by Jessie Keane
144
Having dropped off Suki at her hotel, Connor called Mad Dog. He told the swivel-eyed gink to keep an eye on the Milo women, make sure they didn’t go near the family, check in with him now and again, let him know what they were getting up to.
‘Consider it done,’ said Mad Dog Cunningham.
‘It better be,’ said Connor.
When Connor got to Mum’s, he found Shauna in the kitchen, sitting at the coffee bar. She’d taken up the fags in earnest since Josh’s death, and she was puffing away beside an ashtray overloaded with stubbed-out filter tips. A half-cup of espresso was at her elbow.
She looked rough, edgy. Not like she needed espresso. She looked like she needed to calm down, quick. Her dark hair, usually so neatly groomed, was all over the place, as if she’d been dragging her fingers through it. Her eyes were fixed and manic as she took another deep drag of nicotine.
‘That bitch,’ she said the minute he came into the room. ‘That cowing fucker.’
‘Thought you’d kicked the habit,’ said Connor, sitting down opposite. She’d smoked before, sometimes – thin cigars at Christmas, the odd cigarette when she was feeling tense – but now she was dragging that shit into her lungs like she wanted to start something down there, something black and terrible.
‘Taken it back up,’ she said with a tight, bitter smile. ‘What you been doing?’
He looked at her and wondered if he knew her, if he had ever known her, his mother. Suki’s words were dancing in his head. A brutal rape. Killing the dog. Claire, running for her life. And his mother at the back of it all? Could any of that be true?
‘Work,’ he said. No way was he telling her what he’d really been doing. She was jittery enough as it was; mention the fact that he’d just driven the girl back to her hotel and Shauna would hit the fucking roof. And somehow . . . he didn’t want to tell his mother where Claire and Suki were staying. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t.
‘I’m glad you called in,’ she said, exhaling sharply so that two plumes of smoke came down her nostrils.
Dragon Lady, he thought. She looked fearsome. Christ, he wouldn’t want to cross her. Once Shauna Flynn had it in for you, your goose was well and truly cooked. Uncomfortably, that made him think again about Claire, and what had – according to Suki – happened to the woman all those years ago. If Shauna had really been involved in that, how could he feel anything but disgust for her?
Almost against his will, his mind turned again to Suki, Claire’s undeniably gorgeous daughter. Keep thinking those thoughts about the American girl, and there would be trouble.
‘Listen. I’ve been hearing some crazy things,’ said Connor. ‘About Claire Milo.’
Shauna’s face grew still. Her eyes flicked down and she stubbed out her cigarette, hard. ‘From who?’
‘That don’t matter. But I was told she was raped, and her dog was killed. By some people called the Cleavers. And that you had a hand in it.’
Shauna let out a bark of laughter. ‘That’s total bollocks. She just broke off her engagement to your dad and took off. Now we know she went to America. Who’s been telling you all this rubbish?’
Connor ignored the question. ‘I went out to the Cleaver place a while ago. Just looking around. With Dad gone, I wanted to see where he grew up, just look around the area. Anyway, I pitched up at the Cleaver place.’ He paused, stared into her eyes. ‘One of them – said his name was Jeb – came at me with an axe.’
Shauna’s face grew still. ‘You what?’
‘He said he was going to send bits of me back to you in a carrier bag. Serious. Dad’s mate Bubba Pole saved my arse.’
‘You what?’
‘It’s true.’
‘That bastard!’
‘About Claire Milo . . .’
‘She was a milksop little cow, Claire Milo. A real gutless wonder,’ said Shauna, suddenly ashen, her manner distracted.
‘She vanished that night, didn’t she? The night you and Dad left the site.’
Shauna’s dark eyes fastened on his. ‘I don’t know a thing about any of it,’ she said. ‘All I know is your dad was all I wanted, always.’
If he believed nothing else, Connor certainly believed that. Mum had verged on the obsessive about Dad.
No wonder the poor fucker ran for the hills. Got tucked up again with a sweet little honey like Claire Milo.
