Dangerous Lady

by Cole, Martina

  ‘Now, Miss Ryan, I ask you again - have you anything to tell me about the death of Jonny Fenwick or Samuel Goldbaum?’

  Maura stared at him blankly. She put out her cigarette and immediately lit another. She shook her head. DI Dobin watched the tears begin to gather in her lovely eyes. He could see what had attracted young Petherick to her. Even with her height and her woman’s body, she still had a naivete about her that made men want to protect her.

  He knew as sure as eggs was eggs that if this lovely creature sitting in front of him had not actually committed the murders herself, she, along with her brother Michael, had ordered them. And he also knew that they would walk out of this police station because there was no evidence to go on. Michael had been with a ‘friend’, a young barrister who had already been in and given a sworn statement, and this young woman had been with Timothy Repton, a well-known actor who starred in a twice-weekly soap opera called ‘Crossways’. Mr Repton had also been in and given a sworn statement. Both the witnesses to their whereabouts were beyond reproach and both were, in DI Dobin’s opinion, lying bastards.

  It was always the same with the Ryans. They were more slippery than a greased eel. Also, the Chief Super had been running around like a blue-arsed fly. He had received word from a big wig somewhere along the line, and now the Ryans were to be ‘courteously’ escorted off the premises. He sighed.

  ‘Well, Miss Ryan, thank you very much for your time. You can go now.’

  Maura stood up. She slipped her crocodile skin clutch bag underneath her arm and held out her free hand. Dobin shook it gently.

  ‘Is my brother being released?’

  ‘Yes, Miss Ryan, he’s waiting for you at the reception desk.’

  ‘Thank you. Thank you very much. Have you any idea who could have hurt . . . murdered my brother Benny?’ Her voice was low.

  ‘No, Miss. But rest assured we will do all that we can. As we will to investigate the bombing of your brother’s club.’

  Maura bowed her head and followed him from the room. Unlike her, Michael was making himself heard. Maura could hear him before she saw him.

  As she turned the corner and walked to him, he pointed at her. ‘Don’t you worry, girl. These bastards will pay for this day’s work. My little brother’s dead and you arrest me!’ His voice was indignant. ‘And my little sister! My club’s been bombed and you lot don’t give a toss about it. I’m a taxpayer and I want me rights!’

  The Chief Superintendent was nearly in tears. ‘Please, Mr Ryan. We must follow every lead.’

  ‘Why ain’t you out looking for the real criminals, eh? The rapists and the child molesters. Why ain’t you out looking for whoever murdered my little brother?’

  Maura slipped her arm into his. ‘Come on, Michael. Calm down, love. Let’s just get out of here.’ She led him out into the afternoon air. ‘Please, Mickey, let’s get home. I think I’m going to be sick.’

  Michael put his arms around her and cuddled her to him. ‘Don’t worry, Dopolis will pay for what he’s done, darlin’, and he’ll pay bloody dearly.’

  At this moment Maura did not want anyone to pay for anything. She just wanted to run away from it all. Instead she smiled wanly. The worst was yet to come. They had to face their mother.

  Sarah had been sitting in the darkness of her front room for hours. When the police brought her the news about Benny she had walked into the room, pulled the heavy curtains and sat in the chair by the fire. She felt nothing. Nothing at all. But she would. Oh, she knew that much. She would. It was like Anthony all over again. She had made Benjamin go with the policeman to identify young Benny’s remains. Let him do some of the dirty work for a change.

  In the flickering firelight her religious statues looked lifelike. Getting out of the seat, she went to the large sideboard that held them all. She opened one of the drawers and took out her wooden rosary. She went back to her seat. Kissing the Cross of Christ, she began to pray.

  She could hear Carla’s sobs coming from the bedroom above her, but did not really care. It would do the child good to find out just what her Auntie Maura and Uncle Michael had caused. It might take some of the shine off them for her. She had already refused to see Geoffrey. He had arrived just after the police and she had told him to bugger off out of it. She did not want to see any of her children except Maura and Michael. Oh, she wanted to see them all right! She wanted to throw them out of her house and her life. They were filthy . . . putrid.

