Lawless

by Jessie Keane

  ‘So that bastard Tito’s planted at last,’ said Kit loudly, with a laugh. ‘And not a fucking minute too soon.’

  A gasp went up from some of the remaining guests at Kit’s words. They turned and stared at this crazed-looking interloper. Ruby hurried up; Rob quickly put himself in between Kit and Vittore. Bella, black-veiled, inscrutable, stood there unmoving. Vittore, blank-eyed with hate, looked like he wanted to do Kit extreme damage.

  Kit was swaying on his feet. He was scruffy, unshaven, his tie askew, his shirt collar grubby.

  ‘You’re drunk,’ Ruby realized, saying it aloud.

  Kit turned his attention to her. ‘Mother dear,’ he said, as if seeing her there for the first time. ‘Hello! I am, in fact, royally pissed. Because I’ve been celebrating the funeral of one of the worst scumbags ever to walk the earth.’

  Vittore cursed in Italian, his tone vicious, his eyes murderous as they rested on Kit’s grinning face.

  For God’s sake, Kit, what are you doing? Ruby wondered in panic.

  ‘So here I am. Paying my respects to the dear departed,’ he said, giggling like a lunatic.

  ‘This is not the way to do things,’ said Ruby.

  ‘No?’ Kit’s eyes grew sharper as they met his mother’s. ‘And how would you know? You don’t even keep your kids, do you, much less bury the bastards.’

  Ruby felt a stab of pain at that.

  Rob placed a hand on Kit’s chest as he lurched forward.

  ‘Mate,’ said Rob in a low voice. ‘You’re drunk. Your mum’s right. This ain’t the way to behave. Let’s get you home.’ He took Kit’s arm.

  Kit shook him off. ‘Nah, not before I say what I came to say.’

  ‘You’ve said enough,’ snapped Vittore.

  ‘Not by a long shot,’ said Kit, shaking his head.

  He was still grinning, swaying, and Ruby thought that he wouldn’t even remember this tomorrow, he was so pissed. But Vittore would.

  Kit, you fool.

  Daisy had told her Kit was drinking. She hadn’t yet seen him drunk, but today he was far gone, almost insensible. Is this my fault? she wondered in anguish.

  She knew that Kit had a lot to bear. He’d lost a woman he truly loved, and Michael, all in the space of a few months. It was enough to bring the strongest man down. And her efforts to reconnect with him, with this precious son she had lost at birth and then refound, were still being met with suspicion and sometimes with downright fury.

  ‘I just wanted to tell you all how pleased I am that Tito’s dead,’ said Kit.

  ‘Oh God . . .’ said Ruby, putting a hand to her mouth. ‘Bella, I’m sorry . . .’

  ‘Don’t apologize for me,’ roared Kit, coming closer to his mother.

  It was then that Vittore stepped forward, swift as a viper. Suddenly, shockingly, he grabbed Kit’s head.

  Ruby let out a yell.

  Rob shouted: ‘Hey!’ and moved to intervene.

  ‘Get off me, you wop son of a bitch,’ snarled Kit.

  But Vittore didn’t headbutt Kit: he just held him. Then he flicked a thumb against his own front teeth and ran a fingernail down his own cheek. He released Kit, who staggered back, shocked out of his stupor, the grin gone from his face. Vittore said something under his breath, his words harsh, his gaze deadly.

  ‘That’s enough,’ said Rob, and grabbed Kit’s arm.

  Kit took a fumbling swing at Rob, but stumbled sideways. Effortlessly Rob dodged the blow, pushed Kit’s arm behind his back and pulled him away, toward Ruby’s car.

  Ruby stood there, aware of Vittore’s coldly contained rage, of Bella’s distress.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she repeated. ‘He’s drinking a lot. I know it’s no excuse, but . . .’ her voice trailed away.

  There was no excuse. This had been terrible, an insult. She was still shaking from the suddenness with which Vittore had caught hold of Kit.

  ‘Come, Mama,’ said Vittore, and took Bella’s arm and put her in the limousine.

  ‘Wait—’ started Ruby, following.

  Vittore turned a snakelike gaze on her. ‘Go away,’ he hissed.

  Ruby’s shoulders slumped. Moving among the staring crowds, she made her way to her own car. Rob was already behind the wheel, and Kit was laid out, eyes closed, in the back. She got in beside him, looked at him with disgust. This was her son, but at this moment she was ashamed of him.

