by Martina Cole
And she had a lot of money, serious money.
By anyone’s standards she was an extremely rich woman.
Her dead husband’s reputation was still fixed in everyone’s mind, so she was known to have more than a few quid to play with. And play she did. Or at least had. But after getting her fingers burnt by a young hustler with broad shoulders and a slim wallet she was, finally, becoming more fussy. It was a year since the terrible events and even though she still felt the pain and the humiliation of it all, she was more than capable of fronting it out.
And front was all you had in the end, as far as she was concerned.
Nick still had his rep intact. She could thank his old mates for that even though they were responsible for his demise - she thanked them for that as well. But the loneliness was settling in again, the loneliness that had assailed her throughout her marriage was there once more, only this time she was determined to be more adult about how she assuaged it.
She ran the businesses without even having to think too much about anything. She had a shrewd business brain, and people were beginning to find that out. It was gratifying to know they respected her now for herself.
But it wasn’t enough to keep away the need for having someone there, someone to hold on to in the dead of night.
With Tammy it was the sex. Sex was what she craved and now the feelings were back with a vengeance. Probably because the children were back at school in England and she had no one to keep her company. The days flew by, but the nights, it was the long hot nights that really got to her. She would lie there wide awake and her mind would be once more on her body or, more precisely, someone else’s body on top of her body.
Now, this one wasn’t bad. She might give him a whirl if he had the nerve to talk to her.
She watched closely as he got up from his table, threw down a few euros and nonchalantly walked past her without a glance. She was peeved but also surprised that on closer inspection he seemed much older than she had at first thought. She watched him walk towards the harbour and then pushed him from her mind. She had other fish to fry - like the eighteen-year-old waiter from a bar not two minutes from this very spot.
So she relaxed in the glorious sunshine and finished her glass of wine slowly. After all, she had nothing else to do.
Or more to the point, no one else to do.
Nicholas Leary Junior was standing in front of his head-teacher’s desk. He was a big lad, and James Pargetter realised that he was in fact dealing with a clever young man, a very clever young man. His father’s death had given him a lot of leeway in the school and this was the upshot.
‘What do you need the money for, Nick?’ James made his voice aggressive even though the boy’s cold gaze was making him nervous. He could see why the younger lads had paid up without a fight.
Nick shrugged. His father’s son, he had no fear of authority unless it could actually affect him in some way. James Pargetter was not a threat to him or his lifestyle. He was a nonce, a fool. He was nothing.
‘Don’t know what you are talking about, sir.’ His voice now held the respect needed by Pargetter to believe he was in charge, that he was the adult in the conversation.
‘I am talking about extortion, Leary, that is what I am talking about.’
Nick smiled gently. ‘They were gifts, sir, nothing more, nothing less. Mr Black was mistaken. I know for a fact that you have had no complaints about me from any of the other boys in the school, so you have to understand why I am a bit rattled about all this. Wondering why I am even here?’
Pargetter, for the first time in years, felt the urge to slap a pupil, and slap him hard. ’And what were these so-called gifts for?’
Nick shrugged. ‘If I tell you, sir, can you assure me that only I shall be given any punishment necessary and no one else?’
James Pargetter nodded warily.
Nick sighed heavily before saying quietly, ‘It’s Harry Benton’s birthday in a few weeks and the money is for his party. I know we aren’t allowed to have parties on the premises so that’s why I couldn’t answer Mr Black’s questions.’
It was a reasonable excuse, a good excuse even. It made Nick look loyal, it made him look like a good egg and it made them all look like suspicious old women. But Pargetter knew it was also a bald-faced lie. He also knew there was nothing he could do about it. The boy was clever, he could not take that away from him.
‘I see.’ And he certainly did see, he saw that this boy was always one step ahead of the competition.
‘Sorry, sir.’
Nick even sounded contrite.
Pargetter stared at him for a long moment.
‘Can I go now, sir?’ the smile was back again more irritating than ever.
Pargetter nodded. He had no reason to keep him and they both knew that.
Nick left the room, slowly closing the door quietly behind him.
Laurie Metcalf had seen the blonde with the dark glasses. He had made a point of seeing her over the last few days but he knew that today was the first time she had noticed him. That fact had actually annoyed him. Women always noticed him, or at least they had once, many moons ago before he had reached the age of reckoning. The age where you needed money and prestige to pull the type of woman he was used to.
She was good looking for her age, and he knew he would never get the truth of that out of her. But then who was he to talk? He would never see fifty again himself. Like her, he knew he looked good. Unlike her, he had never had the sense to line his pockets, not properly anyway. He was in Spain now because it was where the last of his assets lay. He had a nice apartment overlooking the sea and it was worth a few quid. Ten times what he had paid for it. He also had a couple of places down in Calpe that he rented out. But it was a far cry from his glory days.
He had a bit of work to do and it involved the blonde with the firm tits and the needy smile. He had had worse jobs over the years.
He pushed the thoughts from his head and concentrated on the matter in hand. He had been asked to keep an eye on her by a mutual friend, so that is what he would do. She was a bit long in the tooth for him really but then, as his old mate had pointed out, beggars can’t be choosers.
