by Anna Smith
*
‘Jesus, Cal.’ His mum made a gesture, fanning the air. ‘If you put any more of that aftershave on you’re going to have to carry a government health warning. Did you take a bath in the stuff?’
Cal grinned. ‘I’m going on a date, Ma. Taking a girl to dinner then the movies. It’s important that I smell good.’
‘Well, you’ll be putting her off her dinner if you don’t let that calm down a bit.’
Cal gave her a worried look as he headed for the door.
‘Seriously though, Ma. I’ve not overdone it, have I?’
He was pleased when she smiled and shook her head.
‘Go on. You’re fine. Your good looks will get you away with it.’
‘And my charm.’ Cal winked.
It was a long time since he’d seen his ma so happy and carefree. Even though she was always worried about Jenny, who was still in rehab, at least she knew where she was. She wasn’t happy that he’d told her he had ditched his plans to go back to school next year and study for university. He knew she was disappointed, but most of all she was afraid he’d become too impressed with everything the Caseys had. But he’d told her not to worry. All he was doing was washing cars, and maybe he’d get another, better job with them in due course. And anyway, she was also working for them, and the new house and her job had lifted her out of the depression. All he had seen in the past three or four years was his mother sinking further into debt and despair. Now she looked younger and so much happier. Kerry had got Jack to give her a job in the bookies where she worked five days a week. Maria’d told him she was surprised at how quickly she’d picked up the business, but she’d always been good with figures, and this new job was really stretching her. She loved it. Even if she was working for the Caseys, Cal thought, who cares. They’re gangsters, and everything they do is dodgy, but if you really wanted to strip down most of the business out there, then they were all the same. Nobody was squeaky clean these days. Cal’s view was more and more confirmed as he saw how easy he took to robbing Dolan last week. And the way he saw Tahir dealing with the Turk earlier. You could get yourself killed with people like that if you weren’t careful. But Cal was beginning to believe he had the measure of a lot of these guys. And here he was, heading out like a gent, a pocket full of money, and a date with a beautiful girl. His stomach was doing some butterfly flips at the thought of seeing her.
*
Cal was surprised to see how well Tahir looked in his leather bomber jacket, black jeans and pale blue shirt. His hair was gelled back and his dark eyes shone with anticipation and excitement.
‘You scrub up well,’ he said, giving Tahir a playful punch.
Tahir looked a little confused, then he seemed to get the dig.
‘New jacket and jeans, man. Like my boots? Thank you, Mr Dolan.’
‘Sssh. Don’t ever mention that name.’ Cal looked in the distance and he could see the girls coming. ‘Here they come. Now be on your best behaviour. They’re nice girls. You been out with many Glasgow girls?’
Tahir laughed. ‘Me? You kidding? I’ve not even been out anywhere! Most I’ve done is go to work, go for a burger with you, and go home.’
‘Well, this is your big chance. Yours is the redhead, Liz.’
‘Wow! She’s beautiful. What if she doesn’t like me?’
‘She’ll be crazy about you. Look at the nick of you. You’re like something out of a boy band.’
Tahir laughed, his striking white teeth lighting up his face. ‘I’m nervous.’
‘Me too,’ Cal confessed. ‘But let’s do this. It’ll be fine.’
*
It was only four hours later that Cal walked home with Mary, but it felt like they’d been in each other’s company for days. He knew Tahir was walking with Liz a little further back as the girls lived in the same street and they were walking them to the bus stop. As they walked, their hands bumped together and Cal took the opportunity to take her hand in his, and she didn’t resist. He could feel his heart skip a little. In the cinema earlier they had watched the picture eating popcorn and drinking cola, their knees almost touching. He was dying to put his arm around her shoulder but was too terrified in case she told him to get lost. So this was actually it now. They were holding hands. He wondered if Tahir was doing the same, watching him. They got to the bus stop, chatting and laughing, Cal telling stories about some of the lads at school and the camping trip they’d been on a couple of years ago, which he hated like hell, and twice tried to escape.