  ‘Back to yours?’ asked Rob, his eyes meeting hers in the rear-view mirror.

  Ruby nodded. Right now, she couldn’t trust herself to speak. Kit had ruined everything. And she couldn’t help thinking again of Bella’s words.

  Blood will flow.

  She only hoped it wouldn’t be Kit’s. But after this? She very much feared that it would.

  ‘Rob? Did you hear what Vittore said?’ she asked him.

  Rob shook his head.

  ‘Rob?’ she insisted.

  Rob heaved a heavy sigh. ‘It’s an empty threat, Ruby.’

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘He said, “You and yours,” said Rob uneasily. Actually, what Rob had really heard Vittore say was: ‘I’m going to rip the heart out of your family, out of each and every one of you.’

  He wasn’t about to tell Ruby that.

  Instead, he shrugged. ‘Big talk. That’s all.’

  Ruby looked at him. She thought he was lying, but she wasn’t going to pursue it.

  ‘Get us home,’ she said.

  16

  ‘You bloody fool,’ said Ruby, thrusting a cup of freshly ground black coffee into her son’s hands.

  Kit lay sprawled on her sofa at the Marlow house. He straightened, took the coffee, stared at it, then swallowed a mouthful. Lifted the cup in salute to his mother, who stood over him looking disapproving.

  ‘Thank you, Mother dear,’ he said.

  ‘And you can stop that right away,’ snapped Ruby. ‘D’you think that was clever, turning up and making a show of yourself?’

  Kit put the drink down on the side table. Looked up at her, then at Rob, who was standing over by the window, arms folded, watching. At least Daisy wasn’t here giving him an ear-bashing too. She was out somewhere, either pretending she was loving the store work to arse-lick her way into Ruby’s good books, or with Jody and the twins.

  ‘Wanted to say my farewells,’ said Kit. He was feeling steadier now, but faintly sick – and his head was starting to throb again.

  ‘You should have stopped away.’

  ‘Well, I didn’t.’

  ‘I talked to Bella Danieri today. She told me something important.’

  ‘Did she now.’

  ‘Can you not take that tone with me please?’ said Ruby. ‘Yes. She did.’

  ‘So what’s this nugget of pure gold she passed on to you then?’

  ‘Jesus, mate . . .’ said Rob, shaking his head.

  Ruby crouched down so that she was on the same level as Kit. ‘She told me none of her sons was responsible for Michael’s death.’

  Kit sat there a moment, staring at Ruby’s face.

  Then he started to laugh. He laughed so hard she thought he was about to shit himself.

  ‘Yes. Hysterically funny,’ said Ruby.

  Kit wiped at his eyes; he was literally crying with laughter. Neither Rob nor Ruby looked even faintly amused.

  ‘Look,’ said Kit when he could get his breath, ‘whether it was Tito who put the gun to Michael’s head, or Vittore or that little shit Fabio, it’s all the same to me. The order came from Tito. I know it did.’

  ‘You don’t know any such thing. You hated him because he’d hurt you in the past—’

  ‘Hurt me? He fucking crucified me. He deserved everything he got.’

  ‘But he didn’t kill Michael.’

  Kit shrugged, sipped more of the coffee. ‘Fabio then. He’s like a hyena, that one, giggling and shuffling and twitching around, always ready to pull some fucker apart once the big boys have taken their share. Michael was shot from behind. Isn’t that Fabio’s sty
le?’

  ‘At least you admit it’s not Tito’s.’

  Kit gave a sour smile. ‘I’m not admitting anything. What about Vittore?’

  ‘What about him?’

  ‘He’d do it.’

  Ruby let out an exasperated breath. ‘Kit – none of them did it. Bella swore that was true. She said Tito came to her, but she said no. And neither he nor Fabio nor Vittore would disregard her wishes – not about Michael. He was married to her niece, he was kin. She wouldn’t allow it. She made that very clear.’

  ‘Michael should have struck first,’ said Kit, now gazing mournfully at the floor. ‘He should have let me sort it. I told him, let me do it. But he wouldn’t.’

  Ruby was silent, feeling Kit’s anguish for the loss of his boss, the one man who had been like a father to him. His real father, Cornelius Bray, had discarded him; he’d grown up bounced around children’s homes, feckless and footloose, back in the days when she hadn’t known where he was or even if he was still alive. She had desperately tried to trace him, but it was Michael he had stumbled into, and Michael who had saved him from the gutter, raised him up. The loss of him was killing Kit, she could see that.

