by Martina Cole
Miss Bellamy shook her head at the state of some people’s lives. There was money in this family, good looks and wonderful homes, yet she wouldn’t leave her dog with any of them for the day, let alone allow them to procreate. But such was life; you needed a licence to own a dog or a TV, and you were fined if you didn’t have one, whereas there wasn’t anything to regulate who had a child. It was scandalous really, but there was nothing she could do about any of it. Except pick up the pieces when it went wrong.
‘Who would you like to stay with, Gabriella?’
Gabby smiled then. ‘I’d like to stay here. I’ve been here for the best part of my life – I only lived at home recently.’
Mary chimed in then as if on cue, ‘My daughter was never what you would call the maternal type, if you know what I mean.’
‘That’s an understatement, girl. A rat could do a better job of rearing its young than her.’ Jack’s voice was low and hard.
‘She killed my dad, you know that, don’t you?’ Gabby added. ‘He caught her with her boyfriend, my auntie’s husband, her own sister’s husband. I was there, and they were on the kitchen table . . .’
Miss Bellamy had heard the gossip; who hadn’t? It had lit up the offices for days. It was the talk of East London, and the man Mrs Tailor had been caught with was a local villain, so that just added grist to the mill. Not that there were any laws against villains having families, in fact many of the so-called villains were good parents. It was a contradiction in terms really.
‘Please let me stay here.’
It was a genuine plea and, smiling, Miss Bellamy said gently, ‘I’ll do all I can, but you need to go through the proper channels. Can you pack a few things, Gabriella? Then we’ll be on our way.
‘But I ain’t long cremated my dad, I won’t know anyone . . . I’m frightened, I want to stay here with my nana and granddad . . .’ Gabby could hear the panic entering her voice. She didn’t want to leave here, this was her home, the only home she had ever really wanted to be in. It was so unfair – once more her mother was controlling them all, even when she wasn’t around she could still call the shots. Gabby ran into her grandmother’s arms and Mary held her, soothing her as if she was a small child, not a growing girl.
‘It won’t be for long, if we cause trouble now it will go against us. Look at poor Hannah from across the road, they took all hers away because she fought with them. You do as you’re told, child, and we’ll have you back home quick smart. I’ll let Vince know where you are, child, so don’t fret.’
That was what she wanted, needed to hear and, after a little cry and a few more hugs, Gabby did as she was bidden, but with a heavy heart.
Chapter Sixty-Four
‘Listen, Celeste, it was madness – I was caught up in a madness. You know what Cynthia can be like.’
Celeste still hadn’t spoken to Jonny, not a word since Jimmy’s funeral. It was as if she had left her body behind and gone some place no one could reach her.
‘Please talk to me, love.’
She stared at him, her eyes unblinking. It was a clear, honest gaze and it made him feel even more ashamed than he already did. Celeste could do that, she could make a person feel they were in the wrong with a look, a look that was more powerful than a politician’s maiden speech. He knew it was because of her and the way she lived her life. Straight as a die was his Celeste. Decent, honourable. He had thought he was honourable too, once. Now, with the flak coming at him from all sides, he knew that word would never be used about him again, ever.
Jimmy’s death had caused him a lot of problems. Men were wary of dealing with him now. A thief was acceptable, though not a gas-meter bandit or a robber of council houses or sheltered accommodation. But an honest to goodness blagger – a bank robber – was respected for the time and effort that went into such an enterprise. Liars were never welcome. Liars were dangerous people you avoided at all costs, because eventually their lies caught up with them, and everyone around them was tarred with the same brush. Even the Bible had a section about liars, as it did about adulterers.
Many people had guessed about Jonny and his sister-in-law – the delectable but definitely off-her-rocker Cynthia – and they had not voiced their opinions, not in public anyway. After all, it was Jonny P they were talking about.
But Jimmy topping himself had left a bad taste with all and sundry. Suicide was not something the criminal world embraced – unless it was a grass, of course. They were expected to do it; it was a much easier death than if they were found by the people they had grassed. But that was beside the point. Since Jimmy’s death, people had began to question Jonny P’s other activities, the general consensus being if you were capable of something that sleazy you were capable of anything. To add fuel to the fire, there were a few new kids on the block and they were not helping by questioning the integrity of Jonny Parker.
Jonny had made many enemies on his way up the criminal ladder, and it was these people who were only too glad to see him reap what he had sown. The wives whispered about a man who could treat his wife so, a man who could happily cuckold someone who worked for him. Jimmy was now remembered as a paragon. People said that it was no wonder he had been a drunk and a cokehead with a wife like Cynthia, and her up to all sorts with her sister’s husband, the man who employed him and paid his wages. That her children were now in care was the most scandalising thing of all. The boy, it was rumoured, was not all the ticket; he had killed a neighbour’s cat, cut its throat of all things! The girl was supposedly a nice little thing. Now that she was in a home, some of the women speculated that Cynthia hadn’t liked the competition from her daughter. The girl was a beauty and that hard-faced bitch had unloaded her like she did everyone who got in her way, her husband included. Some even hinted that it was planned, that finding them like that on the kitchen table had been deliberate.
