by KERRY BARNES
She looked pathetic. She wore a flowery, summer dress in black with tiny, red roses on it. It was two sizes too big, but it was better than the prison clothes. Most of the inmates had friends and family to send them a suit and shoes but Jesse had no one, well, not now. Her hair was greasy but she had made the effort and tied it back.
Ruby couldn’t look at her mother. She knew it would put her off. Instead she pretended she was in a school play.
The short period on remand had taken its toll on Jesse. Her frail frame and gaunt features didn’t detract from the look of spite on her face.
Francesca looked directly into Jesse’s dark eyes and smiled. It was the same smile she had given her the last time she had sent her to prison.
Jesse shivered. She tried to stare at Ruby, who looked the other way. Then she turned to see who was seated in the gallery. Did she have any friends at all?
Her eyes widened when she saw so many steel-blue eyes staring at her. She saw the very handsome young man and knew he was her son. He was crying and tears were rolling down his cheeks. Her heart pounded and for the first time she felt sad – a real deep heartache. She looked back at Ruby and realised that Jack wasn’t crying for her but for his sister, as he had always done, even as a little boy.
She had loved him, not as much as she should have, but she did love him. Ruby was the child who had ruined her looks and when she was born Jesse had felt her own life was never the same. But, if she had just had Jack then her future would have been different. They would have bonded better and she might not have taken drugs. She gazed at her son and saw his grandfather place an arm around his shoulder as Jack leaned into him. Her loathing for the Vincents turned her fragile expression to one of angry spite. The jury didn’t miss a trick. They clocked the vicious glares from Jesse to Ruby and Jesse’s glances at the emotional boy in the gallery. They had it sussed. The girl, the boy, the barrister, and all the smart onlookers, were family. The accused: a druggie. There was a story there, already, before the case was even in motion.
“Ahh! Look at her, don’t she look just lovely?” purred Mary, as Ruby was led into the witness box.
Ruby was even taking on some of Francesca’s expressions and in the last six months Ruby had laughed and smiled more than ever, which made her look more like her aunt.
“’Ere, Sam, there’s no way our Rubes can get done for anything?” questioned Joe, under his breath.
“No, apparently, they have to present all the evidence before the trial, and our Dolly said it’s an open and shut case,” whispered Sam, who was sitting on the edge of his seat, resting his tense arms on his knees.
Bill, Jack’s grandfather, the head of the Vincent family, hugged Jack. They had always been close; me and my shadow, Bill used to say.
“She’s just like your Aunt Dolly. Look at her. She’s so confident.” He always referred to her as Dolly. She was his baby, the apple of his eye. He loved his sons and grandchildren, but he doted over Francesca. The years she’d had to live away from him, for her own protection, grieved him. Nothing would get back that precious time.
Francesca had coached Ruby on how to behave and what to say and she, too, was proud of her niece for listening and doing as she was told.
The defence lawyer was a scrawny-looking man. His hair was thinning, brushed to the side and, as he leaned on the bench, you could see his suit was too small. The trousers were swinging around his ankles and the seam in the backside was stretched. His jacket was shiny, from ironing, and his white shirt had that grey tint to it. Francesca imagined him coming home from work and taking his clothes off, before putting them in the washing machine, all together, ready for Monday morning. She looked down at his feet. The laces were odd – one black, one brown. Surely a man with his sort of money would buy a decent suit and a new pair of shoes? Her notion was: a slovenly appearance – a careless defence.
DI James was also there, watching the proceedings, but as a witness for the prosecution. He glanced up at the gallery, amazed by how many Vincents there were, and then he smiled. Jesse would probably be safer behind bars than facing that mob. He had heard the stories about the Vincents but had never seen them all together. They were a handsome-looking family, but there was something about their cool exterior. They were more dangerous than a gun-wielding maniac on speed. He had met them individually, when the clubs had needed a new licence, but he hadn’t met Francesca, the sister. He was surprised by how sophisticated she was. He could tell they were related but there was more to her. She was the black widow spider. The stories of how the mad Irishman and his sons were murdered may have been just rumours, and over the years exaggerated, but if they were true then he knew she was the one behind it.
