“You’re doing what? Are you mad? Don’t you know that man’s reputation?”
“Of course I know, but I have my reasons to be there. Aunt Erica has been very good to me.”
“As far as I’m concerned, Karl Maddox is just as responsible as my father for breaking my mother’s heart. She’s in pieces because of the mess dad’s got himself into. I don’t know how she’s going to react when she finds out about you.”
Charlotte looked concerned as she took Matthew’s hand in hers. “Do you really think telling her about me is a good idea?”
“I think she has a right to know,” he said determinedly. “She’s away on a spa break at the moment, but she’ll be back in a couple of days. I’ll tell her then. Perhaps this will finally convince her to divorce him. She should have got rid of him years ago.”
The waitress came back to the table and picked up the two empty containers. “Do you want anything else?” she asked as she briskly ran a damp cloth over the plastic table top.
“No thanks,” Matthew said putting on his leather jacket which had been hanging on the back of his chair. He turned to face Charlotte. “I don’t know about you but I could do with a proper drink.”
“What a good idea,” Charlotte grinned. “I should just have enough time before I meet my grandmother for lunch.”
“Your grandmother? Is that Paula’s mother?”
“Yes. Her name’s Marion. She’s nice, you’d like her. Now, what about that drink?”
SEVENTY-SIX
“Thank you for the lunch, Marion,” Charlotte said as she ate the last of the carbonara on her plate. “I didn’t realise I was so hungry.”
“Glad you enjoyed it, dear. Would you like more wine?”
Without waiting for a response, Marion refilled her glass.
“So tell me, what have you been doing with yourself this week?”
“Oh nothing much, just shopping. But I did meet someone earlier today.”
“It all sounds very mysterious. Who did you meet?”
“Marion, if I tell you, you must promise not to tell Erica or Karl.”
“Charlotte, you’re not making sense. Who did you meet?”
“You remember the locket, the one in my mother’s case?”
“What about it?”
“There was a photograph of my father inside. I’ve found out who he is. His name is David Glendenning. He’s a policeman, and this morning I met my brother, Matthew.”
“Your brother? Charlotte, I don’t understand.”
“Matthew’s a policeman too. Marion, you wouldn’t believe how much I look like him, it’s uncanny. When I saw Matthew at the hospital the other day I just knew…”
For the next ten minutes Charlotte relayed to Marion her encounter with Matthew at the hospital and their subsequent meeting.
“You must stop this now,” Marion said sternly once Charlotte had finished speaking. “You’re opening up a very dangerous can of worms. No good will come of it, believe me.”
“But he’s my father. He has a right to know he has a daughter, surely you can see that? I need to meet him, to talk to him.”
“David thinks Paula had you adopted straight after you were born. He has a family of his own. He won’t want you spoiling all that. Please darling, for everyone’s sake, keep away from him.”
“It’s too late for that. Matthew’s going to confront him today and then tell his mother about me.”
“Oh Charlotte, what have you done? You don’t understand how dangerous this can be.”
Charlotte sipped the last of her wine.
“Matthew said he has treated his mother abominably over the years cheating on her with a string of other women. He thinks once she finds about me, she’ll divorce him.”
Charlotte stood up and began to put on her coat.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” she said picking up her handbag and removing a large brown envelope. “I’ve been through the suitcase you gave me. I’ve kept a couple of photographs and a bit of costume jewellery. These are photographs of you with Paula when she was young. I thought you might like to keep them.” She handed the envelope to Marion. “There are some old insurance documents and a few legal papers in there as well. They probably need to be thrown away.”
“Thank you, dear,” Marion said as she took the envelope from Charlotte and placed it in her own bag. “I’ll look through them and throw out anything I don’t want.”
“Well, I must be going. Erica will think I’ve left home.”
“Are you enjoying staying with her?”
“Erica’s lovely but I can barely look at Karl without wanting to scream abuse at him. Knowing what he did to my mother and how he is abusing Erica makes my blood boil. If there was a way to hurt him, Marion, I swear I would do it.”
“I really think you’d be better moving out of Karl’s house. He’s not a fool. If he suspects for one second who you really are…”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be careful,” she grinned. “I might be moving soon anyway.”
“Moving?”
“Yes, back to Ireland.”
“Are you going to stay with Liam’s family?”
“I’ve not decided anything definite yet Marion, but I might have a new boyfriend.”
“Not Rory?”
“No, definitely not Rory. I don’t ever want to see that man again.”
“Then who is he?”
“His name is Patrick Flynn and he’s a solicitor from Dublin.”
“Erica mentioned him. I didn’t realise you were together though.”
“We’re not together exactly. Well, not yet. We’ve been speaking on the phone every night and he’s coming over to England tomorrow. He’s staying at the Westbrook. That’s the hotel I stayed at before.”
“Well, I hope everything goes well,” Marion smiled. “But please remember what I said about your father. Stay away, Charlotte, for your own sake. Please stay away.”
SEVENTY-SEVEN
“No Charlotte this morning?” Karl enquired as he drank his coffee. “Don’t tell me she’s actually left already?”
