by Martina Cole
He saw his job as giving certain people the opportunity to utilise their individuality. He was always open to new grafts, to good earns. He was willing to listen to anyone who might have a genuinely interesting and workable idea. The fact that he would steal the idea was neither here nor there. He was the one who gave them the chance to put their ideas into practice. He was willing to take a chance on them. Colin was an entrepreneur. Without him, they would earn sweet fuck-all.
Basically he knew that he was earning off other people’s ideas, off other people’s hard work. But that was exactly what any business worth its salt did, surely? He showcased and bankrolled these people’s ideas. He gave them the opportunity to shine.
He believed that he was entitled to everything he got, after all, these people had come to him. They sought him out, not the other way around. Without his interest the ideas that were given to him were worthless. He could not for the life of him see that, without the people who were shrewd enough in their own ways to work out these brilliant ideas, he was bereft of anything even remotely interesting. He could take someone else’s brainchild and run with it. Once he understood what the actual economics were he could, and did, make sure that he was the main earner. Then, if it had legs, he would insist on purchasing what he referred to as his ‘rights’. If they argued for more of a piece, he took serious offence and acted like he was absolutely without any idea what their problem might be. Then he would lose his fucking rag. That meant basically that he just threatened the people concerned, and took whatever they had offered him as his own.
He couldn’t think of an original idea if his life depended on it.
Colin took other people’s intelligence and he made it his mission to give those ideas a new edge. That was how business worked in his world. He had always depended on other people and ideas that he could utilise to his own ends, and made them far too frightened to give him a tug when they finally understood that he had mugged them off. He knew that he was seen as a fucking leech to a lot of the men he dealt with, but those same men didn’t give a flying fuck when he was good enough to pay them off.
His brother, Timmy, however, was a completely different entity. Timmy Clark was basically the opposite of his brother; consequently, he was often overlooked. He didn’t have much to say for himself, and he was happy being in the background. Though anyone in the know realised very quickly that it was Timmy who really had the nous. That it was actually Timmy who kept everything going when Colin Clark lost all interest, which he did on a regular basis. Colin had a very short attention span; he also didn’t really interest himself in the day-to-day of the businesses. He depended on other people to carry out what he saw as the boring part of his growing empire. In short, Colin was the Aiden to Timmy’s Jade.
Now, as they all prepared to meet up, each camp was wondering what the outcome was going to be. They had heard about each other, had listened to the gossip about each other, had both decided early on what they were supposed to think.
It was the personal aspect that fucked up so many criminals in the past. Personal feelings were of no good to any of them. It was pride that put most people away, when they forgot that the earn was the important thing. It was not the sixties any more; vendettas were a thing of the past. There was enough for everyone if they used their fucking brains. Eric Palmer was hoping that it didn’t all fall out of fucking bed within seconds, and he had basically told Aiden that he wanted this, no matter what. If Aiden used his loaf for once there was a serious earn on the cards. What more could any of them want? But Eric feared deep inside that Aiden would do exactly what he wanted regardless of anything or anyone. Threats meant nothing to Aiden. He welcomed conflict; he saw it as a necessary part of the criminal life. He enjoyed it because he loved nothing more than what he referred to as a challenge. It was a very nerve-racking time for everyone concerned.
Except for Aiden and Colin, of course. They were looking forward to the meet. They didn’t think twenty minutes ahead let alone five years. Both of them were incapable of thinking anything through; they were both lucky enough to have Number Twos who were the real brains behind the outfits.
Eric Palmer believed that, together, these two could probably make a really good devil’s contract. That was what he was depending on. They were what were known as kindred spirits, and he only hoped that they would see that together. Together they were capable of great things. If they were enemies, though, he would only be able to stand back and watch the explosion.
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Agnes was worried. Her mum had the hump with her because they had argued over Aiden Junior, and her mum drinking when she was supposed to be looking after him. Drunk usually meant aggressive with Reeva, and that was what annoyed Agnes. She was fed up with being the fucking designated adult, when her mum was supposed to be the responsible one here. True, she did the job required, ninety-odd per cent of the time, but everyone assumed that when Reeva went on a bender, Agnes would be there to sort it out. That meant, of course, that she always had to be on the lookout to make sure that Aiden Junior, who was growing up fast, was taken care of.
Even though she was the youngest, her brothers thought that she should do what was expected of her. It didn’t matter that she might want some kind of a life of her own. That would never even occur to them.
Jade understood, but she also preferred that Agnes was on hand to look after her son, because Reeva couldn’t be depended on for any length of time. And it wasn’t just Aiden Junior Agnes had to look after. When her mum was completely out of her brains and off her fucking tree, her brothers just assumed that Agnes would take care of her no matter how paranoid Reeva might be or how aggressive she might become. And this wasn’t something that occurred just occasionally − it was a constant threat.
With or without drugs Reeva could cause a fight in an empty house if the fancy took her. Though, on the drugs, she was obviously far worse than usual − that was when the Old Bill would be required to attend. Reeva fought with anyone at the drop of a hat; she loved the drama of it all.
