by Martina Cole
Sharon closed her eyes in distress and nodded. She didn’t tell her she would get in touch with Jack Johnson – this mad old cow was liable to turn up there and read him the Riot Act. Lenny would love that. Jack Johnson wouldn’t be too pleased either, she would imagine.
Ivy looked at Lesley while the information she had been given sank in. She collapsed on to the nearest chair, and she looked beaten, vulnerable. For a few seconds, Sharon’s heart went out to her.
‘Whatever he’s doing, it must be dangerous, if even you don’t know where he is.’
Sharon put the kettle on again for yet another cup of tea.
‘I never know where he is, and I don’t ask, Lesley. It’s a pointless exercise. If he wanted me to know, he would tell me.’
Her words annoyed her own mother, who said angrily, ‘And you are happy with that, are you? He just waltzes in and out of here at his leisure and you don’t question any of it?’
Sharon turned to look at her mother and her face was hard as she said slowly, ‘That is exactly how it is, Mum. And, do you know something?’ She was bellowing suddenly at the top of her voice. ‘That suits me down to the fucking ground! Now let it go, for fuck’s sake.’
Both the older women were shocked into complete silence. This wasn’t the Sharon they knew, the sweet girl who was all for a quiet life. This was a woman grown, who was telling them in no uncertain terms to mind their own business.
Ivy was the first to find her voice. ‘Well, I never . . . That you could talk to me like that . . .’
Sharon held up her arm like a traffic officer as she said, in a very determined manner, ‘Well, it is time you all understood that me and Lenny have our own home, a family, and we do not have to answer to anyone. Anyone at all. Am I making myself clear?’
She lit herself a cigarette and she took a long pull on it before saying evenly, ‘Now, who wants a cup of tea?’
Ivy and Lesley exchanged glances and Sharon knew that she had made her point. It had needed to be said and her Lenny would back her to the hilt when she told him. She wasn’t a schoolkid any more.
Chapter Forty-One
Maria Steel was asleep in her suite of rooms when her maid Consuela heard sounds from the master bedroom. She sighed, relieved. If the master was home, then the mistress would be happy the next day. This was a difficult household to work in; they were very volatile people and she was worn out with their antics. She went back to sleep unaware that there were, in fact, two men in her master’s bedroom, and they were robbing the safe.
Lenny and Reggie were impressed with Steel’s house; it was like something from a Hollywood movie. They had opened the safe easily enough, and were searching through the contents, finding two hundred grand and some good watches. They took the money but left the rest. They weren’t gas-meter bandits, after all. Reggie glanced through the documents in case there was anything interesting, but they were just deeds to the house and paperwork for the cars – nothing worthwhile for them there.
They left the house as quietly as they entered it, laughing once they were out of danger. It amazed the men that Christopher Steel was so bloody open to attack. Even a fucking amateur could have done him. No one could argue with a shotgun, no matter how fucking hard you might think you were – it was a known fact. He had gone down in their estimation. How could you respect a cunt? Reggie said as much.
Lenny laughed at his outrage. ‘Well, we’ve done our bit. Now it’s time for a holiday!’
‘He was a hard fucker, though – fairness where it’s due. Took two fingers off before we got the safe combination. I wonder what state he will be in when we get back to the farmhouse.’
Lenny shrugged. He didn’t really care. ‘Hopefully he’ll have bled to death. The sooner he’s gone, the sooner we can start to enjoy ourselves.’
Reggie grabbed Lenny’s thigh and squeezed it contentedly. ‘Are you happy, Len?’ It was said quietly, with meaning.
Lenny smiled slowly and said, ‘I am, as it happens. Very happy.’
Reggie grinned. ‘Good.’