“She’s gone to meet her friend,” Erica answered as she attempted to retrieve the poached haddock from the pan. “His name is Patrick and he’s come all the way from Dublin to see her.”
“I hope he’s not expecting a bed here.”
“Of course he isn’t. He’s booked into a hotel.”
“Is Charlotte staying with him tonight?”
“I wouldn’t think so, but that’s none of our business. Charlotte’s eighteen so she can do what she wants.”
“She’s pretty enough but, I don’t know what it is, there’s something about her that’s not quite right. I can’t put my finger on it but there is something.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Charlotte’s a lovely girl. She’s had a good upbringing. Mary saw to that.”
Karl merely shrugged. “Haven’t you caught that damned fish yet? I’ve got to leave soon. I’ve got a busy day.”
“There you are,” Erica smiled as she handed Karl the plate containing the elusive haddock. “Will you be home for dinner tonight?”
“No, in fact it might be the early hours before I get back so don’t wait up.”
“What’s happening? The club is usually quiet on a Tuesday.”
“I won’t be at the club. I’m looking at a new business venture.”
“Not another club?”
Karl tapped the side of his nose. “You’ll find out,” he grinned as he busied himself with his breakfast. “Now pour me another coffee, this one’s gone cold.”
When Karl arrived at the Emerald he was surprised to see Colin waiting for him in the office.
“Good morning, Karl,” Colin greeted nervously.
“You’re early. Is anything the matter?”
“I need to speak to you urgently.”
“You’d better sit down,” Karl invited. “Now what the hell’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong exactly,�
� Colin spluttered nervously. “Well, not really wrong. It’s just that I, well, Shirley and I to be exact, we’re… well we’re both thinking of retiring.”
“Retiring? What the fuck do you mean, retiring?”
“I’m turned sixty, Karl, and I want to retire. Me and Shirley were thinking of moving up to Scotland and setting up house there.”
“Scotland? Are you mad? Why Scotland?”
“It’s Shirley’s idea. She likes Scotland.”
“When has Shirley ever been to Scotland?”
“When she was a child she visited her grandma up there. She said it was wonderful and she always wanted to go back.”
“Take her on holiday for a week.”
“No, we’ve decided it’s time to retire. Shirley quite fancies getting a little flat in Edinburgh.”
“Who’s going to look after the books if you go swanning around in Scotland? That twerp Barry that you’ve got working for you is bloody useless.”
“Barry’s not so bad. He just made a silly error the other night but I’ve shown him where he went wrong and…”
“No, you can’t retire, Colin, it’s out of the question. I need you here.”
“I’m sorry, Karl,” Colin said sharply as he removed his glasses and began polishing them furiously with the edge of his jumper, “but I’ve decided I’m leaving and you can’t stop me.”
“You ungrateful little bastard,” Karl screeched. “After all I’ve done for you. I was the one that gave you a job when nobody else would, remember? And this is how you repay me?”
“I’ll always be grateful for what you did for me, but that was twenty years ago. I’ve earned my keep over the years. You’re only paying a quarter of the tax that you should be paying. I think that makes us even, don’t you?”
Karl was silent for a moment, his anger steadily rising. “Alright,” he said at last. “I can’t make you stay but I want you off the premises right now. Get out and take that slapper Shirley with you.”
Before Colin could respond, the telephone rang.
“Yeah?” he growled. “Oh Paul, it’s you. Just hold on a sec…”
He turned to face Colin. “Are you still here? I said get out and don’t come back.”
Hastily Colin went out of the office, banging the door noisily behind him.
“Sorry about that, Paul. What have you got for me?”
SEVENTY-EIGHT
Charlotte was in the foyer of the Westbrook Hotel scanning through a fashion magazine she had bought at the nearby kiosk. She checked her watch just as the familiar figure of Patrick Flynn came through the hotel’s revolving door.
“Patrick,” she squealed excitedly, rushing towards him with arms outstretched.
Patrick put down the suitcase he was carrying and picked her up in his arms, spinning her round. “Hello, Charlotte,” he grinned. “That was a grand welcome, so it was.”
“Oh, it’s lovely to see you.”
“Well, that’s good to hear,” he grinned. “I’ll just get checked in and then we can go for a coffee and a catch-up. Oh I forgot, you don’t drink coffee, do you?”
“Never mind that,” Charlotte said impatiently. “Hurry up, Patrick. I’ve got lots to tell you.”
Twenty minutes later they were sat in the hotel’s dining room, Patrick drinking a milky coffee and Charlotte her usual orange juice.
“So tell me,” he grinned, “how are you enjoying England?”
“It’s alright,” she said thoughtfully. “Erica’s been wonderful. I’m staying with her at the moment.”
“I thought you didn’t like her husband. Don’t tell me you’ve had a change of mind?”
“Karl is an evil man, believe me. I hate him for how he treats Erica and for other things he’s done, things you wouldn’t believe.”
“I’m sure Erica can stand up for herself,” he said lightly. “Father always spoke very highly of her.”
“No, you don’t understand. Erica can’t stand up to him at all. She’s terrified of him. He…”
“Slow down,” Patrick said gently. “Why don’t you start at the beginning and tell me exactly what’s been going on? Do you think you can do that?”