Take today, for example. Agnes was trying to talk her mum out of fighting Mrs Connelly from up the road because she believed that the woman − who was seventy if she was a day − had reported her mother to the police. Mrs Connelly was a bit like Reeva, in that she was no wilting violet. In fact, she was still known to have a physical fight should the need arise. She had three sons − one doing life for murder, two banged up for bank robbery.
Now, as Agnes stood in Mrs Connelly’s garden, trying to talk her mother down, she attempted to bring some kind of sense to the situation. Not that either of the women concerned was interested, of course. They were both drama queens who loved nothing more than an audience. All she could hear was cursing and threats. Neither of them was listening to her − they never did, especially not her old mum, who treated her with complete indifference.
She had finally tracked down Tony. Bless him, he was a good man. He understood her predicament and was on his way in a black cab.
Reeva had just got into her stride, as everyone within a five-mile radius probably knew. She wasn’t exactly quiet when she went off on one.
‘Out here now, you old bitch! You would phone the Filth about my lads?’
Mrs Connelly would no more phone the police than she would shag the parish priest. Everyone knew that, it was a complete joke. She was a lot of things but a grass wasn’t one of them.
Agnes grabbed her mum’s arm and pulled her round to face her. She was so angry that she didn’t care about the onlookers any more. She wasn’t interested in trying to keep this on the down-low. It was well past that now − this was about damage limitation.
Slapping her mother hard across the face, she shouted angrily, ‘For fuck’s sake, Mum! Listen to yourself, will you? You sound like a complete moron. You both do. You’re like a pair of fucking idiots.’
Somewhere in Reeva’s brain she knew that she should be listening to her girl, that she was talking sense, that she was so out
of it she couldn’t trust herself. But that didn’t mean she had to put up with her daughter treating her like a mug in public and so she said as much.
‘Hang on a minute, lady. Are you going against the family for a fucking stranger? For this fucking old bitch!’
Agnes sighed; she felt like crying. She hated all this, she hated when her mum was so out of it she caused murders. Then, when she woke up the next day, she would demand to know why no one had seen fit to stop her, why everyone had allowed it to go as far as it had and why her daughter had not just taken her home as any normal person would have done. Reeva would argue until black was blue that her kids, who she would fight to the death for, should keep a lookout for her, especially when she was drunk. Reeva really convinced herself that her kids should make sure that these kinds of situations should never have been allowed to evolve. Her attitude was that she would always look out for them and they should do the same for her, especially when she was completely off her nut and needed them to look after her the most. She would reason that there was nothing that any of her kids could do − no matter how bad − that she would not make sure that they had an alibi. And, credit where it was due, that was the truth.
But that didn’t mean much to her daughter. It was her daughter − who had never been in trouble with the police or anyone for that matter − who was expected to sort out her shit on a regular basis. Worst of all, Reeva actually convinced herself that she was the one in the right.
‘You know what I’m like, for fuck’s sake. And you never thought to stick up for me? I have been maligned, I have been insulted.’
The list would go on and on, even though they knew she was just drunk and looking for a row. It could never be her fault, of course. God forbid that she should ever take responsibility for any of her actions.
Agnes smiled gently, saying kindly, ‘Mum, just shut up, please, and let me take you home.’
Agnes sounded calm and reasonable. She was used to pretending − it wasn’t the first time she had been expected to talk her mum down. Reeva was so out of it she couldn’t even see her daughter properly.
Drawing herself upright, Reeva said, with as much dignity as she could manage, ‘Get this fucking lunatic out of my way, please!’
Agnes looked at Mrs Connelly, saying nicely, ‘You are really not helping the situation. You do understand that?’
Mrs Connelly, who had a face like a serious car accident and was as lairy and as unpredictable as Reeva, said viciously, ‘I am only defending myself, young lady. Ask anyone. Your mother was the fucking aggressor here.’
Agnes looked at the old woman who was just like her mother. She lived in her council house, and depended on her son’s reputation to give her the means to give vent to all her frustrations. Like her mum she drank far too much than was good for her, and looked for trouble at every turn. She measured her useless life on her son’s criminal enterprises. It was so sad and so unnecessary. It was a waste of everything that God had given them. Agnes had finally had enough of them both.
‘OK, Mrs Connelly, I get what you’re saying. So should I get my brothers here, then? Is that what you want? My brother Aiden, and the others, going after your sons, who are all banged up and are basically sitting targets? I mean, you let me know what you want out of this. Because I just want to go home. I don’t want this in my life. I can’t be arsed to listen to this shit. So you tell me what I am supposed to do for the best and, believe me, I will do it.’
Mrs Connelly, as drunk as she was, heard the unspoken threat to her boys. She knew that she should just retreat and lose face, but it was hard for her. Her sons were away for the duration, and they were all she had. Yet if she wasn’t careful she could bring a lot of trouble to their doors and they had enough to contend with. They had broken her heart − she had nothing, no grandchildren, no sons. All she had to look forward to was the monotony of visiting them for a few hours every month.
