by Martina Cole
He also had the violent personality so important to their kind of business. Jon Jon could administer a slap if necessary, and he could garner himself additional respect while doing it.
Paulie threw a fifty-pound note on the table.
‘Fill them up again, son, and keep the change.’
Jon Jon did as he was bidden.
Paulie watched as the boy pushed his way through the now crowded bar and he smiled again. Jon Jon had an arrogance about him that was evident even in his walk, his mannerisms. It was inbred. He wondered who the boy’s father had been because he’d never got any hint of that from poor old Joanie. She was a victim waiting to happen, always had been and always would be.
As Jon Jon made his way back to the table Paulie saw one of his henchmen enter the bar with a small dark-haired girl. It was noisy and smoky now and he had to shout loudly to attract their attention. Jon Jon had just sat down when the man arrived at their table.
‘All right, Paulie?’
He was big, heavyset, and clearly extremely nervous.
‘I wasn’t expecting to see you in here.’
‘Obviously not. Have you got me money then?’
The man was opening his mouth to answer when Paulie’s fist shot up and knocked him backwards. Getting out of his seat, he kicked the man over and over again in the face and chest. Then he dragged him off the floor and threw him towards the young girl he had entered with.
‘You’ve got twenty-four hours, cunt.’
Jon Jon was impressed but as usual kept his face neutral.
Paulie went up further in his estimation when he sat down at the table and did not even mention what had taken place; instead he picked up their conversation from where they had left it.
He had made his point, though, and they both knew that. It said a lot for the public house they were in that no one even bothered to help the wounded man up from the floor. Even the little dark girl left him there.
‘Now then, where were we?’
Paulie and Jon Jon, without realising it, became friends that night even though neither of them would admit that fact out loud.
To outsiders they had a finely calibrated truce.
Chapter Five
Carty had regained consciousness and after a visit from Jon Jon was suddenly willing to make a statement that completely exonerated his one-time friend. Carty did look rough, but in his heart of hearts Jon Jon could feel no regret for what he had done. It had been necessary, and it had been unavoidable.
He felt relieved once it was all over officially. It didn’t matter what the police thought as long as they couldn’t prove anything. That was something he had learned at a very early age.
Carty had even had the nerve to try and talk him round - as if he was stupid enough to enter into any kind of relationship with a crack head! Business or otherwise, he was now a liability and out of Jon Jon’s sphere of friendship. He could drop dead. Jon Jon put the hard word on him about his big mouth and discussing their private business and Carty took the reprimand without a murmur. He was terrified and it showed.
The man was a joke, a shadow of his former self. Jon Jon only hoped the time in hospital helped him to kick his habit before the habit kicked him.
After all, he wasn’t a vindictive person.
As he left the hospital he rang around and arranged a few meetings then made his way back to his mother’s by his usual mode of transport, unlicensed taxi cab.
Jon Jon knew that he could only drive himself after he had passed his test. He was shrewd enough to realise that with his growing reputation he was a candidate for a tug at any moment, and driving without a licence would be such a stupid nicking he would never take that chance. He had no respect for people who went to prison for driving convictions; they were an embarrassment as far as he was concerned. Once he passed his test he would wear a seat belt and make sure the rent on the car, meaning the tax and insurance, was always up to date. Sometimes it paid to be legal. He wouldn’t even drive over the speed limit because he would never open the door for Old Bill in any way.
And now he was in with Paulie the chances of a decent motor were getting better by the day.
He wondered how his mother would react to his having taken the job. After all his talk he felt as if he had let himself down, but it was too good an opportunity to miss. And knowing his mother like he did, he felt sure she would understand his motives.
All in all, he was finally getting somewhere in his life.
It was a good feeling.
Joanie was laughing as usual. Kira was dressed up in some of her old clothes and Jeanette, for once being a proper girlie girl, was helping her little sister to make herself up. As Joanie stirred the beef casserole she had cooked for dinner, she listened to their chatter. Jeanette had spent hours going through her wardrobe when she was little, dressing up, putting on her makeup and perfume. She had been a dear little thing once.
She missed them all small. Life had been so much easier then; she had been their world and they had been hers. Now only Kira still wanted her really. The others tolerated her haphazard affection, though in fairness to Jon Jon he hugged her when he knew she needed it. He had been the honorary man of the house for so long, he was like the husband she had never had!
She laughed once more at this thought. But deep inside she knew it wasn’t funny in the least. None of the kids’ fathers had stayed about long after their conception, let alone until the actual birth. But she had kept her kids and she was glad that she had. When all was said and done, they were all you had in the end. Joanie didn’t remind herself that they were all she had had in the first place.
