in the club? She’d make a brilliant hostess and she could keep an eye on the girls. After all, they’ll all be new to us, don’t forget.”
“Not a bad idea. I’ll talk to her about it. I’m having an office there too, so it could work out quite well. Anyway, I’d better be off,” Karl said, putting on his overcoat. “I need to visit Aggie this morning to collect.”
“Why don’t you take her some flowers? She’ll be leaving us next week.”
“Flowers? For Aggie? Trouble with you, Joe, is you’re too soft.”
“She’d appreciate them,” Joe grinned. “She has worked for you for a long time.”
“Alright, I’ll take the old crow some flowers. Do you want me to get you anything before I go?”
“No, I’m fine, thanks. I’ll just wait for Victor.”
“Okay, I’ll see you later.”
As soon as Karl had left the flat, Joe walked over to the cabinet and poured himself a very large whisky. “Mission accomplished,” he smiled to himself.
FOURTEEN
Erica went into the port lounge and ordered a coffee. Twenty minutes later the coffee was still on the table, cold and untouched. Other travellers sitting on the hard, orange plastic chairs seemed resigned to the long wait ahead. After half an hour Erica went to the desk and enquired if there had been any progress.
“Nobody will be leaving for at least two hours,” said the same cheerful clerk she had spoken to earlier.
“Could I leave my case here whilst I go for a walk?” The thought of staying in the terminal for the next couple of hours seemed unbearable to her.
“Over there,” the clerk beamed, indicating a door marked ‘Left Luggage’. “Don’t be too long, dear,” she warned. “Remember, the fog can lift just as quickly as it came.”
Once outside the terminal, Erica delighted in breathing in the cold salty air and feeling the cool breeze on her face. She crossed the road and walked down a pretty terraced street directly across from the ferry terminal. Each house was painted a different pastel shade and most of them had hanging baskets beside their door. At the end of the street the skyline was dominated by the impressive stone-built Sacred Heart Church. A large notice board boasted its existence since 1801. To her relief, Erica found the church unlocked.
It had been a long time since she had seen the inside of a church. When she was a child she had attended with her parents and sister every Sunday. Church was somewhere she had always felt safe and at peace. Inside she inhaled the familiar aroma of incense and candle wax. The icons and stained glass windows gave her a feeling of comfort and tranquillity.
Erica sat on a wooden pew near the back of the building and bowed her head. She had intended to have a few minutes of quiet prayer but her thoughts were of her sister. Erica had tried not to dwell on what had happened to Mary, but being in the church did strange things to the mind and she found herself transported back seven years. Their mother had died from cancer the previous year, and she and Mary lived at the house with their father Tom. He was the deputy headmaster at the local primary school.
Mary had been almost sixteen, three years older than Erica. She could still remember Mary’s excitement when she first told her about meeting Liam. Liam had been working on the dodgem cars at the local fair. He was eighteen, and according to Mary, was gorgeous with the cutest Irish accent. Mary had made her promise not to tell their father about him and, of course, Erica had agreed. When the fair moved on a few weeks later, Liam had stayed behind to be with Mary and had got a job labouring for a local builder.
It was a couple of weeks after this when Erica’s world came crashing down. She remembered the weather had been very hot and humid, and she had found it difficult to sleep. The hall clock had chimed three when she heard noises coming from Mary’s room next door. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Erica had quietly got out of bed and gone onto the landing.
Mary’s bedroom door was slightly ajar. The room was illuminated by the street light and Erica could see her naked father lying on top of her sister. Mary was crying softly as her father’s body moved up and down, slowly at first, and then more quickly. After a few minutes there was a strange grunting sound and he suddenly stopped, climbed off the bed and picked up his dressing gown from the floor.
“Shut up with that wailing,” he hissed as he made his way onto the landing. Quickly Erica went into her own room and closed the door shut. She remembered standing behind her bedroom door, trembling with fear at what she had witnessed. She could hear her sister’s muffled sobs, but had been too frightened to go to her. The next morning Mary had been her usual cheery self and Erica had wondered if she had imagined the horrors of the night before.
“I saw what he did last night,” she blurted as they walked home from school that afternoon. “You should tell somebody, Mary. Let’s go to the police and…”
“No!” Mary had shrieked. “Please, Erica, don’t tell anyone. You must promise.”
“But Mary, what he did was wrong. He…”
“What will happen to us if he goes to jail? Have you thought of that?”
“I don’t care. You can’t let him get away with it. What if he tries to do it again?”
“Again? Erica, you don’t think that was the first time, do you?” Tears began to run down Mary’s cheeks. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. You must promise you won’t tell anyone. Promise me, Erica.”
