The Business

by Martina Cole

  The men accompanying him were still laughing about his entrance years later. It was yet another story that would be told about the Dooley family. As far as his minders knew, the men inside the house had tried to have Kenny over for a few quid. Afterwards, they had both privately felt he had gone overboard with the amount of violence he had used. A lesson was one thing, leaving the two men almost dead was something else entirely. Kenny knew that his liberal use of knuckle dusters, mixed with breaking open the men’s heads with a length of lead piping, would eventually become just another story about him and his colossal temper. And it would be used in the future to explain why he was not a man to be crossed.

  That was what Kenny hinted, he wanted his reputation to be such that no one of his age or generation would feel the urge or the nerve needed to try and usurp him from his chosen position in life. He felt his hatred for the two men overwhelm him, knew that it was this ability to hate so viciously that gave him his almost superhuman strength, gave him the edge in many respects.

  He knew he was going to be talked about a lot after this little debacle, and that was exactly what he was depending on. This was Kenny Boy’s way of cancelling out the negative stories that had haunted his poor sister since she had been a baby, and he was going to spend his life creating newer, more interesting stories for people to tell about them all. He would also make sure that if anyone talked about his sister out of his earshot, he would not be best pleased. Careless talk cost lives.

  The two men with him were going to talk anyway, so why not give them something to talk about? If he used his loaf properly, the new stories would far outweigh the old ones.

  He was a man now and he had to protect his family. He could never again let them be hurt or used. It was down to him to make sure they were safe. Safe from harm and safe from hurt and, more to the point, safe from the truth.

  Imelda heard about Kenny Boy’s latest stunt through the grapevine. By the time it was relayed to her, the two men he had taken on had seen their reps exaggerated out of all proportion; they were now a real pair of titans, top-of-the-range Yard boys with a house full of shotguns and a fridge full of Red Stripe. Stories always got stretched in the telling and this one was no different. Imelda smiled as she listened to her son’s latest escapade, she was proud of him, liked that her son had already made a name for himself. Reflected glory and all that, she was not averse to it.

  Imelda wondered, as she often did lately, who Kenny Boy’s father could have been. She knew the children didn’t have anything to do with their paternal grandparents any more; as the years had gone on her mother had seen to that. She guessed that Mary was jealous of the children being near other people. In fact, Louise Parks had met a man through David Driscoll and had moved to Spain, though she still kept in contact with Jordanna. But Imelda knew nothing about that, she only listened to bad gossip, never the good.

  As her friend, a fellow brass, finished the story about Kenny Boy for the second time, Imelda opened her arms wide as if she had already heard the story long before, and laughed as she said, ‘That’s my boy.’

  Danielle Clunes laughed with her. Danny, as she was affectionately known, was very tall, extremely thin, and she wore heavy make-up and even heavier jewellery.

  Imelda called her Big Bird behind her back; as she often wore yellow dresses the name was quite apt. She had a lovely nature, though, and was well liked by her fellow brasses and the regular punters alike.

  ‘So, Mel, I bet you can’t believe you are going to be a granny at last, can you?’

  Imelda was unaware of her daughter’s condition, and guessed that it would have been hidden from her until Jordanna’s condition could not be denied. That no one had seemed fit to enlighten her annoyed her. After all, she was the grandmother, she had a right to know about it.

  She recovered her equilibrium within seconds. ‘Well, Jordanna wanted it kept quiet, so what can you do?’

  Danny smiled, but she was not fooled. She could see it had been news to Imelda, that her daughter and son had not seen fit to inform her. And why would they? She was hardly mother of the year, everyone knew that. But she would play the game.

  ‘What would you prefer, Mel, a grandson, or a granddaughter? ’

  Imelda shrugged. ‘Couldn’t give a fuck, to be honest. It ain’t like I am going to be babysitting is it?’

  They both laughed at the truth of that statement.