He shouldn’t even be thinking that. But what he was thinking about now was Kylie, his ex. Stopping her in the shopping mall, and her looking scared and saying, Ask your bitch mother and her pet ape. What the fuck? Who was this ‘ape’? Was it – could it be – Jeb Cleaver? And had Jeb and Shauna fallen out over something? Was that why he’d swung an axe at Connor while mentioning his mother?
Christ! What the hell had she been up to?
‘Anyway!’ Shauna drew a breath, swept a long-nailed hand across the marble worktop between them as if drawing an invisible line. ‘Forget that shit. What matters is what I want to talk to you about now.’
‘Oh?’ Connor eyed his mother.
‘Yeah.’ Shauna reached into the drawer under the worktop and pulled something out that shocked Connor to the core.
‘Christ,’ he said as Shauna pushed the thing toward him.
‘Don’t tell me you ain’t seen one of these before,’ she said.
‘What the . . . ?’
Connor stared at the big Magnum pistol. He looked up at his mother’s eyes and she was smiling. She looked mad.
‘Take that,’ she said. ‘And kill that bitch Claire Milo. And her runt of a daughter.’
145
There was a long, chilling moment of silence. Then Connor spoke.
‘I’m not killing anyone,’ he said, pushing the gun back toward her. ‘Are you off your fucking head?’
The smile dropped from Shauna’s face like a discarded mask. ‘I’m your mother, Connor Flynn. And I’m telling you to do it.’
Connor stood up so suddenly that he knocked over the bar stool. He didn’t pick it up.
‘No,’ he said.
‘What, you ain’t got the balls for it?’
‘I’m not doing it.’ Connor flicked the thing back across the countertop. ‘Get it out of your head. It ain’t going to happen.’
Aysha came by late afternoon after work to see how Mum was getting on. Poor bloody Mum, talk about everything kicking off. Aysha herself was in a state of bewilderment. Everything was so new with Benedict, breathless and wonderful, but she could hardly allow herself to be happy when poor Dad was lying dead. She’d loved her dad and they’d finally found an uneasy sort of peace between them after all those rough years. Josh had clearly had issues with her, but when she’d suffered through Joey’s shit and through the trauma of losing her child, Dad had really come through for her. He’d been so good to her when she’d lost the baby. It was beyond sad that he was gone, when they could have grown so much closer. Mum was numb with grief, and now there was all this other stuff, terrible stuff, about this other woman being involved with him. How could she believe any of that?
But it was true.
Awful though it was, it was a fact. The money didn’t matter, of course it didn’t, but it was a bitter blow all the same. Five hundred thousand pounds would keep that Milo bitch in clover for the rest of her life. That was family money. Money Mum should have to keep for her old age. Or to squander. To do whatever she liked with. Instead, it was going to be wasted on that horny cheating bitch and the girl with the legs and the fucking blonde hair that Connor hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off. Aysha felt rage grow as she thought about it. The front of those mares, turning up at the solicitor’s office like that.
‘Mum? Where are you?’ she called out, letting herself in through the front door.
She went straight to the kitchen, but Shauna wasn’t there. Then she went into the sitting room. Shauna was standing in front of the big picture window, her back toward Aysha. She was looking down toward the woodland beyond the garden.
>
‘Mum? You all right?’ said Aysha, coming up alongside her. Her mother was still dressed in funereal black, still deep in mourning for Josh.
‘Oh! Hi, doll, didn’t hear you come in, I was miles away.’
Aysha joined Shauna at the window. ‘Pair of magpies.’ She pointed out the two black-and-white birds, chittering and chasing each other around on the lawn.
‘Death birds,’ said Shauna.
Aysha was starting to wonder whether the doctor ought to give Shauna something, perk her up a bit. She seemed very down, very remote. Again Aysha felt that uncomfortable stab of guilt at her own newfound happiness. What did her mother have now? She wasn’t that great-looking any more. Her face was harsh and lined, her hair dried out from years of chemical dyes. Now there were grey roots showing, and Shauna didn’t even seem to care.
‘I’m nipping down the shops, you want to come?’ said Aysha.
Shauna shook her head.
‘Can I put some tea on for you? Make you a sandwich? What you eaten today, anything?’
