Maura's Game

by Cole, Martina

  Her words implied that he was frightened of her aunt and that was why he wouldn’t tell her. He also realised she would enjoy telling Maura. Nothing like family loyalty in the Ryan household evidently.

  ‘Listen, Carla, you can tell who the fuck you like but it won’t change the fact – I was shagging you, love. I am known for it, can’t resist a bit of skirt, and that is all you were. No more and no less. So put away the wedding catalogues and get a fucking grip.’

  He could see the tears glistening in her eyes.

  ‘You are a bastard, Tommy Rifkind.’

  He smirked again.

  ‘So I have been told by better women than you, love.’

  With that she jumped from the car and he copped an eyeful of her knickerless bum. As she let herself into the house he realised he was up shit creek and definitely without a paddle of any kind. He could almost hear Joss saying to him, ‘I told you so.’

  He sat outside for a few more minutes, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. If he’d thought he was in trouble before, he was up to his neck in it now.

  When he pulled away he didn’t even notice Abul tailing him.

  Kenny had brought a doctor in for Jack who needed one badly. He had refused hospital, even a friendly private one, and so Kenny had rung an old associate who was now stitching Jack up neatly and quickly.

  ‘You are a cunt to yourself, Jack,’ Kenny told him.

  He didn’t answer, just gulped at his fifty-year-old brandy once more.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell them what they wanted to know? No one would have thought any the less of you. Now look at you. You look like you’ve been hit by a car.’

  Jack finally spoke.

  ‘What are you, Kenny, me fucking dad? They are fucking animal scum and they are wankers . . .’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, yeah. And you are a prick if you think you can get one over on them. For crying out loud, Jack, these are the Ryans. Do you honestly think anyone is going to take them on lightly? Even Vic ain’t got the rep for that. Swallow your knob and let this be a lesson to you. Give it a few weeks and then make your fucking peace, for all our sakes. Every fixer in the smoke will know about this within hours, Garry will make sure of that. He ain’t going to let there be a repeat performance, is he? Vic will be stonewalled. That’s if they ain’t already got him.’

  ‘Vic is having everyone watched.’

  ‘Who by?’

  Jack grinned.

  ‘That would be telling, wouldn’t it? All I will say to you is the apple don’t fall far from the fucking tree.’

  Kenny rolled his eyes to the ceiling.

  ‘You must have had a right bang on the head if you’re talking in riddles. Get an X-ray, you mad bastard.’

  Jack chuckled to himself.

  ‘The Ryans have a big shock coming to them.’

  Kenny didn’t answer; he had already heard enough. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know anything anyway. This was all over his head as it was. The less he knew the better as far as he was concerned. He had his daughter to think about.

  They fell quiet. The doctor, who had listened with half an ear, would repeat this back to Benny or Garry, Kenny was sure of that. A few quid was a few quid and he had been struck off for drunkenness and being too friendly with the women patients. He needed all the poke he could get and this conversation would enable him to get drunker than he had been for a long while.

  He carried on ministering to Jack with a half-smile on his booze-reddened face.

  Maura and Roy were at Le Buxom. It was early evening so it was quiet. The girls were just arriving and their chatter drifted up the stairs. Laughter and camaraderie, it made for a good atmosphere. It was friendly and it was unthreatening. Unless the punters wouldn’t pay the wildly inflated bill, of course, then it could get positively terrifying. Maura remembered the first time she had seen the bouncers in action. A bolshy punter was sitting on a chair in the basement and all the doorman would say over and over again between punches was, ‘Pay the lady.’

  The punter paid and she learned a lesson for life. Everything had to be paid for. No matter what you might think.

  Still, Maura liked the atmosphere here, it was friendly and easy-going. No fear of any of the girls trying to kill anyone. Except each other, of course, and that happened only occasionally and almost always over a punter.

  It amazed her that the club still did big business; she had thought the lap dancing would have put them away. It did for a while but the punters had soon drifted back. A guaranteed fuck always won hands down with the men who frequented this place. The club was in as much demand as ever.

  She watched as Roy tried to work out the takings on a calculator and felt a surge of affection for him. She didn’t want him to know about Carla. She wasn’t sure yet what she was going to do about it herself.

  That Carla could do this to her! It was almost unbelievable – like Marge doing it to her. Maura would never have believed it possible if she had not heard it with her own ears.

  It was Roy she worried most about. Carla would be without their protection now, she could hardly expect it. But Roy could not cope with any more hurt, they were all aware of that. She watched him stare at the calculator then cancel his sums and start once more.

  ‘I love you, Roy.’

  He looked up at her, surprised and pleased at her words.

  ‘I love you too, darling. What’s up, Maws?’

  She was surprised at the question.

  ‘Why should anything be up? Can’t I tell me favourite brother I love him?’

  He linked his fingers together and then leant on the desk.

  ‘Is this anything to do with Carla and Tommy?’

  She saw fear combined with sorrow in his eyes and felt her heart go out to him once more.

  She nodded.

  ‘She don’t mean it, Maura.’

  ‘How do you make that out?’

  He sighed.

