Faces

by Martina Cole

  So, anyone going in with the money and the right connections was guaranteed to be welcomed with open arms. Danny Boy and Michael had done just that. Now it was sit back and enjoy the sunshine.

  His new baby daughter had given him a new lease of life, he was on the want again, and he had not been on the want like this for many a long year. His daughter would have the world on a plate, and the plate would be worth more than most people’s fucking houses. Such was Danny Boy’s new credo. He grinned at his two friends and said nonchalantly, ‘Oh, by the way, we need to have a word with young Norman Bishop. I think he needs a bit of friendly advice.’

  Arnold stood up quickly. Always the first to do a good turn, he said happily, ‘Do you want me to get him for you, or are you going to the casino?’

  Danny Boy grinned. ‘You bring him to me, that would be lovely, bring him to the scrapyard, would you? I’d hate to be overheard, what I have to say to him is private.’

  Michael was annoyed, the day-to-day running of things was his domain, always had been, because Danny Boy never bothered with anything once it was up and running. Even this new Spain project would be forgotten about once it was the norm; that was his strength in their partnership. He prided himself on being the one who kept on top of things. He resented Danny Boy coming in like this and not consulting him.

  ‘Why do you want to see him? What’s going on? He’s one of our best workers.’

  Danny Boy just shrugged and said, ‘What’s your problem? I just want a word, that’s all.’

  ‘What about, Danny? Why do you want to talk to him?’

  Michael was really angry and it showed. He was one of the only people on the planet who could express that emotion in front of Danny Boy and get away with it. Everyone knew that, especially Arnold Landers. He had watched these two at close quarters and he felt he knew the score even better than they did.

  Danny Boy grinned, that handsome grin that he kept in reserve for when he wanted to keep his real feelings to himself. ‘Who are you, Michael, the fucking police? Now you’re fucking making me be a cunt. I can’t tell you now, can I? You’ll have to wait and see, won’t you?’

  Arnold smiled, the thought of his earn once the Spanish end started to make money was all he could think about. He was thrilled, but he was also aware, on some level, that Norman and his minions were well below Danny Boy’s notice in the general scheme of things. He smelled trouble, but he wouldn’t lay money on it. He kept his own counsel, after all, he was only on the edge of this world, the world he so desired. Once he made his mark he would ensure that his name was synonymous with fair play and hard retribution. That was his dream. His goal in life.

  And, without this big mad bastard it would never come to fruition, and he knew that better than anyone. As much as he rated Michael Miles, he knew Danny Boy was the real deal, and he knew that if he wanted to make his mark, then it was Danny Boy Cadogan who would ensure he did it with the minimum of fuss and the maximum of monetary advantages. Danny knew that a good earn bought people, brought them on-side, even when they didn’t want anything to do with you. Danny Boy Cadogan knew, as he knew, that money didn’t only talk to most people in their world, it fucking sang them their favourite song. He felt Michael’s annoyance and, making a point of avoiding his gaze, he went to pick up young Norman with a heavy heart.

  Ange was watching her daughter-in-law as she settled the child. She was a lovely-looking baby, and why wouldn’t she be, the parents were both very handsome. As Annie also watched the little tableau she was smiling unconsciously, her lovely face almost feral with the need inside her to produce a child herself, this little baby with her huge eyes and her innocence had created a need that Annie had not even known existed. She determined then and there that she would produce one herself; that she would be the one to give Arnold a little boy or girl. She knew her antics were well out of order and, seeing how Danny Boy was with him, she knew that it was in her best interests to see this relationship through to the bitter end. And she knew that where she was concerned, bitter end would be exactly where it would all end up, if she wasn’t careful.

  Carole had left earlier, and Ange and Annie were both getting ready to leave. Mary looked fantastic. She was almost beaming, and her eyes were bright with hope and happiness. Danny Boy was finally succumbing to her charms and from baiting her, from his usual viciousness, he had suddenly become her soulmate once more. She actually started to feel as if she had a chance with him, she now saw this new baby as the means to her very worrying end.

