The Life

by Martina Cole

  Jack was a ladies’ man – he had a permanent erection and he preferred faceless sex. The girls who worked here were on an earn, so they would not be too fussy. At twenty-one he was shrewd enough to know that, if he played his cards right, the possibilities were endless.

  ‘Please, boys, I can pay. I promise you.’

  Jack smiled at his cousins; they were not yet au fait with his way of working, but they soon would be. He would see to that.

  As he walked into the club, Jack could smell the cheap perfume, the stink of old lager and could see the stains on carpets that only looked good late at night. He saw the interest on the girls’ faces, and he responded to them instinctively, drinking in their fake smiles and their fake cleavages. This was shag central to him; this was what he had been dreaming of for years. Jack Bailey felt like he had finally come home.

  His two cousins were impressed with his confidence; if they followed his lead their lives would be enriched in more ways than they had ever imagined. Jack Bailey was born to spread it about; this job made it all the easier for him to do that, and he embraced it with every bit of energy he possessed. He grinned at his cousins and, winking, he said pleasantly, ‘Noel, Jamsie, follow the man, and count the money. I have to acquaint myself with the premises, and the females within it, as I am sure you both understand.’

  As he sat down with the girls, and saw them smiling at him as if he was a male model or a movie star, he knew his father had inadvertently given him the world on a plate and for that alone he would always be thankful.

  ‘All right, girls? So what’re your names, then?’

  The girls, for their part, knew a mug when they saw one, and this mug was obviously someone of note. They gave him their best smiles, and invited him into their group without a second’s thought. This was, after all, a hostess club.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  ‘She is a fucking stripper, Liam! Will you get a grip!’ Imelda Bailey was clearly annoyed; she didn’t like that her brother was being taken for a fool. What was it with her brothers and strippers?

  ‘I don’t care, I like her.’

  Imelda rolled her eyes at the ceiling. ‘Strippers are like pros, Liam, they just see the money. You go out with her, do what you like, but you do not treat her as a real girlfriend. I’m trying to help you here. You are a fucking complete idiot where women are concerned.’

  ‘She’s nice.’

  Imelda grabbed him by the shoulders and shouted, ‘She’s nice to everyone, you idiot! She flashes her clout for a fucking living! For fuck’s sake, Liam, don’t let anyone see that you really care for her, or you will be slaughtered! All I’m saying is, have a bit of discretion, OK?’

  Liam nodded. But he couldn’t help his feelings. Mandy, as she was called, rang every bell he possessed. Nice tits, tight snatch, and she treated him like a king. He couldn’t help it – he went through the girls like water, was always on a love job of sorts.

  ‘Your job is to run this club, Liam, with me. And you do a good job. Then a new stripper arrives and you fall in love! It’s not right, Liam – you need to differentiate between the strippers and real birds. That’s all I am saying.’

  Liam just grinned and Imelda sighed in frustration – she knew she was wasting her time. Liam, who was a good guy, had a weakness for women in him. He was attracted to the strippers and, unlike the other boys, he actually dated them. Handsome fucker he was, so she could understand the girls’ interest in him, but she was determined that not one of them would ever get a foot in his doorway. Not on her watch anyway.

  Imelda actually liked this Mandy Wright; she was a genuinely lovely girl. The hardest part was that, since Imelda had taken over the Soho clubs, she had seen a different side to it. She’d become a part of the girls’ lives and seen the reality of their situations. Mandy had a two-year-old boy, a nice little kid called Bernard who she worshipped, and who was the reason she stripped for a living. She had no real education, no real family in the background to help her out, and she was doing what she had to, to get by: stripping for a living. Through that, she paid her rent, and fed and clothed her boy. But she was still a fucking stripper, a Jack the Ripper as the slang went, and Liam needed to understand that there was a fine line, and once you stepped over it, you lost your credibility.

  ‘Look, Liam, I like Mandy, she is a nice girl.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it, sis, because this time it’s for real. I love her.’

