Dangerous Lady

by Cole, Martina

  I want to ask you something, Mum. I want you to look out for our Maura. She needs you. She always has done. Since that trouble with the policeman, she has been hurting inside. I know this is true, Mum, because I have watched her. I have done all that I can for her. I now ask you to try and take her back into the arms that held her as a baby. Maura needs her mother. Please tell Dad that I loved him very much.

  I will always love you, Mum, no matter what.

  Michael

  Sarah felt the scalding tears behind her eyelids and squeezed her eyes tightly shut to block them out. The letter in front of her was from the old Michael, the young tearaway, not the hard, embittered, bloodthirsty man that he became. She saw him as he had been the night that Maura was born, tall and strong and with his whole life in front of him.

  ‘Oh, God. Oh, son.’ She put her hand to her mouth and held it there tightly. Now the tears did break through, like a damn bursting.

  ‘My beautiful son. Oh, God help me, I loved him so much.’

  In the club Maura and her brothers were getting drunk. Good and drunk. Maura could feel the first waves of euphoria coursing through her veins, knowing that it would soon turn to maudlin sentiment.

  It was a ‘Michael’ day. He was in the forefront of everyone’s mind. Gerry Jackson had joined them and Lee was acting as bartender. Sitting in the meat seats they all drank steadily and seriously, as if by the sheer act of getting drunk they would all feel the pain of Michael’s death less.

  ‘I can remember when Mickey was working for Joe the Fish. Handsome bleeder he was then and all.’

  ‘That’s a long time ago, Gerry.’ Roy’s voice was unsteady.

  Gerry gulped at his gin and tonic. ‘Your old mum used to be really hard up them days. Everyone was. All the birds was after him but he never spent his money on them. Took it straight home to his muvver. Do you know, Maura, that he bought your communion dress from the proceeds of a robbery?’

  ‘No, Gerry.’ She smiled at him, glad to be talking about her brother.

  ‘Oh, yeah. I remember it as clear as day. Me and him ripped off a betting shop. He was a crafty sod! Even then he was streets ahead of everyone. Joe the Fish tried to keep him in line but he couldn’t. He was “ducking and diving” all the time he worked for the old git.’ Gerry’s voice was hard now. ‘I hated that old bastard.’

  ‘Well, Mickey didn’t, did he?’ Leslie was well and truly drunk otherwise he would have chosen his words more carefully. ‘Mickey was knocking him off, weren’t he?’

  Garry turned on him. ‘Shut your bloody gob!’

  ‘Well, Mickey was queer. Mickey was as queer as a nine-bob note. As for Joe the Fish . . . that’s where he got the bloody nickname! From “queer as a fish” . . .’

  Leslie didn’t finish because Garry punched him in the face, knocking him off his chair.

  ‘You just shut your bloody trap up!’

  ‘All right. Calm down.’ Lee tried to pour oil on troubled waters.

  ‘Bollocks, you! You’re always sticking up for him.’ Garry was belligerent when he was sober. Drunk he would fight his own fingernails.

  ‘Shut up.’ Maura’s voice was low. She could not get up the enthusiasm to stop the argument.

  ‘Look, Garry, we’re here to honour Michael’s name. So sit down and wrap up. If you can’t take your drink, you shouldn’t get drunk.’

  Roy’s voice was stern and authoritative. Everyone stared at him in awe. Leslie pulled himself from the floor and slumped back into his seat. Maura, through her drink-hazed mind, realised that Roy had really begun to get confidence in himself. He would be a good number two.

  ‘When you gonna read your letter, Maws?’ This from Lee, trying to change the subject.

  ‘When I feel up to it.’ She got up from her seat and made her way out to the reception area. Picking up the phone, she rang Willy at his office on St Martin’s Wharf. He answered himself, which was a godsend as Maura was aware that she was having difficulty forming her words.

  ‘Ish that you, Willy?’

