Faces

by Martina Cole

  ‘What have we done, son?’ She was shaking her head, and he noticed just how tiny she actually was.

  The noise outside had died down, and he assumed the Murrays had taken themselves off to the local hospital for treatment.

  He could hear his sister Annie crying, and after he had pushed a wardrobe against the front door, he calmed his mother down and hugged his sister to sleep. Then, taking the bloodied axe from his mother, he sat on the floor and waited for the next instalment of the drama that was suddenly his life. Jonjo came and sat beside him, the fear in his eyes almost tangible and Danny knew that if his father was to come home now, when he had finished with him, the Murrays’ wounds would look like they had been on a day trip with the WI. Six hundred lousy quid. Their lives had been destroyed over a poxy six large, and the man who had caused all this upset was, as always, nowhere to be seen. He had been left alone to protect his family while his father was on the trot, and he was terrified that he wasn’t strong enough to do the job. His mother was white-faced with fear and shock, and he knew that she would never get over the day’s events and, in all honesty, neither would he. His fourteenth birthday was only five days away and he wondered if he would live long enough to see it.

  The Murrays’ reception at the Cadogans’ spread like wildfire. Louie Stein shook his head in sadness and made a point of being seen going to the boy’s flat on a regular basis. He knew that his presence would be duly noted and passed onto the people involved. He had a certain kudos inasmuch as he was good friends with a lot of the Faces around and about. In fact he made a point of telling everyone he spoke to about the young man who worked for him having to take on the Murrays to protect his little sister and brother. The mother, he laughed, was a Face in her own right. Angelica the Axe Woman, as he called her, was soon part of urban legend. But the Murrays would eventually want some kind of revenge; that was only human nature. That they had not called in the police was not remarked on. After all, if they had, they would never have been able to hold their heads up again. It was tantamount to grassing, and the fact that the police had not come to investigate, even though the facts were common knowledge to all and sundry, spoke volumes as well.

  Even the Cadogans’ parish priest, Father Donovan, a huge surly man who saw his flock’s daily fight for survival as a personal affront, had made a point of visiting two or three times a day. His presence had been appreciated by Danny as well as his mother. It had given them the seal of approval, said they were the injured party and that brought a lot of people round to their way of thinking, seeing as the Murrays were Irish Catholics as well.

  But Danny was unable to relax, wondering constantly when the Murrays were going to arrive and exact some kind of revenge. He wouldn’t leave his mother and the kids alone, and when he was at work he made sure they were safe and surrounded by people. That was the easy bit. The hard bit was the waiting and, after two months, he knew that the time was near for a visit, and he accepted the inevitable.

  His father was still on the missing list, and Danny found his hatred and distaste for the man growing by the day. He was a big lad, but since working for Louie he had developed muscles that had not been there before. He was broadening by the day, his shoulders and chest had become more pronounced, and his hands were rough and calloused. He knew he looked much older than his years, and he made a point of dressing up. While his peers were wearing cheesecloth shirts and baggy flares, he dressed in shirts and tailored trousers. He was already looking like a gangster, and he knew it was a style that suited him. His build and his natural swagger were suddenly a familiar sight in Bethnal Green, and the eyes that never seemed to show any emotion made the girls swoon at his approach. He was a local hero, and he milked it for what it was worth. He knew that when the Murrays finally surfaced he would need all the help he could get, and he made a point of cultivating anyone he thought might be an ally. His natural cunning was all he had going for him, and he was lucky enough to have it in abundance.

  Angelica was still trying to locate her husband, and so far it had been a fruitless and frustrating two months. No one seemed to have seen or heard anything about him. To all intents and purposes he had dropped off the face of the earth. But she knew him better than anyone, and she was convinced he was shacked up with one of his birds, waiting it out, letting his family take the heat for him. Angelica had always known he was not the most trustworthy of men, but this latest stunt was out of order - even for him.

  She knew her daughter had been badly affected by that night. Annie had always been excitable, but the Murrays’ visit had unleashed a nervousness that was apparent to anyone within five minutes of being in her company. She was unable to sit still, and her chatter was constant and without any kind of structure. She could have three conversations at once, and her nervous laugh was enough to bring tears to her mother’s eyes. A daddy’s girl, she was the only person in his orbit he actually seemed to genuinely care about, and she believed her father was the greatest thing since the ascension into heaven of our Lord himself. It was painful to watch Annuncia pine for her father, and even harder for Angelica to stop herself giving the child the facts of life before she was ready to hear them. One day, Angelica knew, she would work him out all by herself; she didn’t need it spelled out for her - no matter how tempting her mother found it. The Murrays were enough for her young daughter to worry about, and worry about them she did.

