Maura's Game

by Cole, Martina

  ‘There’s nearly a grand there, Lizzie – get him whatever he needs.’

  She looked at the money for a few moments before she started to laugh.

  ‘Stick your money up your fucking arse, Tommy Rifkind, it’s too late. Twenty years too fucking late. I don’t want your money now – I want you to tell me I never wasted my life bringing up our son. I need someone to tell me he was a good kid. That he was loved by someone other than me. But you never cared about him, not really. And he knew that. He tried to be like you so you would love him like you loved your other son. The way he talked about you . . . as if you were a god or something . . .’

  He could hear the hurt and desperation in her voice.

  ‘I loved him, Lizzie, you know I did.’

  The words sounded feeble even to him.

  She wiped her nose with the back of her hand and he saw the marks on her wrist from where she had attempted suicide. He grabbed her arm and, turning it over, looked at the red scars.

  ‘Oh, Lizzie . . .’

  She smiled and once more he caught a glimpse of the girl she once was. Twenty years earlier she had been a stunner, and many men had gone after her. But there had never been anyone else for her but him and they both knew that. He had stopped her having any kind of real life because no one else would touch what was Tommy Rifkind’s and she had had to live in that shadow always. Even when they had split up permanently, she had still had to live in that shadow with his child. No one was going to take on his ex-bird and kid; it would be too much like hard work. Once more he wondered why he had never moved them out of here, never given her or the boy a chance of a real life.

  At last he recognised his own selfishness. He had always been that way. It was what had got him where he was today. A little voice reminded him then that where he was at the moment was up shit creek without the proverbial paddle, but he forced that thought away. He would sort it, he would sort it all, it was what he was good at.

  Lizzie pulled her arm away and another drink appeared as if by magic. She sipped it this time and sighed.

  ‘Keep your money, Tommy. You can’t buy peace of mind, mate.’

  She stood up unsteadily and, looking at Jonas, said quietly, ‘You got me wrap?’

  Jonas looked at Tommy and then at the floor. Tommy looked at the two of them for a few moments before saying incredulously, ‘Wrap? Did you ask for a fucking wrap?’

  His voice was angry and Jonas closed his eyes and sighed. Tommy B’s mum was a pain at the best of times and at this moment he could cheerfully strangle her. He had given her a wrap after Tommy’s funeral to calm her down and now she was hassling him for it all the time. It was the perfect cop out. He should know that better than anyone. He had been copping out all his young life.

  Lizzie looked into Tommy’s eyes and suddenly he saw that she wasn’t out of it on drink, she was out of it on smack. The full enormity of what had happened to her hit him then and he felt disgust welling up inside. For himself as well as for her. His brain was saying, Not Lizzie. Lizzie was strong.

  Someone had put the jukebox on and he heard the first strains of Simply Red and ‘Holding Back the Years’. Lizzie smiled at him as she swayed to the music. He looked around the pub, at the people and the environment, and wanted to run. He wanted to run as far away as possible. It had just occurred to him that he had wrecked two lives, his son’s and the boy’s mother’s.

  He had never been there for any of them, not really. Even Gina had had to wait for him to come to her. All his life he had been loved, and yet he had never really once loved anyone in return.

  Maura’s family-mindedness had irritated him. Now, seeing Lizzie like this, he had to admit that unlike him Maura was basically a decent person. No matter what they did, she looked out for her brothers, for her family. Even Carla, who had done the dirty on her, Maura had taken care of all her life.

  It hit him then that he was not the man he had believed himself to be. Instead he was a destroyer, of people and now, very probably, of himself. He had tucked up one too many and finally tucked up the wrong people. The Ryans would find him, he knew that.

  He saw Jonas pass Lizzie the wrap and she walked out of the pub without a backward glance. Somehow knowing that Lizzie was there, in the background, had always felt good. She was his shelter in a storm. Now he knew she was gone from him as absolutely as his son was. Lizzie and Tommy B had always bumped him up, made him feel good about himself. Tommy B had loved his dad with a vengeance, loyal to him to the end.

