by Kitty Neale
‘In advance? You planned this?’
‘Not exactly planned, but we’ve been courting for ages and…and I was scared you’d lose patience with me. I’ve been taking the pill, well, just in case, hoping I could pluck up the courage.’
‘So you thought you had to go all the way.’
‘Yes…no…well, sort of, but I’m glad I did.’
‘There was no need. I’d have waited for as long as necessary. I…well, I love you.’
Tina’s stomach flipped. Paul had never said that before, but she felt the same. ‘I love you too.’
‘I’m glad to hear it, but you can forget about the pill. I’ve heard about the side effects and no doubt it accounts for those headaches.’
‘But what if I get pregnant?’
‘There’ll be no chance of that. In future I’ll keep my hands to myself.’
‘I’m not standing for that!’ Tina said, feigning indignation. ‘I rather liked it, and though another bloke might not be as good as you, I don’t intend to turn into a nun.’
‘What!’
Paul’s face was a picture and, unable to hold it back, Tina burst out laughing.
He grinned. ‘You had me going there for a while. Now come here. If you liked it so much we’ll do it again, but only on condition that you agree to marry me.’
‘Yes please, on both counts,’ Tina said. She was so happy, couldn’t remember a time when she’d ever been this happy, and it was all thanks to this man. Since they’d been going out together there had been terrible things happening, IRA bomb blasts all over the place, both here and in Ireland. Parliament had been targeted, as well as the Tower of London and Brooks’s Club in London. Just two days ago a bomb had gone off in a Birmingham pub and it seemed nowhere in England was safe.
Yet now, lying in Paul’s arms, Tina felt cocooned and her heart swelled with love. They were getting married, she would be his wife, and she’d never have to fear anything again.
Jenny was in the drawing room, wondering about the men who had called to see Marcos. He’d barely introduced them and they were now ensconced in his study, the door closed. It was Saturday, and they rarely entertained, other than the occasions Marcos allowed her to invite her parents to dinner, usually about once every seven to eight weeks. Marcos usually worked late and, as he was keen to have their weekends undisturbed, it wasn’t often they accepted a return invitation.
It was difficult because her dad wanted to see more of her, but Jenny had found it best to please her husband rather than her father. Marcos wanted her there when he was at home, which meant she was only free during the day, and her father was at work then.
What surprised Jenny was the growing relationship she had with her mother. Their personalities were still miles apart, but on one occasion when her parents had been round for dinner, Jenny and Delia had found a shared interest in cooking. When her mother offered to teach her how to ice cakes, Jenny had taken her up on it, going for a lesson once a week. She was proficient now, but still called in to see her mother, the two of them now relaxed in each other’s company.
Jenny glanced at the clock and saw that Marcos had been in the study for over an hour. Though drinks had been refused on arrival, she thought the men might want one now.
‘Excuse me,’ she said, going into the study, ‘can I get you anything?’
‘I wouldn’t mind a beer,’ one said, and Jenny struggled to remember his name. She saw something on the desk, a drawing of some sort, a building, but then her view was blocked as Marcos stood up in front of her.
He looked annoyed, his tone hard when he spoke. ‘I’ll see to their drinks, and do not disturb us again.’
‘So…sorry,’ Jenny stuttered.
He grabbed her arm, almost pushing her out of the room, and as the door began to close Jenny heard someone say, ‘You jammy git, Marcos. She’s a bit of all right and I can see why you left…’
The rest of the words were cut off as the door was firmly closed. Upset, Jenny returned to the drawing room. They had been married for over a year now, and there had been other occasions, like this one, when Marcos seemed a cold, hard stranger. Thankfully it didn’t happen very often, and mostly Jenny told herself she was happy, except for the fact that she hadn’t fallen for a baby. She was puzzled too by what she had overheard. What had Marcos left…or who?
‘I haven’t got beer, it’ll have to be whisky,’ Marcos said, pouring them all a drink.
‘Well, I ain’t complaining,’ Liam said.
