The weather was splendid again. As they stood outside in the sunshine Penny kissed him and squeezed his hand. ‘Yesterday really was fantastic,’ she said. ‘And the kids loved it.’
‘Yes,’ he agreed. Then, giving her chance to bow out gracefully: ‘I don’t suppose you want to do it again sometime?’
‘I certainly do,’ she gushed.
‘Okay,’ he said, surprised by the quality of her acting, ‘how about next Saturday?’
‘How about we take the kids on holiday?’ she countered. ‘They’ll be breaking up soon. Two weeks in Lanzarote would be wonderful. It’s never too hot there. So long as we keep them covered in sun block, they’ll be fine.’
‘Sounds good.’
‘So why look uncertain? I can pay my own way, you know. I’m not after a freebie.’
‘It’s not that. I just didn’t think you’d want anything to do with me again.’
Their taxi was turning into Ferrands Terrace. Ignoring it, Penny pressed close and stared into his eyes. ‘I’ve had lots of boyfriends, Geoff, far too many, if I’m being honest. But nobody else makes me feel as good as you do. Not even half as good. And I’m not just saying that, I mean it from the bottom of my heart.’ She laughed lightly. ‘If you wanted rid, you made a big mistake by finally sleeping with me.’
Geoff smiled back at her while the taxi driver glowered impatiently. ‘I don’t want rid,’ he said. ‘And Lanzarote really does sound good.’
They held hands in the back seat, talking of shoes and ships and sealing wax while the cabbie drove in silence.
‘I don’t think he likes happy people,’ Penny said after he’d dropped them on The Busfeild car park.
‘Don’t take it personally; I don’t think he likes anyone. I’m just glad to see the BMW where I left it. We won’t need him again when we leave.’
‘When we leave? Does that mean I’m coming with you?’
‘I meant me and the kids. But you’re welcome too, if you want.’
* * *
As they waited for their lunches they began planning the holiday. Penny said she could go absolutely anytime. Geoff had only just had a month of compassionate leave. He also still had most of the North Face to conquer. There was a lot of catching up to do before he could be off again.
‘Let me take over from Auntie Sue,’ Penny suggested. ‘Then you can work late every night. If you do that, you’ll save time calling me in the afternoons. And you won’t be fretting all day. You’ll catch up before you know it.’
‘What about your job?’
‘I’m doing it as a favour for a friend of my dad’s. It’s maternity cover for his daughter, and she doesn’t do much anyway. I’m already twiddling my thumbs after eleven o’clock. He knows I’m bored and ready to give up.’
‘What about money?’ Geoff gazed into Penny’s lovely, untroubled eyes. ‘You’ll have rent to find, along with everything else.’
‘I got left quite a bit when Aunt Ethel passed away. Apart from buying the Ka I haven’t touched it. I can afford to take a few months off.’ Her light, beguiling laugh was by now very familiar. Not to mention agreeable.
‘In the unlikely event of me having to earn, I can always work for Dad again,’ she went on. ‘And it’s not as though I’ll be letting his friend down by leaving. I’ll actually be doing him another favour, by showing him how useless his daughter is.’
‘I can’t let you take over unpaid. You’d have to at least let me cover your day-to-day expenses.’
‘So you’re considering it?’ Penny looked surprised.
‘Yeah. Why not? As long as you don’t lose money on the deal.’
She squeezed his hand exceptionally tightly then patted his thigh. ‘I won’t lose money,’ she said, ‘because I soon won’t have anything to cover. I have to be out in a fortnight.’
‘Out of your house?’
‘Yes, by the end of the month.’
‘They can’t just evict you. Can they?’
‘I’m afraid they can. I gave it up. Someone else is moving in. She’s already been round to measure the curtains.’
‘No way back, then?’
‘No. I didn’t think I’d need a way back. I’d intended to move in with Lee. He’s been nagging me for ages. But . . .’ Penny shrugged. ‘That’s not going to happen. I’ll probably end up staying with my parents.’
Their meals started to arrive. Geoff used the interruption to get more drinks. While he waited he looked along the length of the bar, into the tap room. Speak of the Devil, there was Lee. Scarcely two in the afternoon and half-pissed already, gobbing off at someone standing just out of sight. Lee was grinning but crimson-faced. He looked like he could turn from jokey to nasty any second.