Chapter Forty-Two
Christopher Steel was lying on the filthy floor of the barn and he was fuming. His hand was screaming with pain; they had taken off his middle-and forefingers with bolt cutters and it had fucking hurt. It was throbbing and he was losing a lot of blood. All this over eighty poxy grand. He could have paid that fifty times over and not missed it. But his greed had been his downfall, as his old mum had predicted all those years ago when he had half-inched his little brother’s birthday money. He felt the sting of tears and blinked them away hastily. But he felt such futility at how he had ended up, trussed up like a kipper and destined to die in a shithole like this. He supposed they would bury him deep and that would be the end of it. He tried to sit up, but it was impossible.
He heard the car outside and followed the reflection of the headlights as they played across the wall and ceiling. The lights of the car were left on and he waited for them to come for him. He saw a rat in the light; it was in the corner watching him and he felt his stomach lurch when he saw it was nibbling on one of his fingers. The two men walked in, and he was convinced that he was hallucinating. They looked like they were holding hands! If that wasn’t the final insult – taken out by a pair of fucking pansies. He knew he had tucked Jamie up, but this was beyond the fucking pale.
‘Are you a pair of fucking poofs?’
Lenny laughed loudly at the man’s incredulity. He knelt down beside him and said, in a threatening voice, ‘Yes. And we are going to bugger you to death!’
Christopher went white with fright, and Lenny smirked.
‘Don’t worry, Chris, you’re not our type.’
He took out a small German-made Luger and shot the man execution-style in the back of his head. The grave was already dug and, once he was dead and buried, all they had to do was clean up the blood and that was the end of it. It had gone better than they could have hoped.
An hour later they were sitting by the pool, looking up at the stars and drinking cold beers. They looked like two mates having a little holiday in Spain. That was the best bit about being together – no one would ever suspect a thing. They were too hard, and too well respected for anyone to ever even harbour any kind of suspicion that they were more than friends.
They would travel back to England by sea as they couldn’t take the money on an aeroplane. Instead they’d pick the boat up in Benidorm. They had arranged to have a few days’ holiday before they left – they had earned it, Jack said. He had told them to have a few drinks, some good food and grab a bit of strange. Might as well enjoy the sunshine – it was raining in the UK, as fucking usual. Lenny knew Jack was well pleased with them. He couldn’t believe he didn’t want to hurry home to Sharon and baby Lenny. He wondered at how his life could change so quickly. He loved his wife, and he loved his baby, but he needed Reggie Dornan. That was the difference, he supposed.
They finished their beers and went to bed. Never had Lenny felt as content in himself as he did when he was with Reggie. It was as if a piece of a puzzle had finally been found, and now he was whole. He could have him and have his family; as long as they were discreet they were fine. It wasn’t just about sex either, though that was amazing and came naturally to him. They talked for hours about everything and anything – that was the main attraction for him. In some ways, Reggie was like the brother he had never had.
As they lay together in the moonlight, the breeze drifting in through the open patio doors and the smell of sweat in the air, Lenny knew he had never felt such complete happiness before, and that actually saddened him. A part of him knew that Sharon was worth so much more than he could now offer her.
‘You’re quiet again, Len.’
He sighed in the half-light. ‘I’m thinking about Sharon.’
Reggie stroked his stomach gently, and he closed his eyes. ‘We won’t hurt her, Lenny. How could we?’
‘She was all I ever wanted, and now this has happened. It is hard to get my hea
d round it you know, Reg?’
Reggie smiled slightly. ‘I feel the same. But no one will find out. No one can ever find out. So there is no harm really, is there?’
Lenny supposed there wasn’t and, as they fell asleep, he decided that he was just going to go with it. He had no choice really. The die was already well and truly cast.
Chapter Forty-Three
‘Ooh, wait till Lenny sees you in that!’
Sharon blushed at Geraldine’s words. She had bought some sexy underwear from a shop in Soho and she was going to put it on for her Lenny when he got home. She still had a good figure, not a mark on her really. She had carried such a small bump that there had not been too much to stretch. Her boobs were still full – that was down to the breastfeeding, she had heard – and her Lenny was all over her like a rash. He couldn’t get enough of her. Look at how he had taken her on the kitchen table! She felt the pull of him as she thought of their reunion tonight. She was going to cook a nice dinner, with candles and everything. Then she was going to lead him to bed.