‘Nor me,’ Steve agreed, slugging it back as if it were nectar.
Marcos poured him another measure. During the past year he’d kept a wary eye on Steve but, having found nothing to arouse his suspicions, he’d finally let him into the inner circle. The man had proved useful in finding the perfect target, and then in casing the joint, but there was a lot more planning still to do before Marcos was ready to make a move. He’d come this far by careful, meticulous attention to detail and he wasn’t about to start taking risks now.
He looked at the drawing again. Hatton Gardens, London’s diamond quarter, usually impenetrable, but they had found an easy way into one of the shops.
‘Steve, how can we be sure this man is going to cooperate?’
‘For one he’s a wimp, and, two, it’ll be me holding his wife and kids.’
‘I still don’t like it, boss,’ complained Bernie. ‘We haven’t done anything like this before. If we get nabbed the jury ain’t gonna take it too kindly.’
‘We won’t get caught,’ Marcos said, ‘but if you want out, say so now.’
‘No, no, I’m in, but I don’t know why we can’t just do it the old way.’
‘Look, Bernie, we walk in, and then walk out again. No walls to break through, no alarms, and no safe to crack. It’s perfect.’
‘He’s gonna know our faces,’ said Liam.
‘Not if they’re covered up, you moron,’ Marcos told him. Liam looked a bit peeved, but the other two were trying to suppress laughter. ‘All right, I shouldn’t have called you that, but you’ve got to admit you sound like an old woman. Here, have another drink.’
Mollified, Liam held out his glass. ‘I’m just making sure nothing can go wrong, that’s all.’
‘Right then, let’s go over the plans from start to finish again, and we’ll need a few more meets after this one until we’re sure the timing is perfect,’ Marcos said. He’d chosen to bring them here, away from any chance of prying eyes, or ears. There’d been a time, about a year ago, when something had niggled, a feeling that had passed now, but he’d learned to trust his instincts. He felt safe here. Other than a chosen few, so far this house was unknown to anyone else and he intended to keep it that way.
‘It’s simple enough,’ Steve said after they’d gone over it once more.
‘Right, that’s it for now,’ Marcos said, ‘but one for the road before you leave.’
Glasses filled, they drank the whisky and then Marcos escorted them out, and he was in a good mood afterwards when he walked into the drawing room. He’d been a bit short with Jenny, but now recalled that he hadn’t told her not to disturb them. She looked at him nervously.
‘It’s all right, darling,’ he said. ‘My fault and I’m sorry if I upset you.’
Relied flooded her features. ‘That’s all right, but who were those men?’
‘They work for me. I’m making a few changes to one of my premises. You probably spotted the plans.’
‘Yes, I saw them briefly.’
He waited for more questions, pleased when they didn’t come, and decided to reward her. ‘Would you like to invite your parents to dinner tomorrow?’
‘Yes, I’d love to.’
‘Give them a ring then.’
Jenny looked happy as she went to the telephone, but she had a much bigger surprise coming, one he had thought long and hard about. As soon as they’d pulled off this job, he was going to sell up the lot – the businesses, this place – and with Jenny on his arm he’d move t
o Spain. It wasn’t that there’d been any sign of trouble, in fact not a whisper from the hags, his money keeping them nicely quiet, but he was sick of forking it out. Once he was out of the country they could say what they liked, do what they liked, but they wouldn’t be able to touch him.
Yes, a nice villa beckoned, and that left only one thing. It was about time Jenny fell pregnant. The words his mother had once said rose up to haunt him once more, but Marcos forced them, and her image, away. There was still time, lots of it, and in Spain he’d be completely relaxed, at ease, which was sure to make a difference.
Edward replaced the receiver. Late and short notice again, but Delia was sure to be pleased, as was he. He wanted to see more of his daughter, but at least Delia saw her regularly.
‘That was Jenny. We’ve been invited to dinner tomorrow,’ he said, returning to sit by the fire.