  ‘It’s too late for all that,’ she said gently. ‘Too late for regrets. But maybe not too late to let it all go. To admit to yourself that you were wrong, that the Danieri family weren’t responsible.’

  Kit gazed at her. ‘I’m not admitting a damned thing,’ he said.

  Rob let out a heavy sigh.

  ‘And you can shut up,’ Kit told him.

  ‘Oh, pardon me for giving a shit,’ said Rob.

  ‘Look,’ said Ruby, shooting a glance between them. ‘This has to stop. If we’re lucky – and I’m sure Bella will be talking to him right now – Vittore will calm down. For God’s sake, Kit, the last thing anyone wants is all-out war. Admit you were wrong. That you made a mistake. Let’s do as Bella says and stop this, just drop it.’

  But Kit was shaking his head.

  ‘No! I have to know who did it,’ he said. ‘If what you say is true—’

  ‘Kit! It is.’

  ‘OK. I don’t believe it, but let’s say for the sake of argument that you’re right. If it wasn’t one of them, then who the fuck was it?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Ruby, thinking of Michael, her Michael, thinking of his steel-grey eyes and the feel of his hair beneath her fingers, of his strong, handsome face, his laugh, his way of always finding the answers. Well, he couldn’t find this one. He was gone. ‘I loved him too, Kit. I really did. But maybe we’ll never know.’

  Kit was shaking his head. ‘No. That don’t cut it. I have to know. If the Danieris didn’t pull the trigger, someone did. Someone who’s still out there, who thinks they’re home free.’

  ‘Kit, mate . . .’ said Rob.

  Kit flashed him a look full of fury. ‘Don’t “mate” me. If it wasn’t the Danieri mob, then it was someone else. And I have to know who.’

  17

  What surprised Daisy most about working at the store was the stark difference between the shop floors – all pristine clean and laden with everything so beautifully and temptingly arrayed, designed to prompt impulse purchases – and the warren of dark passageways and bare cloakrooms and business-like offices the staff occupied.

  ‘Morning,’ she greeted everyone she passed, wanting to be one of the girls, accepted, part of the pack. She put on her burgundy coverall with Darkes picked out in gold thread on the left breast pocket, checked her golden-blonde hair was tucked up neatly in its French pleat.

  ‘Oh good mawning,’ said Tessa Barclay in an affectedly ‘posh’ voice, nudging her friend Julie as they stood beside the big row of lockers where the staff put all their belongings during shop hours.

  Daisy hurried from the locker room, their laughter ringing in her ears.

  Just two weeks in, and she was learning the ropes at least. She checked the shelves she was responsible for and then went to the stockroom, gathering up what she needed. Then she went back, put the stock out on display and did a return trip, edged past Tessa and Julie who did their best to stand in her way while she puffed past them, arms laden with stock items. Ignoring them, she cleaned up, tidied everything. She kept thinking about her little boys, her twins, and she ached for them, missed them so much. But she’d wanted this. And now she’d got it. Truth was, though, she hated it.

  ‘I suppose these early mawnings are a bit of a strain on your ladyship, are they?’ asked Tessa, flicking a look at Julie, who smirked.

  Daisy felt her mouth go dry. They were still doing this. Mocking her whenever they got the chance, whispering to everyone else on the shop floor that she was Ruby Darke’s daughter and only in here to spy on everyone and to pretend that she was working like any other ordinary person. They ignored her in the canteen, moving away from where she was sitting. Of course she could join Mum for lunch, but that would endorse everything they already thought about her: that she was Mummy’s little rich girl, unable to take the heat. That nepotism was alive and well, right here at Darkes.

  ‘Not really,’ she said, keeping her eyes on the neat lines of the stock she was putting out on display. ‘I’m up early with the twins anyway.’

  ‘Oh! Surely not! Don’t the nanny do all that for you?’ asked Tessa.

  ‘No,’ said Daisy. ‘She doesn’t. I like to help her get them up and dressed, give them breakfast.’

  ‘Then nanny takes over and you come and ponce around in Mummy’s store,’ said Tessa.

  Daisy straightened and looked her tormentor in the eye. ‘I work here. The same as you do.’