  Liam laughed at his sister’s expression. She was fantastic, his Imelda, but she had no idea how his mind worked. He didn’t give a toss what his bird did for a living – he thought she was the proverbial dog’s knob, and that was enough as far as he was concerned.

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Daniel looked at Tommy Barker with genuine interest. He had picked up on the fact that his mother really did like him and, from what he could see, he liked her. He had done his homework, and it seemed that Tommy was a straight arrow. He had murdered someone, granted, but it seemed he was well within his rights, and he had done his time – and a serious fucking lump at that. He had come out, was still on licence, he had a bit of an earn – a good earn in fact – and he had more or less kept his nose clean. He was well respected by his peers, and it looked as if he genuinely liked his mother’s company.

  His mum was notorious for outing her paramours within a few weeks; she had always had her diversions, but she had never brought a man into her sons’ lives. Both Peter and Daniel had appreciated that. Ironically, at this late stage, it now seemed to be a distinct possibility.

  Daniel was surprised that he didn’t really care either way. Years before, he knew that if she had brought a man into their home, he would have felt honour-bound to see that he was removed, would have seen his presence as a fucking insult. As a rival almost, he supposed, shocked at the thought. Now, though, he didn’t really care. She was old and he was a grown man with his own family. She still looked out for him – as today had proved – but she was entitled to her own life now. He wondered briefly if that was a good thing, and found he couldn’t answer that question.

  Lena seemed wary of the old fucker, but Tania had taken to him straight off. She seemed to like him, and they said that kids had a built-in radar. This Tommy Barker was a big old lump. In his day he would have been someone to respect, he would have been – in fact, from what Daniel had heard, had been – a man who people were wary of, who had a decent reputation. Even now, as old as he was, he still had a certain air about him; you could see he had been a serious fucking handful in his day.

  Daniel stood up. ‘What can I get you, Tommy? The drinks are on me.’

  Tommy Barker had his arm around Theresa. He inclined his head. ‘I’ll have a large Scotch, Daniel, thank you very much.’

  When Daniel eventually placed the drink on the table in front of Tommy Barker, he leaned towards him, and said quietly into his ear, ‘You hurt my mother and you will have to deal with me.’

  Tommy downed the Scotch in one swallow before he answered seriously, ‘I wouldn’t expect anything else from you, son. It’s your mother. But remember this, I’m an old hand, and I don’t take kindly to threats.’

  Daniel Bailey laughed out loud. He liked this old boy, he was one of the old guard. ‘I’ll drink to that, mate.’

  Lena watched it through frightened eyes and, even when Theresa squeezed her hand, grateful that she was that they had made up, she still felt the terror inside her. She didn’t want to be a part of this world, and she was determined to make sure, no matter what her mother-in-law said, that she was not going to become a part of the Life, and neither was her daughter.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Mandy Wright looked at the man asleep beside her in her bed and marvelled at how this had all come about. She had sworn that she would not get involved with another man, and now here she was lying in bed with Liam Bailey. She had been determined to keep herself to herself, and just take care of her little boy. Now she had to admit that she had completely ignored her
own advice – and she had allowed herself, once more, to fall for a man who she knew would hurt her.

  Liam was handsome, kind – everything she wanted in a man – but she also suspected he was not a man who was looking for a partner for life. He had an eye for the ladies and why not? He was young, and he had the looks and the money to chase whatever and whoever he wanted. He came from a powerful family, he could write his own ticket. But it had only taken one look and, even though she knew he was a player, she couldn’t stop herself; once he had shown an interest in her she had melted. She had given herself to him without hesitation. This time, though, she was on the pill; now she knew more about life and all its pitfalls, so at least there would not be another child.

  Mandy had been in care on and off for most of her life. Her parents were upper middle class; her mother was a drunk, who self-medicated with tranquillisers, and her father was a lawyer. He was also a drunk, but a very violent one who, along with her mother, believed that his education and his background meant that they didn’t have to live by the rules of normal people.