‘Oh, good, but I suppose it will just be us again. I really don’t understand Marcos. I’ve offered to introduce him to Penelope Grainger, and getting into that circle might be useful to him. He just isn’t interested.’
‘Delia, it’s you who wants to get in with them, but you’ve just got to accept that Marcos is a man who values his privacy.’
‘What about Jenny? They’ve been living in Almond Crescent for over a year, yet she hasn’t made any attempt to meet her neighbours.’
‘It’s her choice and as long as she’s happy, what does it matter?’
‘She seems so isolated.’
‘Of course she isn’t. She passed her test ages ago, tootles about in her car and comes round here to see you every week.’
‘But she hasn’t got any friends.’
‘Of course she has. What about the other young women she met in her cookery classes?’
‘Well, yes, she has mentioned meeting them for lunch occasionally.’
‘There you are then. Now stop worrying about Jenny. She’s fine, Marcos adores her and she wants for nothing. What more could a girl want?’
‘I know she wants a baby.’
‘There’s plenty of time,’ Edward said, then he yawned. ‘It was all right going to Kensington to see Beatrice and Tim, but I’m worn out.’
‘Isn’t their apartment lovely?’
‘Yes, very nice,’ he said, though he found it hard to sound enthusiastic about what he had considered over-the-top ostentation. The decor was all deep reds and golds, with dark wood furniture, high ceilings and chandeliers. As in Jenny’s house, Edward had found it hard to relax.
‘Did you notice the china? It must have cost a fortune.’
‘No, not really,’ he said, yawning again. They saw Beatrice and her husband about once a month and that was enough for him. He had little in common with Timothy, found the man a bore, and Beatrice’s haughty manner was hard to swallow. Still, it made Delia happy to have her sister in the country again, and in her company they became like two peas in a pod, Delia always bragging about Jenny and Marcos, about their huge house and how well off they were, as if that gave her some sort of kudos just by association. Beatrice in turn talked about the fabulous parties she and Timothy went to, the influential people she met, including, it seemed, members of royalty. Yet, underlying this, there was no doubt the sisters were fond of each other.
‘I’m hoping to persuade Marcos to invite them to dinner soon.’
‘I don’t think he particularly enjoyed it when we took them to Kensington. Jenny may have wanted to see her aunt, but I got the feeling that Marcos didn’t.’
‘Nonsense, he was charming and Beatrice was very impressed. It’ll be Christmas soon and tomorrow I could hint that we all spend it together. They could invite Beatrice and Timothy and make it a lovely family Christmas.’
‘Don’t build your hopes up. Last year Marcos took Jenny to a hotel and he may be planning to do the same this year.’
‘I doubt it. Jenny would have said something, and anyway, it was different then. Things were still a little strained between us, but everything is fine now.’
For Delia’s sake, Edward hoped Marcos would agree to a family get-together, but he was difficult to read and he still hadn’t got to the bottom of the man’s character. Yes, he could be charming, the perfect host, but there was a reserve, a distance, as though they were having dinner with an acquaintance instead of their son-in-law. Still, he thought, give it time. Jenny was happy, and as long as she continued to be, that was all that mattered.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
The new year had come in with high January winds, the lawn now covered in leaves that the gardener would tackle, but with housework to do Jenny took off her engagement ring to put in her jewellery box. As always, when she looked inside, she was struck by Marcos’s generosity. For their first Christmas together he had given her a Cartier watch among other things, then an emerald bracelet for her birthday. On their first wedding anniversary it had been a trip to Paris, and a diamond-encrusted heart-shaped locket.
They’d just had their second Christmas, a family one this time, and Marcos had given her pearls, along with the promise of another trip away soon. Jenny closed her jewellery box. So many wonderful presents, so many lovely things, but all Jenny really wanted was a baby.
The entry system buzzed and she hurried downstairs to let in Edna. It wasn’t long before the woman was at the front door and Jenny smiled.
‘Hello, Edna, did you have a nice Christmas and New Year?’
‘Yes thanks, Mrs Cane,’ she said.