  Imelda turned away from Danny then, grateful for an excuse to leave that conversation behind and walked towards a battered Renault that had pulled up at the kerb. She knew the man, he was a regular, all oily hair and ointments. He was also the proud possessor of a repeat prescription for sleeping pills, which he gave to her every month for a freebie. She leant provocatively into the open window as always. ‘Hello, George, you got anything nice for me?’

  George nodded, the grin as wide as ever, the stench of his aftershave hanging on the night air. It never quite masked the stench of Germolene mixed with Deep Heat, treatment for his so-called bad back.

  She slipped into his passenger seat, and he gave her the pills almost immediately. ‘Look, Mel, if it’s all right with you, love, we’ll keep this on the once a month basis from now on. There’s a new girl, she’s only twenty and very athletic, if you know what I mean? So, in future, I’ll be going to her for me twice weeklies.’

  Imelda nodded and, placing the pills in her handbag, she felt the first fingers of fear that all brasses eventually experienced as they started to understand that they were going over the hill. For someone like her, who was already about as low as she could go, the knowledge that she was being overlooked by such as Georgie Boy was a real learning curve. She had known that her volume of punters had been steadily decreasing of late, but she had assured herself that her regulars were the real bread and butter anyway. Once they deserted her though, she was finished.

  She needed to get herself an alternative income, and she needed to do it sooner rather than later. She had never been a saver, never thought about the rainy day, because every day was a fucking thunderstorm to addicts. As always, she was only concerned about herself, and feeding her habit. She now needed to make some kind of provision for the future.

  ‘Come on, Jordanna, smile for fuck’s sake.’

  She smiled, despite herself. Kenny Boy was like a big kid, and his good humour was infectious. He took the photo of her and saw that she was really genuinely smiling at him for once. She was getting heavy with her child, and he knew she was looking forward to its arrival. He was looking forward to it coming as well if he was honest. He liked babies, and he liked the thought of the family getting larger. He also liked that they were starting to expand the name.

  When he got himself a decent bird he would make it his business to slip her a child a year for six or seven years on the trot. He wanted a big family, but he also wanted all his children to be with the same woman. He was not enamoured of those men who splashed their sperm about all over the place. Kids here, there and everywhere. He wanted to know his kids, see them grow up, be there for them when they needed him. He had it planned out. Nice wife, nice house, nice cars, good schools and decent holidays every year. His kids would have all the things he never had. The stability of a father figure was the most essential requirement, as far as he was concerned. His kids would never know what it was to wonder what each day would bring, they would be loved and cared for from the moment they arrived. As would Jordanna’s little baby. He had made a solemn promise to himself that he would take on the role of father figure, and see that the child never wanted for nothing. It was the least he could do for Jordanna.

  ‘Is it true that you are already being groomed to be Basil’s number two?’

  Kenny grinned, his open face, as always, unable to hide his true feelings. ‘Yeah! I like it, I like the people I am involved with, the lifestyle. We’ll be rolling it in before you know it, girl.’

  Jordanna grinned. ‘We ain’t doing too bad, Granny is coining it in. You must get that from her
, your shrewdness.’

  The doorbell rang and Kenny Boy sighed. ‘I bet that’s Timmy B, for me, he’s fucking early for once.’

  Jordanna lay back on the sofa, she was tired out with her pregnancy. She heard the familiar voice of her mother then, seconds later, she saw the woman she dreaded pushing her way into the room.

  ‘I want to see me daughter, I hear I am to be a granny at last.’

  ‘Well, Jordanna does not want to see you. Now, stop all this, Mum, leave her alone, eh?’

  Imelda was on a roll now, she actually believed her own story.

  ‘Please, Kenny. I want to see her, she is having a baby and, whether you two like it or not, it’s my grandchild. All I want is to see that my daughter is all right.’

  Imelda looked down at her daughter’s body with its bump and saw the tiredness in her eyes, the pallor of her skin. She knew Jordanna was about as low as she was ever going to get. Like a hyena Imelda could sense weakness in people, it was something she had been born with, had developed over the years, and that she used when the need arose.