Francesca asked Ruby to give her account of the whole event, from the minute she got up that morning to the second she regained consciousness in the hospital.
Ruby’s acting was as good as any Oscar-winning performance. Anyone listening would have needed a serious box of tissues. Even the grown men in the gallery were welling up, and they already knew the facts.
Jesse just kept rolling her eyes and shaking her head. She hated her daughter more than ever.
Jack, as tough as he was, still let the tears roll. Watching his wretch of a mother and her nasty expression brought back painful memories of how they were really treated. He pictured her slapping Ruby time and time again. He remembered her pushing Ruby outside in the snow, with no shoes on, because she had wet the bed. He also recalled Ruby begging her mother through the letterbox to let her in. He took a nasty clump that day for sneaking her inside.
When Ruby was cross-examined she answered the questions just as Francesca had said. And when she felt uncomfortable, she replied ‘I don’t remember’, and that was sufficient, since her head trauma would have caused some areas of her memory to go blank, which was backed up by the doctor’s report.
When Jesse was in the witness stand she had no medical report and couldn’t claim any memory loss.
Having listened to Ruby’s account, Jesse was fuming and, with no prior coaching, she continually messed up.
Mr Hall, the barrister for Fen, the scruffy solicitor, was just as careless as he was. After all, this was a legal aid client with no hope. He had taken an instant dislike to Jesse the minute he’d met her.
Jacob was the last to take the stand and as he appeared in the dock the Vincents glared at him. When he looked up at the gallery his insides felt as if they would fall out. The Vincents were menacing. He’d had no clue that little Ruby came from such a dangerous family. That was, until he got a visit.
He was on remand in Brixton Prison when an older man, big guy, bald head, slurred speech, assumed to be a boxer, approached him.
He was Tom Malice by name and also by nature: a nasty piece of work. He had worked with the Vincents on the doors at the Palaces, but one night he’d left work early because he was feeling sick. Joe, being the softy he was, had let him go. Tom, a loyal doorman for the Vincents, headed home to find his missus in bed with an old friend. He killed the pair of them with his bare hands. No one messed with him. He was a nutter before the incident but he had loved his wife and so the whole affair had sent him screwy. Joe and Sam had promised to look out for his kids, who were two boys in their late teens. Sam got them working down the gym and helping out around the clubs, giving them money and their father peace of mind.
Tom marched Jacob into his cell and told him, matter-of-factly, that, come what may, he was to say that the drugs found on him were his and he had never met Ruby, never seen her and didn’t even know what she looked like.
Jacob was shitting himself. He was playing a big boys’ game now. Not the same as acting the big man on the estate with all the sixteen-year-olds looking up to him.
Tom grabbed Jacob’s shoulder and squeezed it hard, forcing him to sit on the bed.
“If you don’t, you will die, and not a nice death either. They will cut off your scrawny little limbs, one at a time, watch you bleed, and then set you on
fire. How about that?” His laugh was deep and haunting.
Jacob didn’t hesitate. He agreed there and then.
And, true to his word, he denied all Jesse had said about Ruby.
A question which concerned the jury was why Jesse would hold a gun to Ruby’s head and make her take sleeping tablets. But Francesca covered every doubt that would form in their minds. She made the jury aware that Ruby had pawned all her expensive belongings, and made cash withdrawals, to cover the cost of her mother’s fake operation. Bank statements were produced to prove the withdrawals. They also showed there was a lot more money in the account. Pawn tickets, and the photographs of Ruby’s brutalized face, were handed around. She knew exactly how to win their hearts and guarantee a guilty plea. She left no stone unturned.