She was smiling as usual when she turned and looked at Kira, standing in the kitchen doorway.
The smile was wiped from her face in an instant.
Kira looked like a grown woman and it was frightening somehow. Her eyes were heavily made up, and her lips were lined in red and glossed and looked so full they were a permanent pout. Her blonde hair was backcombed and seemed fuller, even sexy. It was like looking at her child in ten years’ time, except poor Kira would look like a babe outside then while inside she would still be a child.
Kira picked up on her mother’s mood and her face dropped.
‘Have I done wrong, Mum?’
Joanie hugged her and said loudly, more for her own benefit than her daughter’s, ‘No, love. It’s just a shock, that’s all, seeing you so grown-up.’
Kira relaxed and hugged her back.
‘Can I keep it on, show Jon Jon and everyone?’
Joanie shook her head as she thought, I can just imagine his face if he was presented with this!
‘No, sweetie, you wash it off. Your dinner will be ready soon.’
Kira nodded and walked back to the bedroom. Joanie could feel her heart racing in her chest. It had been almost surreal, seeing her like that. She’d looked so much like an adult, and a beautiful adult at that. The worst thing of all was that Kira had looked like a miniature version of Joanie herself at the same age.
She gulped at her glass of red wine and puffed deeply on her Benson. As she stared out of the kitchen window she noticed that the nights were drawing in and this pleased her. Darkness made her job easier. It also kept her young daughter where she could see her.
Inside the flat.
Jeanette walked into the kitchen also looking like a glamour puss and said to her mother gaily, ‘Didn’t she look fantastic, Mum?’
The pride in her voice made Joanie want to cry. But she nodded. It was so rare that Jeanette did anything with her sister, she didn’t want to spoil it.
‘Like a little woman. But do me a favour, Jen, don’t get her up like that too often.’
Jeanette pushed her thick brown hair back as she said gently, ‘Don’t worry, Mum, I won’t. It was really quite shocking to see her like that even though she loved it. Do you know what I mean?’
‘I do, love. It scared me to be honest.’
‘I took a few photos of her in the bedroo
m to keep her happy, then I washed it off her face. Before Jon Jon saw her. But you should have seen her posing on the bed, a right natural and all, grinning away one minute and looking all sultry the next. She’s a case, eh?’
Joanie ruffled the girl’s hair.
‘You’re an old softie really, ain’t you?’
Jeanette laughed but she didn’t push her mother away as usual and Joanie chanced giving her a hug. It was returned and soon Kira joined them and they were all still laughing and hugging when Jon Jon burst through the door.
‘Can anyone join in this session or is it for members only?’
‘What’s a member?’
Kira’s voice was high and interested and Joanie answered her with a quip.
‘That depends on who you ask, my lovely.’
Everyone laughed except Kira but she enjoyed the happiness around her and then laughed anyway, even though she didn’t know why.
Jon Jon was deliberately putting them all in a good mood and Joanie could have kissed him for it. Their laughter was loud and long. She had not felt so happy for a long time.
As Joanie served up the food later she looked at her kids and felt the swell of pride she always did when she saw them en masse. When they were all happy in each other’s company it made it all seem worthwhile.
They weren’t a bad family. At least they loved one another, cared for one another. Most of the time anyway.
The evening breeze was cool, and Monika and Joanie were chatting as they waited for the cars to stop.
One of Todd McArthur’s young girls wandered towards them. She was as high as the proverbial kite and her smooth-skinned face was grey.
‘You all right, love?’ Joanie asked.
The girl stared at her glassy-eyed and barely managed a nod. Her slow blinking gave the game away to the other women; she was seriously out of it. Looked like she had just come round from an anaesthetic.
Joanie sighed. The poor little mare didn’t know what was going on. She wasn’t capable of getting in any motors tonight.
‘Come on, let’s get you home.’
The girl shook her head, but it was obvious that was about as agile as she was going to get. Not that that would bother the punters at this end of the market. Romance they certainly didn’t want.
‘Leave her, Joanie, you’ll only end up with McArthur on your back.’
Monika’s voice was bored.
Joanie grabbed the girl’s arm.
‘Fuck him! She ain’t in no fit state to do anything. She’s a danger to herself.’
The girl was trying to struggle but she was so out of it that all she could manage was a few head shakes.
‘Call a cab, Mon.’
Monika was shaking her own head now.
‘No way, she ain’t our responsibility.’
Joanie started to walk the girl towards the pub nearby. The young girl was stumbling along, and as she took her arm to steady her Joanie saw the line of track marks and sighed.
