by Martina Cole
‘Do you really want to know why I ain’t told anyone yet?’
Imelda felt the tension in the air suddenly; she knew this was a loaded question, and she also knew that she had to answer it. There was a subtle change in this daughter of hers, she was now almost confronting her. It was as if she had grown up before her very eyes. Imelda knew she had to diffuse this situation, knew she had to keep this girl on board. There was a naked dislike in her daughter’s eyes now, it was as if she was challenging her to contradict her in some way. Jordanna had become the alpha female, she was angry enough to finally confront her mother for every wrongdoing real or imagined. Imelda was high, she had bumped herself up before coming to the house and she was more than aware that there had been a subtle shifting in their positions, knew she had to reclaim that ground if she was to make any kind of life with her kids, could guarantee herself an easy pass for the foreseeable future.
‘Why, why ain’t you told no one your good news, darling?’
Jordanna saw her mother’s fake smile. She was suddenly a little kid again, she was once more at the mercy of this selfish, self-serving bully. Only she wasn’t a child any more, and this cunt of a woman couldn’t hurt her.
Imelda was really on the defensive now, her daughter was not scared of her any more. She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she was about to hear some things she didn’t want to admit as truth. She was going to be reminded of her failings as a mother, would be blamed as usual for all the things that had gone wrong in her daughter’s life.
‘Are you fucking kidding me, Mother? Are you taking the fucking piss?’
Imelda shrugged. She was wary of this girl now, saw the strength in her young body. She was depending on the girl’s pregnancy now to stop this conversation from becoming violent.
‘How am I supposed to know what’s going on, Jorge? I ain’t a fucking mind reader.’
Jordanna was so shocked at her mother’s clumsy attempt at dignity, at her childish attempt at playing the innocent, that she was almost tempted to laugh. She was, for the first time ever in her life, unafraid; she could see her mother for the sad, disgusting bully she actually was. As a child she had been terrified of this person and that terror had followed her all her life. She could see the fear in her mother’s eyes at her retaliation and, knowing that she was carrying a child of her own, she realised that she had to find the strength to repel this woman once and for all, get her out of her life, and out of her head. She knew she had to get everything out into the open. If she didn’t do that now, she knew she never would.
‘I am all busted up inside, Mum, but then I expect you know that, don’t you? From when I was a kid. The baby that died, Mum, oh, I can call you Mum after all this time, can’t I?’
Imelda was quiet as her daughter slaughtered her, she knew she had to let her say what she wanted to say. Needed to say.
‘The doctors were amazed that I had managed to carry that baby for as long as I did. But they have explained to me that the chances of that ever happening again are remote. Funny word that, remote. So, now you know why I ain’t shouting it from the rooftops. You took everything away from me, Mum, and I hate you for it. Kenny Boy might fucking see you as some kind of mascot, but I don’t. You managed to destroy any happiness I ever had, and any happiness I might have had. So, let’s stop this fucking charade now, once and for all. I knew even then, Mum, that you were aware of what was happening to me, with the men you brought to your flat, I know you condoned it. You did not give a flying fuck about it. I was so messed up inside I couldn’t pee properly for months. Even now I wake up and I can smell my own degradation, just as I can smell your brown as you burnt it on a spoon. I can still see the look of euphoria on your face as the needle delivered your only happiness. You junkie fucking whore, you killed not only the people around you, and I saw you in action, lady, you also killed me and Kenny Boy. You killed any chance we might have had of real happiness, of normality, you and your fucking addiction poisoned everyone you came into contact with. Your own mother loathes you, your kids have wished you dead on a daily basis, and the manufactured world you inhabit is going to collapse around your ears one day soon. You look old, haggard, you know you’re over the hill. Well, God pays back debts without money, and you owe big time. So, don’t you dare come here and try and push your way into my life again. If I told Kenny Boy the truth about his so-called mum, he would string you up. I have done my best to keep the peace, but then I always did, didn’t I? So, do me a favour, and leave me alone.’
Jordanna had forced the words out through gritted teeth, and her pale complexion and haunted eyes told her mother all she needed to know.
Imelda knew that this was why she had forced herself into Jordanna’s life. She had needed to know just how much the girl remembered, just how much she was aware of. It seemed she had not forgotten anything. She needed to make sure that Kenny Boy was kept in the dark about it all though. He might forgive her a lot, but even he would draw the line at this kind of information. She was now on a damage limitation exercise. Her daughter’s words had not even scratched the surface. As always, the drugs were all she cared about, the drugs and her ability to procure them.
‘I swear to you, Jorge, it was the drugs. I can’t remember fuck all about those days. I was well gone, I was out of me box . . . you must know that I wasn’t with it. That I would have to be stoned off me crust to let that happen. I know I fucked up, but I just want the chance to put things right.’