  Once Mary was alone, she placed the baby into the cot beside her bed then, opening the large bag she had packed for just such an occasion, she took out a bottle of vodka and poured a large measure into her water glass. She gulped it down quickly, terrified her husband would come in the door at any moment. She was drunk, already out of it, and she lay back on the pillows knowing that she was not capable of anything much.

  This child, she knew, was the most important thing in Danny Boy’s life, and that meant she was now under even more pressure to make good. The child she had prayed would make them closer, might drive them even further apart because she would now be under the microscope that was his notice. A quick drink to soften the edges would now be out of bounds, her whole life would be pulled apart and inspected for this little baby’s benefit. She knew she had signed her own death warrant.

  Mary felt the uselessness of her own tears, heard the plaintive cry of the child she loved, and who could be the cause of her mother’s demise. It hit her then, with stunning clarity, that this child would be her watershed, would inadvertently be the end of her life as she knew it.

  Later, as she watched her new daughter sleeping, watched her little chest rise and fall with each breath she took, Mary understood the real role of a mother. What the big secret of motherhood was about. You looked after your child, no matter who had fathered it, and no matter how much you might hate them deep down inside. A child was there for the duration of your life and, if you were really lucky, they buried you, and not vice versa. A mother would give her own heart to ensure the child she had created would live on, would be happy to do so. Would be loved. Even if they were unlucky enough to have Danny Boy Cadogan in their corner, claiming his kinship at every opportunity.

  As Mary looked at her baby, all she could focus on was the fact that she had lumbered this beautiful child with a father who was as volatile in his affections as he was in his working life. A man who was as dangerous in his loving kindness as he was in his anger and hatred. She had, in effect, given this child nothing more than a bully who would use her for his own ends, and use those very ends to torture her for the rest of her life. Mary was crying again when the nurses popped their heads through the doors, and nothing anyone said could console her this time. Her fuck-up was glaringly obvious to her, even if it wasn’t to them yet.

  The happiness she had dared to embrace was now weighing her down, and making her question her judgement; how on earth could she have ever believed this child was going to make everything all right? Nothing could ever be all right in her world now, no matter how many fucking babies he allowed her to produce.

  Norman looked decidedly uneasy; Arnold felt that he was being overly jovial, overly friendly towards him. Arnold wasn’t a fool, he knew that the Normans of this world loved Bob Marley but didn’t actually have a black friend. They talked a good liberal, but it was a different ball game when they were faced with a real, honest-to-goodness black man; suddenly they were nervous and unsure of a percentage of the population they had never actually met up with, or mixed with in any capacity. God bless the Catholic school system; it guaranteed a multi-racial environment for their pupils, and also guaranteed that the Danny Boy Cadogans of this world had something the majority of the country didn’t have access to; the opportunity to meet and make friends with other outcasts in British society. It was hilarious in many respects but, like everything else, it was also sad, sad and irritating. Arnold felt more English than most people; he was black, b
ut he had been born and bred in the country he loved. Like Danny Boy and Michael, he was the product of immigrants, Irish immigrants at that. He knew that, like his counterparts all over the British Isles, he was coming into his own at long last, and he resented the Normans of the world for making him feel that he was different. That he was somehow not as fucking good.

  That feeling was what had made him forcibly shove the man into his car, and caused what could only be described as a bad atmosphere between them.

  Norman was fucking shitting himself, and Arnold couldn’t understand why that was. He had not threatened him in any way, shape or form, even though he had felt like it. So he blanked him, ignored him. When they finally pulled into the scrapyard he had lost interest in the ponce; Norman, who he had quite liked, was now nothing to him. He had finally revealed his true feelings and it hurt. They were all fucking on the scrump, so what made Norman think his scrumping was more important than anyone else’s?