  She heard the click of the front room door opening and glanced towards it. In the light from the hall she could make out Maura and Michael’s silhouettes. She said nothing. They walked into the room quietly, shutting the door behind them. Sarah carried on praying.

  ‘ “Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou amongst sinners and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus . . .”

  Michael watched his mother. She was so short that her feet did not touch the floor properly as she sat on the large horsehair chair. The room had its own distinctive cloying stuffiness, a sickly sweet smell of lavender polish and dusty velvet.

  ‘Mum? Shall I turn the light on?’

  ‘ “Holy Mary Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death, Amen.”

  ‘ “Hail Mary, full of grace . . .”

  ‘Come on, Michael. Let’s leave her.’

  Maura’s voice sounded something in Sarah’s head. It was as if her daughter’s voice triggered an explosion. Sarah’s voice came to them from the semi-darkness.

  ‘So you want to leave, Maura Ryan, do you?’ Her voice was low, conversational. As if they were having a friendly chat about the weather. ‘Did you know that your brother’s head was found this morning? In a litter bin, of all places.’ She was amazed to hear herself laugh. ‘Yes, a litter bin. Just the place to put rubbish, isn’t it? In a dustbin. Where will they put you two, I wonder, when you’re dead? Down in the sewers, I expect, with the rest of the shit and the effluent. Oh, yes. That will very likely be where you two will end up. In the filth and stink of the sewers!’

  ‘Mum! For God’s sake.’ Michael’s voice was shocked.

  ‘Don’t you “God” me, Michael Ryan. Because I’m finished with you . . . I should never have forgiven you over my Anthony.’

  Maura listened to their mother’s voice. She knew that what Sarah was saying would break Michael’s heart.

  ‘And what about me, Mum? What about me?’

  Maura’s voice was hard. Sarah felt its iciness and shivered in her seat.

  ‘You filthy whore! I know all about you, Maura Ryan. You and him.’ She poked her head towards Michael. ‘Do you know what people say? That you two sleep together. Did you know that? Only I know that’s not true because he’s as queer as a fish and you’re a neuter. You’re not capable of sleeping with any man, Maura Ryan.’

  Maura felt a hot flush creep over her body. She went to the lightswitch and flipped it. The room was filled with the glaring brightness of a one hundred watt bulb.

  Maura walked to her mother, her lovely face twisted into a mask of hatred.

  ‘So I’m a neuter, am I? And whose bloody fault was that? Yours! Call yourself a mother? You took me to the abortionist. And you held me down on the bloody table while that Paki bastard ripped my baby from inside me. You turned us all into what we are, Mother. Even poor Benny. Another Mummy’s boy, still at home at twenty-nine years old! You made it impossible for any of your children to lead a normal life. You drove your husband to drink and your kids into being neuters.

  ‘I may end up in the gutter or the sewers. Who knows? But at least if I go there I’ll have finally told you what I think of you. You’re a nasty vindictive old bitch! You’re even jealous of me and Carla, ain’t you? Go on . . . admit it!’

  Sarah stared at her daughter, mesmerised. Of all the things she had envisaged at this meeting with Maura and Michael, this was not one of them. She had expected silence as she read them the riot act. Not this.

  ‘Sitting in the blood
y dark saying the Rosary! You old hypocrite. Well, let me tell you something. Your old darling Father McCormack is an active IRA member. That’s how we all got involved. When you sent him to talk some sense into Michael, the priest dragged him into it all. He was laughing at you, you stupid old cow!’

  ‘No! I won’t have you say that about the priest. You’re a dirty liar!’

  ‘SHUT YOUR BLOODY MOUTH UP!’ Maura’s voice bounced off the walls. ‘Do you hear me? Shut up for once in your life. We may not be pillars of the church but we ain’t got anything on our conscience where you’re concerned, Mother. Everything you ever had come from Mickey, later on from me and the other boys. You had nothing . . . NOTHING!’

  Maura ran to where the religious statues stood bearing witness to their fight. Picking up the statue of Saint Sebastian, she threw it to the ground.

  ‘Not even the money to buy this shower of shite!’

  She stopped abruptly, gasping for breath. She saw her mother sitting in the chair. She looked like a very old woman. All the fight left Maura and she went to Michael.