  Tommy closed his eyes and saw Lizzie once more as she had been when he first met her. He wanted to cry. Inside himself he knew he should follow her. That she wanted him to follow her and help her. But money had always come first with Tommy, and Jonas had been running a very profitable distribution business for him. Picking up the money from the table, he looked directly at Jonas as he said, ‘So what’s the score? Any trouble this end?’

  Jonas sighed with relief and explained the situation as best he could. He was glad that Tommy was just back for his cut of the drugs proceeds and not for retribution of any kind. He had had the sense to put Tommy’s cut away for him; had always known that he would be back for it sooner or later.

  Tommy, for all his big talk, was strictly pennies and half-pennies but Jonas was not about to inform him of that fact. Instead he smiled and told him exactly what he wanted to hear.

  Benny was inside the same cellar in North London as Jamie Hicks had been when he died. The irony was not lost on him. He looked around him at his uncles and Bing Dooley and his brothers. Saw his aunt standing silently on the cellar steps. For the first time in his life he felt acute fear.

  ‘What the fuck is all this about?’

  Maura nodded and walked up the stairs. When she was out of sight Benny saw the four black men take out rubber coshes. He looked at Garry, shaking his head in disbelief.

  ‘This has got to be a joke. Uncle Lee . . .’ He looked appealingly at Lee, knowing he was the most chicken-hearted of his uncles, but Lee was cold-eyed and disinterested.

  ‘You should have thought of that before, son.’

  It was his father’s voice and Benny saw him walking down the cellar steps.

  Garry went towards his brother.

  ‘Go, Roy. You don’t need to see this.’

  Roy shook him away brusquely.

  ‘I want to see this little fucker of mine get his comeuppance if you don’t mind. But first I want to know whose head he had in that fucking wardrobe?’

  Benny stared at his father. He looked terrible and Benny was more than aware that he had put those lines and that haggard look on Roy’s face.

  ‘Whose head was it, Benny?’

  He shrugged.

  ‘I can’t remember.’

  Bing and his brothers watched him and marvelled at what a nutter he really was. Bing smiled as he said, ‘Starting a collection, were you?’

  The men all laughed, except Roy and his son.

  ‘Yeah, funny, ain’t it, Benny? I am asking you one more time – who was it?’

  He stared into his father’s face. In the dim light of the cellar he let his gaze roam from Roy to his uncles. Then, taking a breath, he said nonchalantly, ‘His name was Dean. He was a ponce who used to go out with Carol.’

  ‘You actually did that to him just because he had once gone out with your bird?’

  Lee’s voice was incredulous.

  Benny nodded. It sounded perfectly fair to him.

  Roy took the cosh from Bing and Benny stood, feet apart, his powerful body bracing itself for the blows his father was determined to deliver. But he had not allowed for the strength of Roy, a strength born out of anger, despair and disgust. The first blow caught Benny across the bridge of his nose. He took it without even flinching.

  Roy belted him again, faster and heavier.

  Still Benny didn’t flinch.

  Bing and his brothers were impressed despite themselves.

  Roy stopped, and throwing the cosh back at Bing, said
wearily, ‘Do me a favour, lads, kill him. For fuck’s sake, someone kill the evil little bastard.’

  Benny watched as his father walked away from him and knew instinctively that they were finished. He accepted he was going to be taught a lesson. His father walking away from him he accepted also. Benny didn’t really care either way. It was how he was made.

  Lee watched proceedings with a wary eye. Benny’s stance and innate hardness were mirror images of his own eldest son Gabriel, and this made him take a step back and look around him with wide-open eyes.

  Sheila was right: they were a load of nutcases. He walked from the cellar and saw Maura sitting outside in her car smoking. He leaned into the passenger window. Roy sat there, staring straight ahead.

  ‘That is too fucking weird down there.’

  They could hear the fright in Lee’s voice.