He clocked his reflection in every shop window he passed. Like Tammy, his appearance was more important to him than anything else. It was also his armour against the world just as it was hers.
He had a lot of money tied up in the blonde with the mirrored shades. Only she didn’t know that yet. When the time was right he would reel her in.
Tammy paid her bill, and followed in the man’s footsteps towards the harbour, for no other reason than she couldn’t be bothered to go back to her villa.
She walked over to Sinatra’s Bar. She loved it there, and even though it was quiet during the day, she could usually spot a face or two that she knew and could guarantee a chat if she felt like one. Sitting outside alone, she stared at the boats, enjoying the feel of the winter sun on her face. This was what she loved more than anything, the weather was gorgeous, but at times she did miss the scene from her bedroom window in Essex. Missed the cold, the feeling of being warm and safe inside, while the wind rattled and whistled outside the large house she was finally learning to love.
Laurie Metcalf emerged from the toilet as the waitress brought her a cold glass of Chablis.
Tammy sipped it daintily, then took a great swig. He smiled as he watched her. In a funny way the action drew her to him. He was the same; why have a sip when you could gulp, why have a line when you could have two?
He sat near to her and smiled, ordering himself a glass of red wine, and saying nonchalantly, ‘Do you come here often?’
They both laughed as she gave the correct Essex reply.
‘Only in the mating season.’
He looked her straight in the eye as he said seriously, ‘I thought you was following me.’
Tammy grinned then and he saw the want in her as she answered him with the correct amount of venom, ‘Do I look hard up.’
>
The quickness of the answer and the way she said it reminded him of exactly what he was dealing with. Instead of annoying him, it pleased him.
He laughed again loudly as he said seriously, ‘Not in them diamonds you don’t, darling.’
Tammy was enjoying herself for the first time in ages. He looked like he could give her a good run around the turf so this was doubly entertaining as far as she was concerned. She liked them with a sense of humour, especially if they could fire it back at themselves. She crossed her legs and her heavily jewelled Jimmy Choo sandals sparkled in the sunlight. They were evening shoes really, but Tammy loved them and her perfectly pedicured feet looked pretty in them. She had good legs and she knew it. She was gratified to see that this mystery man now knew it as well.
‘You look familiar, do I know you?’ Tammy cut to the chase: she was interested in this man, and she knew without a doubt that he was interested in her. If the way he had looked at her legs was anything to go by, she could be home in bed by eight - she allowed a bit of time to get something to eat, she was suddenly starving, and he didn’t know it yet but he was paying.
In more ways than one.
The two men had caused a stir on the plane. There was something about them that made them seem different. It was the feel of them, as if the air around them was charged. Even the air hostesses treated them differently. You could feel the violence of them, especially as they had both consumed large amounts of alcohol on the plane. Both were nervous, yet at the same time they were agreed on the course they were determined to take.
Walking out of the Malaga airport into the low winter sun they were met by a large man with a heavy belly, a blacked-out Range Rover and a carefully placed smile.
The bigger of the men called him sweetheart and the man cracked what was for him an obviously painful grin.
The Clarkes were not people you fucked about with - especially Billy and Colin. He had worked for them in a roundabout way on and off for years without ever seeing them face to face. His boss was also working for them. Through them all he had made a good life on the Costa and he was grateful, but he was also wary. It wasn’t often they came all this way to sort out business - that was what people like him were there for in the first place. In reality they should have trusted him to sort it all out.
At the end of the day, though, he had a wife and kids out here. These people paid his wages, but he was nervous, even though he had a decent living and a lot of respect. He also had a warrant out for his arrest in England but thanks to these two, he didn’t need to worry too much about that. Consequently he had to look good in their eyes and he had to deliver whatever they wanted.
He hoped they would get their business over with and go home; he would feel safer when they were miles away. He wasn’t stupid - he knew his boss out here sucked their cocks when they demanded it and that unsettled him, as it would any face on the run. You needed to feel you were untouchable.
Also, he liked old Tammy Leary. Thought she had got a bum deal in a lot of respects. After all that she had suffered with her old man, she now had to deal with the Clarkes. But that was the legacy her old man had left her. He only hoped she was able to cope with them. He was a hard case. He could take care of himself, have a row. But he wouldn’t want these two on his back for all the tea in China. So what was Tammy going to do with them?
Today, however, he was their guide, their driver and he was determined to make a good impression.
The Range Rover sped off quickly, with no thought for the other traffic.
The man was obviously used to driving in Spain.
Harry Benton was suffocating and he knew he was. The water was filling his nostrils and the burning was so painful and uncomfortable, yet he knew it was useless fighting his opponent. As he began to slip into unconsciousness his head was dragged out of the toilet bowl.
Nicholas Leary looked like a demon and his cronies looked at each other helplessly. He was out of control and not for the first time either.
‘You’re a grass, Benton, and no one grasses me, right?’
Harry was incapable of answering. He was too busy coughing up the water and urine that was filling his belly. He spewed it up all over the bathroom floor.