  ‘Hello, Maura.’ His tone was cool. She had been seeing him less and less since the night of Michael’s funeral and he didn’t like it one bit. In spite of himself he thought a lot of her and it galled him that she could take him or leave him as the fancy took her.

  ‘I’m pissed.’

  ‘What do you want me for? I’m very busy . . .’

  ‘I’ve just been to the reading of Michael’s will and I’m lonely and depressed.’ And drunk, she thought.

  ‘Really? So you want to see me, I take it?’

  ‘Yeah . . . What I need at this moment is a good hard shag!’

  William smiled. She certainly had a way with words. But if he went running now she would just carry on using him. On the other hand, he had finished most of his business for today and she did sound lonely and desolate. He couldn’t bring himself to say ‘desperate’ but that’s what he really meant, and deep inside he wanted Maura on any terms.

  ‘Where can I meet you?’

  ‘Come and get me from the club. I’ll be waiting for you.’

  She replaced the receiver and went back to the meat seats. The men were all friends again, talking about Michael, each trying to outdo the others with funny anecdotes. Maura sat back in her seat and picked up her replenished glass. She raised it in a silent toast to her brother.

  Her last thought before she passed out was that Michael would have approved of this drinking session in his honour. When William turned up an hour later he had practically to carry her to his car.

  He took her home, silently annoyed at the condition she was in. She lay across the back seat of his car snoring softly, her large breasts straining against the thin silk blouse she was wearing. He had to admit that even drunk and dishevelled she was still the sexiest woman he had ever known.

  Maura woke at eleven-thirty that evening with a violent headache. She noticed that she was naked in her own bed. Slowly the events of earlier in the day came into her mind. She turned over in bed and felt someone lying beside her. It was William. She could feel that her body had been roughly mauled and guessed that he had taken advantage of her drunken state. Well, she had asked for it really. She lifted herself up gently and felt the waves of sickness assail her. She stepped gingerly from the bed, placing one foot firmly on the floor before attempting to walk in the semi-darkness to the bathroom. She could hear William’s loud snores coming from the bed.

  In the bathroom she looked into the mirror above the wash basin. She looked terrible. Her make-up was all over her face and her eyes were more lined than usual. She looked old. Older than her thirty-six years. She washed her face, splashing the cold liquid over her face and neck to try and bring some life back to her brain. Then she remembered the letter.

  She pulled on an old bathrobe that was hanging behind the bathroom door and went down to the lounge. Her bag was on the coffee table where Willy had obviously left it. Picking it up, she turned on one of the lamps by her reading chair. She settled herself down with her feet tucked up underneath her, opened the bag and took out the white envelope. She stared at Michael’s closely written script for a while before she carefully ripped open the envelope and took out a single page of writing.

  Hello, Maws,

  If you’re reading this then I’m brown bread! [He had drawn a little smiley to let her know that it was a joke.] You will already know I have left everything to you. You deserve it. It amounts to well over a million pounds. The docklands will bring in much more eventually. You have it all now. Everything.

  I am writing this letter as I wanted to tell you some things that I may never have told you while I lived.

  Firstly, I am heartily sorry for what happened all those years ago. I know that you loved that old Bill with all your heart and I ballsed it all up for you. I have tried to repay you for that, Maura.

  Secondly, I think that you should try and marry old Templeton. If you did you would become a lady. Though you always have been in my eyes.

>   I love you more than you would ever think. Don’t end up like me, Maws, with no home life to speak of. I admit that is the price I pay for being a homosexual.

  Thirdly, try and make it up with Mother. You were very close once, and I think that deep down you both miss one another. Try and heal the breach, that’s all I ask of you.

  Lastly, I don’t trust our Geoffrey as far as I can chuck him. He’s not kosher, Maws. Put our Roy in as your number two. He’s got more savvy than people give him credit for. Also try and keep an eye on the old man. Whatever happens with Mother, you was always his favourite and I know from talking to the boys that he misses you very much.

  Well, that’s about it, my darling. Keep this letter private as I don’t want everyone knowing that I am really as soft as shit! [Another smiley.]