Jordanna wanted to really hurt this woman, knew that her words, her pain, her loyalty had gone unnoticed by her. Her mother still couldn’t find it inside herself to understand how her actions had affected everyone around her. Her addiction had taken over her life many years before. She had put her need for drugs before everything and everyone, she had caused so much death and hate. She had pursued the skag with a single-mindedness that had left no time for her family or her children. She sat there now, looking at her first-born child, and Jordanna knew that she had no feelings for her at all. She had wasted so much time and energy trying to make this piece of shit care for her that it was now almost unbelievable. She no longer needed this woman’s approbation, in fact, this woman could now get fucked, as far as she was concerned. And she was going to tell her that, she only wished she had done it years ago. She saw that Imelda was still rocking, knew that she was too out of it to ever care about anything of importance.
‘You are still stoned out of your nut, aren’t you, Mother? It’s all you care about. All you ever cared about. Anyone else would be dead by now. But not you, oh no, that would be too easy, wouldn’t it? Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, all those talented junkies died young. But not you, somehow you manage to go from year to year. You manage to dodge the bullet every day of your fucking useless life. Well I hope you get a fucking hot armful. You served me up to anyone who wanted me, and I remember it all. One word from me and you’re dead. I want you to leave me alone.’
‘Please, Jorge, I can’t remember anything. I can’t even begin to make you see . . .’
Jordanna sighed with a heavy tiredness and a sudden boredom. ‘Stop it, how stupid do you think I am? Just leave me alone, that’s all I want. I had my fill of you a long time ago. I remember everything. I have a real party trick, you know. I can read something and remember it word for word. I know you think I am a retard, but in reality I am actually quite a fucking brain-box. I learnt very young how to play the game, your game. And I played it well, but I can’t do it any more. My baby is dead and I know this child I am carrying now will more than likely never reach fruition. But I can still hope and dream. If I didn’t have that then I would have stopped getting up in the morning a long time ago. I tried my hardest to make you love me, and it was a fucking waste of time. I can’t be arsed any more. I don’t want you to care about me, I know that if you did start to care, that would be even worse than your practised indifference. I hate you with a vengeance, I despise you and all you stand for. I hope you finally get what you want, Mum
. Kenny Boy wants to show the world that he can forgive you, he thinks that will make the shame of you being his mother go away. But it won’t, and I will give you a piece of advice, and you should take it on board. Kenny will kill you if he ever thinks you are mugging him off. If he knew the real truth, he would erase you off the face of the earth and smile while he was doing it. Kenny is a wild card, and you can’t control him. You might think you can, but he is one dangerous fuck. Now, fuck off and leave me alone.’
Jordanna knew that she had the power now. The truth was finally out. It was a great feeling. Knowing that she was now the one with the power.
But Jordanna might have looked like the woman who had birthed her, but that was where the similarity ended. Jordanna didn’t have the hate inside her that was necessary to keep the anger going. She would never use the information she had for her own ends. Not unless she was really pushed, and her anger was already losing its potency.
Imelda was shocked at her daughter’s harangue, but she also knew that Jordanna wouldn’t hurt Kenny Boy by telling him the score. He was her little brother, and she would do anything to see that he wasn’t hurt in any way. She still carried the guilt of his father’s death. He was too young to remember the bad things that had happened. He did not really remember her as his mother, all he really remembered was his granny Mary, and Jordanna and her love and care.
Imelda soon sussed out that this girl was beyond her use now. The only thing they had in common was the desire to make sure Kenny Boy never knew the truth of his life. It would destroy him if he knew his sister’s secrets. Jordanna wouldn’t tell him, because she knew that the consequences would be far too brutal and vicious and she would never be able to live with herself if she caused something like that. Unlike her mother, Jordanna didn’t feel the need to create situations, she had spent the best part of her young life trying to avoid them.
At this particular moment in time, Imelda was panicking. For the first time in her life, she was not in control of the situation. She had come here in the mistaken belief that she could bring her daughter back into her orbit; had been convinced that she could have talked her round as she had done in the past. She had been wrong, very wrong. Her daughter had seen right through her and, for the first time ever, Jordanna had really let go. Had allowed herself to say what she wanted to. She had finally retaliated.
Now they were both quiet, were shell-shocked, and the silence was crashing down on them.
‘So I can’t make you believe that I am a changed person, that I need you to forgive me, for you to please remember that I can’t help how I am?’
Jordanna closed her eyes tightly. Shaking her head in angry frustration she said slowly, ‘Get the fuck away from me. I ain’t Kenny Boy, I see through you like a pane of glass.’
The kettle had boiled and Jordanna turned it off. As she eyed the steam and heard the sound of the water bubbling she felt an overwhelming urge to empty the contents over her mother’s head. She wanted to make her hurt, really hurt, like she had made everyone else hurt who had been unlucky enough to come into her orbit. ‘Get out, Mum, I mean it. Go now or I won’t be responsible for my actions.’
Imelda nodded her head slowly. ‘Jamsie is a good bloke, I know that better than you ever will. He’s been good to me in his own way but I won’t bore you with all that. What I will say is that no one is ever what they seem, and that includes you. Remember that in the future.’
Jordanna didn’t answer her, she just stood there and stared at her mother coldly. Her hatred was threatening to boil over and Imelda knew then that, like her mother, Jordanna was capable of great violence if pushed too far.