  And what kind of men were the Murrays? Who in their right minds terrorised women and children? And anyway, what would their revenge be now, seeing they had come off the worst in their initial encounter with the Cadogans? It was Danny she was really afraid for, she knew he was likely to be the one targeted. She also knew that was exactly what he hoped would happen. He had taken to dressing like a thug, suited and booted now, he was earning a few quid, though determined not to pay his father’s debts for him, and assuming the role of head male in the household. A role Angelica was happy for him to fulfil, even though she knew it was wrong; that he was a child when all was said and done. But he was also the only thing keeping them from penury and the pavement. He had even paid off the back rent, and obtained items of furniture she had only dreamed of possessing. He was a good lad, a kind brother and son, and now she knew he was also a very capable boy. Big Dan Cadogan had left a void in their lives, and this youngster was trying to fill it, trying to take the onus off her and his siblings. Christ himself knew it was a hard road for him, and a harder road for her, his mother, because she was witness to it all, and she took whatever he managed to give her.

  Her Danny Boy, her first-born son, the love of her life, had skipped adolescence and commenced straight to adulthood. He had taken to walking home through the back roads, knowing that he would be an easy mark for anyone who wished to pick him up in a car, or savage him on the quiet. He wanted the reprisal over and done with so they could get on with their lives.

  The violence of her own part in the Murrays’ attack had shocked her. A fighter all her life, she had never before used a weapon; she had never had to. Her children’s safety had brought that part of her fighting spirit to the fore. She knew in her heart though that the Murrays would not, indeed could not, come back at her over it. That would not be tolerated, in fact, if she ever even got mugged, the finger of blame would be pointed firmly in their direction. They knew that as well as she did. Even their own mother, a heavy-set Yugoslavian woman with pink cheeks and a wrinkled neck, had voiced her displeasure over her sons’ actions. Mothers were out of bounds, as were kids, and it had taken her family’s trials and tribulations to get that point across to the Murrays. But, like her son, she would be relieved when the Murrays finally made a move; at least then they could get on with their lives.

  Danny was taking his tea break with Louie and, as they sat side by side on an old crate, they were both aware of the easy camaraderie that had developed between them. Danny was grateful to his employer for standing beside him, for making him feel there was at least a glimmer of light at the end of the tunn
el. He knew Louie was watching his back and, since no one had ever done that for him in his short life, the gratitude he felt was pitiful.

  The breakers’ yard now had a tidiness that was only apparent to those who actually worked there. Over the last two months Danny had systematically sorted through pile after pile of scrap metal, separating the copper, lead and iron into piles of their own. The cars, their main source of income, were everywhere, and the crushed remains of them were piled up like a huge metal wall. Once the carcasses were stripped of parts they were useless, and therefore disposed of quickly and cleanly in the huge crushing machine that Danny could now operate in his sleep.

  When the totters came in these days their scrap was easily disposed of and placed on to the appropriate pile, and anyone who wanted car parts was now able to go straight to whatever they wanted without half a day’s search. Louie was thrilled with what the boy had achieved. Even though the yard was really a blind for his other businesses, he was pleased at how much more efficient the place was now, thanks to this young lad’s hard graft. He had also taught the boy how to barter the totters for their scrap, and Danny had turned out to be a real natural. He had a feel for the place, knew instinctively what was worthless and what would make a few quid. He was not only as strong as an ox, but he was also shrewder than people realised. He was able to do a good deal while letting the other party think they had got the best of the bargain. In his game that was an important part of the job.

  Danny had even started to ferret out and salvage a lot of the stuff for himself. Louie paid him a finder’s fee, of course, and he saw the thrill that Danny got from making a few quid on the side. It was a necessity in their world, that need to make a good deal, make a few quid over the odds, even when you were rolling in it. The cars were a separate business altogether, but Danny was like most young fellows and loved anything with four wheels, he was even able to distinguish which make of car a part was from. Passing trade was often young men looking for an exhaust pipe or new gearbox for their car and, before Danny, Louie would have had to stand there and watch them while they searched, to make sure they didn’t half inch anything else while they were there. Now though, Danny would accompany them, chat to them about their needs and wants and, nine times out of ten, lay his large hands on the item in question within minutes.

  All in all, it was a much easier life for Louie, and the company was also welcome. He liked the boy, admired his work ethic, and the fact that he was keeping his family fed and housed without making a song and dance about it. In fact he never mentioned it, just got on with the job in hand, took his wedge, and turned up the next morning. He was all that any man could wish for in a son, and yet his father had left him without a word, even though he had to have heard what had gone down with the Murrays. After all, it had become the talk of the Smoke, even the Faces from north London had mentioned it to him.

  Still, he had done his bit for the lad, made his case with anyone and everyone he dealt with, and he was sure that the Murray boys wouldn’t want a repeat of their last outing with actual grown men. They were renowned for their scamming of people and, as long as they stuck to conning the likes of Big Dan Cadogan, they were safe enough. In the real world, however, the serious criminal world, they would be hard-pushed to get past Go, let alone collect two hundred or, in this case, six hundred. It was all relative anyway. Five quid was a lot of money if you didn’t have it.

  The fucking pair of shitters had asked for it and, for once, someone had given it to them. The fact that it was a young lad and his mother must gall them, but then such is life. A low profile and a rethink of their business practices would have been sufficient for most people after a debacle of that magnitude.

  Danny was the one people were siding with, because he was an innocent, just defending his family, and he hadn’t run away, he was still waiting for a meet of some sort to try and resolve the situation once and for all. The boy was a fucking dream, any man other than Big Dan would have been tempted out of hiding by the intimidation of his family. Danny’s old man was still AWOL though, and that was something no one would ever forgive, or forget. Especially not the young man sitting beside him.