  ‘Oh, she works heah,’ said Julie in that horrible mockery of Daisy’s voice, and Tessa giggled. ‘Gawd alive.’

  Daisy gritted her teeth. ‘Look . . .’ she started. She wanted to hit Tessa. And then Julie. This couple of utter bitches had set out to make her life a misery, and why? Because her mother owned the store? How was that in any way fair?

  Doris, her section leader, came over. ‘We’re short-staffed on the tills, Daisy, will you cover? Store’s open in ten.’

  Relieved, Daisy nodded. Aware of Tessa and Julie sniggering behind her, she went across to the tills, feeling herself shaking with temper.

  This is a waste of time, she thought in a sudden moment of clarity. I’m not like Mum. I hate store work. I can’t do this.

  But she’d wanted this, she reminded herself. Being a stay-at-home mother wasn’t for her. Trouble was, she didn’t know what was for her. The thought of her babies, little Matthew and Luke, kept her sane even if their father – her ex-husband Simon – drove her crazy with his stupid accusations and demands. And then there was Rob . . .

  Her heart leapt when she thought of Rob, her mother’s minder and chauffeur. Daisy had been exchanging looks with him for months, she knew he was interested. Now she had only to give him the slightest encouragement. And she couldn’t wait. Marriage to Simon had been miserable, but she felt she could be happy with Rob. Their relationship was no relationship at all, not yet. It was at that tingling, exciting pre-courtship stage, when the other person is just a tantalizing mystery, when anything seems possible and the world – whatever its difficulties – seems like a fantastic place to be.

  She took up her position on the till and fixed a smile on her face, teeth gritted, as the doors of Darkes opened and the customers streamed in.

  18

  ‘Hi! Rob!’

  Daisy got back home shortly after six, and there was Rob out on the front drive, washing down the Mercedes in the fading half-light with his shirt sleeves rolled up. She thought he looked sexy as hell. His toffee-blond hair was flopping into his eyes. Her heart did a roll, just seeing him there. He glanced up, didn’t smile.

  ‘Oh. Hiya, Daise.’

  ‘Busy?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  He carried on soaping the car. Daisy watched him working, imagining those strong, strong hands on her body. He was so reliable, Rob. You felt like you could count on him for anything.
She’d had a pig of a day, but seeing him was the perfect salve to her wounded feelings. Her co-workers hated her. She was the boss’s daughter, slumming it – that was how they saw her. They were determined not to give her a chance. But at least Rob didn’t have any of those stupid preconceptions.

  ‘How’s it going at the store?’ he asked, seeing that she was still standing there, watching him.

  ‘Fine. Great!’ she lied.

  ‘Good,’ said Rob.

  ‘Rob . . .’ Daisy stepped closer, and snagged her instep on the hose, twisting her ankle and lurching sideways. Rob reached out, caught her arm, steadied her.

  ‘Careful,’ he said.

  ‘Ow,’ said Daisy. That hurt. God, why wasn’t she any good at all this femme fatale business, like chic Auntie Vi? But no. She lumbered around the place, tripping over hoses and making a fool of herself.

  ‘All right?’ he asked, still holding her arm while she hopped on one leg.

  ‘Yeah. Fine,’ said Daisy, wincing.

  ‘Sure?’ Now he was smiling. Laughing at her. She was sick of being laughed at.

  ‘Fine,’ said Daisy, yanking her arm free and straightening herself up with all the dignity she could muster. ‘See you,’ she said, and limped off indoors.

  Rob watched her go, and sighed. He knew where she was going with this, and – OK – he had wanted to go there too, quite badly. He thought she was the sexiest woman he’d seen in a long while, and he wanted to fuck her bandy. But he’d had time to think it through, and now he reckoned it would be a stupid move. She was too bloody posh, for a start. And too bossy. Plus, she had a shedload of baggage. She’d done that rich-girl-goes-crazy thing in her younger years, driven everyone nuts. Was she over all that shit yet? Who knew?

  On top of that she had babies. Twins, for God’s sake. Double the trouble. Plus there was that crazy little fat fucker of an ex-husband – not that he could give a shit about Simon Collins, but still, it was an unwanted complication. And she was the boss’s sister, and Kit was almost off his head at the moment, there was trouble building up there with him and the Danieri mob. It was all a little too close for comfort. If he got together with Daisy and then they fell out, how would that sit with Kit, and with their mother Ruby?