  ‘He is a bastard lunatic and I hope they take him out. Because if they don’t do it, I will.’ Roy sounded strong and determined.

  Maura didn’t say anything. She carried on smoking her cigarette, her eyes half-closed and her mind in turmoil. Benny had finally gone too far even for her brothers. If Garry thought he had gone overboard then that spoke volumes. Garry was as annoyed as she was, as Roy was, and Lee. She wondered what Michael would have done faced with this.

  But she already knew the answer to that question. He would still have protected his nephew because he was family. In fact, Michael would have adored Benny, seen himself in the boy. She had read once that people liked seeing themselves in other people. You loved yourself so much you couldn’t not love someone so like you.

  But she wasn’t sure how to deal with her nephew this time. Roy had told her already that he would take his own son’s life if that was what it took to stop him hurting anyone outside the business ever again.

  She knew that the police would eventually guess who the victim was. The boy had been reported missing by his family. Carol, safely ensconced in a nice private nursing home, was bound to let the cat out of the bag at some point. It was only human nature. She couldn’t be expected to keep something like that inside her for ever, and it was taken for granted that her relationship with Benny was over. He had gone too far with everyone now. Even the girl who loved him. The loss of the child had hit her badly and Maura could sympathise with her on that. The girl’s life was in tatters, and she had to try and pick up the pieces as best she could.

  Maura was determined to keep Benny away from her. The chances were he was going to want to hurt her over the lost baby and the grief she had caused him. By the same token he might easily decide he wanted her back. Maura wasn’t sure which would be worse for the poor girl. Either way she was determined to protect Carol. It was the least she could do.

  ‘Don’t worry, Benny’s going to get a proper fright in a few hours.’

  Lee and Roy nodded. They had guessed as much already.

  Justin was lying on a bed in Majorca with his eyes taped shut and his mouth gagged. He was sorry now he had started creating. He had soiled himself and the psychological advantage of that as far as his captors were concerned, coupled with the binding, should sort him out once and for all. He still had not been fed anything and felt sick with hunger. They periodically forced water down his throat and that eased him somewhat. They kept trying to question him and it was getting harder and harder to ignore them. But he knew better than to tuck Vic up.

  When they had shot the gun at him he had nearly had a heart attack and his nervousness coupled with his obesity made that a real threat. He could smell them cooking bacon and eggs, and the aroma made him salivate. He didn’t know they were doing it deliberately.

  He wondered why it was taking Vic so long to pay the ransom. He was assuming he had been kidnapped for money. In his confused state he thought they had scared him to make him more amenable. He wondered how much they were asking and hoped it wasn’t too much. Vic was not his biggest fan and Justin knew he had been a pain in the arse once too often in the past. Something he was regretting now. He was also wondering what Vic had told Mum. She must be wondering what the fuck was going on.

  The smell of the bacon was making him feel mad with hunger; he had often wondered how Jewish people could stand the smell without wanting a bite. His father had been Jewish, though his mother was Catholic. His father had not been a religious man as such yet he had never touched pork. When his mother cooked breakfast he’d always had everything but the bacon. Justin hoped he wasn’t going to be seeing his father soon, even though he often thought about him. Dad had been dead years and Justin wanted to carry on living for a good long while. His dad had been all right as far as he was concerned, though Vic and his mother didn’t seem to think so. If he had liked a drink and a gamble, what was the problem? Justin honestly didn’t realise that Vic had been keeping them all since he was in his teens. When this was all over he was going to give his brother the bollocking of a lifetime. This capture was going on far too long for Justin’s liking.

  He felt the bindings being removed and blinked his eyes in the harsh light of the evening sun. The older of the men was holding up a plate of bacon and eggs, with fried bread and toast. There was also a large mug of tea.

  ‘Hungry, Justin?’

  He nodded warily.

  ‘What do you fucking think?’

  The man smiled in a friendly way.

  ‘All you have to do is answer a few questions for us then this is all yours.’