When she saw Eugene and Porrick arrive, Agnes felt herself finally relax. As drunk as Mrs Connelly might be, Agnes saw the fear that her words had instilled in this old, argumentative cow. Like Reeva, Mrs Connelly thought that she had every right to insult and pick a fight with anyone within her orbit but, when she was reminded that her sons might be in danger, she saw when to take a big step back. She had wanted to front up Reeva, and now it had gone wrong for her.
Agnes was so sick of this world they lived in, where this kind of occurrence was seen as the norm. Where a lonely old lady like Mrs Connelly had nothing left except her sons’ reputations. It was a disgrace; grown women fighting each other as if that held some kind of importance. Trying to prove something to people they didn’t even really know, let alone care about, who didn’t give a fuck about them.
Eugene and Porrick soon salvaged the situation and the police left, grateful to be able to leave it in someone else’s hands. Mrs Connelly was escorted back into her property, and Reeva left the scene as though she was the victor. Everyone knew where their loyalties lay.
Eugene hugged his sister to him as they returned home, but Agnes shrugged him away. Reeva was still mouthing off, shouting the odds without a thought for anyone else around her. Then Patsy strolled in like the conquering hero, ready to sort it out.
‘Come on, Mum. Relax, it’s over.’
Patsy was pulling her into his arms, trying to calm her down. But Reeva wasn’t having any of it. ‘Fucking relax? Are you serious? Did you hear what that old bag said to me?’
‘Come on, Mum. Forget it. Just relax, eh?’
That was when Agnes finally lost her temper. ‘“Fucking relax, Mum!” Is that it, Patsy? She caused a big fight in the street. I had to leave Aiden Junior to sort it out, and none of you think that she has done anything wrong? You all expect me to pick up the pieces, look after Aiden, and, of course, keep my eye on Mum − the biggest kid of them all. Well, I am fucking sick of it. She disgusts me. When I see her like this, I fucking hate her, and I hate you lot for dumping her on me.’
Eugene understood where she was coming from; he had always known that, where Agnes was concerned, it was unfair. Aiden left her to her own devices with Reeva because they trusted her and because they saw it as her job. She looked out for her nephew and she looked out for their mum − that was what family was expected to do.
And Patsy felt that, as she was a female, it was expected of her. ‘Come on, Agnes, think about it, girl. Mum needs someone to keep their eye on her. You are the only girl, that means it is your job. It’s not like you earn a living like the rest of us, is it?’
Agnes looked at her brothers and, shaking her head in despair, she said honestly, ‘Do you know what, Patsy? Fuck you now.’
She left them to put Reeva to bed, and she slipped into her own bed where her nephew was sleeping peacefully. She was finished with them, and she had to make sure that they understood that. Tonight was the last straw.
It was time to save her own life, because she was determined that this was not going to be her future, no matter what her brothers might say. And if they thought they could just put Reeva to bed, they had another think coming. She wasn’t going to bed without her usual fucking antics.
Chapter Seventy
Aiden was looking forward to meeting Colin Clark. They had heard of one another, of course, but they had never actually crossed paths in any meaningful way. They both wondered about the other, especially as they seemed of a kind. Everyone that Aiden had spoken to said the same thing: they were like two peas in a pod. That didn’t please him, because he had also heard that Colin Clark could be a bit of a cunt, so he assumed − rightly as it turned out − that people thought the same about him. Food for thought.
Aiden wanted to believe that the people he dealt with had a high opinion of him, even though he knew that wasn’t likely. He had a reputation as a good boss, but not as a good bet. He didn’t care about being liked but he did want to be respected. Knowing that Jade was the one that everyone apparently listened to, he needed to prove himself once and for all with t
his new partnership. The fact that he had once destroyed his creds overnight was something he still found difficult to digest, but it showed how precarious his position was. He had fucked up and, in doing so, he wiped out years of good work. He’d been playing catch-up ever since − that was what was so hard to accept.
Eric Palmer had forgiven him, he knew that. Eric was willing to let bygones be bygones because Eric still saw him as his natural successor. The problem was, though, that he could never forgive Eric Palmer or Jade. He loved them both but his belief that they had systematically tucked him up ate him inside.
He would always resent the fact that Eric Palmer had given Jade the power that should have been his. It was why he continued to do the dirty on her even though he wasn’t exactly proud of it. Between Jade and Eric they had fucking humiliated him, and they had tried to pretend that they were only trying to look out for him.
Now, however hard he worked to redeem himself, the damage had been done. And, as much as he loved Jade, there was a part of him that couldn’t really ever trust her any more. Even after all these years he still felt that he was being judged and that, without Jade at his side, Eric Palmer would never have trusted him again.
Everyone else had forgotten it – it was so long ago! But his fuck-up was something that he remembered every day of his life, and the fact that he continually felt that he wasn’t truly trusted was becoming his Achilles heel. He was desperate to prove himself – nothing he did felt enough. He tried to bring in more money than had been expected, taking on everything required without a word, finding new ways to earn an extra crust out of it. It was obvious to everyone that he was determined to prove himself. Now his foolishness with Destiny had set him back again – Eric Palmer had made his disappointment clear.