Edna still called her Mrs Cane and Jenny sighed. She had tried, but had been unable to get past Edna’s reserve. The woman was friendly enough, happy to chat, but only about mundane things, and Jenny had soon come to realise that talking about Marcos was strictly taboo.
‘We had my parents here for Christmas dinner, along with my brother, aunt and uncle.’
‘That’s nice.’
‘Yes, it was, though I don’t think Marcos would agree. He’d have preferred it if we had spent Christmas alone.’
‘Yeah, well, I’d best get on,’ Edna said, heading for the kitchen.
Jenny followed her. She wasn’t surprised that Marcos had found her aunt trying on Christmas Day, she’d felt the same, but worse, Penelope Grainger and her husband had called round later in the evening. That had been down to her mother taking it upon herself to invite them, and though Jenny had seen that Marcos was annoyed, he had managed to hide it well. She’d been so nervous, expecting him to go mad when everyone left, but instead, to her surprise, he had shrugged it off, saying that it hardly mattered.
‘It was good of you to give me so much time off,’ Edna said as she took off her coat.
‘Nonsense, you’ve been with us for over a year and you’ve never missed a day.’
‘I had a holiday in July.’
‘Well, you deserved another one,’ Jenny said.
‘The time’s flown past and now it’s 1975. I hope it’s going to be a good year.’
‘Yes, me too,’ Jenny agreed, the thought of having a baby once again springing to mind.
‘Right then, I expect you’d like a cup of tea?’
Jenny smiled. This was Edna’s routine, a cup of tea before she got down to any work. She had missed her presence in the morning, and was pleased to have her back.
‘Yes, please, I’d love one.’
When the tea was made they chatted over it, but once again the subject of Marcos was avoided.
‘How is your son, Edna?’
‘Tom’s all right, but if you ask me it’s about time he found himself a decent woman and got married.’
‘How old is he?’
‘He’ll be forty this year.’
‘Marcos will be too.’
‘Yeah, I know, they went to school together.’
‘Did they? Goodness, I didn’t know that.’
‘There’s a lot you don’t know,’ Edna said, but then her expression changed to one of horror. ‘Gawd, I shouldn’t have said that.’
‘It’s all right, Edna. You’re right,
I know hardly anything about Marcos’s childhood. He did say once that he came from a poor background, but I’d love to hear more.’
‘I can’t tell you anything. I…I don’t know anything.’
‘You just said Marcos went to school with your son.’
‘Please, you’re a nice young woman, a kind young woman, so don’t mention it to Mar…Mr Cane. He’ll know it came from me.’
‘Edna, I’ve noticed this before. You seem frightened of Marcos, but why?’
‘No! No, I’m not. It’s just that, well, er…some things in his past he doesn’t like talked about.’
‘Is it that something dreadful happened to him during his childhood?’
‘I’m sorry, Mrs Cane, really I am, but if he wants you to know he’ll tell you himself. Now…now I really must get some work done.’
Jenny knew she’d get nothing more from Edna, but felt she had a clue now. Poor Marcos, something really awful must have happened to him, something so dreadful that he didn’t want it talked about. Perhaps that was why he avoided the subject, perhaps he hated the memories of his childhood; having bad ones of her own, she could understand that.
Marcos was sitting in a small office at one of his garages, going over the books, when Bernie walked in.
‘Morning, boss.’
Marcos smiled. Bernie looked hung over but, reliable as ever, he’d still turned up for work. ‘Rough night?’
‘Nah, I’m still recovering from seeing in the New Year.’
‘Close the door,’ Marcos said.
Bernie did so, asking worriedly, ‘What’s up?’
‘I’ve decided to schedule the job for the end of February. They’ll have stocked up after Christmas sales and, even better, Steve’s had a sniff of a huge diamond coming in. It’s for someone famous who wants it made into a ring for his wife, and apparently it’s worth a mint.’
‘Sounds good to me, but what about selling the stuff on?’
‘We’ll use the Dutchman again. He knows better than to do us on price.’