  Look after the boys for me, and look after yourself. There’s a codicil to my will that I asked old Hattersley to keep private. I have left my flat and personal belongings to Richard. We have a good relationship and I want to leave him provided for.

  I also left fifty grand to Save the Children. That is not to be made public in any way. I have a feeling, Maws, that I will never make ‘Old Bones’, as Auntie Nellie used to say, so I write new letters every year to be on the safe side.

  Look after yourself, Maws.

  Your loving brother,

  Michael

  P.S. Hattersley is as bent as a two-bob clock. I have left some papers for you that he will be holding until you have read this letter. Go and see him on the sly. It’s stocks, bonds and other papers. There’s also the number of my Swiss bank. They will be notified on my death that you are the new executor.

  Maura stared at the letter. Trust Michael to cover all his bets. Only he would leave letters that were updated every year. She looked at the date at the top. It was written on 5 August 1986, before all the trouble with Geoffrey. She sighed. Fifty grand to Save the Children. Her eyes were misty. When they had seen pictures of the starving children on the news he had not said a word about it. Yet it had moved him enough for him to leave them fifty grand. That was the kind of gesture he would make. The papers always had him as a shady, murdering villain, and that was just how he liked it.

  He knew about Geoffrey, had always known. If only she had let Michael sack him when he had wanted to maybe all this would have been avoided. She closed her eyes to stop the tears. She had done enough crying and it would not bring him back.

  She opened her eyes and saw William standing in the doorway.

  ‘My dear girl, you look absolutely scrumptious.’

  She put the letter into her bag and smiled at him, a hard cynical smile that did not reach her eyes. She let her gaze roam over his body.

  ‘You took advantage of me earlier, didn’t you?’ Her voice was low and husky. He nodded. ‘Well, now I’m going to take advantage of you!’

  William laughed, trying to imitate a cockney accent. ‘Does that mean I’m gonna get a good hard shag?’

  Maura placed her bag on the floor and stood up. ‘Only if you’re a very good boy.’

  As they went back to bed together Maura prayed that William would be enough to take her mind off her troubles. Even as she thought it she knew it wouldn’t happen. There was only one person who could do that, and he was as far from her grasp as the Milky Way.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Saturday was cold and bleak, with a flurry of snow in the air. While Maura and William were eating a leisurely late lunch together, Sarah was sitting on a bench waiting for Terry Petherick. He arrived just after three. He smiled at her as she sat stony-faced and silent. Looking at him, she was reminded that he had fathered her first grandchild and was made aware of just how beautiful that child would have been.

  ‘Mrs Ryan?’

  Sarah nodded and he sat down beside her.

  ‘It’s cold today, isn’t it?’

  She nodded again.

  ‘Would you rather we went and got a cup of coffee? Had our little chat in the warm?’

  Yes. That would be better. I’m frozen to the marrow.’

  Terry took her arm and led her into the cafeteria. Sitting in the warm drinking a cup of hot sweet tea, Sarah was plagued by doubts. She knew that what she was about to do would cause no end of trouble, not only for Maura but all her children.

  She took a deep breath. ‘If I give you the information, could you make it easier on my sons?’

  ‘The information is mostly about Maura, I take it?’

  Sarah nodded her head.

  ‘Well, I could try. It really depends on what kind of information you give to me.’

  Looking at Sarah, Terry felt like a snake in the grass. She was an old woman. She was Maura’s mother. If things had worked out differently, she could have been his mother-in-law. He sipped his coffee. Her sons had beaten him nearly to death. He wondered if she knew that.

  ‘I know many things about my daughter. My son Geoffrey, he kept names, dates, papers, that sort of thing. Going back years. I think that it was Maura who had him . . .’ Her voice trailed off.

  ‘Is that why you wanted to see me?’

  Sarah gazed deeply into his eyes.

  ‘You knew my daughter before . . . Well, before she went into the business with Michael.’

  ‘You know about that then?’