  As they pulled up outside the office, the guard dogs were snarling and barking with an intensity that would frighten a lesser mortal. It was dark, and Arnold knew there was something not right about this meet, but he also knew it was in his favour not to remark or react to that. He waited patiently for the dogs to be rounded up and housed, and then he opened the car door with a flourish that told Norman he had made an enemy for life.

  Inside the office the atmosphere was charged and all four men were more than aware of that fact. Smiling in a friendly way, Danny Boy invited them both inside.

  Norman knew he was in trouble, but he tried to front it out. What else could he do? He walked into the warmth and quiet with a swagger that told everyone there he was acting, he was trying to front something out. But what?

  Michael watched as Danny embraced Norman, watched as he poured him a drink and sat him down as if he was a valued member of their community. Which he was, as far as anybody knew. But Danny Boy never did anything without a reason, and now all they could do was find out what that reason was.

  Arnold sat beside Michael, interested now to see what this was all about, knowing that somehow he had led this stupid boy into his worst nightmare. He had already picked up on Michael’s uneasiness, and Norman was not exactly what anyone would call relaxed. But Arnold felt though, that anything that might go down on this night was not really his problem. Anyone who thought they could fuck Danny Boy off was entitled to everything they got, and more. If Norman was on the blag, then he had asked for anything that might be doled out to him in the next few hours.

  Arnold sat down quietly, without any fuss. He had learned at a very young age how to blend into the woodwork.

  ‘All right, Norm?’ Danny was grinning once more, looking for all the world like a genuinely happy and contented man.

  Norman smiled stiffly. He had heard about this yard, but he had never actually visited it before. It surpassed his expectations, everyone knew an invitation here was like a declaration of war. People who had visited this yard were never seen again. That was urban legend; it was also believable. A lot of people had disappeared over the years, and Danny Boy had been blamed for their disappearance. Not out loud, no one would actually go that far. But it was accepted that, if you crossed him, or if he thought you had crossed him, Danny Boy tended to delete people from his businesses and his life.

  ‘You all right, Danny Boy?’ Norman was nervous.

  Danny grinned again, his handsome face open and trusting. ‘ ’Course I’m all right, why wouldn’t I be? I go to mass, I have a new baby, a lovely wife. What a lucky fuck I am.’

  Norman nodded in agreement. He was young for the job; he had what was known in their world as good connections, family members who had stood up for him. People who had guaranteed his undying loyalty and who had never, in a million years, thought he was capable of having over Danny Boy Cadogan; it was inconceivable to them. Who would be that stupid?

  ‘Everyone’s been telling me what a fucking asset you are, Norm. I am over the fucking moon, you’ve really put yourself out, you know. Really done me and Michael a favour, I mean, we’re busy boys, ain’t we, we can’t watch everything as closely as we’d like. So we depend on people like you to do that for us, don’t we, Michael?’

  Danny snapped his head round to face his old friend, and Michael knew then that Norman was not leaving this room while still conscious. Michael knew that Danny Boy had the edge, and he was interested to know where that edge had come from.

  Norman was already in the past, and everyone in that small, confined space knew that. Danny was chatting to him in that low, interested voice he had. He asked him a question with such guile, Norman thought for a split second that he might be serious. But he looked at Michael and Arnold and knew he was being humiliated.

  ‘Do you go to mass, Norman? I do, and so does Michael here; we go because we see God as our role model, He is what we aspire to be.’

  Norman didn’t say a word, he knew he was fucked and he was trying to find a way out of this dilemma. Then, ‘Come on, Danny Boy, what have I done, eh? I know you’ve got the arse with me, but why? I earn you a fucking good wedge . . .’

  Norman was depending on his familial connections to get him off the hook, so he decided to confront Danny Boy before Danny Boy could confront him. He was under the impression that attack was the best form of defence. He also believed that his family connections would guarantee his safety. The Bishops were an old south London family, they had their creds, and they also had a foothold in the drugs trade. Without them, Danny Boy and Michael would not have garnered their own foothold so quickly. Unfortunately, without Danny Boy and Michael, they would not have had such a huge demand. So Norman, fool that he was, believed he might actually be in the driving seat.

