by Martina Cole
Jonny knew exactly where Jimmy was coming from; he could write the script. ‘Well, Jimmy Boy, you either sort the debts out, though in my experience she’ll just run up more, or you put the foot on her neck and rein her in once and for all.’
Jimmy didn’t answer him.
Then Jonny said quietly, ‘There is a third option, Jimmy.’
Jimmy looked up. ‘What’s that, Jonny?’
‘You could do a bit of moonlighting. You’re good with other people’s money, and I could do with a creative accountant, if you get my drift?’ As he said it, Jonny could have kicked himself. He blamed it on the whisky. Scotch always made him sentimental.
‘Really, Jonny, could I make decent money from it? I mean real money?’
Jonny realised he had just answered this man’s prayers. And ruined him into the bargain. ‘If you can hide a good percentage of my earnings and still make it all look legit, you’d be an asset, mate. But before you go making any quick decisions, remember that you’ll be breaking the law and if we ever get a capture you could go down for it. You’ll be expected to keep your trap shut, and do your time without a whimper to anyone, especially not the Filth. I work for some very heavy people, so think long and hard about what you’ll be getting involved in. Because if you step out of line, you’ll be wiped off the face of the earth. Family or no family connections, you fuck up and I’ll come after you meself.’ Jonny hoped this advice, delivered with a threat and a promise of trouble to come, would be the decider for Jimmy Tailor, and make him see that this wasn’t the life for someone like him.
Jimmy, though, saw this man as a saviour and saw the chance of a good earn doing what he was good at – working with money. Jimmy, in his desperation, believed that if he worked for Jonny Parker nothing bad could ever happen to him. After all, he would only be keeping the books, it wasn’t as if he would be a real part of the business. He conveniently forgot about the conversations he had heard earlier in the evening, chose to forget that those were the very people whose money he would be responsible for. All he could see was a way out of the enormous debt they were in, and the look on Cynthia’s face when she realised he had finally sorted it out.
‘Thanks, Jonny. But I don’t need to think about it. I’d be honoured to come and work for you. You won’t regret it, I’ll work my fingers to the bone . . . Twenty-four seven if needs be.’
Jonny held his hand up to stop the man’s excited chatter. It occurred to him that Jimmy was not exactly au fait with what the job actually entailed, and he also knew that he would have to test the man’s abilities before he gave him any kind of real money to work with. ‘Hang on a minute, Jimmy Boy. You have to keep the day job, mate, that will be your blind for the future. Mr Respectable and all that. You’ll do my number crunching in your spare time and keep it under your hat – don’t even tell Cynthia until it’s a done deal. I’ll take you on trial for two months to see if you can do the job how I want it done, and to see if you can handle what the job entails. That way we can both decide if it’s not what either of us want, OK?’
Jimmy nodded then as if he finally understood the situation, and Jonny Parker wondered how the fuck this idiot would cope with the stress that this new world he was becoming a part of would inevitably place on his rounded shoulders. But the damage was done now, and all Jonny could do was make sure he kept a beady eye on the situation.
As if he didn’t have enough to fucking do.
Chapter Eighteen
1988
Cynthia was beside herself with annoyance, but she held her temper as she had learned to do over the last couple of years. Seeing Celeste with her detached house and her flash little sports car was bad enough, but that contented smile that was always on her moon face was the real bugbear.
Cynthia had finally got herself and her family out of the house in Ilford – and she had made sure they made their money back on that place. Not that she had ever told anyone the long and the short of that story – even that prat James was still none the wiser where that was concerned. He wasn’t capable of understanding her logic. Also he was like all villains and, when all was said and done, he was now a villain, albeit a minor one. He believed you should never publicly break the law. It brought the Filth down on your head, and made them look at you a bit closer than you’d like. And, though they weren’t exactly rolling in it, they were in a much better financial position than they had thought they would be – all thanks to her, of course. That prick would have sold at a loss, and they would never have got out of the debt. But, seeing how they were now getting an extra few quid courtesy of Celeste’s husband, the high and mighty Jonny Parker, she had to watch herself these days and it was getting harder and harder to keep her opinions to herself.
Now, as they walked into the restaurant for another expensive party, to celebrate yet another feather in Jonny Parker’s cap, Cynthia felt she could easily scream in utter frustration.
She caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror, confident she was easily the best-dressed and the best-looking woman in the place. That wasn’t difficult – the competition wasn’t exactly Crufts standard. She smiled at the simile. She could stop an articulated lorry in its tracks when she was wearing the right top and the right make-up. Yet she knew that to Jonny Parker she might just as well be invisible. He spoke to her, he was polite to her, but she knew that he didn’t see her in any way that meant anything.
She, on the other hand, was always conscious of his presence; and he had just that – presence. It was no wonder he was doing so well in his chosen field – men as well as women were drawn to him. He was charismatic, dangerous and he knew the score better than the people around him. It was the one thing she could never get out of James, because no matter how much she kicked off, no matter how much she created, he would not, under any circumstances, tell her the extent of Jonny’s businesses. In fact, he told her absolutely nothing. He was another one getting too big for his boots; since he had started working full time for Jonny he was getting far too clever for his own good.