  ‘What questions?’

  ‘You know what questions. I mean about Vic and his operation over in England.’

  Justin had been through this three times already and it was getting harder and harder to refuse.

  ‘Has he paid my ransom yet?’

  The man placed the plate of food on the dressing table. Justin felt as if his eyes were glued to it.

  ‘Told us to fuck off basically.’

  In his mind Justin didn’t believe the man, but the need to eat was stronger and so he decided to believe him anyway. Vic could piss off now as far as he was concerned. He should have had this sorted long ago.

  Justin took a deep breath and then said with as much dignity as he could muster, ‘What do you want to know?’

  Danielle Hicks lay in bed with her baby kicking inside her and her eyes riveted on the photographs of the new house she had been offered by Maura Ryan. On the counterpane was the box of papers she had removed from her home after Jamie’s death, just before the police had raided her.

  She looked around the bedroom. It was a dump and she knew it was. Her mother had seen the photos and berated her for looking a perfectly good gift horse in the mouth. She had pointed out the benefits for the children as well as Danielle herself. No one would know who they were, she could live in a decent environment and her children could go to decent schools.

  Never Jamie’s biggest fan, her mum had been relieved at his demise and personally thought the Ryans should get some kind of accolade for getting rid of the man she held personally responsible for ruining her beautiful daughter’s life. She constantly pointed out his faults: his infidelities, his obnoxious way of talking to people, his arrogance. The list as far as her mother was concerned was endless. She hated him with a vengeance – all Danielle’s family did.

  But they didn’t know him like she did. They’d never felt their heart quicken at the sound of his voice or the sight of his smile.

  She knew her mum had a point about Jamie. She knew he was a bastard and gambler and liar. She acknowledged he had treated her with contempt and completely ignored her and the kids for weeks, sometimes months, at a time. She knew all that, had always known all that.

  But somehow Danny felt that if she took the property offered to her, and the cash compensation, she would be betraying her dead husband.

  She looked at the contents of the box. She was going to have to give this stuff to Maura Ryan at some point in the near future. She had always liked her, always, yet now she had no desire ever to talk to or see her again.

  But
she would have to, not only because of the stuff she had collected but also to tell her whether or not she was going to accept the generous offer of the house and comp. Vic Joliff had offered her nothing, as her mother had pointed out again and again.

  Danielle sighed heavily. Her eldest son Petey still wasn’t in and she stood up heavily, the weight of the baby making her wince, and glanced out of the bedroom window.

  She saw Petey put out a cigarette, at least she hoped it was a cigarette and not a joint, and then stroll across the sparse piece of grass that brought him to his own block of flats. As he walked she saw three boys walking behind him and her heart leapt into her mouth, but they went quickly past, hailing him loudly. She relaxed once more.

  She heard him come inside a few minutes later and heard the familiar sound of the fridge being opened as he sought a can of Coke. He walked quietly up the hall and as usual popped his head around her door.

  ‘All right, Mum?’

  ‘Yes, thanks. You?’

  He sat on the bed and, opening his jacket, took out a wad of twenty-pound notes. He placed them on the bed ceremoniously, smiling at her as he did so.

  ‘Where did you get that?’

  She was whispering because of the littler kids and he smiled as he whispered back. ‘I did a drop for a bloke over the other side of the estate. Even if I get caught I’m too young to be charged, see.’ He was so thrilled with himself. ‘You can get some stuff for the baby now.’

  She had her hand tightly across her mouth to stop the scream that had risen to her lips. Swallowing deeply, she said as normally as she could, ‘That was wrong, Petey. What you did was wrong.’

  He shrugged.

  ‘It’s easy money, Mum, and the bloke said I could work for him every night after school if I like.’ He sighed again happily. ‘He said I had a bit of savvy.’

  This would never have happened had Jamie still been alive, but now he was dead her children would all be dragged into the underbelly of the estate. Well, not if she could help it. She picked the money up and kissed him.