  ‘I’ve watched her over the years. Janine blanked her. You took her under your wing. All the boys treated her with the same haphazard affection they gave the old man. She feels lost, I think . . . lost and unsure of herself.’

  ‘Oh, really?’

  Maura was annoyed now and in no mood to listen to this.

  ‘So she was unsure of herself, was she? Didn’t stop her dropping her drawers, did it?’

  The sarcasm in Maura’s voice pierced him to the core.

  ‘And you forget, Roy, she lived off me. I gave her everything she needed or wanted, including love and affection. I treated her like me own child, which is more than you or her mother did. Now suddenly she looks like she wouldn’t be out of place downstairs. She’s sleeping with the same man that I am sleeping with. How do you suggest I sort this one out?’

  ‘Don’t hurt her, Maura . . .’

  She was really upset now.

  ‘Thanks a lot, Roy.’

  He shook his head quickly.

  ‘I mean, don’t be horrible to her. She needs you whatever she might think. She needs you like she always did and always will. Her trouble is, she wants to be you.’

  ‘You have been watching one too much Oprah Winfrey shows if you don’t mind me saying. This is cheap magazine psychology. Carla is a treacherous little whore and she knows it. She knew what she was doing, Roy. She is forty-five years old, for fuck’s sake. She ain’t a little kid any more, though she acts like one. Even Mother has commented on the change in her.’

  He nodded.

  ‘Precisely. Think about it. Forty-five and she’s still not mature. Still thinks that if you ain’t got a man you’ve failed. She has never even had a job.’

  Maura’s eyes widened as she shouted at him, ‘And whose fucking fault is that then? Mine, I suppose. Blame me for everything, shall we?’

  Roy sighed heavily.

  ‘What I am trying to say is, Maws, put yourself in her place and then you might understand her. She’s jealous of you and all you have achieved.’

  ‘Well, I paid the price for all
my so-called achievements. They didn’t come fucking cheap and you know that as well as I do.’

  He looked at her without speaking.

  ‘She was over-protected all her life. Treated like she was some kind of queen. Well, I have had it with her now.’

  ‘What about him?’

  Maura laughed bitchily.

  ‘Who? He’s already forgotten. It’s ancient history now, Roy. They can both get fucked.’

  ‘You stupid-looking git!’

  Joss was so angry that Tommy was for the first time ever afraid of him.

  ‘You know what this means, don’t you, Tommy? Your wandering cock has finally stuck you in deep shit.’

  Joss shook his head in abject disbelief.

  ‘You had a woman most men would have given their right nut for, and you did the dirty on her with her own niece and honestly thought you could get away with it?’ He shook his ugly head once more. ‘You are a prick and you must know that, Tommy.’

  The fact he swallowed what Joss was saying confirmed it. He just sat in the car with his head in his hands.

  ‘What am I going to do?’

  Joss laughed.

  ‘You tell me, Mr fucking Big Knob. You’re the one who got yourself in this mess, you get yourself out of it.’

  He got out of the car.

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘To see Maura, of course. Try and make things easier for me, if not for you. I want her to know she’s had my loyalty if not yours this past six months.’

  ‘You are joking?’

  ‘Am I?’

  Joss walked to his own car without a backward glance and Tommy sat there in utter amazement. He had really fucked up this time.

  He had loved Maura, resented her at times admittedly but he had cared for her, and as Joss said, what on earth had made him think he could get away with it? With any of it, come to that?

  Billy Mills walked into Maura’s club like a prince. The girls loved him and once word had gone round that he was inside they all made their way over to him. Billy smiled like a benevolent monarch, and kissed their hands, and called them all ‘darlin'’ or ‘my love’. He treated them with respect, and as always with working girls that went a long way. They lapped it up.

  He was good-looking and he was not a scrimper so a good night was guaranteed for whoever nabbed him for the evening.

  Two blondes, one with silicone and one without, fought over him in a friendly way. Billy, always going for the natural look, chose the blonde with the nice little tits that wouldn’t move about too much when he handled them. There was nothing worse than cheap implants as far as he was concerned, put him right off his stroke.

  He ordered himself a large Remy Martin and sipped it while he quietly copped a feel of the favoured blonde, Stella, real name Gloria Stennings. She was twenty-eight and lived with a lazy Rasta called Everton. She was a coke head like most of the girls and her eyes were bright as she told him a complete load of old cobblers about who she was and where she lived.

  Billy couldn’t give a toss; he knew it was all a load of old fanny but he had always liked a girl with a bit of imagination.

  Roy was sent down to ask him to go up and see Maura. He didn’t really want to go, but he was not about to refuse. So with one final squeeze of Gloria’s tit he said, ‘Keep it warm for me!’ and was gone.

  She basked in the kudos of being Billy’s chosen girl for the night. He was a nice man and he paid well. What more could a girl want?

  Leonie was back in her small flat in Woodford Green. After Jack’s bad afternoon she’d decided that the time had come to make herself scarce for a while. She had been frightened when she saw what those people had done to him but she guessed he had asked for it. Jack had an inflated opinion of himself, in bed and out of it. Though she kept that gem of wisdom to herself. She would wait for a few weeks, see if he contacted her. But he looked bad enough when he wasn’t stitched up like Frankenstein’s fucking monster.