“So, members of the jury, I put it to you: Jesse holding a gun to Ruby’s head to make her take the sleeping tablets was to give her time to use the cash machines and withdraw the rest of the money. And, being a naive teenager, Ruby assumed she had lost the card. What Jesse didn’t realise, though, was that the four-digit number, written in her purse, was her locker combination and not her card number. Jesse was only after Ruby’s money. We know this from the lie she told her daughter. Since she is a well-known drug abuser, the need for money was paramount.”
Bill and Mary had never seen their daughter in action. They sat in awe and pride.
It was looking good. Jack stopped crying and sat, gripped, on the edge of his seat. Ruby was nervous now; she bit her nails while staring at the floor. Fen, the barrister, was itching to get the case wrapped up and head home. He had argued with his boyfriend that very morning and was afraid he might go back to an empty house, so his eye was not on the ball.
Jesse’s argument was that Ruby had planted the drugs and the gun herself but the fact that Jacob denied seeing Ruby established Jesse as a liar.
Jesse was fraught with worry and anger. The case was not going in her favour and that was obvious to any sane man.
She tried to get her daughter’s attention, by glaring hard at her head, but Ruby refused to look her way.
Jack stared at Jacob, hating every bone in his body. He was also annoyed with his sister for even liking a dodgy character like him. But he acted rationally, and kept his hands firmly gripping his seat, just in case one broke free and ran a finger diagonally along his neck – indicating to Jacob that he was a dead man. The jury was, after all, keeping one eye on the proceedings and the other on the gallery. The Vincents had all been warned, especially Fred. Francesca had held a family meeting telling all the inside stuff, including how to present yourself and why. Jurors can be swayed by the family’s reactions in the court room, so they were to act like upstanding members of society.
*
The jury was out for an hour and then gave their verdict. Guilty!
Jesse was raging and, as she was carried down the stairs and back into the cells, she shouted, “I wish you had died, Ruby. You ain’t my daughter, anyway. You’re too ugly to be mine!”
All eyes were now on Ruby, who sat looking at the floor. As she raised her head to face the gallery, she smiled. It wasn’t a pretty, girly smile, but a satisfied smirk that said it all… I got her back!
Chapter Fifteen
Four years later
The Palaces were a huge success and Dan decided it was time to invest in another club.
The old warehouse was still up for sale, just off the Old Kent Road, far enough away from the estates to pass off as a venue. He had already made enquiries with his mate at the planning office and practically started the wheels in motion. He called a meeting with the family.
Fred was the first to arrive at the building, followed by Dan.
“Cor blimey, this will be a job and a half!” said Fred as he gazed around at the dull, bleak exterior.
“It’s perfect. Have a butcher’s inside. It’s huge,” replied Dan, who could see the potential.
The other brothers arrived with their sister.
“Think of it this way. We already provide the nightclubs. I was thinking something along the lines of the Circus Tavern. Ya know what I mean. Shows and stuff.”
Sam looked around. “I dunno, mate, Circus Tavern has had its day.”
“Dan, why don’t we open another Palace, just for weekends, with a comedy show and high class performances?” suggested Fred.
Francesca walked around the huge square space and then laughed. “This will be fabulous, trendy, very American… well, it could be.”
The brothers nodded enthusiastically.
Joe, not knowing what to say because he could never visualise the finished project, piped up with, “What ya gonna call it?”
It wasn’t a silly question. Dan paused and smiled at them all.
“It’s going to be called Ruby’s Palace!”
Sam’s eyes lit up. “Dan, you know our Ruby, she’s gonna love that, a club named after her.”
Dan shook his head. “No, Sam, not only named after her. We can build this into a big moneymaking joint, fresh and fun, and run by Jack and Ruby. So, bruv, our Rubes will have her own Palace.”
“Fucking ‘ell, Dan, are you sure you want to do this for my kids? This is generous.”
“Look, the Palaces are a family-run concern. We have always split the profits equally. Let’s face it, we have more than enough money to keep us happy. It will go to the kids anyway.”