Geoff’s hackles went up. No way was he going to let Penny live with anyone like that . . . or be forced to consider it as a last resort.
He’d never got on with Lee. There hadn’t been any arguments or anything, he just didn’t like him. Lee wasn’t madly popular with the rest of the team, either. He was just . . .
Well, maybe there was a reason. Once, when they’d been on a stag night, the creep had used a prostitute. Then he’d bragged about short-paying the poor girl, making out he’d done her a favour by paying her anything at all. Mitch had given him a slap for that. There had very nearly been a fight.
Geoff had been one of those who’d restrained Mitch. Right now he wished he’d pitched in alongside him. He hated the thought of a homeless, desperate Penny being nagged into sharing anything with a pillock like Lee. Or even breathing the same air.
Back at the table they said grace and began eating roast lamb with all the trimmings.
‘So,’ Geoff said. ‘It’s back to Mum’s, is it?’
‘It’s probably going to have to be, except it’s not “back”, exactly. They’re in a new house since I left home. A big spooky place in Riddlesden. I’m sure it’s haunted.’
‘Sounds like you’re dreading it.’
‘I’m afraid I am, although I haven’t given up looking for somewhere else. Something will turn up. It has to.’
‘I’ve got a big house,’ Geoff said. ‘And it isn’t spooky.’
‘What?’
‘I’ve six bedrooms. One of them’s been retired after . . . well, you know what after. But that still leaves five. And we’re only using four. You could have the other one.’
Penny looked at him curiously. ‘Like a live-in nanny, you mean?’
‘Yes, if that’s okay with you.’
‘Like a fulltime live-in nanny?’
‘Yes.’
‘It sounds okay,’ she said slowly. ‘I’d happily resign and look after your kids fulltime. It’s the spare bedroom I’m not so sure about.’
Geoff felt his cheeks heat up. ‘I meant that for the kids. They really like you. I don’t want to mislead them. In case it doesn’t work out.’
Penny laid down her fork and put her hand on his. ‘What about you, Geoff? Do you like me too?’
‘Lots,’ he said, ‘lots and lots.’
‘So the separate rooms will be a subterfuge? You’ll visit my bed from time to time?’
‘I’ll visit your bed as often as you want.’
‘Promise to visit every night and I’ll start packing today. In fact forget packing, I’ll move in this afternoon.’
It was recklessly soon but Geoff didn’t hesitate. ‘I promise,’ he said.
Her smile was utterly beguiling. He was sure there would be no lack of interest from Old Faithful tonight.
‘How about everyone else?’ she said. ‘Besides the kids, I mean. Does the subterfuge apply across the board?’
‘Absolutely not; I’m useless at lying. Honesty is always my best policy.’
Penny leant over the table and kissed him. ‘It will work out, Geoff. It can’t fail; I won’t let it. Let’s eat up. Then we can go tell your dad he’s relieved from the school run.’
Chapter Eleven
Harry Williamson didn’t give a shit for
the history of the Leeds and Liverpool Canal. In his opinion it was a strip of dirty water, end of. It wasn’t even useful for getting rid of things because it was too shallow. Dump anything in there and, two seconds later, the bastard waterbus would run into it.
Glowering, scar fully stretched, he walked along the towpath with Jonjo, heading away from Saltaire, towards Dowley Gap. There were swans and ducks paddling on the scum and birds singing over in Hirst Wood. Fuck knew why the birds were so cheerful; it had just pissed it down for the first time in weeks. Looked like it would be off again soon, come to that. At least there weren’t many tourists about.
A couple of dependable men were waiting by a tree, smoking and looking suspicious as hell.
‘All clear this side,’ Barney said.
‘What about over there?’
‘Same.’ Barney tossed the stub of his cigarette into the canal. ‘Degsy’s been giving us the nod every five minutes.’
Harry checked his watch. ‘Let’s get on with it.’
‘I still think we should take him out,’ Jonjo growled.