  It was only when she was eight – and her mother had beaten her unconscious – that Mandy had finally been taken into care; a broken arm and fractured skull had been too much for her parents to explain away. A new social worker, Janice Carter – all love beads and afghans and still so new to the job she wasn’t intimidated by the Wrights’ pedigree – had removed her from them immediately. Mandy had been so grateful; for the first time in her life she had slept in a clean bed, had eaten three square meals a day, and attended school regularly. She had felt safe for the first time in her young life.

  Over the years she had been reunited with her mother and father many times, but it had never been a success for any of them. Her mum and dad were so self-obsessed, and they had only fought for her for appearances’ sake and then, when they got her, all they saw was their biggest failure. They knew their daughter saw them for what they were, not as the people they tried so desperately to portray.

  Both sets of grandparents had washed their hands of their offspring long before she had arrived on the scene and, on the few occasions she had met them, they had not shown any real interest in her. Going into care had been her salvation; as bad as it was, it had at least afforded her a degree of security, something she had never before experienced in her young life.

  She had eventually left the care system at sixteen, and immediately fallen for a young man who lived in the same bed and breakfast. He had been the product of the care system himself; he had given her a child and promptly disappeared. Amanda hadn’t really expected anything else, if she was honest; everyone in her life had let her down up till then. But she had kept her little boy, and she loved him with a passion. She had been determined that she would give him the love that she had never had, and that he would never feel unwanted or inadequate.

  She had ended up stripping, because she knew she had a good figure, and friends had introduced her to the world of Soho. Soho was a strange place; a girl could disappear there, and no one judged you too harshly. It was a world built on transients – people arrived, some stayed but most left. It was ideal for Amanda. All she had were her looks, and good looks and youth went a long way.

  She did not claim money from the State, she paid for herself and her boy. The fact she did not accept money from the State meant that her parents could not find her when the fancy took them. Without claiming benefits, or paying tax, she knew she was living under the radar, and that was just how she wanted it. She was just another young girl trying to lose herself, and all she came from, and she had done a good job up to now of avoiding anything to do with the law, the courts, and the social services. She worked for her boy, her little Bernard. He was all that mattered to her.

  Now, though, despite her good intentions, she had fallen for Liam Bailey of all people! She was just waiting for him to leave her, waiting for him to let her down. She was willing to enjoy him while she could, knowing that he would eventually break her heart, because even a few weeks of happiness were better than none; they would give her at least a few good memories for the future. She had so few memories of any kind of happiness that she was prepared to have her heart broken just to gather a few more. She was willing to grab any happiness she could from this man because she loved him – she loved him with a vengeance. He affected her in every possible way, from his looks to his voice to his demeanour. She worshipped him.

  Liam had woken and was watching her. She looked so vulnerable; he could almost feel the anxiety emanating from her. He wondered, not for the first time, how such a beautiful girl could have such a low opinion of herself.

  ‘Any chance of a cup of tea?’

  Mandy physically jumped at his voice. He instinctively grabbed her arm to calm her and, pulling her to him, he said sadly, ‘What is wrong with you? You’re so nervous all the time.’

  She could feel his heartbeat. She loved the feel of him; he was so big he made her feel safe, and she loved that he was so kind, and he was kind. It was such a big part of his nature.

  Bernard started to cry in the next room, and he felt her stiffen. ‘You make the tea, Mandy, and I’ll get the lad, OK?’

  She nodded, her eyes wide. She had lovely eyes, deep blue and really beautiful, but they were always full of fear.

  ‘Make the tea, love. What does little Bernard have? Milk? Bring him his usual.’

  Liam jumped out of the bed, and went into Bernard’s room. The flat was so small – only three rooms and a bathroom that was no more than a shower and a toilet. But she had made it lovely. She kept it clean and tidy, and had decorated it in creams and golds. She had good taste he thought, and he admired her for the way she worked for her little lad.