She left a few minutes later, and her daughter breathed a heavy sigh of relief. Close proximity with her mother always made her feel as if she was slowly being suffocated. Once out of her presence she could breathe easily once more.
Basil was thrilled with his latest acquisition. He had gone into partnership with young Kenny and was now the proud owner of a nightclub. Michael Hannon was gutted, and that only made Basil enjoy the place more. That it was a front for drugs, for money-laundering, was neither here nor there. It was packed to capacity every night and the drugs were dealt out of the toilets as per usual. Providing they were never seen to be personally involved in the dealing, they were as safe as houses.
Young Kenny had his own workforce who all knew how to sell and, more importantly, how to hold their hands up if necessary. As long as they never let on that the club was aware of their dealings, they would be royally taken care of. As would their families, but they were too shrewd to ever be captured in the first place. It was like printing money, that’s how easy it was.
Kenny was young, and he was in tune with what the young people wanted. He seemed to pre-empt them and knew before they did what they would want next. He then provided whatever that might be, in abundance, and with his natural paranoia and discretion he managed to keep beneath the radar of not only the regular Old Bill, but also the drug squad. He paid off a lot of bodies, but he kept their names and their job titles to himself. He was a one-man army in many respects.
Better than that though, was the fact that Kenny Boy was already seen as the eventual Face who would one day run the whole town. He was well liked, and he was trusted. He was also someone to be wary of. He was capable of great violence if the occasion called for it, and great compassion for anyone he saw as being the underdog.
He saw his mother as an underdog; despite all he knew about her, she was still his mother. He felt that if he could be seen to forgive her, then her public abandonment of him and his sister would somehow be negated. After all, if he wasn’t bothered about it, why should anyone else be?
That logic made perfect sense to him. How he was perceived was everything to him. Since he was a little kid he had felt the stigma attached to them all. He knew now it was to do with his birth and his father’s death, but even then he had understood how much harder he would have to work for people’s respect. He knew that his start in life had not been what most people would call auspicious. He had felt people’s disrespect because of his mother and her behaviour even as a small child. It had been a long time before he had been able to understand that, but he would never forget how people had made him feel. He had been determined to make his name mean something, make those people who looked down on him rethink their opinion of him. He had been determined to force the respect from them, and he had done just that. He worked his arse off and made sure that he was never seen as anything other than in control. He had always known that he would have to live down his heritage, and he felt he had finally accomplished that.
As he saw Jamsie walking over to him, he signalled for another couple of drinks. He knew his sister had got herself a real diamond. Jamsie was all over Jordanna like a cheap suit and that suited everyone perfectly. Providing he never hurt her in any way he was safe; Kenny saw his sister’s well-being as being of the utmost importance, especially after the last fiasco. But he genuinely liked Jamsie, he knew he was a ducker and diver but then, in their world, who wasn’t? What he did know was that he made Jorge happier than she had ever been before.
‘Where is she, then?’
Kenny Boy was laughing as usual. He made a point of being seen in what he classed as a jovial frame of mind at all times. It was part of his master plan. He was never without the easy grin then, when he stopped smiling, people knew there was serious trouble ahead.
Jamsie looked, as always, as if he had just stepped out of a wind tunnel. It was his hair that did it, his dreadlocks were long, thick and, in his own words, very unruly. He looked like the wild man from Borneo first thing in the morning, and it was only by lunchtime that his hair had calmed down enough for him to look almost normal. But his face was his fortune; he was a handsome fuck as most men pointed out in exasperation. And he was a seriously handsome man; unlike Kenny Boy, who was in possession of serious youth, Jamsie’s looks crept up on you. After a while, you realised that he was a real babe magnet. In fact
, he was like a young Cassius Clay; he had the same chiselled cheekbones and clear skin, and he also had a set of perfect teeth, that although overly large, suited him, the gap in between the front two only making him look even sexier where the women were concerned. The fucker was a good-looking rude boy and he knew it better than anyone.
As they shook hands and hugged in greeting, Basil joined them. That Basil had a problem with Jamsie was more than evident. So his decision to join them for a drink was unusual, to say the least. Jamsie, being a very easy-going person until people made him otherwise, held out his huge hand and Basil shook it with about as much enthusiasm as a Northern Ireland Catholic shaking the hand of the Archbishop of Canterbury during the Orange marches. It wasn’t what could be termed a friendly meeting.
‘All right?’
It was a form of greeting, and both Jamsie and Kenny smiled in reply. Basil was full of himself, and that did not go down as well as he thought it would. He had a big problem with Jamsie, and he did not try to hide it. He did not think he was good enough for Jordanna, in fact, he knew that Jamsie was already slipping a portion to a few of his old flames. Basil could swallow that, he was a man. In their game, spare was all over the place; a name guaranteed an abundance of pussy, it was an accepted part of the job. However, Jamsie had apparently handed over his women to Dexter and everyone seemed to think that was fucking marvellous. Basil half expected him to be beatified by the Pope at any moment, wondered if Jamsie was on the first rung of the ladder to sainthood. Fuck Mother Teresa, Jamsie O’Loughlin was in town.