Cynthia sat at the table beside her sister, aware that she looked much better than her, and the knowledge was like a balm. She saw a lot of the men giving her the once over on the quiet. She was wearing a plain black silk dress that had looked like a rag until she slipped it on, and then it hugged her ample curves in such a way it was almost obscene. But that was the whole point of it; she acted as if she had no idea of the way she looked, and she enjoyed the way the women reacted to her even more than the men. She knew they all envied her – two kids and she still looked better than any of them. She smiled tightly as her sister poured them both a glass of white wine.
‘What do you think of Jonny’s restaurant, Cynth? It’s lovely, ain’t it? Really upmarket.’
Cynthia nodded and forced herself to answer her sister. ‘Beautiful, Celeste, really smart.’
Celeste knew that her sister was putting on an act, but she didn’t mind; after all, this was preferable to her causing murders, and Cynthia was more than capable of doing just that. To Cynthia, a good fight was all in a day’s work, and it was wearing at times. Celeste was a great believer in a quiet life. She could never understand her sister’s need to make everything a drama. She had a mouth on her, and she knew how to say things so they were not just hurtful, but also seemed to hold a modicum of truth. That was how she justified what she said. She was a hard taskmaster – she could destroy a person’s reputation with her insinuations.
She was vocal in her opinions on how kids should be brought up, and how women should act as mothers and wives, even though she never bothered with her own kids. She had an opinion on everything and everyone, yet she couldn’t see herself clearly or how people perceived her. If Cynthia only knew how disliked she was by both women and men, she would be genuinely surprised – not that she had ever cared what women thought of her, Celeste knew. But she was aware that her sister assumed every man she encountered found her as fascinating as she herself did. She loved herself all right, and it was a shame
that love didn’t extend to the other people in her life. Maybe then she would be a happier person. Still, Celeste was shrewd enough to keep those thoughts to herself; she knew that everyone liked her because she didn’t express the majority of the thoughts that came into her mind. She had learned very young that it brought you nothing but grief.
Cynthia, on the other hand, saw it as her God-given right to tell it like it is in a vicious and demeaning way. Cynthia didn’t care if someone took it badly; she loved upsetting people, loved the negative vibe she created wherever she went. But it left a bad taste in everyone’s mouth, and Cynthia was now basically persona non grata with just about everyone in her orbit.
‘I wouldn’t eat here if you weren’t my sister, to be honest. It’s a bit ostentatious for my liking.’
Celeste replied amiably, as always, ‘Well, people seem to like it, Cynth, so I think we’ll do all right.’
Celeste smiled as she spoke, and Cynthia felt the rage at her sister being the beneficiary of all this money and kudos. As the wife of a man of means she would always be afforded a great deal of respect, and it was that respect Cynthia wanted more than anything else. It was that respect that would have afforded her the life she felt she deserved, the life she should have demanded. But all she’d been given was boredom, a firm belief in the power of a good insurance policy and hope for an early death for the fucker she’d lumbered herself with. If it was left to her, James would have a massive heart attack and she could start all over again. Properly this time, and with the hindsight she wished she’d had at the outset.
‘Well, Celeste, people always want what’s new and different, although it soon wears thin. Still, in fairness, he’s done a good job.’
The naked envy was evident and Celeste felt a deep sadness for this sister of hers who, if she would only relax and stop wanting the impossible, could enjoy her life like everyone else. Celeste smiled once more and suddenly hugged her sister to her. She said happily, ‘Thanks, Cynth. If you like it then it must be good!’
Cynthia preened at the praise and, feeling magnanimous, said kindly, ‘You’re getting there, Celeste, so don’t let it bother you too much.’
‘I won’t. Thanks for coming, mate, it means a lot.’
Cynthia was thrilled at how her sister saw her as the yardstick for her husband’s new enterprises. It was another balm to her tortured soul. She felt she should be the one enjoying all this, not her younger sister. If only she had seen the truth of the situation years ago, she wouldn’t have let him go, whatever the circumstances.
It never occurred to Cynthia that her sister was actually in the know where all that was concerned. Celeste was clever enough to keep that information close to her ample chest. Jonny had never said a word – he wouldn’t, he was too nice a person – but she listened to gossip. It had bothered her that her sister had been there before her, but now she knew, deep inside, that Jonny loved her, really loved her, and she was woman enough to accept the truth of that. She only worried that her sister would find out that she actually knew the score, and thereby feel the humiliation of realising that Celeste knew and didn’t care. With people like Cynthia you told them what they wanted to hear, because it was so much easier that way. If they ever saw themselves as everyone else did, it would be too much for them to take onboard. They lived in their own little worlds, it was what made them into the people they were.
Jonny Parker walked deliberately to the table that held his lovely Celeste, as always feeling the pull of her. She was worth fifty of any other woman in his world.
‘You enjoying it, babe?’
‘Oh, Jonny, it’s wonderful.’