  As he picked Bernard up from his cot, he saw how blond the boy was, and he smiled to himself – there was no way anyone would ever believe he was his dad. But he didn’t care, he was a nice kid, and he had a fuck-off little mum.

  ‘Hello, Bernie boy, it’s Uncle Liam again, and I think your mum is the nuts!’

  Bernard Wright grinned; he liked this big dark-skinned man who spoke to him with kindness and who held him so tightly. Bernard snuggled into the man’s arms, he felt secure with him. As he looked into Liam’s eyes he smiled widely, his huge eyes trusting, and when his arms wound their way round Liam’s neck, Liam knew that this was all he wanted; Mandy and her little boy were a team, and he wanted to be a part of that team.

  He got back into bed, and he sat Bernard on his lap. When Mandy came back in with the tea, he smiled at her and said seriously, ‘All right, Mandy?’

  She nodded; as always, she was quiet and grateful, and it frustrated him. She was a fucking diamond, she had no reason to put herself down.

  ‘He’s a great little lad, our Bernie boy, and I think he likes me!’

  As he said it, young Bernard hugged him tightly and, wrapping his arms around the child instinctively, he smiled happily. He could see the pleasure on Mandy’s face, knew that she appreciated he was nice to her little lad. He was saddened that she was so grateful for so little, that she didn’t understand just how wonderful she was.

  ‘Listen, Mandy, I want to be with you all the time, and this little fella and all. Do you think you could find it in your heart to love me back, because I love you, darling, and this little fella too.’

  Mandy Wright looked at her son’s blond head, and watched as he laughed as Liam Bailey tickled him. Putting down the mug of tea, she sat on the bed, and started to cry. She was sobbing, unable to believe what he was telling her.

  Liam pulled her into his arms and, kissing her forehead, he said honestly, ‘Mandy love, this was supposed to make us all happy.’

  Hugging him tightly she said eventually, ‘Oh, I am happy, Liam, that’s the trouble.’

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  ‘Delroy, if you fucking don’t tell me the truth, I will kill you stone dead, I swear it.’

  Imelda was in one of her jealous rages and Delroy was determined not to let her cause h
im any trouble; he loved her with a passion, but she knew better than anyone that he could never be completely faithful. ‘Stop it, Mel, I mean it. This is a fucking stupid enterprise, and we both know it. I love you, and you will always be my number one woman. But if you cause murders for any length of time, I will fucking leave – I’ll walk out. I love you and my boy more than life itself, but I will not be a part of all this shit. The girl came for a job, no more and no less. If I was on the nest with someone else, do you really think I would be stupid enough to let you know about it? Would have them nearby? Give me some credit, for fuck’s sake. Now, please, let this drop.’

  Imelda looked at the man she had loved since the first time she had laid eyes on him, and she knew that no matter how she felt, she had to let this go. Delroy would not let himself be dragged into any arguments about his fidelity, he had told her that from day one. She knew he loved her but, as time went on, it was getting harder and harder to overlook his failings. She knew in her heart that if he was seeing someone else, he respected her far too much to ever put her in a position where she might actually come into contact with the person. Oh, there’d been whispers over the years, but never anything concrete. Then, two days ago, she had seen him dropping off a girl at the club in Brixton. It had been like a physical blow. The girl had been young, white and lovely. Imelda had felt so bad because the girl had been fresh and young, and Imelda couldn’t compete. She hated herself for letting him know she had seen him, for letting him know how much she cared, but she couldn’t help herself.

  Delroy understood her fears; he knew Imelda so well, but he was not a man to be curtailed in any way. He loved her but, in all fairness, he had never promised her fidelity and he wasn’t going to start now. He wouldn’t lie to her either – not unless he really felt he had to. Even so, he hated to see the hurt on her face, the pain of betrayal in her eyes.