  Svetlana Murray was as worried as her Irish counterpart. She knew that if everything went pear-shaped again, she could easily find herself on the receiving end of a similar attack. It was like the law; once a precedent had been set and accepted into common usage, it could easily become the norm. Women and children were off-limits where violence or debt collection was concerned, and her sons had transgressed that particular unwritten law and made to pay the consequences of their actions. They were being cold-shouldered, and they knew they were. Even so-called friends were suddenly blanking them. It seemed that the boys had gone too far this time and public opinion was that they had crossed the line. Well, they had paid a terrible price for that, they were scarred for life. Her younger son had taken the brunt of the boiling water and she was sure it was only his hate that was keeping him on his feet. Walter, she knew, was willing to swallow his knob and let it go. It was Wilfred who seemed unable to let the matter drop. Like a lot of short men, his father included, he was forever trying to prove himself, and her warnings about the public sympathy the Cadogans were receiving seemed to be falling on deaf ears.

  It was the Irish in him, she could only use that as an explanation for her younger son’s absolute denial of any wrongdoing where the Cadogans were concerned. Walter had always been the peacemaker, even as a boy, whereas Wilfred had been the one to bear a grudge. Even as kids she had seen that trait in him; if they argued about something Wilfred would bide his time and, when he was ready and no one was expecting it, he would pay his brother back, more often than not with interest. Now though, his natural gift for holding a grudge could easily become the whole family’s downfall, and she was not about to let that happen. She loved her boys but, like most people in their orbit, she didn’t actually like them.

  Michael Miles waited outside the scrapyard until it was dark. He was smoking the last of his Dunhills and he wished he had brought another pack out from their hiding place. As he stamped out the glowing butt, he heard his friend calling out his goodbyes and, fixing a smile on his face, he prepared himself for what he had decided to do.

  Danny saw him immediately and stopped in his tracks. Michael could see the anger in his friend’s face and tried to diffuse it by saying gaily, ‘What? Have we fell out and I don’t know about it?’

  Danny sighed heavily. ‘Do me a favour, Mike. Get on your fucking bike and leave me be.’

  It was an expression that they had used all their lives, get on your bike, or drive home will you. It should have been amusing, not a serious criticism. The nearest they had ever got to any kind of conveyance was if they nicked one for the afternoon. Even then they put it back rather than sell it on or dismantle it. Both were agreed that thieving someone’s wheels was not a kosher nick. In fact they had agreed that if they had been lucky enough to have been furnished with bikes they would have both understood someone borrowing it for a few hours. But actually to be in possession of the said vehicle, and then to lose it, would have been too much for them to bear.

  The two boys looked at each other, neither of them willing to back down and neither of them able to make this situation right. Since the Murrays had turned up at Danny’s home he had studiously ignored Michael, believing it to be for the best. It had hurt.

  ‘You’re me best mate, Danny. Your problems are my problems.’ Michael saw his best friend close his eyes tightly in anger but carried on talking anyway, ‘I just want you to know you ain’t on your own, you’d do the same for me, surely?’

  It was a question that they both knew needed an answer.

  ‘I wouldn’t need to do this for you. This just wouldn’t happen to you, Mike. When this all comes on top, and it will, you’ll be sorrier than shit if you are dragged into it. Use your fucking loaf.’ He looked at his best friend. Like him, Michael Miles was dark-haired; he had an easy way about him and a kna
ck for ferreting out anything he wanted to know. Unlike Danny, he wasn’t a natural fighter, he wasn’t a natural antagonist. Together, they were a team.

  Then Michael smiled, and it changed his whole face. His smile was his best asset, though he wouldn’t be aware of that fact for a good few years.

  ‘That’s as may be, Dan, but we’ve been mates since Infants. If you blank me again I’m going to get a complex.’

  Danny laughed despite himself. ‘Look, Mike, you know the score.’

  Danny held his arms out in a gesture of supplication.

  Michael grinned again, knowing he was halfway home. ‘Fucking Murrays. They’re only half-Irish anyway, so what’s to worry about?’

  They laughed together, both pleased their friendship was back on, and both worried at what might befall them because of that.

  Chapter Three

  ‘Do you think maybe he’s dead?’

  Danny sighed heavily and stopped himself from answering his mother’s question honestly. Personally, he hoped the old bastard was dead. At least if he died the debt died with him and all this shit would be over. It was the waiting that was doing his head in, the apprehension; he was at a stage where he would almost welcome the Murray boys and their retribution, just to get it over with once and for all. But he didn’t say that, of course. Instead he answered her with quiet anger, his voice higher than usual and laced with the general feeling of annoyance and irritation that her questions seemed to generate in him. ‘ ’Course not, Mum. He’s keeping a low profile, that’s all. You know me dad, once it’s safe he’ll sneak back in here like nothing ever happened, and you’ll make sure no one ever talks about it to him in case he gets offended or, God forbid, has to explain why all this shit happened in the first place.’