‘Why did you want to run away, Cal? Did you want your mammy?’ Mary prodded him.
‘Actually, aye. I probably did. I’m dead close to her. You know all that shit with our Jenny and stuff. Ma’s really had a hard time. I try to look after her as much as I can.’
She smiled up to him.
‘You’re all right, you are, Cal Ahern. You’re not the worst of them around here.’
‘I hope not.’
They were standing against the wall across from the bus shelter, and Cal could feel the heat between the two of them, the chill of the evening air on his face, their breath steaming. She was looking up at him, her soft red lips a little open, her thick blonde hair tumbling onto her shoulders. She was beautiful.
‘Mary. You’re all right too,’ he whispered, leaning closer.
Their lips were almost touching, and Cal wished the exhilarating feeling could go on for ever. He had to get this kiss right. He let his lips brush hers and it was like an explosion going off in his head. He could feel his temples pulsating, and her breath on his. Then he kissed her, a long, soft, slow kiss, and he moved a little closer to her so that their bodies were touching. He found himself reaching for her hair, and feeling the softness of it. As she kissed him back eagerly, he felt the touch of her tongue on his lips and he returned his, moving closer, feeling her body pressed against him. He could feel his own jeans bulging, and though he knew this was going no further, the unbelievable feeling that he was actually against her and she was pulling him close made him breathless. Then they came up for air.
‘Christ, Mary.’ He swallowed. ‘I thought I was going to die there!’ he joked, kissing her softly again, briefly on her cheeks, on her neck. ‘Can I see you again? I want this so much. Being with you like this.’ He gently pulled her close to him.
She responded with a soft groan and he thought he was going to explode with excitement.
‘I’d like that.’ She pulled back. ‘But my bus will be here in a moment, so we better stop this. Look, Cal, I’m not the kind of girl who goes jumping around with lots of guys. I mean, what you saw last week in that café? I’m ashamed about that. Really ashamed. I thought you’d never want to go out with me after that – after what they said.’
‘Don’t be silly. They were just arseholes. I don’t care about that. I care about you. That’s all. I really like you.’
He went into his jacket pocket. He knew this was risky, but he had his mind made up he was doing it anyway. But he didn’t want to offend her.
‘Listen, Mary. I know about the problems you have with money, your ma and stuff. I can help. I’ve got some money. I want you to take it.’
He felt her stiffen a little in his arms.
‘What? What do you mean? Pay me for going out with you? Christ, Cal!’
‘No, no! Please, don’t say that! Of course not! I told you that day I would help you and I will. Even if I never see you again after tonight. I want you to take this money and help your ma and the family.’
‘Where are you getting all the money?’
‘Never mind that.’
‘Are you dealing drugs or something? Because if you are then this stops here. I hate that shit.’
‘No. Not drugs. Look. It’s not a problem. Let’s call it robbing the rich, if you know what I mean. I can’t talk about it and I won’t, but the money is good. You just don’t say where it came from. And I’m not doing it so you will go out with me. You owe me nothing. I know what it’s like to be strugg
ling and have your ma upset. Believe me, I do.’
He reached into his jacket again and took out a wad of money. He knew there was four hundred pounds there. And plenty more back in Tahir’s bedroom.
‘Just take it.’
‘I can’t.’
‘You can.’ He pressed it into her hand, and put her hand into her bag. ‘Here’s your bus. Will you come out with me again? I really like you.’
She smiled, a little bewildered.
‘I think you might be a mad bastard, Cal Ahern. But I like you too. Phone me. Maybe we can go to the pictures again and for a meal. That was great tonight. I hope Tahir liked Liz. He’s dead handsome.’
‘He’s a good guy. Like me. We’re partners.’
‘Aye. Partners in crime, I’d say.’
He grinned. ‘But in a good way.’