  Michael and Arnold waited for Danny Boy to do what he always did, which was to destroy, with malice aforethought, whoever he believed might be mugging him off. But they also knew he was cruel enough to play with his victim first.

  ‘Do I look like a cunt to you, Norman?’ Danny was standing now, his arms outstretched. ‘Come on, you know you’ve been fucking having me over, so let’s get straight to the point, shall we?’

  Michael was watching the two men with a deep and heartfelt anxiety; he knew that Danny was doing this for his benefit, was teaching him a lesson somehow.

  Norman didn’t say a word. He sensed what was coming and he didn’t know, for the life of him, how to stop it. It occurred to him that it didn’t matter who his family might be, no one was going to front up to this man before him. He had been well and truly sussed out, and the knowledge was enough for him to accept his fate.

  ‘Imagine I am your priest right, Norm, not Michael, who you normally deal with, but me, Danny Boy. I would say to you, forgive me Father, for I have skimmed. And you have, you’ve skimmed a fucking fortune off the bets, ain’t you? Well, I have been looking over the fucking books and, unlike my friend here, I don’t trust you as far as I can fucking throw you. And I have decided that your penance will be three Hail Marys, two Our Fathers, and a broken neck. By the way, I have already squared this with your family. Who, incidentally, think you are as big a cunt as I do. So don’t imagine the cavalry will be rushing in to save you at any point. Because they won’t. You’ve earmarked one per cent of my earnings on top of the wage we give you, a fucking good wage at that, and that is not acceptable. That is such a piss-take, it’s like saying you believe I am a fucking cretin, ain’t it? You have also cunted off my best mate, my wife’s brother, who, unlike me, trusted you. So, how do you think I feel about that?’

  Michael knew then, as did Arnold Landers, that Danny Boy was making a point, that this young man, with his bad haircut and his adverse head for figures, was being slaughtered so Danny Boy could prove a point. The point being that, even though Danny might trust Michael as the money man in their partnership, he was, in his own way, more than capable of keeping his eye on the ball. That he still looked over their nefarious businesses, and had a handle on their finances that was now proven to
be a lot closer than anyone thought.

  Danny looked over at Michael, who was embarrassed at this revelation, who knew his trust in this boy had not only been misplaced, but had also been used to prove a point. Who was going to suffer so Danny Boy could remind him that he might not be, as he often put it, the sharpest knife in the drawer but who, it now seemed, was sharp enough when he needed to be.

  Michael wondered briefly who could have grassed Norman up from the casino. It made more sense that he had been found out and the information had then been passed on to Danny. He had trusted the boy; he had not had any reason not to. After all, he came well recommended. He felt a fool, but he knew that Danny Boy would use this as a leveller, make him feel he was the shrewder of the two. Especially after the Spanish deal; Danny was sending out a message all right, not just to him, but to everyone who worked for them.

  Arnold watched the scene before him with interest, wincing slightly as Danny Boy took a claw-hammer out of the desk drawer. Danny then began to undress slowly, chatting, taking off his jacket and shirt, worried about blood spattering on his new clothes. And, all the time, he eyeballed the terrified young man, berated him for his foolishness, shaking his head as if in abject disbelief at his actions. Danny looked calm, he looked friendly, and he looked strong. When he brought the hammer down onto terrified Norman’s kneecap he was actually smiling. Arnold knew then that Norman Bishop was going to regret his fucking tea-leafing big-time. The dogs’ excited barking drowned out Norman’s shrieks of pain. Though they didn’t last that long; it was the low moaning sounds he made much later on, coupled with the stench of his blood, that really set the animals off.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  ‘Are you sure you’re OK, love?’

  Mary nodded, the baby was at her breast and her husband’s kind words frightened her. He had never been the compassionate type. Not in private anyway. He had fooled everyone into believing he still cared for his father, even though he had hated him with a vengeance. So his sudden interest in her now was unnerving.