God, she had missed him so much.
‘Earth to Sharon!’
She laughed at Gerry’s scandalised face.
‘I can guess what you were thinking about, dirty cow.’
They went into a Wimpy and settled at a table.
‘I really missed him, Gerry. I suppose that is natural enough. We’re still newly married after all.’
Geraldine Dornan felt a wave of affection for her friend; she looked so bereft without Lenny. It was lovely to see.
‘You’ll knock his eyes out with that underwear!’
‘I hope so!’
They ordered their food from a young waitress with streaked blond hair and a nose ring.
As they settled in the booth, Sharon said seriously, ‘Has Reggie got a regular bird?’
Gerry laughed at that. ‘Not him. He’s the love-’em-and-leave-’em type. Reckons he has got plenty of time for all that.’
‘I suppose he has a point. If I hadn’t got pregnant, me and Lenny would have waited a few years before we got married. Funny thing is, I’ve been with him since I was thirteen and he was fifteen. We knew even then that we were for keeps. That sounds mad, doesn’t it?’
Geraldine shrugged. ‘Not really. I mean sometimes it’s just meant to be, I suppose.’
Sharon nodded sagely. She held out her hand and admired her wedding and engagement rings. To Geraldine she looked so young, like a girl playing at being a grown-up.
‘We were meant to be, all right. I couldn’t live without my Lenny.’
Geraldine slapped her hand in a playful way and said seriously, ‘Well, you won’t have to, will you? Don’t be so bleeding morbid.’
Sharon grinned. Geraldine was right, there was nothing to worry about with her Lenny. He adored her and their little boy. She was a very lucky girl; she knew that better than anyone.
Book Two
Death is the privilege of human nature,
And life without it were not worth our taking.
The Fair Penitent, Nicholas Rowe (1674 – 1718)
Chapter Forty-Four
1989
‘Lenny, will you talk to your sons! They have been right little fuckers today.’
Lenny sighed. This was getting to be a bit too common for his liking. He saw his two handsome sons, blue eyes wide and worried-looking, and he felt the usual rush of love for them.
He put on a stern face and bellowed, ‘What is it now, Sharon? What they done?’ He had to stifle the laugh that was threatening to break out at the look of shock and awe on the boys’ faces.
Liam, at three years old, was a natural-born bastard, as his dad would say. If he was walking in the Gobi Desert he would find a puddle of mud and fall in it. He was one of those kids who trouble seemed to follow around.
Sharon looked at her two boys and rolled her eyes in pretend annoyance.
‘Where do I start? Oh, yes. Young Lenny swore in school – at his teacher, no less! And that Liam kicked over Mrs James’s shopping. Bold as brass, he was. Then he down and out refused to apologise.’
Lenny gave his sons a ferocious look that made them cower and said, ‘What have you got to say for yourselves?’
They were both silent, watching him warily.
Then little Lenny, always the first to break, said quietly, ‘I’m sorry, Daddy.’
Lenny turned to his younger son, who was huge for his age and already had the air of a hooligan.
Liam looked him square in the eyes and, after a few beats, he said loudly, ‘I’m sorry then!’
‘Get to your rooms. There will be no sweets tonight, and no TV either.’
The lads stomped off together.
Sharon placed a cup of tea on the kitchen table and Lenny sat down, grasping the mug gratefully. It was freezing out.
‘Honestly, Len. That Liam! It’s like he has the devil in him.’
Lenny laughed. ‘He is a fucker, all right. My dad was telling me he told my mum he saw a dinosaur looking in his bedroom window.’
Sharon grinned. She sat opposite her husband and grabbed his hand tightly. ‘He has a good imagination, I’ll give him that. But it’s like he has no fear of anything.’