He gave her one last long kiss as he heard the engine of the bus approach, and when they parted he could taste her even as he watched her get on the bus with her friend. They sat at the window, and he and Tahir watched until the bus went over the hill and disappeared.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Frankie was less than happy at the way the meeting had gone with Danny and Jack. He’d met with the pair of them at his request in the office at the main bookies, from where they ran the string of betting shops. It was really Danny’s territory, but Frankie didn’t want to rub any of them up the wrong way by suggesting they meet in a bar or restaurant, which was how he preferred things rather than sitting in an office. In any case, he didn’t have a lot to say to them these days. He’d been frozen out in recent weeks and it was becoming more and more obvious to him that they didn’t want him at the centre of things. He didn’t have so much of a free hand since Kerry took over, and it irked him that she was constantly asking for updates on business and deals. But now that he had the damning pictures of her, he was pretty sure they’d see her for what she was. All that bull about going legit and wanting to be some sort of good gangster was such a crock of shit. She should have been told straight off that business wasn’t done that way. That kind of shit got noticed outside by their enemies, by the people like the Durkins and Hills, who would walk all over them if they saw weakness. And especially by Knuckles Boyle. But the pictures he had would do the trick. He knew Danny would be on the defensive, because Kerry was like his own daughter, and he adored her, could see no wrong in her, even though he must know that the decisions she was taking now could put them all out of the game. Jack, he’d noticed, was also too close to Kerry these days, and she seemed to consult him more than anyone. But Jack was pragmatic, and would see how the photographs told exactly what she was up to. So Frankie was surprised at their reaction when he put the pictures on the table in front of them. He saw that while they looked a little stunned, they didn’t say much. What were they playing at? Jack did say at one stage that he didn’t like it, but they had to handle it discreetly. Frankie had expected them to tell him they’d take it up immediately with Kerry; he’d wanted a result. But Danny told him to keep quiet about it and that he would look into it through his own contacts and deal with it. But what if she’s grassing us all up as we sit here on our hands? Frankie had asked. No response that gave him confidence. Danny said to leave it with him, thanked him for his good work and praised him for looking to the future of the firm. All bullshit. But there had been an iciness about the atmosphere – as though they suspected they were suddenly not on the same side. It niggled away at Frankie, but there was no way Danny or Jack or anyone else in the organisation could know for sure that it was him who was behind Mickey’s murder, and it was him who sanctioned Knuckles to send a message at the funeral. He felt he was watertight on that. Knuckles had assured him that nobody would ever know that Frankie had been stabbing the Caseys in the back for a long time now.
But Frankie was far from finished. He would keep tabs on Kerry quietly. He couldn’t track down his usual contact who had followed her the night she was with the cop, but he was keeping an eye on her. Kerry wasn’t out that much, apart from doing business and visiting various places, and always she was with the chauffeur. But he’d followed her himself twice in the past week, and was surprised to see her going to One Devonshire Gardens, the fancy hotel. Unless she was going for a bit of an afternoon shag with that copper, what was she doing there? Who was she meeting? So he followed her again today, keeping at a discreet distance as she went into the hotel. He’d waited in his car and watched from across the street. But she came in and out within an hour. He might have to do a little more detective work himself. But while he was working out his next move, Frankie struck gold.
‘Fuck me!’ he murmured under his breath as from the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a side door.
At first he only got a short glimpse of her, as she turned the other way, but it looked like the tall, slender figure of Sharon Potter. He did a double take. It was her – definitely. He strained his eyes, wishing he had a camera as he watched her stand there, gaze out to the car park, then light up a cigarette. Fuck. It really was her – no mistake. What the fuck was she doing here? He’d met her on four occasions – twice in Spain and twice in Manchester – in the past eighteen months. He’d noted that she was quite shaggable, knocking on a bit, but still worth a turn. He’d even considered it himself, but didn’t want to upset Knuckles’ applecart. So this was where Sharon was hiding all this time. And she was meeting with Kerry Casey! Christ! It was dynamite. It was too much of a coincidence for her to be there and for Kerry to happen to go into the same place. He knew Knuckles was tearing his hair out trying to find his bitch, as Sharon was key to a lot of his smuggling operations. But it seemed she’d vanished into thin air, after bumping off two of his men who were supposed to be getting rid of her. Frankie had to smile when he’d heard that one. Fair play to her for having the bollocks to take her assassins out and do a runner. But holed up here in Glasgow and meeting Kerry Casey, the head of the biggest gangster family in Scotland, was a different ball game. He lit a fag and watched as she went back inside. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do with this, but given the reception he’d had earlier with Danny and Jack, he’d keep this one to himself for the moment.