David Harman was keeping watch at the door and he felt his own stomach rebelling at the sounds. Like the others, he regretted getting involved in all this aggravation. It wasn’t funny any more, it wasn’t a lark now, it was all getting out of hand. His father was a barrister and he would skin him alive if he knew about this. But Nick dragged you into things somehow. This had all started as a laugh and now it was getting dangerous and none of them knew how to make it stop.
Tammy and Laurie were still dancing around each other at Sinatra’s Bar.
‘So, you know the same people as me then? How come you aren’t part of the crowd any more?’
Laurie smiled, and Tammy was reminded how good looking he was. He was a big man, though not heavy. He had thick blond hair, and even white teeth. She knew a set of porcelain chomps when she saw them and she admired the workmanship. They were perfect and expensive. A bit like her own. He had grey eyes, dark-grey penetrating eyes.
He was easy; easy in his skin, easy around people, and that alone attracted her. He was, to all intents and purposes, his own man. If she had her way, he would be her man, even if only for a few nights. She had an itch and she had a feeling in her bones that he could scratch it, without even breaking through the skin.
She liked him, he was her cup of tea. In fact, she was taking to him more by the second. She liked the way he stared at her before answering any of her questions. He was trying to make a good impression, and Tammy wanted to explain to him that she thought like a man, that she actually had no interest in him at this moment other than how good he was in the kip. Not for the first time, she envied men the fact they could see what they were getting sexually: women had their assets on display, and a decent pair of threepenny bits spoke volumes.
Women, however, had to wait and see what the result would be. More often than not, the results were disappointing, but you couldn’t tell the men that, bless them. They were very touchy about their loins. And she should know, she was an expert on them. Even the most up-front men, the biggest ladykillers, were worried about the size and shape of their tackle. When you finally got a shufti at it, you felt like laughing. But, of course, you couldn’t. The big I am was suddenly the big I wish.
And that’s why she liked the younger ones; they still made a decent stab at it, were just glad to be there, hadn’t got a paunch and to an age where the twenty-year-old beneath them looked suspiciously like their daughters. The older the man got, the more he worried about his performance. And so he should. There was nothing more off-putting than a quick twenty minutes and sixteen stone crushing your ribcage. Most men’s idea of coming was an arrangement to have Sunday dinner with their mothers.
‘What you thinking about?’
She grinned. ‘Never you mind, answer the question.’
Laurie sighed and decided on the truth. ‘I was banged up for a while.’
She nodded, she’d guessed as much. ‘Did you know my old man then?’
He nodded. ‘Who didn’t in our world?’
‘Well, aren’t you going to offer me your condolences?’
He shook his head. ‘Nah. If he was still here then I wouldn’t be talking to you like this would I?’
She grinned again. ’Actually, you probably would, I was never what you would call a wilting violet, know what I mean.’
Laurie Metcalf laughed out loud at her words. A real laugh, a proper man’s laugh and people turned towards them at the sound. He was enjoying himself, actually enjoying himself and it showed.
‘Come on, let me buy you another glass of wine, eh?’
She nodded. ‘Go for it.’
He motioned for a waiter as he said softly, ‘Oh, don’t worry, I intend to.’
Tammy was happy. She was in and, unknown to this good-looking darling befor
e her, so was he. As he had motioned to the waiter he had leant back in the chair and she had had a quick look at his package.
She hoped to God he could give her a decent time of it. Christ himself knew she needed one. If only men knew what women really thought about them, they would never again see themselves as the ultimate lovers they thought they were. Women talked to one another, and a few wines unearthed the most mundane of sex lives. And unfortunately, most women had had enough of their old man within eighteen months. Fortunately for the men, the women had too much nous to announce that fact on to an unsuspecting public.
Men were lucky really, their women tried to save them from the truth.
‘Look at that fucking place, eh? Nick was a good builder there’s no denying that.’
The bigger man nodded.
Alan Dyson was a hard nut. He was a villain with good credentials and he felt he was past all this chauffeuring. But he was a face, he was on the run and he had to do what he was told. It galled him in some ways, showed him how far out of the game he actually was now. He also felt that Tammy had earned her piece of the action, especially if half of what he had heard was true. He had been a bank robber and an experienced creeper. He had skanked from some of the best houses in Europe. Now he advised people on how to keep people like him out. How times had changed.
The Range Rover was parked outside Tammy’s villa, and it was a sight to see. It was tucked away on its own, with only a smaller, less grand one beside it. That had been Rudde’s and, miracle of miracles, it had reverted back to Leary’s elder son on his death. That was Nick Leary all over, he had never actually given anything away, not really. But then Nick and Rudde had had a lot in common and it made sense for Leary to keep him close.
While Rudde’s villa was decent, Nick’s was over the top. Indoor and outdoor pools, even a cinema. It was out of this world and they looked at it with awe. Tammy was now there all on her Jack Jones and that was foremost in their minds. If Nick had thought for one second that she would be in there alone and with her name on the deeds, he would never have believed it. He would have made provision to see that she never got her expensively manicured hands on it. It would have been a trust for her boys, she would only ever have had the use of it until they came of age. She had never been meant to own it, surely? Nick was like most men of their ilk: he had always assumed he would have unloaded her before he pegged it.