‘I can fucking feed myself, Aysha, don’t fuss,’ said Shauna.
Aysha thought that Shauna was looking thinner by the day, but she didn’t snap back.
‘It’s no good upsetting yourself like this,’ said Aysha. ‘I know it’s been hard, Dad going like he did, and that bloody woman turning up.’
Shauna turned her head and her penetrating eyes stared into her daughter’s. ‘You don’t know shit, Aysha. He was mine. Mine. And she’s robbed me of that.’
‘I know. And I’m sorry.’ Aysha came to Shauna and put an arm around her shoulders. ‘I’m so sorry, Mum.’
Shauna’s stare held Aysha’s. ‘It’s a pity your dad never loved you,’ she said.
Aysha blinked. ‘What?’
‘He never did.’ Shauna shrugged, her face full of sadness. ‘Doted on Connor, of course, but you? Seemed he could never take to you.’ Shauna pulled Aysha into a hug. ‘But I love you, don’t I. I’ve always been there for you. You know that. I’m the only one who’s been a proper parent to you.’
It had never been said out loud before. Aysha stood stiffly in her mother’s embrace. She could feel the bones on Shauna’s back, she hadn’t been eating well at all.
He never loved you.
Christ, that hurt.
‘If there’s anything I can do,’ said Aysha, a shake in her voice. ‘You know you’ve only to ask and I’ll do it. You know that. Anything.’
Shauna pushed Aysha back a step and again her eyes bored into Aysha’s. ‘There might be something,’ she said. And then she smiled.
146
Claire woke up and wondered where the hell she was. She was staring up at a ceiling, and she could hear the background hum of an air conditioning unit. She sat up, panicking, thinking Josh . . . ? And then it all came back, hit her like an express train. Josh was dead. She was never going to see him again. She’d crawled off the couch, having drained a whisky from the minibar, and she’d come in here to the bedroom, thinking, Just a little nap. Then she had fallen straight into a deep sleep.
She looked at the digital display on the clock by the bed; it said four-thirty in the afternoon. Yawning, she went to the bathroom to shower, then pulled out clean underwear and clothes, and got dressed. Combed and dried her hair. Then she saw the note on the table.
Gone out for a walk. Back soon. S.
Benedict took the call at the scrapyard office. ‘Hi, Benedict? It’s Mad Dog. The young one’s walking around the pond by Kensington Palace.’
Benedict stared at the phone. ‘What? Who is?’
‘That girl who was with Claire Milo – Suki. Connor said I was to keep an eye out for both of them, and that’s what I’m doing. I can’t reach him right now on his mobile, and he said it was important, so here I am, giving you an update. Pass it the fuck along, will you?’
‘OK.’ Benedict put the phone down and dialled Connor’s home number. The answering machine kicked in, and he left a message telling Connor what Mad Dog had just told him. As he did so, Aysha came into the Portakabin.
‘Hiya sweetie,’ she said, and listened to what he was saying.
‘Hi, babe,’ said Benedict, kissing her cheek when he’d finished speaking.
She watched as he hung up the phone. ‘Anything exciting happening?’
‘Nope. You know where Connor is?’ He eyed her with concern. She looked distracted and pale. Not herself.
‘No idea. Why?’ Her gaze was still fixed on the phone.
‘Oh, it don’t matter. You OK?’
Aysha seemed to shake herself then. ‘Yeah. I’m fine. Damn. Listen, I forgot something down the shops. I’ll catch you later, all right?’
‘Fine,’ said Benedict, wondering what the fuck was going on with her.
Aysha drove over to Kensington and parked up in a tiny square behind the High Street. She locked the car and walked briskly over to the gardens. She passed the Palace and the statue of Queen Victoria, and walked on, over to the pond.
At first, she couldn’t see Suki. There were people feeding the swans, people jogging, people on bicycles, people walking their dogs, a bloke with a traffic cone set out so that he could practise his fly-fishing technique with rod and line. All the while she was asking herself, Where the fuck is she? Did that moron Cunningham get it wrong?