‘We’ll listen to him first. Then we’ll decide if we take him out.’ Harry laughed shortly. The temptation to meet Dwyer with a hail of lead was almost irresistible. Somehow he’d kept resisting. He needed to know what the craic was before he made any decisions.
‘Can’t we drag it out a bit longer?’
Harry laughed again. Dwyer had been whining about a meeting for ages. He’d been making the cunt wait, partly to see if he kept his thieving young lads away from Shipley, partly to be awkward. He fucking hated Sean Dwyer. Anything to wind him up had to be good.
‘Enough’s enough,’ he said. Then, to Barney, ‘You two stay here. If it kicks off, come after us, all guns blazing.’
Accompanied by Jonjo he marched out onto the aqueduct, not in the least appreciating the wonders of eighteenth century engineering. As if by magic Dwyer and his bum-chum appeared from the Bingley end. Walking like gunslingers . . . the arses.
Dwyer had chosen the venue and it was fitting, Harry had to admit that. This stretch of towpath was dead straight, dirty water to his left, a big drop down to the river on his right. There simply wasn’t anywhere to set an ambush.
They closed in on each other like they really were in Tombstone. When there was twenty yards between them, Jonjo and Bum-chum stopped. Harry and Dwyer kept going until they were almost nose to nose in the middle.
* * *
‘Morning, Harry.’
Harry just stared back and said nothing. Dwyer had dug out his best three-piece suit for the occasion. Everyone else was in bog-standard sportswear, that cunt looked like he was off to a wedding. And cool and suave with it. If he hadn’t such a reputation with ladies you’d have thought he was bent.
Dwyer tried again. ‘I see you brought Bubbles,’ he said. ‘Sorry, Jonjo, I mean. Is he carrying?’
‘What do you think?’ Harry snarled.
Dwyer pulled back his jacket to reveal a shoulder-holster. ‘Won’t do me any good,’ he said airily, ‘Pat’s got an Ingram. If anything happens he’s going to open up. And us two will be toast.’
Harry had never seen an Ingram before. He knew what one was, though. He also knew there was a chance Dwyer was telling the truth.
‘Okay,’ he said, ‘you’ve made your point. Cut the crap and get grovelling.’
‘I did my grovelling on the phone. This is about co-existing from now on.’
‘Assuming I let you exist at all.’
‘If you want war Harry, let’s be having it.’ Dwyer was irritatingly calm. ‘I’m sure Jonjo’s up for a fight to the death. Pat certainly is. Let’s blast away here, where there’s nowhere to run. Just the four of us, last man standing wins.’
‘You’re fucking shook.’ Harry was furious with himself for not taking the challenge. He was younger than Dwyer, but bigger and harder. All Shipley had bowed to him for years. He could beat Sean Dwyer any day . . . but not like he was suggesting. That would be madness.
Particularly if Bum-chum really is toting a submachine gun.
‘We’re both shook if we let ourselves go to war,’ said Dwyer. ‘You’ve more men than me, so you’ll start as favourite, but it’ll cost. All our business is going to stop while we slug it out. The Pigs are going to get interested and stay interested. Lots of people are going to die, including either you or me. And it’ll never be the same afterwards. Whoever wins will lose customers, scared off by the violence. It’ll be harder to get new recruits when everyone knows the killing’s for real. And blah-de-blah. War isn’t good for guys like us. Not in the long run.’
‘Well put,’ said Harry. ‘If you weren’t such a cunt I’d believe you.’
‘You’re saying that because you’ve killed and got away with it.’ Dwyer smirked. ‘That doesn’t make you unique, you know? Just because we haven’t visited Armley, it doesn’t mean we let ourselves get shit on.’
‘That’s why you stopped dealing, is it, because you’re too tough to be shit on?’
The smug bastard didn’t rise to that. Not much, anyway. ‘Where’s the twat who tried muscling in on me?’ he pouted. ‘You won’t be seeing him on the streets again. All he did was open my eyes. He made me realize how pointless violence is in our line of work. I didn’t get forced out of dealing, I chose to get out. But making that choice doesn’t make me soft. If you think I’m soft, I’ll repeat the invitation. Let’s have our war here and now.’
‘You’re bluffing.’