  ‘I knew everything. Maura was pregnant.’

  Terry’s eyes opened wide.

  ‘That’s impossible!’

  ‘No, son. She was pregnant all right. That’s why Michael had you so badly beaten. I took her to a back-street abortionist. She nearly died from what that bastard did to her. She was ill for a long time. It was because of the abortion that they sterilised her.’ Sarah had no idea why she was telling him all this. Perhaps in her own way she wanted to make some sort of allowance for her daughter’s actions. Give him some of the blame.

  ‘I never knew. I swear to you that I never knew.’

  ‘Oh, I know that, son. Maura told me that herself. She had gone to your flat to tell you when you finished with her. By then Michael had found out about the two of you, and the rest’s history.’

  Terry was reeling. Maura pregnant by him!

  Sarah sipped her tea and began to talk again. Telling him everything.

  ‘She changed then. I’m not saying it was all your fault but when she came out of the hospital she was hard. As the years went on she seemed to get harder. As if she was taking all her hurt out on the world. Whatever she may be now, before that happened to her she was a good girl. A kind girl.’

  ‘I don’t know if this will make any difference, Mrs Ryan, but I loved her.’

  ‘I believe you did.’

  ‘I just can’t take it all in. If I had known, I would have stood by her.’

  Sarah shook her head.

  ‘You wouldn’t have, son. Michael would never have let you. Even if you had left the police force, he would have hated you until the day you died. That’s why I wanted to see you. In a way you’re caught up in this as well. I want my grandchildren to grow up away from the taint of the Ryan name. I want them to be factory workers, road sweepers, anything! Anything but villains.’

  ‘I understand. But you must realise that once you start something like this, it can’t be stopped. There’ll be no going back.’

  ‘I know that. I’ve made up me mind. My children have got to be put right. Only I can do that. I made them, now I must destroy them. It’s simple really. I want your help. If needs be, I’ll go in the witness box.’

  ‘No! That won’t be necessary.’

  ‘Listen, you, if you’re worried that something might happen to me - don’t be. I’m seventy years old and in all those years I’ve never been frightened of anything that came out of me own body.’

  Sarah opened her bag and took out the file of papers that Geoffrey had left. She handed them to Terry.

  ‘These are all that Geoffrey left. My phone number is on the outside of the file. Get in touch whenever you need me. The only thing I ask is, please try
and help my boys. I know they must go away but the main one you should be after is Maura.’

  She got up from her chair. Holding out her hand, she shook his. Then, nodding at him, she left.

  Terry sat alone, thinking about all that had been said. Maura pregnant with his baby. He saw her as she had been that first night they had made love. Her willingness to learn from him. Her trusting eyes and soft body. He felt the burning of tears in his throat. She had been so soft then. He realised that having an abortion must have destroyed her. She loved children, they had discussed them enough times. Then he thought of the last night he had spent with her. That coming together of adults. The frenzied thrashing of their bodies. The cool musky smell of her. And she had not told him even then about the baby.

  Neither of them had married. Both were put on this earth for one another, and one another only. He knew that now. He put his head into his hands.

  A voice broke into his thoughts. ‘Are you all right?’ A short dumpy waitress stood beside him.

  ‘Yes, thank you.’

  She looked concerned about him. ‘You look terrible.’

  Terry stood up and threw three pound coins on to the table.

  ‘It’s nothing. Just a bit of bad news, that’s all.’

  He walked out into the freezing air, putting the file that Sarah had given him under his arm. He would read it later. At the moment all he wanted to do was walk and think.

  Maura and William had gone back to bed. They were snuggled up together. Maura smiled at him, her first real smile for days. At last she had found someone to care for her. And he did care for her, she knew that. She would put all the bad behind her and just concentrate on the good.

  She was still quite young and Michael’s letter had shown her that time could run out quickly. She thought fleetingly of Terry Petherick, as she always did when she was feeling solemn. Terry Petherick was standing in Regent’s Park thinking about her at the same moment.