Her heart was thudding in her chest so hard that it frightened her, but she had to keep a clear head, she had to do this. And then she saw her, sitting on one of the benches, staring out over the water. She was right over the other side of the pond, but she was there. It was her. Aysha quickened her pace.
Connor got home late afternoon and the light on his answer phone was blinking. He clicked play.
‘The girl Suki is walking around the pond in Kensington Gardens,’ said Benedict’s voice. ‘Mad Dog said you wanted to know her movements.’
Connor heard Aysha’s voice in the background. ‘Hiya sweetie,’ she said.
‘He couldn’t reach you, so I’m passing this on,’ said Benedict. The time of the message was three forty-five.
Connor deleted it. So what? He was still reliving his conversation with Mum in her kitchen, the shocking moment she’d shoved the gun toward him.
Fuck me! She’d really expected him to do it.
Mum’s state of mind was troubling him more and more. He groped for his mobile and found the battery flat. Then he picked up the landline and dialled Shauna’s number. It rang for so long he nearly put the phone down. Suddenly she picked up.
‘Mum? You OK there?’
There was a long silence. ‘Oh, it’s you,’ she said.
Jesus! He’d refused to kill two innocent women and now he was being given the cold shoulder over it.
‘You all right?’ he asked.
‘I’m fine now. Aysha’s been in to see me.’
‘Right.’
‘She took the gun, Connor. Which is more than you had the nerve for. She took it, and she is going to do it.’
147
Connor hung up straight away. Oh Christ. Aysha had been there in the Portakabin, she had heard Benedict giving out Suki’s whereabouts. He had to get there. But he knew he would never make it in time. Suki is walking round the pond in Kensington Gardens. Rush-hour traffic. The roads were crazy right now. His sister was about to commit murder and get herself sent down for life on their crazy over-controlling mother’s say-so, and he couldn’t get there in time to stop it.
Trying not to panic, he phoned Mad Dog.
‘Yeah?’ asked Mad Dog, yawning on the other end of the phone.
Connor told him what was happening.
‘Get over there, see if you can stop her,’ he said, though he knew Mad Dog lived in a shit-hole cellar squat in Hammersmith, which put him further away than Connor. But what else could he do? Phone the police? Connor debated with himself for long, painful seconds, then decided against. Aysha was carrying, and that was serious. The police would come down too hard on her. So he ran out to the Porsche, go
t in and drove like a fury.
He parked the Porsche in a back street and ran along the High Street and then into the park, feeling sick with fear for Aysha and red rage at Mum’s stupidity, his heart nearly bursting out of his ribcage as he ran like the wind.
There ahead of him was the pond. People. Lots of people, and that meant witnesses. For fuck’s sake. As he ran closer he was looking left and right. He could see Mad Dog coming past the statue of Queen Victoria, spotting him, slowing down, then stooping forward, hands on knees, trying to get his breath back.
Connor couldn’t see Aysha. Or Suki.
Christ! Where are they?
Frantically he scanned the crowds.
Old ladies with pooches on leads. A man practising fly-fishing. Kids screaming and yelling, out from school, on the loose at last.
Where the hell are they?
Then he saw Aysha. She was standing beside a bench, pacing back and forth, fury and nervous energy radiating from her like a furnace. Her mouth was moving and she was carrying a large holdall.
For Christ’s sake Aysha, don’t.
And where was Suki?
Maybe he was too late. Maybe Aysha had already done the deed somewhere close to the pond. Back in the trees? Connor hit the brakes as he drew close. Aysha was looking at him now, her mouth opening in a silent O of surprise. And . . . ah shit, there was a woman on the bench, her back turned toward him. The same too-thin coat, the long pale blonde hair lifting in the breeze. She was sitting there and . . . oh fuck . . . when he stepped around the bench and looked, he knew Suki’s beautiful face would be shot away; she would be dead.
But he hadn’t heard gunfire. He’d been running hard, focusing on just getting here and stopping a disaster. No one was turning, pointing. No horrified passers-by were reacting. There were no screams. But now Aysha was looking in her bag . . .
‘Aysha,’ he gasped out, and crossed the final distance between them. He stepped around the bench and looked down at Suki.