What a piece of work that McArthur was! Scum, he was, scum. She remembered his mother, a nice woman with a respectable way about her. Even his old man, who was still banged up on a twenty-five for murder, had disowned this son who sold young girls. As she helped the girl along a Mercedes screeched to a halt and Todd McArthur himself was standing on the pavement blocking their way.
‘What the fuck you doing?’
His voice was high, angry and tinged with disbelief.
Joanie tried to push him out of her way, but he had planted himself firmly on the pavement. His hand-made shoes looked incongruous among the used condoms, syringes and discarded cigarette butts.
‘I said, what the fuck you doing?’
He was strong, wiry, with the athletic look of a footballer. He prided himself on his physique, and also on being a force to be reckoned with in the female game while still so young. His arrogance got right up Joanie’s nose.
Monika was watching warily and a few of the other women crowded round, all willing to take him on for Joanie. For the first time ever he felt nervous round his workforce.
‘This child is out of her nut and I am putting her in a cab home. She ain’t in no fit state to work tonight.’
McArthur’s face wore the look of a man in a state of complete amazement before such sheer and utter brazenness. He looked around him at the ring of concerned faces. This had to be a joke. He half expected Jeremy Beadle to jump out from behind a car.
‘I will be the fucking judge of that. Now take your fucking hands off her!’
The shock of seeing her pimp before her sent the girl into a sudden frenzy of fear. She was shaking, and Todd dragged her by the hair towards his car. The women all watched Joanie, waiting to take their cue from her. A lonely punter was reduced to whistling for their attention and Monika, always the selfish one, sloped off and jumped in the car as fast as possible.
Joanie felt a spurt of foolhardy anger.
‘You better be taking her home, boy.’
All the women were nodding now as if in agreement and Todd looked around at the sea of faces and felt the first prickle of serious unease. But his street instinct told him he had to sort this out or he would lose the fear and respect he needed to ply his particular trade.
He bundled the girl towards his car and then, turning on Joanie, bellowed: ‘Who the fuck are you to question me?’
She felt real rage flare inside her then. The girl was lying on the pavement completely oblivious to what was going on around her. Joanie poked McArthur none too gently in his chest and said in a low voice, ‘I remember you, boy, when you ran the streets with your arse hanging out of your pants. You was a little ponce then and you’re a little ponce now. I’m warning you, mate, the game is a hard life for a woman but it’s even harder for a pimp when he loses the respect of his women. You bear that in fucking mind in future, because one of your girls will end up dead soon and then you’ll see the darker side of me and the likes of me.’
Todd McArthur was in complete and utter shock.
This had to be a wind up.
The women were all staring at him, their heavily made-up faces and scanty clothing somehow sinister in the darkening night.
Then, his natural antagonism coming to the fore, he took back his fist and slammed it into Joanie’s face. She went flying backwards and, pulling out his weapon of choice, a Stanley knife, he walked towards her.
The women were all terrified now. Then, as Joanie lay on the dirty pavement, her nose bleeding and her eyes already swelling, all hell broke loose. She was amazed to see her son dragging Todd McArthur along the pavement and then proceeding to give him the hammering of a lifetime.
One of the women helped her to her feet and they all watched in awe and sick fascination as her son meted out the punishment due to the prone figure on the ground.
Joanie was still trying to get over the shock of seeing her son in her workplace, something that had never happened before. Then as she saw Paulie Martin it all fell into place.
He sauntered over to her. Taking her hand, he grabbed her chin and stared closely at her face.
‘You’ll live, Joanie. I ain’t so sure about McArthur though. Strong little fucker, that boy of yours.’
He smiled at her as he handed her a spotlessly clean handkerchief.
‘By the way, after tonight you’re in the parlour full-time.’
Joanie’s face was a picture and the women all looked at one another as they realised just who this young Rasta was.
Paulie stopped the beating and Jon Jon and his mother made eye contact. She could see the confusion in his face and knew it was mirrored in her own.
She looked so small to him, her face battered and bleeding, her poor body dropping with the pain and humiliation of him seeing her like this. He understood her so well and in that second realised how much he loved this woman who had borne him. Whatever she was, she was all he had ever had or would want to have.
Going to her, he hugged her close.
‘You all right,
Mum?’
Paulie watched them and felt strangely sad before the obvious love between them. He realised it was years since his girls had hugged him without an ulterior motive, usually requests for money, horses or suchlike.
The police drove by slowly and Paulie waved at them in a friendly manner. They carried on driving.
‘Let’s get you home, girl.’