  ‘Please, Jordanna, just let me see you one time. I know I ain’t been the greatest of mothers, but I still care about you.’

  Kenny shook his head sadly. ‘Out. You know the score, Mother. You’ve seen her now, let that be enough.’

  He turned her round then so that she was once more facing the front door.

  ‘If me gran comes home and finds you here there will be fucking ructions, now go. Just go, will you?’ He was trying to keep his voice neutral, didn’t want to cause a fight, wanted Imelda to just leave them both to it.

  Imelda turned to face her daughter once more, and, pushing her son away from her abruptly, she said softly, ‘I just want to wish you well, darling. That’s all. I know what you’re going through. After all, how do you think you two got here?’

  She shrugged then, her thin body almost welcoming, her eyes seemed almost sparkling at the thought of a grandchild, a new member of the family she had never even pretended to care about. It was odd, it was unnerving. Imelda had hoped for this reaction, she knew that kids were like any other mark. If you knew how to press the correct buttons, they were guaranteed to act in the appropriate manner. Her two had not disappointed her so far. She knew they were stuffed full of guilt, her mother would have made sure of that much, and because of that she knew she was already a few inches into the front door of their lives. She smiled again, aware that she could not strong it just yet. She needed to gain their trust and their affection before she started to bleed them for money.

  ‘Look, I am going, so don’t worry. I just wanted to see you for meself. Needed to see that you were all right.’

  Imelda seemed so sincere that they were both unable to find anything to latch on to, could find no real argument against her being there.

  ‘I won’t outstay me welcome, but Jordanna, make sure you eat properly, and get enough rest. OK? You have my future grandchild in there. Bye, mate.’

  Then, smiling sadly at them both once more, she allowed herself to be walked off the premises.

  Outside the house Kenny was at a loss as to how he was supposed to deal with his mother now. She was being nice, calm, friendly, and that meant she was obviously up to something. But until she said anything detrimental he was not in any position to cause any real aggravation. So he decided to play her at her own game. ‘Leave her alone, Mum, don’t fuck this up for her.’

  Imelda stood before him, her shoulders slumped, her face looking pained, and her whole demeanour one of hurt, hurt and bewilderment. ‘I swear, Kenny, on your father’s grave, I am not here for any other reason than my daughter, she is about to produce my first grandchild. Even I can see how important that is. I ain’t completely fucking heartless. I might not be the babysitting type, but I still care about you both. I ain’t asking to be its fucking mentor, I just want to know it’s all right, that’s all.’

  Kenny saw how dilapidated Imelda looked, how scrawny and underweight she was. Even with her perfect make-up and well-cared-for clothes, she looked rough to the trained eye. Unlike most junkies, his mother had a kink in her nature; she managed to function, managed to see that she kept on top of her addiction. He knew that was not an easy thing to do, knew that if that strength and that determination to keep herself like she was, had been channelled into something constructive, she would have been capable of almost anything. Would have been enough to take on the world if need be.

  He also knew that her personality was the reason she had chosen the paths that she had. It was also the reason she did not dwell on her mistakes like normal people. She was such a fuck-up she did not care about her own failings or disasters, let alone anyone else’s. Like Jordanna, he was terrified that he would become just like her one day, that he would wake up to discover that he ceased to care about the people around him.

  He was scared that he would forget to keep his eye on them all, would, without realising it, become a vicious, uncaring loner, and eventually lose the people closest to him.

  As if she was reading his mind, Imelda grabbed his arm and, squeezing it tightly, she said simply, ‘You will never turn into me, Kenny, so stop worrying about it. I am a one-off, a person like me is thrown up in a family once every other generation. I still care for you though, in me own way.’

  Kenny pulled out his wallet and, taking out a thick wad of cash, he thrust it into her hand.