  ‘Come on, Mickey. Let’s go.’

  ‘Mum . . . You didn’t mean what you said, did you, Maws? Mum, look at me.’

  Sarah sighed heavily.

  ‘Get him out of me sight, Maura, and take yourself with him. You both disgust me.’

  Maura turned round to face the woman she had alternately loved and hated all her life.

  ‘Not half as much as you disgust me, Mother.’

  As Maura spoke, Michael seemed to snap out of his reverie. ‘I worshipped you, Mother.’ His voice was dangerously low. ‘All my life it’s been, “Michael, get me this, son.” Or help with that. But you never really cared about me, did you? I was just a pair of hands as far as you were concerned.’

  His eyes were moist and Maura felt her heart breaking as she watched him confront the most important person in his life. ‘I helped you with the kids as they came along. I fetched and carried while you had your long . . . painfully long . . . pregnancies. Then as soon as you were delivered of yet another child, you allowed the old man back into your bed, didn’t you? Even after the dead babies you were both back at it like a pair of dogs copulating.

  ‘You wonder why I turned out like I did? Well, I’ll tell you why. I never wanted a woman and all that it entailed. I never wanted an emotional leech sucking out my entrails like you did to all us. Anthony’s dead, and our Benny - and I’d give anything to be with them! Away from this house and this family and you . . . especially you.

  ‘Come on, Maws. Let’s leave her to her prayers and her religious mania. It’s all she’s fit for.’

  Sarah felt as if she had been stabbed to the heart. She’d never realised just how much she had come to rely on Michael’s unquestioning support.

  She sat still in her chair, trying to control her breathing. As Michael pulled Maura from the room they came face to face with Carla. She was standing in the hallway, her lovely face twisted in pain, arms hugging her slim body.

  ‘Get your stuff together, Carla, we’re leaving.’

  She shook her head. Her long red-brown hair swirled about her face.

  ‘I’m not going anywhere with you, Maura. I’m staying here with Nana.’

  ‘I said, get your stuff together.’ Maura’s voice brooked no argument.

  ‘No. I’m not going.’

  Maura sighed. ‘You do what you like, Carla. You know where I am when you want me.’

  Carla curled her lips in contempt. ‘I’ll never want you. Never! You’re nothing but murderers.’

  Maura brought her hand back and slapped Carla a stinging blow across her face.

  ‘You stay here with your precious Nana then . . . I don’t give a toss any more. You can do what you like. Come on, Mickey. Let’s go.’

  As they left the house Benny’s Alsatian, Driver, ran from the kitchen down the front steps. He leapt about in the snow, ecstatic to be out in the air.

  Michael opened the door to his Mercedes and the dog jumped into the front seats then dived over into the back. He sat there with his tongue hanging out, his heavy tail thumping the seat as it wagged.

  ‘I’ll take him home with me, Mickey.’

  They got into the car and Michael pulled away from the kerb with a heavy heart.

  Inside the house Sarah and Carla held on to each other tightly.

  Michael finally spoke as they drove along the Bayswater Road. ‘When we get to your drum, Maws, we’ve got to round up the boys. The old Bill ain’t got nothing on us but we have to plan our next moves cautiously.’

  Maura did not answer him. He took one hand off the steering wheel and patted her leg.

  ‘Listen, Maws, I ain’t learnt much in this life but I have learnt this. When you hit a major setback you put it behind you as quick as possible. Benny’s dead. Nothing will ever bring him back again. What we do now is decide when and how we retaliate.’

  Maura nodded her head wearily. Her mum was right. Mickey was mad . . . and she had a sneaky feeling that she was as well.

  Driver put his head on Maura’s shoulder. She could feel his hot dog breath on her cheek and lifted her arm and caressed the dog’s soft fur. Benny had loved his dog as he had loved his life - wholeheartedly. She realised with a curious insight that Benny had probably not even realised he was in danger. That fact would never have occurred to him.

  She closed her eyes tightly and instead of the tears she had been expecting, began to laugh. A slight giggle at first that gradually built up into a deep rollicking belly laugh. A laugh that made her shoulders shake and her tummy hurt. Somewhere in the distance, far off, she heard the dog begin to whine, and for some reason this just made her laugh harder.