*
Kerry watched out of the window of the café in Woodlands Road as she waited for Vinny to arrive. She sipped an espresso, the strong taste and aroma taking her back to afternoons in pavement cafés in Spain, and breakfasts in the busy, family-owned café where she used to go to people-watch and listen to the chatter. Everyone seemed to go out for breakfast in Spain, cafés bustling in the morning, and she missed all that long after she’d left and gone to live in London. Her ultimate goal had always been to one day go back and live there. She shook her head at the notion of how things change. In her early teenage years she longed to be back in Glasgow, strolling up Buchanan Street or Sauchiehall Street, listening to the buskers, or meeting her friends from school in the evenings. Everything had smelled and tasted so different in Spain, and she was terribly homesick. Then as the years went by she became more and more accustomed to Spain being her home, where she was educated, fluent in Spanish, and even studying in Valencia for a while. London was huge and anonymous, and despite being the centre of the world to so many people, it had never appealed to her. After her relationship with Leo finished, these past months she had just been going through the motions, thinking of real change. She’d even considered going travelling, losing herself in a far-flung land for a while. Yet here she was, back in the West End, waiting in a café for some old schoolfriend she had a crush on. It made her smile as though she was a teenager again. She saw him at the window and he waved to her and opened the door. He was casually dressed in a polo shirt and pullover, a couple of days’ stubble on his handsome face. He leaned over and kissed her on the lips.
‘Kissing in public.’ She smiled. ‘It’ll be all over the papers next.’
‘Well, the photographs could be out there already.’
‘Don’t even say that, Vinny.’
‘So,’ he leaned over, putting his hand on hers, ‘great to see you, Kerry. You look lovely – in a Glasgow, London, kind of Spanish way.’
‘Oh, yeah,’ she joked. ‘And you’re kind of Mediterranean yourself with that unshaven look. Do they allow that at Pitt Street?’
‘They pretty much allow me to do anything, as long as I deliver.’ He looked sure of himself. ‘Mind you, that doesn’t please everyone in the department. A couple of guys would gladly stab me in the back if they got the chance. But they’d better make sure I’m dead if they do. Because if I get up again . . . well, you know how it is.’
‘Aye. Proper hard-man you are.’
The coffee arrived and he took a sip, sitting back and stretching out his long legs.
‘So, Vinny. I want to talk to you. As I said the other day. About helping each other.’
‘Definitely. I want to do that.’
‘Knuckles Boyle,’ Kerry said. ‘You know – the headcase down in Manchester.’
‘Too well. A psycho.’
‘I can help you put him away.’
His face showed nothing. ‘Go on. I’m all ears.’
‘I can put your guys right on the spot when his next shipment comes in. Cocaine. A container load. It’s in two days though, so you’d have to get your skates on.’
He said nothing for a moment, looked at her long and hard. Kerry wondered if he believed her, and studied his face for clues to what he was thinking.
‘You can do that? How?’
‘I know where and when. He’ll be there to see it in.’
‘Where’s it coming from?’
Kerry shrugged. ‘Abroad?’
He smiled. ‘Come on, Kerry. It all comes from abroad – Spain? Amsterdam? Further?’
‘Europe. Look, I don’t want to say too much right now. But are you into this?’
‘Is the Pope a Catholic? But what’s in it for you? Well, apart from the obvious revenge for the murder of your brother. It was Boyle’s mob who was behind that. And the funeral hit. I’m sure you know that.’