He looked into Cynthia’s eyes as he said seriously, ‘She chose all the décor, what a star, eh?’ Tonight he wanted to get his first conversation with her out of the way, and he wanted it to be in front of his Celeste. He had nothing to hide and he wanted to make that plain.
Cynthia smirked as she answered him. ‘That explains a lot, Jonny.’
The insult was clear and he knew it. More to the point Celeste knew it but, as ever, she chose to ignore the implication. Jonny loved her for her kindness and the fact that she only ever saw the good in everyone, including that ponce of a sister.
Cynthia looked at Jonny with her heavily made-up eyes; she could eat him as he was. Every time she saw him she could kick the fuck out of herself. What she could have had was evident in every move he made. She wanted him more than ever. If she had only known he would have achieve what he had, and in such a massive way, she would never have let him slip away from her. Unfortunately, she had believed he was no more than a fucking wanter, she had never believed he would be a getter. Just proved how wrong a girl could be. But Cynthia wasn’t going to give up – she still believed she could change the future, and she wanted Jonny Parker back badly. She felt that if she fought hard enough she might just get him. After all, what was she up against? Her sister Celeste wasn’t exactly a hard sell where she was concerned. She was a prat, and a prat of the first water.
Jonny watched the thoughts flicker over Cynthia’s face and he could read her mind. He had no intentions of giving this vicious bitch what she wanted, what she expected. True he had felt something for her once, well, her body at least – that had been spectacular and what she had promised him and eventually delivered had been the best of the best. But it had not lasted. She had expected too much for far too little. She had been a great fuck, but even then that was only because he had been her first, and that had only happened because she had wanted what she thought he might have to offer. Cynthia was like a robot, she would fuck a table if it got her what she wanted. And, as luck would have it, he had realised that sooner rather than later, seen the seriousness of his dilemma. In fact, he now thanked fuck at every available opportunity for getting as far away from her as possible. That he had met and fallen in love with her younger sister he now saw as righteous retribution. It was as if Christ Himself was making amends.
‘Come on, Celeste, let’s go and meet our clientele.’ This was said with enough arrogance for Cynthia to know that it was a barb aimed directly at her.
Cynthia watched as her sister walked away with the man of her dreams. If life was really fair it would have been her walking around like she was the dog’s knob. Not her little sister. It was as if the world had gone mad, and somehow her little sister had been given the all clear, had been allowed to be somebody. Celeste, who was a no mark, a nothing, who was actually the recipient of her leftovers.
As they walked into the crowd, James came and sat beside her. He was full of it she could tell, loving the fact that they were a part of it all. Enjoying the whole experience. He made her sick. He was so grateful for nothing.
‘What a great night, Cynth! And you know I’m a part owner now, don’t you? If we play our cards right this could be the start of something big.’
He was made up, thrilled with the whole shebang, as her mother would say. But to her, he was no more than a pawn in what would eventually be her sister’s pension. He had a minor stake in what would one day be a very lucrative business. After all, who stood to really gain from all these restaurants and pubs and nightclubs? Fucking Celeste, that’s who. With her ninety-eight per cent share, as opposed to Cynthia’s two per cent. Two per cent out of a hundred! And her husband thought that was something they should celebrate. While the rest would be Celeste’s. Would be her sister’s earn. Celeste, who couldn’t fight her way out of a wet paper bag. Who was as much use as a fucking chocolate fireguard. Who, if the Filth came knocking, would not know how to answer their questions, wouldn’t know how to protect her own. She would be the main earner. It was fucking outrageous, and here was her husband bragging because Jonny Parker had allowed him a tiny percentage. It was easier than giving him a proper wage! She knew that even if Mr fucking Know-It-All financial advisor didn’t understand. It disgusted her that her husband, her James, could be pleased with so little. That he could allow Jonny Parker to insult him and still not see the reality of
what was going on grieved her. He was obviously being offered a pittance – and she was convinced it was no more than that – and there was he, almost on his knees with gratitude and that, above all, was what really made her angry.
It should have been fifty-fifty at least. If her James had been given a stake he must have earned it, but Jonny Parker, being what he was, would never give anyone what they really deserved. It meant that her husband was being ripped off, another reason to make her feel hard done by. To make herself believe that they were being had over, were being taken for mugs. After all, her James was the person who kept these people legitimate. He was the money man, and knowing that made her feel much better about herself. It made her believe that all the hateful things she felt and she thought about had some kind of basis in fact.
As she looked around her, saw the people fawning over her sister and Jonny Parker, she was already wondering how she could bring them down and, more importantly, when.
She knew she could easily take them out without a second’s thought if she opened her mouth to the right people, at the right time. She didn’t know enough yet. But she would, eventually. She would bide her time and she would learn what she needed to know. And then bring them down she would, if it was the last thing she did in her life.
Chapter Nineteen
‘Stop it, Cynth, we’re earning a good wage. He gives us more than anyone else would.’ Jimmy watched as his wife rolled her eyes dramatically and shook her head in abject disbelief.
‘Huh, only you would say something that fucking stupid. They are the ones on a good earn, not us! They are making fucking mugs of us. You might be content with fuck-all, but I’m not.’