  Michael stopped the car and pulled her towards him. She could smell the dank dampness of the material of his coat. Then the tears came at last. She saw Terry Petherick, Anthony and Benny, as clear as a photograph in her mind. Then she saw her mother’s face, old and wrinkled . . . a feeling of panic welled up in her and for a few minutes she thought she really had gone mad.

  How had this happened to her? And, more importantly, how had she allowed it to happen? Both questions were to remain unanswered for many years, but as she sat in the car with Michael and Driver that night, she realised for the first time just how lonely and unhappy she really was.

  ‘All right, Maws. All right, my love. I’ll look after you. Don’t you worry.’ Michael’s voice was soft and husky.

  She did not want Michael to look after her. She wanted Terry Petherick to put his arms around her and whisper his words of love, as he had done before. Long ago. Before she had become bad. But, like many other bad things in her life, she forced the thoughts away. Where they waited patiently for the day they would all creep out into the open and torture her, like the long forgotten nightmares of her childhood.

  Chapter Nineteen

  ‘Merry Christmas, Auntie Maura!’

  Margaret’s twin daughters jumped on to the little bed where Maura was sleeping. She opened her eyes, not sure for a few seconds where she was. Then seeing the two bright faces, she tried to smile.

  She was at Margaret’s. She sat up in bed and hugged Patricia and Penelope. The sleeping tablets she had taken the night before made her feel groggy. She yawned. ‘Merry Christmas, my lovelies.’

  ‘Thank you for our Christmas presents, Auntie Maura. They were lovely.’

  The two identical little faces beamed at her and she felt the familiar tightening in her guts. What she wouldn’t give to be the mother of these two! She hugged them both to her tightly.

  Margaret came into the bedroom carrying a tray. Maura could smell eggs and bacon.

  ‘Oh, Marge. Don’t be silly. I can get up.’

  Margaret pursed her lips and shook her head. ‘Oh no you won’t, Maws. Oi, you two! Dad’s got your breakfast waiting for you downstairs.’

  The two girls got off the bed, their bright ginger hair telling anyone who looked at them who their mother was.

  Pa
tricia, the elder of the two by five minutes, grimaced. ‘Oh, can’t we stay up here, Mum?’ Her voice had the whine that made Margaret feel like murdering her.

  ‘N.O. spells no. Now hop it, the pair of you.’

  The two girls ran from the room.

  ‘Honest, Marge, I couldn’t eat a thing.’

  The greasy smell of the bacon and eggs was beginning to make her feel sick.

  ‘You will bloody eat it. After all you’ve been through this last few weeks!’ Margaret’s voice was scandalised. ‘You’ll end up ill if you’re not careful. Smoke, smoke, smoke! Drink, drink. And then sleeping pills to blot out the world.’

  ‘Oh, give it a rest, Marge, for Christ’s sake.’

  Margaret put the tray across Maura’s legs as if to trap her in the bed.

  ‘No I won’t give it a rest! You’re my best friend and I feel that it’s down to me to tell you a few home truths.’

  ‘Such as?’ Maura’s voice was sarcastic.

  ‘For a start, you look old and haggard. You’re drinking too much. It’s impossible to get a civil word out of you. You’re moody, sarcastic, and to be honest, Maws, you’re beginning to get on my tits!’

  Maura closed her eyes and yawned again.

  ‘Margie, just in case it’s escaped your notice, I recently had a brother murdered. He was spread all over London like a paper chase. His left foot and various other parts of his anatomy are still unaccounted for. I had a big fight with my mother and Carla who are under the impression that me and Mickey were to blame for Benny’s murder. I was arrested by the police and kept for over three hours on suspicion of two other murders. And you have the nerve to sit there and tell me that I am not my old self!’ Maura’s voice rose. ‘It’s enough to make the Queen feel depressed.’

  Margaret sighed. She loved Maura wholeheartedly. ‘Look, Maws, all I’m trying to say is, pull yourself together. If not for my sake then for the kids. I can’t stand them seeing you like this. Last night you was so pissed Dennis had to carry you up to bed.’

  ‘I know. Marge, I’m sorry. It’s just that with all that’s happened, I feel responsible . . .’