Reluctantly, Erica had agreed not to report her father but she vowed not to let him anywhere near her sister again. She had moved her own bed into Mary’s room, claiming that her bedroom was too draughty.
Shortly afterwards, Mary had had her sixteenth birthday. Their father agreed she could have a small party at the house whilst he was in the pub. It was that night Erica tasted wine for the first time. It was also the first time she had seen Liam. Mary hadn’t exaggerated his good looks and Irish charm.
Perhaps it was the wine she had drunk, but it was mid-morning before she had woken. Rubbing her eyes, she had run out onto the landing shouting for Mary but the house had been empty. It was then she had seen the white envelope propped up on the dressing table. Mary had gone away with Liam.
It had been nearl
y a month before Sally, one of Mary’s closest friends, had stopped her in the school corridor and handed her a letter.
“Mary wrote to me and asked me to give you this,” she said, awkwardly handing over the letter. “I hope she’s okay.”
Erica had frantically torn at the envelope and read the contents half a dozen times. Mary was in Ireland with Liam. They were living with his sister but they were both working and should have somewhere of their own to live very soon. She had promised to write again in a few weeks.
“Are you alright, dear?” said a kindly voice. “Is there anything I can do?”
Erica looked up to see an elderly woman sitting beside her on the pew, a look of concern on her weathered face. Erica realised she was sobbing and her whole body was trembling.
“I’m fine,” she said, smiling weakly, trying to regain her composure. “Just a little upset, that’s all.”
The woman gave an understanding nod and patted her arm comfortingly. “Well if you need to talk, dear,” she said, “God is always there to listen.”
After a few minutes Erica walked towards the doors of the church, leading onto the street. To the right she saw the confessional box, the green light indicating the priest’s presence. Hesitantly, Erica entered the cubicle. Facing her was the familiar grill separating her from the priest.
“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” she began. “It’s been several years since my last confession…”
FIFTEEN
It was almost four o’clock in the afternoon when Erica finally got back to England. Joe was waiting for her in the terminal and she was shocked to see his face swollen and bruised. Standing beside Joe was a big, heavy set man with a shaved head and a broad smile.
“Erica!” Joe greeted, walking towards her. “How was your journey?”
“Never mind my journey. What the hell’s happened to you? You look awful.”
“Nothing serious,” Joe smiled, taking Erica’s small case. “It looks worse than it is. By the way, you haven’t met Victor. Victor, this is Erica, Karl’s wife.”
Victor gave a mock bow and took Erica’s hand, kissing it lightly.
“Very nice to meet you,” he beamed, showing his extremely white teeth. “Mr Karl is missing you very much.”
Perplexed, Erica looked at Joe.
“Victor is working for Karl. He’s going to be helping out at the club.”
“What club?”
“Karl will tell you all about it. A lot has been happening since you went away.”
“I’ve only been gone three days. What’s this about a club?”
Joe grinned as he opened the rear door of the car for Erica. “Victor’s driving,” he said, as he climbed into the front passenger seat. “I’m still a bit sore.”
“Joe, please tell me what’s been going on.”
“Karl will explain everything when you get home, so please, no more questions.”
Victor was a fast driver and they arrived at Karl’s flat in just over an hour. Joe removed the suitcase from the boot and he and Erica walked into the flat.
“Right, boss,” Joe said cheerily. “One wife safely delivered. I’m off to Cedar Road now with Victor.”
“Thanks, Joe. See you tomorrow.”
Karl was in the lounge in his bathrobe. Erica went to her husband and kissed him lightly on the cheek.
“At last,” he greeted, grabbing her tightly around the waist. “I thought I was going to have to drag you back myself.”
“It was the bad weather, Karl, I told you that,” Erica said defensively. “The ferry was delayed because of the fog.”
“Well, never mind, you’re here now, that’s all that matters.”
“Karl, what’s this Joe mentioned about a club?”
“Business,” Karl said abruptly. “I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow. Now hurry up, you need to put your glad rags on. We’re going out to dinner with Danny and his boyfriend.”
“Do we have to?” Erica sighed. “I’m exhausted. I thought we could have a quiet night in.”
“I said we’re going out,” Karl said sharply, turning to face his wife. “It’s all arranged. Hurry up and get showered. I’ve put the dress I want you to wear out on the bed.”
Reluctantly Erica made her way into the bedroom. She stared in disbelief at the dress Karl had selected. It was a pretty pale blue shift dress in a soft silky fabric with a matching bolero jacket, perfect for a warm summer’s evening but much too flimsy for a bitterly cold November night. She suspected he had chosen the dress purposefully to punish her for going to see Mary. She quickly showered and applied her make-up, and, fastening her hair into an attractive top-knot, slipped into the dress.