It didn’t take long for Jonny Parker’s carefully garnered reputation as a good guy to be forgotten. He was now definitely deemed to have become too big for his boots or, as some of the cruder men said, he thought his shit didn’t stink, and that could only cause him problems in his various enterprises.
It had shocked him as well that many of the Eastern Europeans he worked with, especially the Russians, saw what he had done as something akin to genocide. They were actively cold-shouldering him, and that was a worry in itself.
Yes, he had had an affair. So what? It wasn’t his finest hour, even he admitted that, but the backlash had been astronomical. Jimmy Tailor killing himself had really sealed his fate, and he felt the weight of his guilt pressing down on him more and more each day.
Now he had the added torture of seeing Celeste, who he loved, really cared about, become, through his machinations, a shadow of her former self.
He wondered at times how the fuck he had allowed this to happen. But he knew the answer as well as the next man. He had always taken what he wanted, that was the trouble, and where that had once been seen as a strength, now it was a weakness. All he could do now was try and live it down. It was harsh and it was not going to be easy, but that was what he had to do. He had to get up and go to work as usual, look his critics in the eye and earn back his reputation little by little.
Celeste was still staring at him as he said slowly, smiling crookedly, ‘I’m sorry, love. I’m so very sorry.’
She put her hand out and laid it on top of his. ‘I know.’
He lowered his head and fought back the urge to cry.
Chapter Sixty-Five
Derek Greene was happy, but then he was a man with a happy disposition. He had a lovely family, a nice life, and he had a shrewd head on his rather large shoulders. Today he was happier than ever. Today was the day he finally came into his own, and he couldn’t wait for the fireworks to start. It had been a long haul, but he was content enough to wait a few more days to get his bonus. And what a bonus.
Jonny Parker was champing at the bit, and that was exactly where Derek wanted him. Considering the man’s troubles, he wa
s conducting his business with his usual acumen and Derek had to admire that, even if he did think Jonny needed a moral compass for his dinner now and again to remind him what was acceptable behaviour and what wasn’t. But that was then and this was now.
‘You look happy, Del Boy.’
He grinned at his wife. ‘That’s because I am, my princess.’
She looked at him shrewdly; they had been together since they were thirteen and she knew him better than he knew himself. ‘What you up to?’ She was suspicious now; her biggest fear was that he would do something silly and get a serious lump like his father.
‘Just a bit of graft, nothing too serious but a good earner. Who are you then, the police?’
She grinned back. She loved her husband with all her being, and she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he loved her back. Three kids, numerous stretch marks, and a boob job later, she and Derek were still together. She knew she was lucky and she appreciated her luck. She would never take him for granted – that was how you lost your man. She still ran his bath for him, and massaged his shoulders, he was a king in his domain. That was how you kept your man in his home, and stopped him from being tempted to visit someone else’s. Men were like kids – when they got bored they moved on to the next game. Well, that wasn’t going to happen to her and Derek; she would see to that.
‘You going to be late tonight?’
He shrugged. ‘Depends, love, but if I’m gonna be later than usual I’ll call, OK?’
She nodded. She knew he would call, and that was enough for her.
Chapter Sixty-Six
‘Come on, Linford, you know it makes sense.’
Linford Fargas grinned, but it wasn’t his usual friendly grin, and Jonny knew it would be a long while before they were once more back on their old footing. Linford had worked often with Jimmy; he had liked him and had been grieved at Jimmy’s demise. To kill yourself was a terrible thing, and Linford had first-hand knowledge of that as his brother had hanged himself in Brixton while on remand. It was still a sore point with him, and he believed wholeheartedly that nothing could ever be so bad that you would take your own life. Life was something precious – your own life especially. You had one crack at it and you had a duty to yourself to make that life the best it could be. He resented Jonny’s part in Jimmy’s death, and that resentment lingered, unspoken, between them now.
All Jonny could do was make up for what he had done by carrying on and not rocking anyone’s boats.
‘It’s a scam, ain’t it?’
Jonny nodded. He felt Linford’s anger bubbling away beneath the surface. ‘Yes but we can rake it in with minimal outlay, and that can only be a good thing.’
Linford shrugged. ‘Sounds good. The figures look good, Jimmy said—’
He stopped himself then, and Jonny said quietly, ‘Yes, Jimmy said it was a good earner. We can mention his name, you know.’
Linford shrugged again. ‘I liked him, he was a good man. But, like all good people, he didn’t understand how bad the world could be.’ This was the closest Linford had ever come to insulting his boss and they both knew it.
Jonny was silent for a few moments before saying earnestly, ‘Look, Linford, if I could turn the clock back, don’t you think I would? I lie awake at night pondering how the fuck I let her get under my skin like that. Truth be told, I never even really liked her. I can’t explain the hold she had over me, and I know that sounds weak, and it sounds like I’m blaming her, and I’m not. After she outed Bryant, she fascinated me; she’s dangerous, seriously fucking dangerous. She looks like an angel, but she’s base. She fucks like an animal – it’s almost primal. And I liked that. I know it sounds terrible, but I really liked that about her. She’s like one of those devil dogs – you know, those fighting dogs? They can turn on you at any moment, but you still want to own one. I knew no good could come of it, but it didn’t stop me. All I can say now is that my attraction to her is well and truly buried. I can’t even stand the sight of her. Did you know she had the fucking audacity to turn up for work as if nothing had happened?’