  She was stepping away suddenly. ‘I don’t want your money . . . I didn’t come here for that, son . . .’

  ‘Oh, Mum, please. By that criteria the Pope is not a Catholic and Fidel Castro was all for a democratic state.’

  He shrugged in irritation. ‘Take it. You know you want to, it’s why you came here.’ But, as she had known he would offer it, she knew she would take it. He forced the cash into her hands as she had known he would. One, to get shot of her, and two, to assuage his guilt.

  It was at least two hundred quid, she could see that with her practised glance.

  ‘You’re a good boy, Kenny. I can go home now and have a rest. I am getting too old for the pavement, boy.’ She grinned as if she had just made the greatest joke of all time.

  He grinned back at her then. ‘That was what you came here for, ain’t it?’

  She was silent now, unwilling to say anything that might queer her pitch for the future. Then, suddenly, she was offering him his cash back with an outraged expression, and a choked-up voice. ‘Take it back, son. If that is what you think of me, have it.’

  She threw it to the ground then, and even though he knew that it was an act on her part, the guilt overwhelmed him as always.

  ‘I won’t deny that I need it, son, but I would rather not have it if you think that is what I came here for. Remember that I have not had the easiest of lives meself. I have a face full of Mars Bars, courtesy of Basil, and I lost a really good earn. I have swallowed all that, accepted the blame, and left you both alone, as my mother and Basil insisted. I don’t want fuck all from you two, and you remember that . . .’

  He picked the money up and gave it to her once again; this time she snatched it from him.

  ‘Thanks, son. Tell your sister I wish her well . . . I really do.’

  She walked away from him then. He watched her until she was finally out of sight. At last he went back into the house. Jordanna was still lying on the sofa, only now she looked even worse than before.

  ‘I feel really bad . . . Has she gone?’

  He laughed then, unsure if he had been had, or if his mother had been genuine about them all at last. ‘She’s gone, Jorge, because I gave her a wedge. Now, let’s forget about her and get you to the hospital, shall we? You look a bit iffy, girl.’

  Jordanna nodded, but he knew that she was unnerved by Imelda’s sudden appearance, and even more unnerved at her interest in the child she was carrying. They were both quiet as they left for the hospital.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  ‘Come on, Jorge, or we’ll be late.’

  J
ordanna was laughing at him. They were actually early, very early. And he knew that as well as she did. Kenny Boy was the guest of honour at his own pub opening. Tonight was the culmination of everything he had worked for. He knew it was a real achievement, and he understood better than anybody how unusual he was to have even managed it so quickly. But he had, and it was because he never did anything without thinking it through from every possible angle beforehand. He had always watched and learnt, and he had made a point of finding the weaknesses in everything. Unlike everyone else, he knew that if you could pinpoint what could potentially be your downfall, you were guaranteed to succeed. It was the little things that eventually let you down. If you looked properly, you could find them and eradicate them. It was no more than basic economics.

  ‘Nearly done, Kenny. Just one minute.’

  Kenny was a stickler for punctuality, in fact, he was renowned for it. If Kenny said he would be somewhere by seven o’clock, he would actually be at the designated meeting place by six-twenty at the latest. Ready and able to conduct the business in hand with anyone involved with it. He made a point of knowing everything about the deal he would be discussing, and he would also know everything about the people concerned. As he often joked, he knew his game from head to toe. Backwards and forwards and inside out.

  He could answer any questions that might need answering, and he would be so knowledgeable about the subject in hand, that the person who had arranged the meeting with him would walk away confident that the money they had agreed to invest would be more than safe in his capable hands.

  Kenny Boy, however, expected the same courtesy in return. If he arranged to meet up with somebody, and the person was tardy, late, by even a few minutes, Kenny would refuse to deal with them ever again. He argued that if the person involved didn’t have the brain capacity to watch the time and therefore arrive as previously arranged, then anything else that might be reasonably expected of them was now in grave doubt.