“Do you think they are ready, though?” questioned Sam, who, nevertheless, was chuffed by the whole idea.
Dan shrugged his shoulders. “Were we ready when we first bought the Purple Club?”
Fred laughed. “Cor, those were the days, eh? All those women, you would have thought it was a game to us. But we made enough money, even through the odd screw up.”
Francesca wasn’t part of the club scene back when the first one was opened, so she couldn't reminisce. But she could see why their businesses were so successful.
“All the time the kids will have the family behind them, like you guys had each other, so it doesn’t matter if they struggle. We will help them.”
The boys looked at their sister with pride. They still felt gutted when they thought of her making her own way in life, alone, when they all had each other.
“Jack is a hard worker, and such a sensible lad, and our Ruby, well, she has taken to working Dan’s Palace like a duck to water and, give her credit where credit’s due, she listens now, no more cocky lip,” said Dan.
Ruby’s attitude had been noticed by the whole family. Her overnight change, since Jesse had been put away, was a good one. She stopped the cheek and snarls and now she was helpful and polite.
School wasn’t really her thing so she didn’t stay on. Instead, she learned the ropes in the Palaces, much to the relief of her family. Sam put it down to the glamour. Ruby was in her element, dressing up, looking glamorous, and being part of the team.
*
The O’Connells stayed clear of the clubs and dealt their cocaine in the surrounding pubs. They still held a grudge and planned to get their feet back in the door one way or another. They bided their time for an opportune moment.
Johnnie O’Connell returned from work, nursing a deep gash which ran from his shoulder to his wrist. A nasty, jagged sheet of metal had slipped from his open back truck and ran down his arms. He screamed in fear, rather than pain, as he saw the shirt rip away along with his flesh.
Luckily, Merlin was with Johnnie and got him in the truck and down to A&E to get a tetanus shot and sixty-five stitches. The wound was sore so he took himself off home to rest with two cans of Stella for company. As he lay there sipping his beer, the new mobile he’d acquired vibrated in his back pocket, accompanied by a silly birdie tune which he didn’t know how to remove.
He struggled to retrieve the phone. Luckily, the ring tone lasted long enough for him to get to his feet and answer it.
“Hello, Uncle Johnnie.”
“Well, hello, my babe, and how are you?” he said, pleased to he
ar his niece’s voice.
“I’ve got some bad news. Violet passed away this morning…” She paused. “Are ya still there?”
“Yeah, I just didn’t think she would go so soon. Are you all right though, Kizzy?”
“I will be. She needed to go though, Johnnie. She couldn’t take the pain anymore.”
“Kizzy, you've been a good girl, looking after her the way you have.”
“Well, she looked after me for four years, I owed her that much.”
“Yeah, but we all know that you did a fair, good job. So what will you do now, my babe?”
“I’ve got me own van and me horses, forty-one in all, so I guess I’ll keep the money rolling in. It’s what she would have wanted.” Her voice was soft now. She had grown into a gentle and good-looking woman with her long, black hair down her back and a natural, warming smile.
The men down in Kent, gypsy men, all liked her. She was a perfect catch with her own caravan, a field full of shires and cobs, and also not short of a few bob. But Kizzy was bitten so badly at only sixteen by Ocean that she never wanted to experience hurt like it again. She had loved him with all her heart. When she had to live with her aunt she thought her world had collapsed. It was Violet who helped rebuild her self-esteem. She taught her to ride horses and break them in. She appreciated that Kizzy was wild and recognised her ability to be brave. So, she made her ride bareback on a horse to teach her to understand the beasts as an extension of her own body. She laughed with delight and it was her understanding of horses which gave her the knowledge she needed to be successful. She bred them, trained them, and sold them for a good profit. Violet also was a little fierce in her day, but losing her husband calmed her down. She was a good role model for her niece, upholding the gypsy ways, yet she groomed Kizzy to be independent.
The death of Violet would bring the gypsies together. It was tradition.