“There’s a drink waiting for you so hurry up, we’re leaving in half-an-hour,” Karl shouted through to the bedroom.
Quickly Erica put on the small silky jacket and went into the lounge.
“You look lovely,” he smiled, handing her a gin and tonic. “You’ll be the prettiest girl there.”
“Where exactly are we eating?” Erica asked as she sipped the drink Karl handed to her.
“There’s a new curry house opened up on the precinct. Danny wants to give it a try.”
“Sounds lovely,” Erica smiled unconvincingly. She hated curry and Karl knew it. Whatever silly games he was playing, Erica was determined not to rise to the bait. After all, she had had the last laugh. Karl just didn’t know it yet.
SIXTEEN
Joe arrived at Broughton Street just after nine the following morning in the company of Victor. Aggie was looking even frailer than when he had seen her a couple of days earlier.
“Morning, Aggie,” he greeted pleasantly as he entered the lounge. “Is the kettle on?”
Aggie looked concerned when she saw Joe’s bruised face but she said nothing. Instead she handed him the takings from the previous day.
“You’ll never guess what,” she said, positively beaming. “When Karl came here yesterday morning to collect he actually brought me some flowers. Can you believe it? Maybe I’ve misjudged him all these years.”
“Maybe you have,” Joe grinned. “By the way, Marion will be coming this morning to meet you. I thought you could show her the ropes.” Joe plumped up the cushions on one of the armchairs before sitting down.
Aggie merely shrugged and stared at the newcomer. “And who’s this?”
Before Joe could respond, Victor took a step towards Aggie.
“Hello,” he smiled. “I’m Victor. It’s very nice to meet you.” Victor gave his customary mock bow but made no attempt to kiss Aggie’s hand.
“Victor is going to be working for Karl,” Joe explained. “He’ll probably be coming here to collect in future.”
“Nice to meet you,” she said unconvincingly.
There was a sharp rap on the front door.
“I’ll get it,” Joe said, making his way into the hallway. “Ah, Marion, glad you could make it. Please come in.”
Marion Watson was in her early forties, tall and slim with shoulder-length auburn hair. She was wearing a grey tailored skirt and jacket with a lemon blouse and black court shoes. Marion would have been attractive but for the left side of her face which was a mottled purple colour. At first sight it looked like a birthmark, but on closer examination you could see that the skin had been burnt with acid. The disfigurement extended along her chin and down the left side of her neck.
“Nice to see you again, Joe,” she smiled, holding out her hand.
Joe shook it and escorted her into the lounge.
“Please take a seat, Marion. Aggie’s just making tea.”
Marion sat elegantly on the couch, crossing her long, shapely legs.
“This is Victor. He’ll be collecting every couple of days from the house.”
“Nice to meet you,” Victor smiled. Again the mock bow but this time he did reach for her hand and kiss it lightly.
Before Marion could respond, Aggie came into the room carrying a tray with four cups.
&nb
sp; “Aggie, this is Marion,” Joe said.
Aggie looked at the woman and nodded by way of acknowledgement.
“Who wants sugar?” she asked.
Only Victor responded positively. For ten minutes the four of them chatted pleasantly. Joe was surprised to find that Victor had a very dry sense of humour and he began to warm towards him.
“Well, we’d better be off,” Joe said, finishing his tea. “We’ll leave you two ladies to sort things out.”
“I will see you very soon, Marion,” Victor said rather stiffly. “Goodbye, Miss Aggie and good luck if I don’t see you again before you leave us.”
Both women smiled as Joe and Victor left the house.
“He seems a nice bloke,” Aggie said when they had left. “He must be a friend of Karl’s.”
“I haven’t met Karl yet. What’s he like?”
Aggie shrugged her bony shoulders. “Karl’s Karl. He’s always been alright with me, but I wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of him.”
“You mean he’s violent?”
“He can be. I’ve heard he’s given a couple of the girls a good slapping in the past, but they probably deserved it.”
“Is he married?”
“Yes. He’s married to a very nice girl called Erica. She’s much younger than him, of course.”
“Was Erica a working girl?”
“Oh no, not Erica. She came from a good home, so I heard. But someone said her father had been murdered a few years back and the poor little mite had been put into care. That’s when she met Karl.”
“Do they have any kids?”
“Kids? Karl? Don’t make me laugh. He won’t have anything to do with kids. He insists that girls who work for him don’t have any either. That’s one of his rules.”
“Why’s that?”
“I don’t really know, it’s just the way it is. He thinks they are too tying. I think he gets kids mixed up with dogs sometimes.”
Both women laughed.
“Does Karl ever come to the house personally, or just send one of his men?”
Bad Blood Rising Page 5