  What she needed now was readies. She spent like water and always needed money. Leonie was high-maintenance and proud of that fact. So she had rung round a few mates and scored herself a bit of whiz and a job dancing at the Spearmint Rhino. Life had to go on, after all.

  The knock at her door startled her and she opened it with a frown on her face. She jumped back as something was thrown at her. Then when she saw all the ten-pound notes flying around her little hall she screamed with laughter.

  ‘You nutter! What you doin’?’

  Her voice was full of the honey only money could put there.

  Garry Ryan took out another stack of notes and started to trickle them over her head. She was practically purring with happiness now. She was wearing a short dressing gown from Victoria’s Secrets and remembered her legs needed shaving. But, hey, she wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

  ‘So are we on then?’

  She nodded. He might be getting on a bit but he was one good-looking old fucker for all that.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Search me. Go on, do it.’

  He opened his jacket and his pockets were stuffed with money. Down the front of his trousers was a rather large bulge which she half-hoped wasn’t just more money. Jack was a cheapskate in comparison and there was nothing like money to get her juices flowing.

  She squealed with delight and Garry laughed with her. He hoped she was worth ten grand, but by the look on her boatrace, even if she wasn’t she was going to have a damn good try.

  He linked his fingers together and cracked his knuckles.

  ‘Lead the way, my little darlin’. You are on for the time of your life.’

  Leonie was not about to argue with him. She had always prided herself on knowing exactly how to play the game.

  Vic was in another safe house. This time it was a flat in Dolphin Square. An Asian girl of about twenty-five was already resident and smiled at him. Vic smiled back and then ignored her. She would be gone by the morning, he would see to that. Never liked the dark birds personally.

  Vic preferred what he liked to think of as his English Roses. But then Vic knew he was not only racist, he was also British Bulldog. He hated everyone who wasn’t English, including the Irish and Welsh, so he didn’t see himself as racist as such, more a man who knew right from wrong.

  He looked in the well-stocked fridge, finding smoked salmon and champagne. He sighed. He wanted bacon and eggs and loads of fried bread, none of this poncey fucking stuff. He made himself some toast and then checked out the new mobiles he was using. He changed them daily. Even though they were cloned and impossible to trace he was taking no chances.

  The flat was owned by an old associate of his with whom Vic had been banged up many years ago in Durham for an armed robbery.

  Georgie Baxter was an old lag, but he had had the sense to sort himself out before he went away for the duration. He had set up a few porn sites with the help of another old lag who’d found out in Wandsworth that he had a penchant for computers and was now coining it in legally. He loved it, they both loved it, and neither of them needed Vic Joliff round their necks like the proverbial albatross.

  Vic rang his old mum and chatted to her for a while, blissfully unaware that he was about to be turned over.

  Billy listened to Maura with bright eyes and a nervous tic on his face.

  ‘You sure about this, Maura?’

  She nodded.

  ‘’Course I’m sure. You find Vic and I’ll give you a cool three million in cash. What’s the matter, you think I ain’t good for it?’

  As she spoke she opened a leather briefcase and he stared at more money than he had ever seen in his life.

  ‘Get on to all your contacts and find that ponce for me. I have had enough of the runaround. I need to know who is protecting him. I swear I will never, ever divulge who told me, not even to me brothers, OK?’

  Billy nodded, weighing up the pros and cons.

  ‘I hear . . . and this is only a rumour, remember, not to be repeated
. . . but I hear he is good friends with an old Irish associate of yours. Kelly, I think the name is.’

  Maura closed her eyes.

  It was Kelly who had killed Michael, believing him to have grassed up some valuable associates in the eighties at the height of the bombing campaign in mainland Britain.

  ‘The IRA? What the fuck would they be involved with Vic for?’

  He could hear the incredulity in her voice.

  ‘They’re also involved with someone close to you, Maura.’

  He was clearly uneasy and suddenly she felt as if she had been punched in the solar plexus.

  ‘Is it Tommy Rifkind by any chance?’

  He nodded.

  She sat back down in the chair, her face a white mask, just as Roy walked in with the drinks.

  Maura sighed.

  Vic and the Irish? It made sense. She knew Vic had been in Belmarsh at the same time as Kelly’s old associate Patrick O’Loughlin. Maura and Garry had been the ones who’d fixed it for them to get anything they needed there. More fucking fool them! And Tommy had a score to settle over his boy. But the question was, how long had he been working against her? Since the off was he just using her, getting her confidence to set her up? The thought upset her far more than she’d thought possible.

  But that was obviously it. All his words of love and all his devotion had been an act, and a good act as well. She had lapped it up. He must be laughing up his fucking sleeve. Well, he would be laughing on the other side of his dead fucking face when she finally tracked him down!

  She picked up the phone and dialled a number. Billy saw that her hands were shaking. He wasn’t feeling a hundred per cent himself now. He wished he had picked anywhere else in the world to go tonight instead of this fucking place.

  Maura’s face was hard as flint and he was reminded once more that she wasn’t like other women. You upset her and you upset a whole family.

  Even the IRA wouldn’t faze this little lot.