Lenny shrugged. ‘He is only three years old. He will be all right.’
Sharon nodded and smiled. ‘How was your day?’
‘Nothing spectacular. I went into the cab firm and put the hard word on that Hassid bloke. He can’t fucking pick and choose his jobs, and I explained that in words even he couldn’t fail to understand.’
Sharon laughed. ‘He was born and bred in Ilford. Why he talks like that I don’t know. But thanks, anyway.’
He waved away her gratitude, but she saw he looked tired.
‘Why don’t I run you a nice bath after dinner, eh? We could have an early night!’
She was leering at him playfully and inside he groaned. The last thing he wanted was sex; even Arnold Schwarzenegger couldn’t raise it for him at the moment. Not that he would tell her that, of course. She was still as eager as she had been when they first married, while he was getting to the stage where he was happy to keep it to once or twice a week. It was hard, sometimes, to pretend. But so much of his life was pretend these days.
He sighed once more.
‘I said I would meet Reggie for a few beers. We need to strategise about something Jack wants us to do.’
Sharon looked suitably disappointed, but didn’t complain. She was a good girl, his Sharon; she knew work was his priority. It was what had bought and paid for this lovely house that was her pride and joy. It was a nice drum, no doubting that, but she was forever decorating or changing the carpets. It irritated him at times, even though he knew he should be pleased that she took such a pride in her home. When he was being completely honest with himself he admitted too that, at times, Sharon herself irritated him. She had no real thoughts beyond her boys and her house. Oh, and him, of course. He wondered why he had never realised years ago just how small her world really was. But they had been kids then, and they had thought they knew it all. Now here they were, tied together for life, and that was all there was to it. He felt a moment’s shame at his thoughts and watched as Sharon started to dish up their dinner. She was a good cook, a good mother and a good wife. It wasn’t her fault that he had grown away from her in some ways.
At twenty-four he was now doing very well for himself, making a lot of money, and he also had serious responsibilities. Jack Johnson was leaving more and more of the day-to-day with him, and with Reggie as his number two he was enjoying the Life.
Reggie Dornan and their ‘friendship’, as they referred to it, was still going from strength to strength. It amazed him that he could still feel this deeply for anyone, let alone another man. Thankfully it was the very fact of their manliness that stopped people from thinking there was anything going on. They were simply held up as paragons of good friends. People talked about how close they were, and how well they worked together. It was amazing, bu
t understandable given the world they inhabited. Poofs, shit-stabbers, whatever they might be called, were seen as Dick Emery-type figures to the criminal world. High-pitched voices and limp wrists constituted their idea of homosexual men. Hard men were not even suspected of anything untoward. Ronnie Kray had never really had the respect of his peers; he was seen as unnatural, as an aberration almost.
He remembered his dad warning him about a bloke on their estate. He was very effeminate, and Lenny was told never to speak to him, and never to go in his flat. His father, he now realised, couldn’t differentiate between a homosexual and a paedophile. But that was the world Lenny lived in and he had to accept that. Reggie hated it as much as he did, but, like him, he had no choice but to bow down and hide their true natures from the people around them.
They had taken up deep-sea fishing and, out on the boat, they could do what they liked. They found time to be together, and they made the most of it.
What other choice did they have? But they couldn’t escape the fact that it was wearing, constantly living a lie, living with the fear of being found out. And if anyone ever did find out they would be finished in more ways than one – not to mention if Jack ever got wind of his lucrative ventures outside the Smoke.
‘You all right, Len? You were miles away.’
He smiled tiredly. ‘Just thinking about work, darling.’
He pulled her on to his lap and squeezed her tightly. ‘Tell you what, get a babysitter and I will take you out for a nice meal tomorrow night, eh?’
She kissed him full on the lips. ‘Sounds good to me!’
She stood up and called the boys to the table for their meal, pleased that she was going to have a night out to look forward to with her big, handsome husband.