‘Okay then, try turning me.’
They stared at each other for a full minute, Dwyer smiling his annoying smile; his never-fail, woman-charming smile. Harry wanted to throttle him.
‘Okay, Sean,’ he said finally. ‘If you don’t want a proper war, what do you want?’
‘I want you to agree we’re above tit-for-tat killings. You’re not a street thug and neither am I.’
Harry snorted. ‘Half my business is on the streets; so’s yours.’
‘True. But we’re not small-time. Neither are the lads who work for us. Think about all the under-age twats in Bingley and Shipley. Most of them are going to be dead before they’re old enough to buy a legal pint. The rest won’t make it to twenty. Our lads are businessmen, Harry, same as you and me. We’re going to live to collect our bus passes. Just like Danny Painter. Provided we act right in the head.’
‘What then? What are you proposing?’
‘A pact of non-aggression. My lads keep off your patch altogether. Your lads don’t interfere with my interests.’
‘And?’
‘That’s it. Nice and simple, so we all understand. Although there is one other thing.’
‘Go on.’
‘I’d like to know what happened to Pongo. For his mum’s sake, not mine.’
Harry considered a moment. He wasn’t scared of Dwyer, even if he had suddenly found the balls to fight to the death. And hatred aside, they’d been on a collision course for years. One of these days that collision was going to happen.
That much said, there was no obvious gain in a war just now, not with Dwyer, anyway. There were other problems that needed his attention, in areas where there was money to be made; areas where under-age twats really were running riot. Dwyer might be devious but he was right about the under-age twats. They needed exterminating before they completely fucked the status quo. It followed that agreeing a truce wasn’t bottling out. It was more like making a sensible, short-term business decision, like Hitler at Munich.
‘The non-aggression is agreed,’ he said. ‘Pongo isn’t. You’ll have to tell Mummy he’s still missing in action.’
‘Any way I can buy the information?’
‘No.’
They had another lengthy exchange of stares.
‘Okay,’ Dwyer said eventually.
They shook on it and turned away without farewells. When Harry got as far as Jonjo he stopped and they watched the other two walk off in the opposite direction.
‘Peace for our time, Jon
jo; that’s what I’ve just agreed. One-nil to us, and he wanted peace.’
‘And that’s it?’
‘Yeah; he wanted to know what we did with Pongo as well. I told him to fuck off.’
‘So I don’t get to sort out Pat McGuire?’ Jonjo didn’t look happy. ‘That bastard stamped on my head last time we played. And I’m sure it was him who raked me.’
Harry allowed himself a smile. Jonjo had been McGuire’s enemy on the rugby pitch for at least fifteen years, compared to a mere five on the business front. Or so Jonjo maintained. Harry had reason to believe he exaggerated the hard feelings. Apparently after-match drinks had been known to happen. Like every time they faced each other, three or four times a season. Not that he doubted either’s loyalties for a second.
‘I thought raking and stamping were part of the game,’ he said.
‘Yeah, well he got me then went off with a dislocated thumb, the wanker. He knew I was going to get him back, probably pulled it out on purpose.’
‘That’s probably why he brought the Ingram.’ Harry grinned and patted Jonjo’s shoulder. ‘Don’t worry about it. If you didn’t settle up in that game, you will sooner or later. For now I’ve won a round with Dwyer. And I can start the next round whenever I want.’
* * *
Hal was sitting at the same pub table, rolling a new set of tatty cigs. He hadn’t got a newspaper today and stray strands littered the table top. Although it was early afternoon he already looked like a man who’d had a drink.
‘We can’t keep meeting like this,’ he said in greeting. ‘But, if you insist . . .’
John bought two pints of Golden Best and took a pew opposite. A fortnight had passed since his first visit, aging Hal by a couple more years.
‘I thought I might find you here.’
‘It’s allus a fair bet, particularly when I’ve just been paid.’
‘Payday, is it?’
‘Aye, I’m on me own now until Monday. Flaysome, eh?’
‘Listen Hal; is there anything I can do to help?’
The broken ex-farmer scowled. ‘What do you mean, help?’
‘I don’t know. Find you some work? Get you back to Bingley, where your friends are?’
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