“I can’t tell you. If I do, you’ll hate me, just like Rory did.”
“Of course I won’t hate you. I could never hate you. Now, take a deep breath and start at the beginning, that’s a good girl.” Patrick reached out and took her hands in his. “Go on, Charlotte,” he encouraged. “I’m here now. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
Charlotte’s heart was pounding so fast she thought it might explode. Faltering at first, she told Patrick about what she had learnt about her mother, how Karl had killed her and why Erica had felt a responsibility towards her. She told him how Erica had accidentally killed her own abusive father when she was a child, and how Karl had blackmailed her into staying with him. She took the locket out of her bag and handed it to Patrick, explaining about her meeting with Matthew and what she had learnt about her father, David. When she finished, she looked at Patrick defiantly.
“Well,” she said at last, “that’s what I’ve discovered. It’s not a pretty story, is it, Patrick? I wouldn’t blame you if you…”
“Charlotte, Charlotte,” he said softly, gathering her in his arms and kissing her lightly on the cheek. “You poor girl. The sooner I get you away from these people the better.”
“I can’t leave, Patrick. Not until I settle the score with Karl Maddox.”
“Settle the score? What exactly do you propose to do?”
“I’d like to kill him. Shoot him or stab him or…”
“And end up spending the rest of your life in prison? Take my advice and walk away. It’s not worth it, believe me.”
“I can’t let him get away with what he’s done. I just can’t.”
Patrick was silent for a moment. “In my opinion,” he said, his tone suddenly becoming stern, “the only way you can hurt Maddox is through his business interests.”
“You mean through the clubs?”
“Yes, that seems to be where most of his money comes from. You damage those and you damage him.”
“What are you suggesting? He’s very clever, you know. All of the clubs are legal, at least on the surface.”
“Yes, but they are vulnerable.”
“I don’t understand what you mean.”
“You have family in Ireland, don’t you, on your father’s side?”
“I’ve got loads.”
“Then why don’t you ask for their help? Get a few of your uncles or cousins to come over to England on the ferry and burn down all three clubs. They could be on their way back to Ireland on the morning ferry.”
“Patrick, that’s a wonderful idea,” she said excitedly. “Actually, three of my cousins are working on the fairgrounds in Sheffield. I could give them a ring and ask for their help.”
“No, Charlotte, you can’t do that. You do know I was joking, don’t you?” Patrick sounded alarmed. “Arson is a serious offence. You can get sent to prison for a long time.”
“Only if you get caught, and my cousins have never been caught causing mischief. Anyway, nobody actually lives on the premises so if fires were set late at night the clubs would be empty. The only thing to get hurt would be Karl’s pockets.”
Patrick was silent for a moment. “You’re determined to go through with this, aren’t you?”
“Yes. Karl deserves it, after all the bad things he’s done. I’ll give my cousins a ring right now.”
“You’ll have to be far away from here when it happens. Why not come back to Ireland with me?”
“Ireland? I don’t know, Patrick. It’s a big step and…”
Suddenly Patrick was holding her in his arms and kissing her gently on the lips. “I’ve wanted to do that since the first time I saw you,” he whispered. “Come back with me, Charlotte. Let me take care of you, darling. Oh and I think I should warn you, I don’t believe in long engagements.”
SEVENTY-NINE
Guido Rosso was a handsome man of Mediterranean appearance. In his late thirties he could easily be taken for ten years younger. Guido was just short of six foot with a lean but muscular physique. He spoke perfect English, slightly laced with an Italian accent, which he knew women found sexy.
Guido gave a contented sigh as he nibbled on the black olives and sipped the last of the Nero d’ Avola from his glass. Life was good, he contemplated, not for the first time that evening. With two successful restaurants and a beautiful, attentive mistress waiting at his apartment life indeed was very good.
It was just after midnight. He regarded this as the best part of the day. Guido’s Italian Ristorante had closed at eleven o’clock with customers having left happy and satisfied. The staff had cleared away and gone home, leaving him alone to enjoy a glass of his favourite wine in the quiet stillness.
He was deciding whether to have a second glass of wine when he heard a faint humming noise coming from the direction of the kitchen. He listened intently, trying to identify what it could be. Getting up from his chair, he walked over to the doors leading into the kitchen.
The kitchen was illuminated by night lights. They emitted a dull glow, enough to find your way around but not bright enough to work by. Frowning, Guido stood at the door and surveyed the room. It was the light at the far side of the kitchen that caught his attention. Yes, it was definitely the deep fat fryer that was still operating he realised. Angrily, he strode down the line of kitchen appliances until he reached the large fryer. “That bloody Mario,” he spat as he reached for the switch to turn off the machine.
Without warning, he felt a heavy blow to the side of his head and he instantly fell to the ground. Dizzy and disorientated, he attempted to get to his feet. There was a punch to his ribs, no, not a punch he realised, it was a kick. This was followed by another and another.
“Please,” he pleaded, attempting to get to his knees. “I have money. I give you money.”
Bad Blood Rising Page 24