Linford nodded.
‘I think that was it. Her turning up at the betting shop really made me realise what I was dealing with. I know her, I know how she thinks, she is capable of anything. Literally anything. I’ve paid her off, what else could I do? She had to be given something, but it galled me. In my heart, I’d like to see her scrabbling in the fucking dirt, but then I can’t talk, because I’m as bad as her – worse really – because I actually do genuinely love my wife. Celeste’s forgiven me – well, sort of – and now I have to prove to her that she hasn’t backed a loser. And I will. If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll make her see that the only person I will ever want is her.’
Linford believed Jonny was speaking the truth and, in a strange way, he almost understood where he was coming from. But Linford also knew that, for all Jonny’s protestations, there had also been an element of ‘I want her, so I’ll have her’ to it as well. He had taken her because he could, and he had not cared about the consequences until they had jumped up and bitten him on the arse. Jonny was responsible for all this mess, because it was believed in their world that men were stronger than women. That men should have the strength to turn away from temptation, whereas women were too weak to resist.
‘Well, she turned out to be a very expensive pastime, Jonny. She cost Jimmy his life, and everyone else around you two has been infected with your games. You more than anyone, because this has cost you your good name. You’re the butt of jokes and the cause of idle gossip. It will die down, but it will always be there, and you have to live with that knowledge. People love nothing more than to see the mighty fall, and you have fallen a fucking long way in people’s estimation.’
Jonny sighed heavily. Linford was honest, he’d give him that. Whoever said the truth hurt was a clever fucker, but he would ride this storm as he had others. Look at Kevin Bryant – he had taken that on, and it had worked for him up until the end. He would get through this, he was determined.
‘Well, now we’ve got that out of the way, shall we get back to work? I’m meeting with the villa geezers tonight. Are you coming or not?’
Linford nodded. ‘I’ll be there, don’t worry.’
‘Good. Now what’s next on the agenda?’ Jonny felt depressed, but he knew what he had to do was show his face and act as if everything was normal, then eventually, in the not too distant future, it would be. At least, that’s what he hoped anyway, although the way things were going, he worried it might take longer than he had first believed.
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Vincent O’Casey was thrilled to be in on his first ever piece of real skulduggery. He just hoped it all went as planned. At eighteen, he was a good-looking lad, and he had a nice way about him – not pushy, but not passive either. Anyone looking at him would know he could take care of himself if the situation demanded it. He was very respectful, called people ‘Mr’ when appropriate, and he had a reputation for being good with cars, and reliable into the bargain.
Derek Greene had seen his potential and, for that reason alone, he would always have young Vincent’s loyalty and appreciation.
Vincent liked Derek. He was a man who was going places, but he listened to Vincent, and advised him on the many pitfalls of the criminal lifestyle. Vincent O’Casey came from a family of no-hopers – his father and brothers were nothing more than icecream freezers. Local geezers, thieves, sold a bit of knock-off, played the hard men to the neighbours. Talked the talk, but would need a glass to hand in a real fight. They were the kind of people that Vincent was determined not to be – local bully boys who thought the world began and ended on their council estate. He wanted more than that. Vincent knew he had the nous, the inborn cunning, necessary to achieve in the world he wanted to be a part of. Now he had a champion of sorts in Derek Greene, and this was his one and only chance of breaking free of his background and environment. If this all went tits up he would be like his father and brother
s – just another fucking mook from East London, a blockhead, and he was not going to let that happen without a fight.
Tonight he was washed, shaved and in his best clobber, ready for literally anything. As he drove into the scrapyard in Bow, he was whistling with suppressed excitement. He was driving an old but spotless 2.8 litre Ford Capri, which had been a nice silver colour, until he had stolen it three nights previously. Now it was dark blue, and the plates were not the originals. The plates were actually off a 4.2 litre Jag, but that was nothing to worry about.
He parked up as arranged by the side of the Portakabin and, shutting the engine off, he waited as he had been told to do. He didn’t even light a cigarette, unsure whether it would attract attention.
There were already a couple of cars there, and the lights were on inside. He felt a rush of adrenaline as he realised he was finally a real part of this world, and the pride he felt inside him was overpowering. If only his family could see him! He was on the periphery, he knew, but this was just a start for him. Once he proved himself, he would be given bigger and better jobs, and with those jobs would come the wonga and the prestige. He would make sure the O’Casey name would become something to be reckoned with.
When his Gabby was old enough, he would marry her and give her the life that she deserved. He hoped she was all right in that care home. He still felt enraged at what her mother was capable of. Even his mum – and she wasn’t up to much – looked like the mother of Our Lady by comparison. At least his mother was loyal to her family, would lie to the Old Bill for them, would even stand up in court and do so if need be. Not like that unnatural whore poor Gabby was lumbered with.
